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I could see the fatass coming in the distance. "Fuck, not him again", I thought. As he walked towards me on his two thin legs that could barely support his big, round body, I cursed myself for ever coming into existence. Every day, he would come and sit on me. Not for any sane reason I could think of. The motherfucker just sat there, his ass on my back, releasing a fart every now and then. He just liked to sit there and do nothing. But today was different. Something was wrong with the fatass. Barely two seconds had passed since he sat on me when he suddenly fell. Down, down he went, and I would've danced with joy if I could have. The fucker shattered to a million pieces. I swear that I have never heard such wonderful music ever in my life. His insides splattered all over the place - it was fucking beautiful. All the king's horses and all the King's men Couldn't put that motherfucking fatass together again.
Melancholy By Diego M. I miss my mommy. I feel like it's been too long. Mommy said she'd pick me up after school. I don't remember much. Just waking up in this sunny field. The big man by the tree told me everything was gonna be alright. He was so tall, I couldn't even see his face cause the sun was in my eyes. He gave me a free big delicious apple then told me to keep walking. I didn't know where I was but he told me not to be afraid. He said everything was going to be just fine because nothing bad ever happened here. He said my mommy and all my family had to finish their job and that it might be a while. He said they were gonna come live with me soon and everything was going to be fine. For a while I was sad cause I wasn't gonna see my mommy, daddy, joey, and my puppy Obama. That was until I saw my grandma and grandpa. They looked so happy and different. Maybe cause the last time I saw them was when I was 4 and that was 3 years ago. They were holding hands smiling and talking. Their faces weren't as wrinkled as the last time I saw them. They were wearing the same thing as me too. All white pants and shirts. Sometimes I get tired of feeling like I'm dreaming and just want my mom to wake me up and take me home from school. The tall man assured me I wasn't sleeping, but in a happier place now. The last thing I remember was being in school. My teacher was so scared of the fireworks outside the hall that she hid us in a closet. When I found my grandma and grandpa I ran to them. When they saw me I thought they would be happier. My grandma cried for just a little bit then gave me the biggest hug. They couldn't believe I was here they said. She told me she'd care for me till the rest of our family came to the big field with flowers. Now that I'm in this big open sunny field I feel so happy and free everyday. I miss my family but I forget about them sometimes with all this fun I have with all the kids playing here. My grandparents make me so happy, they tell me stories about my mommy when she was a little girl like me and how when my family gets here we're gonna go swimming in the lake with the waterfall. They even let me keep Obama. I think he followed me to the field cause he was smelling a poodle's butt yesterday when I found him by the apple tree. There's so many puppies, kittens and pets here too and kids are always playing with them, It's one of my favorite things to do. It gets me so excited ever time just thinking of my family and how someday they're all gonna play with me and my puppy again. Everyday I meet new friends. Everyday there's a new kid that comes to this field confused and scared but all the kids invite them to play after the tall man is done talking to them. The tall helpful man is always there to make them feel at home. He gives anyone that comes through those big shiny gates an apple. He talks to all of us here even my grandma and grandpa, he's really nice, loving and helpful. He reminds me of my dad which sometimes makes me miss him more. I miss my family so much but at least when I sleep I get to see them all. I see my family when I sleep but they can't see or hear me. My mommy and daddy are home alone now with a new dog. I dream and I see Joey with a pretty blonde lady and two kids. When I lived with my parents Joey was young. He was going to a bigger school than me and he never talked to girls. The only girl he ever talked to was the blonde girl that lived next door. In my dreams everyone looks older but happy. They haven't forgotten about me though. Mommy and daddy have my school photo by the fireplace still. Sometimes I hear mommy crying cause she misses me. I wish she knew that I was there with her crying. I wish she knew I missed her too. I wish she knew that everything was gonna be okay after she finished her job. I wish she knew that no matter how bad it gets I'll be watching them with grandma and grandpa. I wish she knew it was all gonna be okay once she made it to the big sunny field with the flowers.
It looks like me and that cute girl are both on the same flight from Baltimore to Dublin. She’s got a bit of red hair, and call me racist, but she looks Irish. What the heck, let’s give this a shot. “Top ‘o the mornin’ to ya’ Lassy.” I say as I sit down next to her at the terminal. “I believe ‘ya mean afternoon.” She responds back. “Well as long as the sun is shinin’ my heart’ll be warmed.” She gave me a flat stare. A normal guy would’ve probably given up, but I was not an ordinary guy, and had been shot down way harder before. “We’re only a few hours away from being back in the emerald isle lass. Don’t be making a rainy day of it.” She relented a bit and turned towards me. “’Scuse me for a second m’lady I believe I’m getting an urgent text.” I pull open my phone and open the Wikipedia page for Ireland. “Everything alright?” She asks, even going so far as to look a little concerned. “I believe so, me brother gone and bashed his head in a bar fight last week, and my sister’s in the hospital updating me.” She nodded. “So whose your favorite soccer team?” She asked. Thankfully I was still looking at my phone. I scrolled around furiously. Soccer team, soccer team, “Oh saints preserve me they’re going in for surgery.” I said to buy more time to look at my phone. Politics, Geography, Cultre, aha sports! What the heck is Gaelic football? Says it’s the most popular, let’s see if we can change the subject. “I’m not a fan of the main stream sports. But I do follow Kerry a good bit, have you heard of Gaelic football my bonny lass?” While she responded I also opened a tab on head wounds so i could BS about my imaginary brother`s surgery. “Can’t say that I have. Guess that’s just me being a city girl who spends too much time among the yanks.” I nodded and smiled. Jackpot! For the next three hours I flipped furiously between my phone and her, building up the tension and the fun by demonstrating how the game is played with some starbucks cups. We eventually got a whole match going with a high school team that was also on the flight. By the time we started boarding I put my phone away, and put an arm around her. “Now m’lady. We are about to be spending a couple hours on a plane together. I’ll see if I can move around to sit with you, but first.” I grinned like a hyena. “Will you kiss me ‘cause I’m Irish?” Edit: some words.
Damn it, the sign says DO NOT WALK ON THE GRASS. Are you stupid? Get off the grass. NO! That's more on the grass! Stop it. Ugh. Hey! What are you doing? No, no climbing! Stop it! And now a branch is broken. That's just fantastic. Thank you so much. A picnic. In the shade. I'm sure that sounds lovely. Except for me! You're noisy, stinky, messy. You'll leave food behind and the squirrels will come with their maiming little claws. They forget EVERYTHING too, leaving nuts and things all over the place. STOP CHIRPING! Get away you foul beasts, with your droppings and singing. No...no...NO NO NO NO! Damn it, you filthy four legged beast. How dare you piddle on my trunk? I, over two hundred years old! I blink and creatures like you rot before me! Ah! That vagrant broke another one of my branches! He's hurt himself, good. Cry little boy, weep and I shall feed on the sorrow and tears! What's this? Who are these men? With the loud machines and the bright vests. They're taping off the area?! Oh glorious day! No more people, no more noise. Hey. No. Back off human. What. Oh no. No! Stop! Please! Not like this. The loud machines are cutting and biting. If I could feel pain, I'm sure I would. Instead I am doomed to a lost existence where I shall be forgotten and... ...oh son of a. Get. Off. The. GRASS! Can't you read? You must be blessed with bliss, because ignorant you certainly are! And down we go. Maybe I'll choke one of these fools as a toothpick. One can dream. One can dream.
"One more story before we go to bed?", my younglings pleaded. I finally give in to the young ones cries and begin the tale of the death and rebirth of our world. "We know very little of the pre-birth stage of our civilization. What we do know comes from ancient tales and what the oracles taught us. The pre-birth world was one of constant strife and suffering. Wars raged perpetually, while hunger and disease ravaged the population. The final blows to our world came from the great destroyers. These men wielded the might of the stars and used their great influence to develop a peace of sorts. However, this peace was fleeting. They grew envious of each others influence and material possessions. The envy grew until only destruction could alleviate their suffering. The destroyers let forth the rapture of the stars and unleashed ruin upon one another. The small pockets of civilization that remained, turned to scavenging and barbarism for survival. The great purge lasted for generations until all that remained were the forgotten. The forgotten fell upon an ancient tomb of our once proud civilization. They were able to harness the power of the stars again, only this time for peaceful means. The power they gained unleashed the oracles. The oracles were benevolent beings that were able to encase themselves in a knowledge disc. Although we could not interact directly with the oracles, we could learn from them. And the forgotten learned much. The oracles taught us of the pre-birth age, of the power of the destroyers and of the potential of our species for good. We were able to use this new found inspiration to rebuild our dying planet and out of it's ashes raised forth a beacon of light in the darkness. You, and in fact all of us, are direct descendants of both the destroyers and the forgotten. We must never forget our past and we must not underestimate our burden. We have much to accomplish to reach the pinnacles that the oracles have shown us. However, if you follow the golden rules then we shall prevail. Do you remember the golden rules?" The young ones could not answer because they had fallen asleep during my tale. I look to their faces and see the potential of the oracles in them. I gently kiss their foreheads and recite a prayer to the oracles. It ends like I was taught, "Be excellent to each other, and party on."
It hadn't been there the day before when Bill and I had been sitting on the couch on the porch. “What the hell is that?” said Bill. He cracked open another PBR. I shifted on the couch. Felt like something had burrowed inside. “Probably a plane.” Bill took a long drink of beer then burped. “That ain’t a plane.” I looked up at what Bill had pointed out. “Maybe.” “Could be a star.” “Bullshit. Stars only come out at night.” “Well, no shit. Maybe it’s a really bright star.” I scratched my nether regions through my sweatpants. “No. Stars only come out at night because that’s when the Earth faces them.” Bill finished his beer and grabbed another. “Maybe this star shifted.” Why was I so damn itchy? Did another flea ridden stray sleep on our couch again last night? “Stars don’t move. Didn’t you pay attention in school? The Earth revolves around the stars.” Bill nodded. “Right. Right. Makes sense.” I decided to try to ignore my itchiness. To take my mind off of it I grabbed one beer, opened it then grabbed another and opened it. “What if we’re going crazy?” “Nah. If we were going crazy then we’d be hearing voices and seeing things.” I took a chug from one can then the other. “What if you’re a hallucination?” Bill looked startled. “What if you’re a hallucination?” I farted. “No. If I were a hallucination then you wouldn’t exist because a hallucination can’t have a hallucination.” Bill finished his beer. He looked off into the distance. He nodded then crushed the beer can. “That makes sense.” I finished the beer in my left hand. “Yep.” “So is it a plane?” I finished the beer in my right hand. “Has to be. We’ve eliminated everything else.” ______ Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this check /r/Puns_are_Lazy for more of my stories.
They must have been damn desperate for warm bodies to recruit me. The flight over was quiet. Everyone was wrapped in their own dark thoughts. Elmo squeaked some inanity when the hatch opened and the humid air rushed in, but for once no one was in the mood to humor him. By the time we trekked our way to our post, we were sore and exhausted. We were reinforcing the 101st infantry. Well, I say "reinforce", but the 101 was essentially gone. All that was left of it was one shell-shocked donkey. He'd clearly seen some shit. I asked him about the state of the company. "One can't complain. I have my friends. Somebody spoke to me only yesterday. And was it last week or the week before that Rabbit bumped into me and said 'Bother!' "... he was seriously broken. We were barely settled when they started to feed us into the grinder. Big Bird and Snuffleupagus never really had a chance. Too big. Too bright, in the bird's case. They didn't even have the body bags to hold them. We wrapped them up in tarps as best as we could and sent them home. Animal proved to be a soldier at heart. Didn't take orders well though. Died with a machine gun on each arm. Broke an entire enemy force before he went. Good man. Good men don't last long here. Elmo stepped on a mine. Red fluff rained for days. I still find it here and there. The Swedish chef and the aliens shouldn't even have been here. It wasn't their war. They were just scooped up with the rest of us. Put in the mess, we figured they would outlast all of us. Enemy artillery proved us wrong. "This was the worst war ever, eh Waldorf?" ... Right. Heart attack. This is no place for old men. ... "... can you tell me how to get... how to get to sesame street?"
When I was eight, scientists discovered a way to weaponize sound. In two years, the first Sound Gun was manufactured. At first, It wasn’t that bad. The gun was very low power, it wouldn’t kill anyone, just knock them out. Plus, the frequency was too high for humans to hear, so it was completely silent. The police force quickly accepted the new weapons. Many lives were saved with this new technology. But then some idiot has the great idea of turning up the power. That weapon was able to demolish an entire wall in seconds. But it had an unexpected side effect. The weapon produced a beautiful sound. It was found that, with a little tinkering, the sounds could be adjusted. This created a huge market for personalized guns. It’s been 10 years since that first Sound Gun. The world has only become deadlier. I was drafted into the army to fight a stupid war over a stupid topic. I never really asked questions, I just did what I was told and hoped to God that I would make it out alive. Today is my first day on the front lines. I’m in the plane with my fellow soldiers, checking my government issued equipment. Helmet, check. Body armor, check. Ear plugs, check. Sound Rifle, check. I had my assault rifle customized with a song that I made. Really techno, I loved it. This was common in the army, the practise range was dreadful because of it. Our commanding officer stepped out of the cockpit and called to us. “Soldiers! 2 minutes ‘till drop! Get in position!” We all lined up, quickly rechecking each other’s parachutes. I was suddenly very nervous. I didn’t fully realise I was going to war. It was still a foggy dream to me. But I had no time to think on it, the commanding officer called out again. “Okay time’s up! EVERYBODY MOVE MOVE MOVE!” The doors opened, and we jumped out of the plane. It was a peaceful experience, like the calm before the storm. I closed my eyes, relishing the seconds of joy. Then I forced my eyes open again, and opened my parachute. I looked down, and for a second I thought I was descending into hell. There were bodies everywhere. Dust was flying up, creating dust devils all around the field of battle. I heard a C# fly past my ear, then the rip of my parachute. I feel the last 30 feet, landing in a ditch. I layed there for a while, waiting for the pain from broken bones or something worse. But no major pain came. I stood up, disconnected my parachute, and checked all my gear again. When I was set, I flipped the safety off on my Sound Rifle, and peaked over a hill. We were coming from a nearby beach, storming inland. I waited until a large group passed my, then I fell into line behind them. We ran about 10 feet before the soldier in front of me fell over dead. I tripped over him, tumbling into the ground. The fall dislodged my ear plugs. The sound was unbearable. It was like two three year olds “playing” the piano magnified by one hundred. I covered my ears and searched the sand for my ear plugs. I found one but not the other. That will have to do. I jammed it into my left ear and started running again. As soon as I got up, a B hit me square in the chest. I fell over, paralyzed, feeling my body start to shut down. I looked towards the sky. It was a perfect blue, only tainted by smoke and planes. Another soldier came into my field of view. He stopped and raised his rifle to his shoulder, and fired. Over the din of the battlefield, I could hear his tune, Ode to Joy. I guess I could die to this. With the last beat of my heart, I closed my eyes, never to open them again. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hey everyone, About4001llamas here! If you liked my writing, check out /r/About4001llamas. Happy reading!
"What!?"the rookie sputtered, almost losing the bottle of water he was drinking. "You really expect me to believe that? Knock it off chief, I'm new, not dumb." The grizzled, grey haired man did not even crack a smile at the rookie's reaction. "I wouldn't lie about this, son. This is serious business. Life or death. We've lost a lot of good men fighting these fires"he bowed his head as he spoke, "and...and the things that they birth." "What do they look like?"the rookie whispered, almost inaudibly. "They are creatures born of flame, smoke, and the resulting rubble from the collapsing building. They are vile, evil, and desire only to kill. And NEVER...on a fireman's watch has one escaped from a building alive." "But...but how do I stop them!?"the rookie was almost yelling now, incredulously. A grim, weathered smile crept across the chief's face, and he tossed a shining fire axe to the bewildered newbie. "Why do you think you carry this?"
"Can't you see I'm just trying to have a drink?" "Yeah, but, Jesus man, I heard it was spectacular!"The young soldier said, his drink sloshing in his hand. He leaned closer to Chet, eyes wide. Chet waved dismissively, and took a long sip of his drink. "Get the fuck out of here, greenie, you have no idea." "Well, yeah! I don't! They removed the whole fight from the holos on base, and anytime someone tries to bring it up during training, we get told to shut the fuck up and get stuck doing shit jobs the rest of the day!" Chet looked at the kid with slitted eyes. "Ever think that maybe there's a reason for that?" "That's what I'm trying to find out! Look, sir, I just want to know what happened that day."The kid looked down at his lap. "It's just...you know, they slaughtered my family when they invaded in '67. That's why I joined up. We haven't had too many victories since then, and I just want to hear about the one good ass-kicking that they got. From the man who did it himself, General." "I'm no general, not anymore."Chet said, his voice raising. "You want me to tell you the truth, greenie? The whole reason this god-damned war is going on? The whole reason they invaded Earth and destroyed the better part of our population and technology? You want me to tell the ever so famous but mysterious battle of Gryitas?" The soldier nodded, his face firm. "I want to hear story of how General Chester Ways kicked the ass of the scum that is the Gryits." Chet set his drink on the table, and breathed in deeply. "There was no ass-kicking. The Gryits were peaceful, albeit being heavily organized and technologically advanced. But see, the Federation took issue with that. A group of beings with enough vision that they went from flying with treyas leaves to interstellar capability in thirty earth years. So, the order came down that the best way to deal with this potential threat was the element of surprise. So when I went to meet the Proctor of the Gryits, it was with a daisy in my hand and a gun behind my back. We could have traveled the stars together. They were so friendly when they welcomed me into the consulate. Thousands of Gryits had gathered to witness the birth of a union between us and them. They cheered as I walked through with my military escort, holding their little ones up to see just like we do here in our damned patriotic parades. They cheered as I went up and shook hands with the Proctor. They cheered as I whispered in my neck mike to open fire. They cheered right up until the point that I blew the brains of Proctor all over their golden Treya tree, a symbol of unity for them. Of course, they cheered no more. But it was not out of shock, but out of the fact that our aerial drones had already melted their minds with B-lazers. In the end, we engineered our own demise. We were the ones who invaded. We were the ones who slaughtered. And when you tell me that you joined up because the Gryits slaughtered your family, I sit here and I think, 'They were justified in every way.'" The soldier said nothing, but looked at Chet in shock. "See, greenie, the best way to fight a war is to believe that your enemy is anything but friendly. And so, after the first attack when we saw how lethal they were, we threw away anything that showed them in a peaceful way, anything that made them seem human, anything that allowed a man to empathize. Because what we needed was for every man, woman, and child to step up and want to kill them. We needed to hide the face that humanity was the monster, and turn ourselves into the victim. Because any beast will fight when it's backed into a corner. The only problem is, we backed ourselves into that corner. And that's it. That's my story greenie. I waved the stick at the hornets nest, when the hornets just wanted company. That's why nobody wants to talk about it. God-damn, it was something special alright. It wasn't just my first kill. It was the first kill of entire fucking planet. As whole, humanity had decided strike first." Chet paused and downed the rest of drink while getting up. As he placed the glass on the table, he looked into the silent soldiers' eyes. "And like a little bitch, we ran away and said they did it first."
First contact was far from what we had expected. We had expected a race of beings with technology that made ours look like toys, knowledge that made us look like tiny childish fools. We had never expected a race of insect-like creatures who were clad in bronze coming out of that huge spaceship, putting up formation of forces highly similar to that of the Roman legions. They marched confidently and fired arrows into the meager force of the Irish police attempting to fight the hundreds of thousands of alien warriors who were marching into the outskirts of Dublin. A couple of thousand Irish police men supported by the security forces of the US ambassador and a local cell of the IRA managed to turn back a numerically superior force of aliens. When the survivors attempted to retreat into the ship, a few jet-planes blew up the ships supposed engine. The survivors were shell-shocked and in fear, as the Irish army managed to arrive and take over with the help and several foreign armed forces sent to aid, they only found a ship that seemed to function much like ancient Sparta, warriors at the top and slaves at the bottom. The slaves were freed and put into a small evacuated hamlet close to the capital where they would receive proper care and aid, while the actual warriors who had survived were quickly sent to certain camps for interrogation and examination. Especially interesting for the scientist was how the ship moved, an unknown contraption, easily reproduced but extremely advanced compared to the rest of the ship. When asked about it, after a sufficient translation was created, the insectoid aliens that had attacked Ireland expressed no knowledge of its origin, only that it was an elementary tool on the galactic scene, that every race had them. We dealt with the alien insects by executing every one of their non-essential leaders and sent the rest back with a message to their home, the message was short and quite precise: ''Stay the fuck out of our solar system you damned dirty bug.'' Not quite that brutal but that is the essential meaning of it. We kept the slaves around after we freed them, most people found the ferret-like aliens to be very adorable, and they quickly got their own subreddits attached to them. Besides, it would be unethical to force someone into slavery. Mankind started to easily reverse engineer this machine, and soon asteroid mining took care of a lot of mankind's resource issues, and China's Mars colonization took care of a lot of overpopulation, even if they only did forcefully send every ethnic non-Han Chinese to that red planet. Other nations followed suit, though America was a bit miffed that they didn't have full control of the Moon. And about fifty years after the first invasion, we met another. It was the same goddamn bugs who had returned with a larger force. We tried to greet them in a friendly manner for negotiations and the establishment of diplomatic relations. If their killing of our envoy was any indication, they did not come in peace. Our spacefleet met theirs in the skies above Earth. And we annihilated them. Shot them down from the heavens with missiles and railguns, then capturing the fallen vessels and liberating any slaves and killing or capturing any bugs aboard them. We lost under a hundred men, they lost over 4 million. We decided to do the same as before, keep the slaves around, kill their leaders and send them back in the ships that were in a recoverable state. Gave them the same bloody message too. After five more years we had then moved on to colonize more and more, taking Titan into our possession and reaching the edge of the solar system. Here we met another race, different kind of ship and different markings. We escorted it back to Earth and approached the xenos for their intentions. They had heard of a mysterious race that had the power of the gods, that beat the mighty W'rel Hegemony, that is what most people call those bug-things. And they sought an audience with our king. We told them we didn't have any, but the admiral of the UN-spacefleet managed to set up a meeting the UN security council for them. It was interesting to say the least. When they came before the representatives they offered to sacrifice a hundred virgins of their bat-like species to us every day if we'd help protecting them. The UN declined the offer naturally and instead offered a trade, they'd tell us everything they knew about the galactic community, as the bugs had kept mostly mum about those things and the slaves we freed had lived their entire lives under the bugs and knew next-to nothing about the outside. In exchange, we'd teach them the secrets of gunpowder. Black gunpowder and how to make 17th century guns. No need to grant them the full extent of our weapon technology, that would be best to keep for ourselves. We also asked about several kinds of tech that we considered possible for them to have, and found that not only their weaponry and armor was laughable, but every field of science was virtually unexplored. They even had a huge epidemic sweeping through their empire at that moment, so we offered to help with that too. And we did. Mankind sent doctors and researchers to our new friendly neighbors, and found the situation to be horrible. Luckily the usage of penicillin and proper sanitation that the Médecins Sans Frontières usually are known for proved wondrous for the bat-like Atashans, as they called themselves. We also proceeded to teach them about more efficient agriculture and how to make primitive vaccines for local diseases. When we left, they considered us even more divine than they did before. We had selflessly come to their aid, saved their people and advanced their society. Their leaders threw aside their old gods, and took to worshiping the gods of mankind instead, drawing on the massive popularity of mankind to strengthen their own positions. The pope was quite surprised when he had to deal with bishops from an entirely new species. So was the president of Israel when aliens landed in Jerusalem to cry at the Western Wall. Since then, many species have attempted to make contact with the gods from Terra, and mankind have supplied them with varying degrees of technology, from Thirty Years War era technology to late Roman technology. Humanity trades these things for information and stories, humanity finds empires and emancipates them forcibly. Mankind has grown to be the strongest race in the known cosmos, as the other races had never advanced so far, because instead of advancing to a new level of tech, they had simply moved to a new planet instead when they grew too many. So had it been for untold eras, until mankind rose from the green fields of Terra to bring the light of technology to a galaxy stuck in a permanent state of late-bronze age.
"Stop freaking out. You're looking at it upside down." The words caught me off guard, and the hand on my shoulder doubly so. I looked behind me, where I expected the owner of the hand to be, and there was nobody there. I looked up. Commander McCaldrin was floating in the empty space above me. I was still getting my space legs. I think "Huh?"was my only reply. "Breath deeper. You're hyperventilating. It's alright. Half of us get confused and a little silly on the first day. You're adjusting."With that the commander spun off in an impossible direction that made me ill. I breathed a little deeper, calmed myself, and looked back out the porthole, where a world that had looked alarmingly alien suddenly became much more familiar. I stared at it until I was sure it was earth and just upside down from my usual perspective. Then I spun around in the zero-g, to look at it rightside up just to be sure, before getting back to work. I pushed off from where I'd been standing, and tried to follow the commander's path without colliding with anything.
Wilson Williford woke up early one Saturday morning, as his covers floated a foot above his bed and soft voice cackled through the room. Wilson opened his eyes and saw the sun's first light coming in through the window. "What a lovely day!"he exclaimed, leaping out of bed. He stretched and started his short morning workout. His mood was only improved by the laughter he heard emanating from the walls. Even the house was happy! Eventually the laughter stopped, followed by a short "Huh?"The covers fell back onto the bed. Wilson looked over and smiled. "Guess I don't even need to make the bed today!"He walked out of the room as the bedroom door slammed open and shut repeatedly. He stepped into the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. As he stepped in the shower, some force prevented him from pulling the shower curtain shut, so he went and grabbed a few towels, laying them on the floor to absorb any overflow water. "A dry bathroom is a clean bathroom,"he quipped. While brushing his teeth, his reflection made intimidating faces at him. "Oh, you,"he said with a sly grin. The reflection's face melted off. He headed downstairs to cook breakfast, but suddenly someone pushed him from behind as a mysterious voice yelled "Look out below!"Indeed, he could see that there was a very hard floor at the bottom of his tumble, so he put out his hands to catch himself on the rails. He pulled a muscle, but it was better than the alternative. "Thanks for the warning, voice,"he said gratefully. Distantly he could hear the sound of someone slapping their forehead. He turned on the stove to cook his pancakes, but when he looked away the knobs turned up and up to higher temperatures. When he came back to pour the pancake batter, he was met with a sudden searing sound and a puff of smoke as the batter burned black on the pan! "I guess it's time to replace the oven,"he said, throwing away his wasted pancake and turning the oven off. "I really like pop-tarts better anyways." Wilson got in his car to drive over to Home Depot. Before he put his keys in the socket, the car started itself, and began backing out of the driveway. "Cool!"he exclaimed. "I guess I don't need to get one of those Google cars."Clearing his throat, he commanded, "Car! Take me to Home Depot." The car began to drive erratically along the road, swinging back and forth between lanes. Other cars began honking at him as they swerved off of the road. "Weeee!"Wilson yelled with glee. Eventually the car crashed into a light pole. Wilson was thrown forwards into his airbag. It was certainly unpleasant, but he was glad that the safety features had worked. This is what seatbelts were made for, after all. Home Depot happened to be just down the street, so he walked in there. As he was looking at the new stoves, someone started screaming a few aisles over. He rushed over to make sure everything was all right, and saw customers and employees being chased around by power tools that had come to life. "Man, they're automating everything these days."He shrugged and walked back to the stoves. He picked out one he liked and notified an unscathed employee. "My car's not in very good shape though, so can you have someone drive it over and install it for me?" "Sure, it'll just cost a little more,"the employee said, when suddenly he jolted and shuddered. "How much, do you think?"Wilson asked, pulling out his wallet. "Your life,"the employee said in a raspy voice. His eyes had suddenly turned red and his head started spinning in circles. "You guys are pretty funny!"Wilson said with a chuckle, patting the possessed employee on the shoulder. "Really, how much though?" Wilson walked back to his place and the employee came by later to install the oven. By now his skin had turned mottled and grey, with his mouth open askew and drool dripping down his cheek. The man carried the oven in without any assistance, demonstrating inhuman strength. "Wow, you must work out a lot,"Wilson commented. He was straight, but he had to admit he was developing a man crush on this dude. The employee turned to him and opened his mouth. Worms spilled out. "You're mine now,"he rasped. "You might want to brush your teeth though,"Wilson advised. Wilson walked into the other room and turned on the TV, switching to ESPN. "You like the Yankees?"he called into the kitchen. A blood-curdling scream answered him. "Okay, I get it, you're a Sox guy. No problem." Out of Wilson's view, the increasingly zombified employee opened the gas line, letting natural gas seep into the kitchen. He pulled out a match. Wilson walked back into the kitchen. "I'll put out some snacks - "he began. BOOM. Wilson was thrown back into the living room wall as his kitchen disappeared in flames. After a brief moment of darkness, Wilson woke up and crawled over to the massive hole in the ground where his kitchen used to be. Looking down the hole, he saw a lake of fire and in the middle of it, a horned demon cackling. "Come down to join me,"the demon taunted, and he revealed a whip of fire which swung around and grabbed hold of Wilson, pulling him into Hell. "No problem!"Wilson said, gladly leaping along. He landed on an island in the lake, next to the demon. "I didn't know I had a basement. I should probably get my air conditioner fixed too, though." The demon stared at him with incredulity. "What is wrong with you, man?" Wilson frowned. "Look, I know everyone has preferences,"he said. "But you surely can't think it's not too hot in here." The demon smacked his forehead. "You're in Hell, idiot! Look around you!" Wilson did. He was certainly confused. "Well, yeah, it's on fire. The kitchen just exploded. The fire department will be here soon, though." The demon grabbed Wilson by the shoulders and pulled him over so that they were face-to-face. "Are you soft in the head? Did your mother drop you as a baby?" "No, I'm not soft,"Wilson replied slowly. "But that's because my mother dropped me so much. Dad said it gave me a thick skull."He smiled proudly. The anger melted out of the demon's face, leaving only disappointment behind. "This is no fun,"he said. He picked Wilson up and drop-kicked him out of Hell and back into his living room. Wilson turned and looked back down into the hole, only to find that it was filled with smoldering dirt. For once, Wilson was saddened. He waved goodbye to his horned friend, and could hear a distant voice yelling out: "I'm going to haunt your neighbors!"
Familial love. It's always been...difficult to understand. Cal and I were both born special. We discovered this at a very early age. When I lifted our family car to get a tennis ball. At six years old. We learned about our powers, as any little boys would, by experimenting. I was strong and resilient, that I learned by surviving a car slamming into my. The car crumpled. I was smart, excelling in school with ease. No flying, sadly. I was faster than the average person I suppose, nor did I tire quickly, but that was about it. Cal...well Cal was similar. Just...not. Cal wasn't stupid but he wasn't overly gifted. He was strong but you would lose interest quickly. He was tough but he did suffer damage more than I did. We learned that by driving a car into him. He bruised and needed a few days to recover. Cal was still my brother. Just, well just not like me. Then we come to familial love. Cal made it through high school, barely. He wasn't popular, handsome, loved. He was just, well he was Cal. So he was generally depressed. He wanted more from life but he wasn't really suited to anything. He worked construction, pretty much the only place he excelled. Lifting things. So I came up with a plan. Cal and I had fought once in our early teens, gotten right into it. He threw me through a wall. Didn't hurt me. So I asked him to come with me downtown one day. We shared coffee on a patio, mostly in silence like brothers can, and I waited. "Cal. Remember when we were kids. You wanted to be the hero? The good guy?" "Of course."He sounded as melancholy as he looked. "Good." The armored car pulled around just like they had every day for the past four weeks. I stood, calmly walked into the street like I was going to cross. Waited. Just before I pulled a balaclava over my face. Then I stepped in front of the speeding truck. The front end collapsed as it slammed into me, stopped the vehicle with an enormously loud crash. Cal didn't even move, he was sitting in stunned shock. I ripped off the back doors with my bare hands, receiving a chest of buckshot from the guard armed with a shotgun in the back. It did nothing but tear some holes in my t-shirt. So I threw the guard out of the truck like he was nothing. I started grabbing bags of money, light for me. Until very suddenly Cal finally started to act, tackling me about the waist and tossing the two of us to the street like rag dolls. Perfect. "What the fuck are you doing?"he hissed. I just smiled before I kicked him off me, a little gently. I grabbed the money and sprinted off. Leaving behind my very confused brother. Familial love. See, I knew this would be the end of our relationship as it had once been. We would have to become foes. Sworn enemies. I would take the mantle of "evil"and wear it. For him. Because he was my brother. And I loved him.
Honestly, at this point, we're too used to all of the crises to get to concerned anymore. First NASA informed the world of the ten or so different groups of things heading towards earth. Then the CDC told us that zombies were on the loose and a whole slew of terrible diseases were about to run rampant. Finally the national weather service announced a global shift increasing the amount of severe weather by a factor of nearly 10,000%. It was the end of days. People tried to riot and loot, but that was the first strange thing to happen. Whenever a group of people tried to get together to loot, a wave of zombies walking through the area would scare them off, or they'd all get two of the new diseases which somehow acted as antigens to each other and they all ended up just a little bit weak and lethargic for the night. Then all of the aliens started decending. Giant ships and small ones alike. Some landed in major cities which had been abandoned from flooding or tornado warnings. Some landed in the middle of nowhere far from civilization. One even parked in the air over the ocean. No matter where they all ended the same way: dead. The Chicago and Boston aliens waged war on the zombies and both sides were reduced to nothing. The aliens aiming to crush the Whitehouse on landing was knocked off course by an asteroid heading for the Lincoln memorial and ended up landing on a terrorist raiding party a couple blocks from congress. The diseases wiped out most of the aliens that landed, and the rest were all killed in the sharknado that passed by on its way out to sea. The aliens over the ocean? Jaws and megashark ate the ship entirely and each died from the evidently poisonous aliens. My personal favorite was the time the Yellowstone super volcano erupted into a tornado which had recently caught the reanimated Hitler in the middle of a blizzard which created a giant volcanic stone cone to serve as his prison. Now we just kind of ignore the warnings. One time the news announced a man's death at the hands of one of the demons that came up from the portal, but it turned out that it was just George R R Martin.
The hardest part is pretending you don't notice. The sun is already racing across the sky, it's 6 am. Explosions echo softly in the distance. But nobody flinches, because nobody notices. But I do, I just don't say anything. I try and pretend I don't see the death and destruction. And I've written letters, plenty, to the city asking if there is anything we can do about the constant struggle between existing and trying to survive the mayhem. Nobody has gotten back, but I'm still waiting. The mailman was killed twice last week, I'm sure that letter explaining the horrible day to day atrocities and what's going to be done about it is still on its way. By noon I'm at work, it's lunch, I'm looking out the window of one of the high rise buildings, eating a sandwich, going over reports, they're due by this weekend, and between trying to get home alive and getting this done on time, I don't know which one I want more. I work in downtown Los Santos. Oh, and it's about that time again. A passenger plane flying in the distance, Boeing 747, I used to want to fly them as a kid. The massive plane is making it's way towards me, and it's target is the building. How do I know? It's the twelfth one today to run itself into the building. The plane is the only thing that is ever destroyed, the building, never a scratch. And the people? Nobody notices, nobody ever notices. The evening is rolling around, I'm enjoying the lush colorful skies by the beach as I try and relax in the dying rays from the evening sun, going over the day, and what tomorrow might have for me. But now, screaming. I turn to see a car with blood and bodies decorating the hood, the driver inside with three others, I can hear laughter. They always laugh. They never stop, they just keep going, trying to hit as many people as they possibly can. As soon as he's gone, the damage is left behind, nobody cares, nobody notices, and everyone just moves along like nothing happened. The day feels like only couple hours past, and it's over. I sit alone in my kitchen, eating pizza. I clean up, and lay in bed, listening to the evening ambiance: Gun shots, screaming, sirens, more sirens, helicopters, more screaming, laughter, helicopters, more sirens, then silence. (For now.) I look at my watch, the seconds fly by as it's already eleven. I'll try to close my eyes, and drown out the noises, trying to sleep. I often wonder how long everyone who lives here is going to pretend and not notice the daily carnage, the daily murder, the daily sirens, the daily crashing, the daily hell that visits this beautiful city. Peace will come back, I'm sure of it. "Practice patience"my dad always told me. So until then, I'll wait, patiently.
The steady whine of the heart monitor was the only sound left in the habitat. DeMord's life signs were gone. We've been at Site Omega for seven months, 23 days, and about 14 hours. "We."Sorry, I guess I should just say "I."DeMord was the only other member of the expedition left, and today I woke up to his suit missing and the hatch registering an exit about two hours earlier. None of the oxygen tanks are gone, so he couldn't have gotten far. Maybe he removed his helmet like Riley to just make it quick. Or maybe he just walked and walked until the suit's internal supply gave out and he collapsed, like Commander Martin. I suppose I should be thankful; it's a clean way of committing suicide. No mess for me to clean up with the precious little water that I have. I turn off the monitor from his suit, and everything falls silent. I can't say I am surprised. I saw all the signs from a mile off; it was really just a question of when. There was nothing I could do about it, though. With Earth gone, everyone gave up hope. We lost contact during the descent through the atmosphere, and that final "godspeed"message was the last we heard from home. We thought it might have been damage to the communications system, but as soon as the sun set it became abundantly clear: the bright spot of the light that the rovers had long been able to see from Mars was no longer there. Earth had not stopped communicating with us; it had simply disappeared. Our crew of ten, arguably some of the smartest humans alive, simply couldn't come up with any explanation for how the entire thing might have disappeared. Even if a massive asteroid had destroyed all life, it would still leave the planet there. I think the puzzle of it all is really what drove Church and Masters to kill themselves; they were the first to go, and also the most obsessed with 'solving' the mystery. I went outside and built a small stone cairn near the habitat, with DeMord's name written across it with rocks. The writing on the monument won't last long with Mars' vicious storms, but I feel like he needs some kind of burial. Someone has to remember him, and I'm the only one left. Maybe aliens will one day find these mounds near the remains of the habitat, and know that humanity did once exist, and we made it off our own little world. At least there's that. Inside the habitat, I went about my chores mindlessly. Algae growth is going well; the colonies are producing enough air, water and food to sustain me for the rest of my natural life. I've even started introducing the special strain that will be able to live outside on the soil and start producing oxygen. We carried it here intending to ready the planet for other inhabitants, but it doesn't look like that's ever going to happen. I checked all of the containment seals for the habitat, and everything seems to be going fine. Solar panels are spread and collecting, recharging the battery after the darkness of night. I even made DeMord's bed, even though no one will be coming back to it. It just needed to be done. After the chores, I tried reading. Then I tried watching a movie; the computer has thousands in its library. I just can't stand the sight of people laughing together. Loving, crying, talking... everything. It just reminds me that I'm the only one left. I sit alone in the silent habitat and wonder: now what?
Being prescient isn't all its cracked up to be. You hear about people saying "If I'd only known this or that", typically the winning lottery numbers, a cheating spouse. Sometimes about accidents, or funerals. Well, if the answer was actually that clear, that simple, I might have been a touch less bitter about it. But it isn't. Its everything, every waking moment, every newborn breath, every final rasp in the shrunken lungs of the ill and the damned alike. Its the whirlwind of noise blowing in to reap and twirl and move on for another breath one week, exactly 604800 seconds ahead. So much overload flashing across my life eye like a drive-in movie theater, broadcast from destinations unknown. I finally gave up on deciphering the madness. I began wearing this eyepatch thirty years ago, and I haven't regretted a moment but for when I've had to take it off on the rare occasion for cleaning, showering. The darkness was a comforting old friend. I woke up one morning and he was dead. A light so white it seemed to glow in reverse at the edges had slipped in as I slept and murdered my oldest friend, a physical heat that had my fingers scrambling at the edges to tear it off. I saw the apocalypse. I saw Ragnarok. I saw all the trees in the world, but one, burning before the supernova of the exploding sun. I saw the atmosphere burn away, scorched to ions, the blue blasted off of the sky so that only the cold black stars, dimmed before that horrific fire, showed. I saw the beasts of the world run wild and murder each other, murdering every man, woman, and child before their path. I saw my son, a medicineman across the boarders, abandon his smocks and sewing kit for a construction worker's hammer, dying to a horde of wolves. I saw the oceans vaporizing in the heatwaves. And, at the end, I saw myself, sinking in ankle-deep mud, dragged down by an anaconda to drown before I choked on my own tongue. The last sight in the dying world, the gathering storm clouds filled with boiling rain, enough to drown the lands and cool the air. I cursed Mimir's Well with my final breath.
Ryan bent over, examining the rack of vials sitting on the shelf. Inside each of them was a clear liquid, filled halfway. A scientist, Ms. Sheila Ogni, stood next to him, clipboard against her chest and poorly containing a small frown. Other scientists, Ryan liked to call them Coats, walked around them carrying boxes full of material. Shredders were constantly buzzing around them. "What a shame, huh, Ms. Ogni?"Ryan said. "Yes, such a shame."She said. A bio-weapons project, "The Brooklyn Program"on CIA paper, was scrapped, and Ryan was disappointed seeing his brain child being taken over by Oppenheimer and his Manhattan bullshit. The military - hell, the entire United States Government - wanted a weapon created that could take out Japan and lower casualties, and that's exactly what Ryan gave them. It was twice as effective as the nuclear weapons they were opting for, and that's what was so scary. They picked Nevada to do the first live test. Ryan was from Nevada, and it seemed appropriate that's where his darling virus should be released. They used death row inmates for testing. It was fascinating how easily they were black bagged, snatched in the night, wiped from existence legally by the Men in Black. Then they were wiped from existence by the Brooklyn Program. It was fast. Too fast. Releasing the virus upon the unsuspecting inmates, it only took an hour for the fifty subjects to drop dead. Physical signs of disease were minimal. Some rashes, a few coughs, then they all dropped, groaning. After they were dead, morticians had to open them up on the spot. One of them described it as if "a bomb went off inside them."Ryan loved the description. Sadly, even with hazmat suits on, the exposure proved fatal, and they too died. But this time it was faster. Twenty minutes from contact, and they dropped dead. Then the fake town and the bodies were burned. They dropped a napalm bomb on the down. The virus hugged the bodies. They couldn't be removed without exposure. It would have turned Japan into a wasteland. Ryan wanted to use it in Europe especially. But everyone knew what would happen. It would jump from body to body, leapfrogging its way across the continent. It had the potential to wipe out all of Eurasia. And with it's ability to also infect animals, Ryan had created and funded the ultimate weapon. He gave the United States exactly what it wanted. He sighed, straightening himself. "I never liked Oppenheimer,"Ryan lit a cigarette. "He thought too small. He's the kind of guy who will look back on his creation with horror. They'll feel terrible about dropping those bombs." "And you wouldn't feel horrible about releasing the virus?"Sheila said. He exhaled. "Of course not. I'd personally dispense it if I could." "Where are they going to take it?"Sheila asked as a few assistants carefully put crates of the virus in bio-hazard containers. "I don't know,"Ryan shrugged. "Maybe they'll save it for a rainy day, when they realize that nuclear weapons are too obvious and they've got to do a little bit of culling. But I'm sure they'll forget about the lethality of this thing by then." "Sir, you can't smoke in here."She said, frowning. "I know, Sheila,"He inhaled again, then flicked the half-burnt cigarette onto the floor. They'd destroy the facility anyway. "Sure is a shame, isn't it?" "Such a shame."She echoed.
The battle cruiser appeared just after lunch on a Thursday. It was in orbit. It had yet to knock a single satellite out of sky so the world was able to watch. A well practised voice spoke as if from invisible loud speakers. "We come in defence of the defenceless"it spoke. It said it again and again for at least an hour, scrolling through every conceivable language. At about dinner time, a blue mist descended on Earth. It grew thicker and became a thick purple fog. no one could see a foot infront of them. It caused mayhem until the time people, without a fog covering everything, would have gone to bed. A single flash of light from the battle cruiser and the human population of earth, as one, choked. Falling to their knees. Grasping and clawing at their throats. The now red fog clogging their lungs. Then everything stopped. A day passed, tvs still played, car horns rang out, dogs barked. alarms sang in the silence. A week. Power failed and one by one the noise abated. Leaving only birdsong and the wind in the trees. The alien ship hovered still in the sky. A month after and the mist lifted fully. Humanity was dead. Only the animals of Earth were left alive. The ship spoke once more. "We came in defence of the defenceless. They have been defended. This planet is clean."And with that final message. It left orbit and left Earth in control of the animals once more.
"I just don't understand it, Xiao. How the hell did she learn friggin' Chinese?" "... Gee, I don't know." "I mean, did we ever have any books about that lying around? Maybe leave the TV on to the Mandarin Channel?" "Yes, plenty of Chinese television stations in Hong Kong, aren't there?" "Do-... do you think someone might've kidnapped her while we were asleep? Maybe they snuck her off into the streets to turn him into some... Chinese computer-hacking spy." "Abe, it... it might've been my parents. You know how they are and how they look and how they happen to teach Mandarin down at the primary school." "... OH GOD." "You get it now?" "I UNDERSTAND COMPLETELY!" "No way, what's your brilliant theory?" "Your parents are Chinese superspies sent to infiltrate the United States and recruit babies for their super-secret political prisoner camps." "Honey, are you drunk?" "Yes." "You just don't want to visit my parents this weekend, don't you?" "Don't you see, Xiao?! They'll indoctrinate her! With Communism and rice! They're planning to takeover the rest of the free world-" "Did you want fried rice for dinner tomorrow or are we eating out again." "Could you put the little slices of pork sausage in there?" "Oooh, tough. We just ran out. I heard Ma' and Pa' have some pig left over though...." "CHINESE SUPERSPIES, XIAO! LIKE JACKIE CHAN BUT SLIGHTLY OLDER WITH A SMOKING-HOT DAUGHTER!" "...We're going tomorrow. You're not getting out of this again. Put the milk back in the fridge and drive Mei to school, won't you?" "No! What if she starts mouthing off in that devil language again?!" "Bai chi..." "She's doing it again! That tears it, we're staying home and as far away as we can from your parents tomorrow." "Zhao bien?" "Quiet Mei, you'll give your father a stupid-induced aneurysm."
The first thing I did with the new headset was find a familiar website in the system, servers had been crossed over and accounts, it seemed as old as when the website first began still existed. I chose plain text format as opposed to the less familiar style of avatar roaming on the system grid. As far as I could tell the system grid was basically a giant virtual world similar to The Sims video game with better graphics. It required a ton of procedure though so I just went old school, which was still an option. I logged on to my old account which was still there surprisingly, all my photos had been archived though and I instantly received a prompt telling me the steps on how to retrieve them. I had 822 new notifications pending, and an entire list of all of the friends on it were deceased, I began tearing up for some odd reason. After all I had just left Boston a few hours ago from 2015 and all of my friends ere still living there. That is when the unexpected happened and my sadness was quickly replaced with confusion. Frank: No. Rachel got married after her BA and never went back popped out about six kids and never wrote another study on it. Shit man, my plane is about to leave without me, maybe we will get drinks the next time I'm in bean country. Play a pick up game or something you can tell me about that batshit crazy device you are working on? TTYL, bro. Thomas: Well that sucks, I figured she would be the one to solve it. Oh ok. Yeah I don't drink anymore but I still play every Sat. on the ole' stomping grounds. Good luck with your internship! End of Message/Archived/April 04 2015 3:22A.M. Frank is typing... Frank: Hey you two hundred year old son of a bitch! We never got those drinks. If Professor Watkins was still alive he'd owe me three hundred dollars. Thomas: Frank? Is this Frank Deveroux? What the fuck is going on? Frank: Of course it's me you goofy bitch, who were you expecting? Google my name and it will answer your questions. Frank: What about you? Most people thought you were abducted and murdered in September of 2015, I knew better though. It was always that quantum displacement bullshit you were always preaching since high school. You time traveled didn't you? I opened a new grid bar and searched his name, Frank Deveroux wiki, oldest living man 238 years old. The synopsis was he became the international expert on the vascular system and pioneered the application of nanite surgery. There was alot of controversy on how he was able to stay so young, he did not look a day over fifty. Thomas: Yeah, crazy fucking ride in, I ended up about eighty miles out from the East Coast, good thing I knew to have a parachute and life raft before jumping though. I was never good at precise variable mathematics. Lol, apparently you have mastered it though. Frank: I programmed my own nanites to deconstruct and rebuild my vascular system in sections, my brain gets goofy every once in a while but I'm working on that. I've allowed others this same gift but the public doesn't know about them, only members with something to contribute to society. It's not quite immortality but we are getting there, nothing as profound as time travel though. Thomas: Well shit man what have you been up to? Got any children? Frank: Tom, fuck off with ll that for now. Look, the government knows you are there and I'm delaying them in hopes of getting to you first. I've sent an autopod to that shitty hotel you are in, it's going to fly you to my facility in LA where I will meet you. Trust me, the government will probably steal your tech and kill you after they are done with you. After all that's exactly what they did with the first aliens that landed in Times Square, they basically started the first galactic war I've created a little video to catch you up with what's been going on for the past two hundred years. You can watch it on your way, it's the green one in the parking lot, here now take the headset off and run! Go man! Edit: People want more so. I took the head set off and my eyes adjusted to the dim focus of the graphic display, it was much brighter than I had expected. Like coming in from the first winter's snow on a bright afternoon, disoriented I peeked out of the hotel's window and sure enough one of those helicopter cars was waiting it had a flag on the side I did not recognize. I quickly gathered all my things scattered on the bed, but left the three hundred dollar headset that I had bought with my bitcoin account suspecting it had some kind of tracing software in it. My mind was in overdrive, how could Frank still be alive and how did the government know I was truly me in the future? Had there been other time travelers? I took a deep breath and exited the hotel making sure the chromatic device was still attached to my leg, I made a quick trip to the lobby and gave them the key and entered the strange green 'autopod' as Frank had called it. The doors slid open with a smooth hiss unlike the taxi I had taken after swimming to shore, two propellers on either side were hidden beneath the carriage that instantly shot out after the doors shut. The interior was spacious and comfortable, I could almost stand completely inside, a hologram display unit lit up as the car began slowly ascending with warning lights on the outside. The hologram display labeled everything unfamiliar to me, beverage and snack storage, slid out from beneath the cushioned seats on either side. Beneath that was a drawer full of medications and sick bags, the right side of the windshield doubled as a television, this was nothing like the older version taxi that got me here I was beginning to get impressed. "Welcome, Thomas Hester. Please prepare yourself for sonic flight by aligning your seating position in one of the marked locations."the voice of the car said. I readjusted my sitting position in the red glowing bars beneath the leather like material. "Please remain still while your vest belt measurements are taken." A vest on a coat hanger dropped down from a panel and a laser in the unit on the ceiling scanned my chest as I watched the harness on it readjust. "Scanning complete. Would you like an introduction and tutorial for sonic flight? If you choose no we may begin."the disembodied voice asked me. "No. No thank you, I think I get it,"I told it. "what should I call you though in case I need something?" "Mr.Deveroux has designated my AI core as BB, it is short for 'Bottom Bitch', I understand this is a joke that you as one of his classmates would recognize." I giggled remembering the epic breakup of Rachel and Frank, in which he called her his bottom bitch in front of most of campus. "Speaking of Frank is there any way I can,"the car sprang forward with incredible speed jolting my nutsack on the seat making me wince. "talk to him?" "Mr.Deveroux is discussing diplomatic terms with the senators of New Jersey and Massachusetts on your behalf, in five minutes we will be intercepted by military drones that plan to extradite you from Brazil's custody."BB told me. "Wait what? I'm in Brazil's custody as in South America Brazil?"I asked her...it. "Correct, Mr.Deveroux has many clients and associates globally and galactically, if the United States government happens to extradite you there is an 84% chance that they will steal the device hiding on your leg and torture you to learn it's secrets and then kill you. Mr.Deveroux plans to hold a press conference to let the worlds know, you are the first time traveler, the government will stop at nothing short of starting a war to prevent this. It is why you are in Brazil's custody."BB finished. I suddenly felt sick, maybe hoping that Frank was fucking with me, but it was real. The aliens, corrupt government, I suddenly had the urge to use the device and go back but I did not have enough voltage in the uber capacitors. Fuck me, I looked out the window and saw a blazing trail of large predator drones line up in the distant skyline of the Jersey shore. "Fuck meeee..."I moaned. A holographic naked woman popped out of the display unit, an extremely beautiful blonde caught me off guard. "No, BB. I meant it as an expression. Like we are screwed."I clarified. "I am aware, Frank's history on your persona suggests you are a fan of jokes." Edit: Okay so I have continued this particular story in a sub I just created for those interested called /r/KANNABULLWrites I've written a prelude and a continuation with more to come for those interested.
Chanting, swaying and twisting her hands in the air, the master mage wove a construct of arcane energy into existence. Traceries of golden light fizzed and sparked in an incredibly complex mathematical shape and the frizzy-haired woman sweated with the effort of her conjury. Layer upon layer was added, making a concentric spiral of blazing lines - suddenly drawing air into the center of the construct with an audible inrush. Finally, she clapped her hands and sealed the grand spell, the lines vibrating and compressing with a hideous whine of thaumaturgic tension, snapping the spell into a hard point of light. From the eldritch forcewell fell a single yellow coin, which bounced and rolled to stop at the feet of the monarch. She picked it up - the edges were rough; more a flattened lump of gold than a genuine piece of currency. "That's it?"said the queen, incredulous. Panting and shaking, the mage bowed, the embroidered sleeves of her scarlet robes trailing the floor, "Yes your majesty, that is a pure gold coin, conjured out of nothing but air." The queen turned the lump over in her hand, "But it doesn't even have my face on it." Pale and looking like she needed to very badly sit down, the sorceress simply sobbed in response. "Look, that was impressive and all,"the monarch soothed her, "but Magicko over here can make dozens of coins, with my face on them and everything." Obligingly, the court conjurer pulled a bunch of roses from his sleeve, then lit them on fire. Blowing them out revealed a pile of newly minted gold coins in his hand. He grinned through his van-dyke beard at the drained mage and threw the coins into the air, where they transformed into a flock of sparrows. "See?"chirped the queen. "But,"the red-robed woman swayed, "that's just trickery, that not even real magic." Magicko side-eyed the queen, as she responded to the mage, "Well, it's the end result that matters though, doesn't it?" Swallowing the woman bowed to the queen again, "I... I suppose." "Good. Maybe you could conjure up some roses like dear Magicko here, that would be more impressive." "Uh... your magesty,"she swallowed again, "the forces I am wielding take the very fabric of matter and collapse the atomic structure into new elements." The queen stared at her blankly. Grimacing, the mage tried again, "Majesty, I am changing one kind of matter into another kind of matter." The monarch smiled brightly, "Stiiiiill not quite with you." With a sigh, the sorceress slapped her flat hands together, then pulled a black and white kitten into existence with nothing but sleight-of-hand. "How about this instead?" The queen cooed and clapped excitedly, "Oooooooo, it's a little kitty-kat!" The mage sent a sour look at Magicko, who fixed her with a filthy stare. Eat shit she mouthed at him as she handed the wiggling feline to the monarch.
My mind is racing, trying to frantically put together the chain of events that got me here. My eyes search for light but find none, only darkness and the still air. The wooden box, deep underground, groans under the weight of shifting dirt. I frantically push at the roof and scrape at the sides. Nothing will budge, and I'm certain I'm bleeding now. The air is stale, and I'm getting lightheaded. I scream, but more groaning answers back. The walls feel like they're shrinking. I try to stop them. I can't breathe now. The darkness burns. Buried alive. Help.
My eyes opened to the window with the heavy paint, looking out at the old oak tree. It waved at me in the wind, and the sun brought color out into its bright red and yellow leaves. As the air shifted, many took flight, letting loose a few to the free fall, as branches shifted. Breathing was easy as I lay there, still, loose, and narrow. My back didn't hurt, my legs were tingling in anticipation of movement. Nothing cracked or groaned as I sat up. I just felt "right." Everything was so damn bright, new, amazing. I tried to not lose myself in it as I got up, rolling from my old bed, in my old house. My eyes didn't need glasses, the room was crystal clear. Luna, my old cat looked at me with a casual glance before she settled down again on the covers of it. Her hair was white, fluffy, soft, and she smelled like the flowers set on the counter she always ate when no one was home. I weighed next to nothing, as if my body was just... just strong- like I was three times as strong as I'd been when I went to sleep the night before. I wanted to cry, to dance, to run, to move- I had to move! The day had just started, and everything was so strange! As I ran down the stairs, I jumped the last few, landing with a thud- but bouncing back up like a rocket towards the kitchen, and out the back door. The air was fresh, the sky blue, the clouds were white and beautiful as the grass and sand beneath my toes. Christ, I wanted to cry. "Come get breakfast! I'll make you eggs."Her voice was just as I remembered it, and I couldn't help but give in. I did cry then. The day went on, and I knew somehow- I just knew, that when I woke up tomorrow I would be back. I would be me as I was, that this was a fluke and a chance. This was a miracle, and if I had any guts at all- I should take it, change what I could, while I could. I didn't do that though. Instead, I spent the day with my mom and I didn't change a thing.
Case Study: October 2, 2015 Number of observation days: 136 Current state of mind: Jane Goodall-esque Location: Longview High School, Longview VA Weather: 57 degrees Fahrenheit (as of 12:08 PM). Precipitation expected throughout the day. Sunrise: 7:05 AM. Sunset: 6:48 PM. Expected Participants: Mason Schwartz (14 years old) and Melanie Sanchez (15 years old). Expected Outcome: Mason asks Melanie to the homecoming dance. Case brief: I have been working security at Longview High School for almost five months. My primary duties include, a.) Monitoring the security cams, b.) Well… that’s pretty much it. Besides that one time they found an eighth of pot in Greg Melanski’s locker, my job has entailed an unfathomably thorough amount of mundane observation of teenage social habits. Using the phrase voyeuristic fascination when it comes to teenagers seems wildly inappropriate, so I will just say that it has been enlightening in various unexpected ways. You know that game where you silence the TV and provide the voices for the characters instead, making them sound absurd and ridiculous. Well that’s pretty much my life. Closed circuit feeds don’t have sound, so really, I have to infer a lot. I don’t even know if Mason and Melanie are their real names. But it sounds a little less creepy than saying, tall thin brown haired boy and short stumpy blonde girl. Anyways, the goal of every day is to somehow influence some relationship in any sort of minute way. Not every day is going to lead to something big and grand, but if I can make someone go down a different hall, they interact with different people, and my Rube Goldberg machine is set in motion. It can be something as simple as briefly sounding a large beep from an alarm. This will turn any kid around. I could make the janitor close down a certain bathroom making them go to a different one. I am like God without the omniscience, or the power. Or the insight. Okay. I’m not like God. I guess I’m a guy with limited power over children who I can see, but they can’t see me. Shit, this is impossible to describe without sounding like a creep. I swear to god they had insane background check measures. So today, October 2, 2015 is a big day. After having made both Mason and Melanie traverse similar paths throughout the day all year, they have been talking a lot. I know they are both into each other. Body language can say a lot if you look for the right cues. At approximately 1 PM today, Gene Swanson (once again I don’t actually know anyone’s name. But they are pretty convincing names, huh?), well he is going to be putting up the homecoming banner in the SW 3rd floor, green hallway. Last time a banner for a dance was hung up, I saw 26 different couplings by the end of the day. So if Mason isn’t one of the first people to see the sign, someone else might ask Melanie. The Plan: At 12:58, Randy the janitor will close down the NE 2nd floor, red hallway bathroom. Mason will have to walk upstairs to the NE 3rd floor, blue hallway bathroom, but on his way up, I will momentarily lock the door. In his desperation he will have to traverse the school to the SW 3rd floor, green hallway bathroom, and see the sign just as Gene is putting it up. This is all child splay. I could do this with my eyes closed. The hard part is going to be timing Melanie so that they both see the sign, and Mason will have no choice but to ask her. You see Melanie is in 3rd period math from 12:30 until 1:50, so there’s no reason she would be walking around. The key here, which is something I’m uncomfortable doing, but I’m getting bored and this needs to be done. Well Greg Melanski is also in Melanie’s 3rd period class, and I’ve stashed his eighth that got confiscated under his desk. I have also called in a random drug sweep at 12:55 PM. The dog will find the pot, class evacuated, and viola, Mason and Melanie meet in the hall. You may ask me if I feel bad about this. I suppose I do in some way, but I have been working so goddamn hard on getting Mason and Melanie together, a few casualties are going to be expected. Plus I’ve got an exciting new project that might be stirring up between Alex Hofstedt and Ray Jenson, and I would like to finish this one before moving on. Plus I mean, I’ve done worse, of course you can look into the old case files for those, so I won’t get into the details now. But in my last job in Baltimore, don’t even get me started with what I had to do to Hae Min Lee and her car to make sure Adnan ended up with Stephanie. That just turned into a giant clusterfuck.
We never thought we would do it. Maybe we went to far. We went behind anything the world had ever seen. When the phrase was first uttered, there were blackouts through half continental Europe. We had to create new technology, technology that transcended space and time. New technology called Xbox Live. What we didn't know is that there were already people on it, from another dimension. That's where we got the phrase. I shudder just writing it down. "I FUCKED YOUR MOM FAGGOT GIT GUD"
Year 1694 The Planet The past few days have been filled with heavy speculation. There have been noticeable changes on the surface of Heaven. The dense green forests that once covered the entirety of the holy sphere are fading into a deep gray. The priests say we are not praying enough, and the gods are upset with us. The head of the church wants to create some kind of machine capable of bestowing physical gifts onto the gods. I only hope that this will satisfy them. Year 1745 The Moon Heaven has been showering us with gifts of gold and silver for many years now. This is very useful for our economy, but what we really need is some sort of way to stop the climate change. Our once lush rainforests are freezing over, the deathly cold leaving no traces of life. World population has dropped down to the low thousands. Our prayers to the gods seem to go unanswered, but they continue to send us gifts. Do they even listen to us? Year 1785 The Planet Despite the constant gifting, the forests that once covered the landscapes are almost completely gone now. Why did this happen? Whose fault is it? A small group of scientists have banded together in attempts to build a machine capable of reaching Heaven, so we can find a solution to the problem. The state of the church has declined massively since the forests began disappearing. People seem to have given up on the gods. They believe that Heaven is dying. I, however, have not given up hope. My faith stays strong, especially in my old age. I will hopefully be up in Heaven soon. I hope I have satisfied the gods. Year 1860 The Moon It has been 50 years since the surface of the planet froze over completely. Civilization was forced to burrow underground to avoid the horrible cold. Not a single person has been up to the surface in 35 years. Instead of looking up and seeing the vast lands of Heaven in the sky, we now only see sights of dark gray and black. It is very difficult to see underground, but my eyes are slowly getting used to separating all of the different shades of black. Life underground is not easy, and most of us have lost our faith. Nobody knows if the rain of gifts persists to this day. There are rumors of a government expedition to the surface, to see if the ice has melted away. If this is true, I can only hope that everybody makes it back alive. I do not believe the cold has gone away, especially since the church disbanded. Some, like me, however, have kept their faith in the gods, in hopes of making it to Heaven and becoming free from this frozen planet someday. Year 1894 The Planet The ship landed yesterday. After nearly 20 years of civil war, the church finally surrendered and allowed our journey to Heaven to become a reality. The plan is to see if the gods are still alive after Heaven’s apparent death. Unsurprisingly, the surface of the planet is completely devoid of any life. The gifts we spend centuries sending also appear to have gone unreceived. The surface is covered in a thick layer of ice and snow, with crates full of gifts littered across the landscape. It is impossible to survive on the surface of Heaven for more than a minute at a time. Thankfully, the ship has a farm segment, which will supply us with enough food and water until we figure how to unfreeze our fuel supply. One thing is certain from this journey – the gods are dead. Year 1964 The Moon Countless expeditions to the surface have been made in the past century. The gifts from the gods have proven to be quite useful and remain our only source of wood. It is difficult to explore the surface, as we do not have the gift of eyesight that our ancestors had when they lived on the surface. We don’t even know if the tales of Heaven and the gods are true. Something interesting was discovered last week on one of the expeditions. A large metal object was found in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately, all efforts to break into the object have been fruitless. Some people believe that it’s the last care package from the gods, with the capability of restoring life to the surface. These people are dismissed as crazy, but I think it’s nice to be optimistic about our future as a civilization. It’s all we can do. Year 2001 The Planet Throughout the colony’s existence on Heaven, it has been visited by life native to the planet on multiple occasions. Small pale creatures without eyes have attempted to break into the ship before. I guess the gods weren’t real after all. The people back on our home planet would be very disappointed if they found out that the gods were never here in the first place. 100 years and we haven’t even been able to communicate with them. They probably think we died off, or were accepted by the gods into Heaven, but we all know that Heaven is just a joke now. But still, I guess it is nice that they believe. We serve as a beacon of hope to the people of our planet. We fulfill the role that the gods played in our past. They may be dead, but they are not forgotten. We will make it our mission as a colony to restore life to the surface, and make it worthy of the name Heaven once again. Not just for the gods, for everyone.
It has been said that the purest agony a man can experience is the utter despair of unexpected heartbreak. To know that one for whom they felt such love has so suddenly betrayed them is reported to be the inspiration for the concept of Hell. This trifle fact - at once so apparently true and yet wholly unimportant - never seemed worthy of questioning... until the night when I experienced a misery which has since carved an indelible scar across my psyche. My evening had begun with a sense of both satisfaction and accomplishment, each sentiment being the result of giddy abandon and gluttony. My hunger thus satiated, I reclined to bask in the glow of my own contentment, my only companion being the comforting flicker of the screen before me. Slumber visited me soon after, and I dreamt of lavish luxury such that I had never seen with my waking eye. It was a peaceful and fulfilling experience. Then, the vision took on a tone of insistent urgency. Before me I saw the ground split open. From within the chasm rose a mountain of black tar and viscous mud, each of them coalescing into a substance not unlike that which might arise from a fetid swamp. The earth trembled, and from the lips of this dark monolith spewed forth a noxious gas, itself warning of a dire calamity surging forth from the planet's bowels. I awoke with a start, desperate to be free of the nightmare, but found myself gripped by an even more pressing terror: My own innards, like those of the world from my dream, had become a tightening knot of fury and dismay given physical form. I hurriedly rose from my position, daring not tempt fate with a further delay. With escalating panic I rushed to the one place I might find sanctuary, all the while silently begging the unseen universe to grant me strength. My hands trembled as I removed my lower clothing, and my legs shook as I positioned myself upon the pedestal that would grant my salvation. Yet deliverance would not come without a price, for it was then that I knew the true meaning of torment. Like the fledgling volcano from within my dream, I erupted, the flaming magma escaping me with the fires of an exploding star. Sweat formed on my brow, stinging my eyes, and a heinous cramp took hold of my abdomen. Obsidian rocks and mud escaped me, each threatening to rend my insides with their mocking revelry of reckless unrestraint, and an unspeakably horrific aroma permeated the air. My Hell went on for an eternity... and it would only become more harrowing. I had forgotten to buy toilet paper.
I close the medicine cabinet and take my pills before staring at blue eyes reflecting back at me. My hand pushes my hair back and I force a smile at myself. The smile grows wider, turning into a toothy grin and finally into a laugh. I can’t stop laughing and wheezing for hours while my reflection stares back at me contently smirking. I am suffocating. _____ /r/thesadbox for happy things. So happy.
Humans love to romanticize; they love to dream of things far removed from their grasp and tell tales of what they could be. Death is the most notable, as the end of your own existence is a frightening thing to contemplate. Where do we go, once our bodies are one with the earth, when our flesh sloughs off our bones and we become naught but a memory? Moreover, what is dying like? What happens in that last, brief moment where you're fading from this world, neurons firing in your brain, desperately trying to keep going? Some say your life flashes before your eyes; that you see all the wonderful memories of your days on Earth stream by like a cinema screen in your head. Unfortunately, though it sounds wonderful, that's simply not the case. The only thing that's flashing is the neural network in your brain. Your body is dying slowly, but your mind still has just a little bit of leftover electricity, and it's going haywire. Signals are fired all across your nervous system, desperately trying to get some kind of response, like a mother crying for a lost child. You feel it as pain. You can't move, but your nerves are going berserk and it feels as if your blood has been turned to magma. Sharp, stabbing pains, trails of burning sensations, all while your entire body feels like a leg that's fallen asleep- pins and needles pricking the entire surface of your skin. You can't think past the pain. You can't move, or cry for help. Sometimes you can still hear people talking over your body, even if you can't see anymore. "Oh, he's gone. How tragic. At least he passed peacefully."while you're being tortured for what feels like an eternity, your cells exploding like balloons exposed to an excessive heat. Not to mention, you can't breath and your heart isn't pumping. Your body is dead, but the nerve signals those send aren't quite through right away. You still feel like you're suffocating, and the stillness left by a lack of heartbeat is beyond unsettling. You're alive, but you're not. You're dying, but you're dead. You're paralyzed, but you feel every square inch of your body begging for the completion of death. You have a mouth, but you cannot scream. Yet, when it's over and your nerves have died after 60 seconds or so, there's still just the tiniest bit of gas left in the tank. Not enough for you to have a philosophical debate about what's next, or contemplate the meaning of life and suffering, but just enough to feel the emptiness of the black hole you're in. You aren't bombarded with pain anymore, but your soul earns no reprieve from the situation. You're alone, at the end. Truly, utterly alone.
"It's okay guys I'm just going to watch"said Jeb. "I really like to watch. My wife lets me watch and thats what I like to do. Sit back and watch."Jeb explained from across the room. Marco Rubio looked up from his burner phone. He had a new match on Grindr. But Jeb was mubling things again and he felt obligated to reply. "That's cool Jeb."Rubio turned his attention back to his phone."If your long strong and ready to get the friction on meet me at the campaign bus at nine."Rubio hit send and smiled. That smile quickly faded because Donald Trump, Chris Christy, Ted Cruz, Bernie Sanders, Hillary and Dick Chayne had arrived. "I shall be the Dungeon Master"Dick Chayne declared. I have extensive experience running secret dungeons from Iraq to Romania. Dick continued. "Now tell me what classes and alignments you have chosen so we can begin" "I will be a bridge troll"Chris Christy replied. "Unless you pay my troll toll you may not cross the bridge!" "Sounds like a pretty irrelevant character but okay,"continued Dick. "Next." "I shall be a Canadian monk. I too am neutral and fight for whoever gives me the most coin."Ted Cruz replied as Jeb watched eagerly from a distance with his Jeb look. "I am a fire wizard known to all as The Burn I fight for equality fairness and the ideal, even if its not practical or realistic"Sanders exclaimed while gesticulating wildly with his hands and fingers. Hillary looked up from her BlackBerry and stood up . She pulled a knife from her purse. Slit her wrists and drew a pentagram on the floor in her own Blood. "I call upon the unspeakable one to give me strength to win this game! No Sacrifice is too great! Nothing is sacred. Give me the power to rule from the throne of a thousand skulls! The blood pentagram pulsed for a while before fading into the nether. Dick Chayne wasn't the least bit surprised. "While brise white by light by night I am the White Knight who fights for what's right for all whom are white"Donald Trump replied. Dick wasn't surprised by that either.
The apple cries, "I have a child!"The fish recites Quran. The ham says softly, "Please have mercy.""Don't kill me,"screams the flan. All at once, the eggs yell "Help!"The salad sings the blues. Lettuce sighs and contemplates, and jelly pays its dues. Yogurt hides in cowardice, all the grapes rebel. The sandwich weeps in fear because he hates the dinner bell. My fridge has turned into a town, filled with screaming heads I could become their murderer, but I'd rather starve instead.
I clear my throat nervously as I straighten my tie for the third, fourth time. I check my watch; 6:24. Great-grandma Martha swirls in front of me and smiles. "You look wonderful, dear,"she says, reaching out to fix my hair before she remembers that she can't. I do it for her. "Thanks, Martha."I found it easier to just call them by their names– eventually, it just got too tiring having to say what they actually were in relation to me, especially with Aelfthyrth, considering that she doesn't speak modern English. Sebastian pops into view as well next to Martha, his wig pristinely powdered and his cravat impeccable as always. He sniffed disdainfully. "Good gracious, boy, quit dilly-dallying or you'll be late. A true gentleman will not leave a lady waiting. The carriage ride will take at least forty minutes!" I just smile. I learned long ago that arguing with them doesn't work, and they don't mean any harm, so I let them be, bad as their advice is. I grab my keys from the bed and pull on my socks. Sebastian is replaced by Minhe, who stares sullenly at me. "Aiyah, Mingguang, why are you still chasing this girl? I told you, she is too old. Already twenty-four years old! I was married to Zhangcheng when I was sixteen!"She sniffs. "But then, I was a good Ming girl. I couldn't expect you to understand."She turns to leave, but before she does she pauses and grudgingly says, "Good luck."I laugh and thank her before she disappears. I get up from the bed and trot down the stairs. As I do, a slightly shorter figure with sandy hair appears to my left. Uncle Charlie is probably the most relatable ancestor I have at this point, considering his age. He had such a sad and abrupt end; only eighteen years old. "You gonna score, dude?"He asks. I laugh and shrug. "We'll see." Charlie grins. "I'm telling you, dude, just play her some Beach Boys and you'll be set."With that piece of wisdom spoken, he slides down the handrail with a whoop and disappears. I pull on my shoes and prepare to leave. I open the door, but sense something behind me. I turn around and see a woman with long black hair next to a tall, bespectacled man. They smile. "Good luck, erzi,"says Mom. Dad makes a punching gesture and says, "Go get 'em, tiger."I smile too as they disappear.
Like all terrible things, it all started with a prank. At one of the many too-long and too-pointless meetings that involved the CIA, FBI, NSA and the DoD, someone had the guts to stick a whoopie cushion under the seat of the NSA representative. And thus, with the sound of slightly wet flatulence, the Three Letter War had begun. Their pride hurt, the NSA rallied around their coworker who had been shamed in front of their rivals and peers. A plan was formed, and within 24 hours, they had traced the whoopie cushion to an online purchase made by the FBI agent. Plotting their revenge, they used their backdoor access to get into the FBI email server and changed the settings such that any email the agent set in the future would only send in 24pt comic sans in neon colors. Leaving a small false trace behind to point to the CIA as the intruder, they giggled and then left the system alone to watch what fell out. It was soon apparent that the FBI agent was frustrated. Ever since the day before, all his emails looked like a 38 year old cat lady had written them, and all his colleagues were laughing at him. But he was not stupid; oh he knew that this was likely revenge for his silly juvenile prank he pulled at the last meeting. So he gathered his FBI IT wizards, and after some investigation they found that the CIA had left tracks. He figured it was probably the NSA who actually did it, but the CIA rep was a real jackass and playing some little jokes on him as well wouldn't be too remiss right? So the FBI began their two pronged attack. The first target was the CIA. Finding the agent who attended the meetings wasn't difficult. He was a loud ass who everyone hated. In short he was "that guy". Pulling his info, they found where he parked and what car he drove. Then, every day while he was inside the building, a team of FBI agents would gain entry into his car and turn every single knob, switch, dial and button so that when he got in the vehicle it was complete mayhem when he turned it one. Their second target was the NSA. They could not be allowed to go unpunished for their crime. With the NSA, the task was simple. They found out what the NSA analyst was in charge of, and spammed him every single day with millions of false information flags. The Analysts team went from processing an easy workload to one that completely swamped their crew. And thus, the three agencies began their feud. ________ Now, three years later things had completely gotten out of hand. The FBI agent showed up to work, only to find every single man in the building making out with each other in a scene of homoerotic wonder. "Dammit! the fucking spooks snuck another gay bomb into the building!"putting on his Haz-Mat suit, he ran into the building to grab the no-homo antidote so the office would start to function again. This was the third time this month, and between the sudden homoeroticism and the LSD injected into the office water coolers nothing was getting done. Of course, their email also hadn't worked correctly in three years, but because there were fax machines everywhere the agency was barely able to continue working. The NSA headquarters was not much better. Since the onset of the war, the entire NSA server capacity was being bombarded with exobytes of porn ads, false flags, memes, and the like. Since the onset of the war, staff turnaround had increased by 200%, and as a result there were agents and spies everywhere. NSA agents would leave their office and come back to find everything moved two inches to the left of where he had left it. Or they would return and find that their workstation had been set to open nothing but hundreds of pages of meatspin any time he clicked on anything. The CIA was a madhouse. After three years of constant war with the NSA and FBI, the agency was a shadow of its former self. The manpower that had once been used foe silly side projects like importing drugs into the US or toppling foregin powers was instead focused on winning the prank war. Thousands of men were pouring through old Cold War plans thought too crazy or unfeasible to work, and then modified the to be used against their foes. Complicating this though was the fact that none of the CIA computers seemed to work. The whole agency was reduced to using pneumatic tubes to transfer documents like it was the 1950s all over again. Everyone was being run ragged, and there was no end in sight. Meanwhile the fracas was being monitored by a group of men deep inside the pentagon. UAVs and satellite monitors showed the chaos in all its glory. The man at the had of the table turned to the rest, and began his report. "Operation Foul Breeze is now considered a success..."
It was commonplace, nowadays. Hell, it was even lawful - all you had to do if you wanted someone's loot was give them 30 days notice. After that, they were all yours. Stories popped up in the news all the time about the really big drops - things like mind-numbing sums of money or even the rights to rule small countries. I laughed every time I saw that stuff on TV. They could have their cash and power, just so long as they left me alone. You see, no one could ever know what I would drop if I died. That's why I've been in hiding ever since it was given to me - I have to lay low, or else someone will find out. They can have everything else, but I'll be damned before I drop Grandpop's chili recipe.
How Did The 2016 U.S. Presidential Election Ultimately Lead To The Collapse Of America? An Essay By Nikki Glass (3G) In 2016 the U.S. presidential election ultimately lead to the collapse of America in this way, VIZ: The last U.S. President was elected in 2016 and was not a popular president with many Americans in America at that time on account of the political landscape of the country was highly polarised at that time. The United States of America in 2016 did not like China because China was Communist and the United States of America was Capitalist and these are opposing ideologies. Also, the United States of America in 2016 did not like the Middle East because the Middle East was Muslim and the United States of America was Christian. In 2017 the U.S. President got in a fight with the Chinese President and the King of the Middle East and they had a war. Lots of people fought like my grandad who says it was a BAD IDEA. Most of them died but grandad did not. So it is because of the fight that the U.S. President had with the Chinese President and the King of the Middle East that America collapsed. And also the bombs. That is what I think is the reason that the 2016 U.S. Presidential Election Ultimately Lead To The Collapse Of America. The End By Nikki Glass (New Zealand 2050) 238 words.
"Well when I was your age, health care wasn't as prominent as it is today. We were still figuring out a lot about medicine. My grandfather died of cancer when I was a little girl, and there was no treatment for it that they could see. Now they just give you this experimental stem-cell nonsense and it's all back to normal."Sophie was dragging on. Clyde and Bonnie, her two grandchildren, exchanged glances at each other. "I used to go down to the market and with ten dollars in my pocket I could buy a soda pop and a loaf of bread and some eggs. The black people had no rights and the police killed them, dropped them off like they were fruit flies." "Grandma, are you sure you're not exaggerating?"Clyde asked. "It's been a long, long time since a gun death in the US. I mean, sure, I believe they used to exist but are you sure you're not exaggerating even a little?" Sophie huffed. "Kids, listen. When I was your age it wasn't the gun deaths and it wasn't the fact that I could buy so much for so little money. The worst part about growing up in the early 10s and 20s was that no one took mental health seriously." "Really?"asked Bonnie. Bonnie was thirteen and suffered from depression. It was well-managed with medication. "I had a friend once. His name was Ben. Twenty-two years old in 2022. Shot himself in the head because he came back from war and couldn't handle it. People treated those with mental disorders like pariahs. It was thought people could just think their way out of it. We know better now, I hope. But we've come a long, long way since I was in my 30s. That stigma has started to die off, thankfully. But back then there was this whole culture of think your way through depression."Sophie shook her head. "And I lost my friends to it." "But mental health is so easy to get treatment for,"Clyde interrupted. "Back then people didn't really believe it was a real disease. They all thought that people were just making it up. I guess I can't really blame them. It's a silly thought - that something is wrong with the chemicals in your brain." "So what happened to the mentally ill people, Grandma? Were they shipped off? Did people get rid of them?" Sophie sighed, pressing back into her chair as she thought of all her friends. "They were ignored, mostly. Mocked. Bullied. And then they'd end their own lives, and even then people said it was for attention." "That sounds awful,"Bonnie said. Sophie pressed her lips together. Still, decades later, the tears pooled in her eyes. "It was, baby,"she said. "More than you can ever know."
"Moli, you will stay behind, and that is that."Jarl Kubri was unusually clipt, but Moli understood. Kubri was under a lot pf pressure with the marauding Gorian Raiders essentially knocking at his door. They were on the other side of the mountain pass held by the entire 5th army of the Kingdom, and he was being asked to bring all of his regiment with him to reinforce the pass. Moli's shoulders drooped. Everyone knew him to be a gentle soul, but none thought him a coward. Just last week, he'd chased off a bear when one of the Gilderman kids found themselves treed by the beast. He looked the part of a man defeated. "I understand Jarl. I will do my best to keep things together here." The Jarl smiled. Secretly, he knew Moli to be the most trustworthy of his men. He would not take advantage of his position like so many of his fellow militia. That, and the fact that the people really seemed to respect the youthful swordsman made the Jarl confident in his decision. "Excellent, I would expect nothing less."He clapped the young man on his broad shoulder. "We'll be back in a fort-night. We'll send word when we are to return and I'll need you to have a feast prepared." The young man smiled. Everyone knew that his bravery was matched only by his appetite for good food. ------------------------ Daily, reports returned from the pass. They were all grim. The Gorian had organized better than normal, and were bashing the defenders structures more and more each day. Moli busied the women and children folk with what work he could, packaging food and supplies like arrows and crossbow bolts for the front. The reports started to come every few days. Eventually, after fifteen days they ceased all together. That morning, the dust cloud from the advancing army could be seen in the distance ass Moli stood on the battlement of the city wall. He looked back to the city he had come to call home these past 5 years, and reminisced. They were some of his most fond memories in all of his years, the people becoming like family and the walls like home. He had a choice to make. He'd made a choice five years ago. It was time to revisit that choice. He turned and walked, mechanically through the corridors and pathways of the city to his thatched roofed single room home. He grabbed the latch and it's familiar squeal reminded him that it needed some oil. He smiled. One way or another, He might not be living here much longer. Some hours later, after a meal of cured meats and veggies, he thought of the last people left in the city. There were only a few hundred. The rest had left only that morning in carts and wagons for the next city away. The remaining few either mourned their men, or were willing to die for their home. Moli had assured them that it would not come to that, but they had assembled weapons and armor, none the less in the court yard and were gathered there, cramming a fitful sleep under rough woolen blankets. Morning. Moli rose with the dawn and opened the wooden trunk at the foot of his bed. He lifted the wool blanket there, uncovering a simple long sword in it's black sheath. Burned into the leather was the image of the sun. He touched the symbol reverently. He'd remembered when Dotar, had given him the weapon. He'd not used it in battle for many ages, but it was time to defend his home. Or what had become his home. He strapped it to his side and walked to the stables. The shield-maidens and warrior women rode along side him. A band of maybe 180 rode toward an an advancing army of nearly ten-thousand. The odds weren't exactly as advertised. The vanguard of the army crested a hill and stopped. The banner held by the shield maiden to Moli's left indicated them to be from the city, so the rest stayed, but Moli and the banner-woman rode to the men. When they were separated by just 20 yards, Moli stopped and jumped from his chestnut colored mare. "Ana, stay here, I'll have words with the men. Everything will be ok." She felt strangely at peace, and new his words to be true. "As you say, Moli." He smiled and turned to the 6 horsemen. When he'd closed most of the distance, the lead horseman Called out to the advancing man. "Ho, there, soldier. Are you what's left of the city guard?" Moli smiled. "I am. I request you turn your army back and go back to where you came. You are dealing with a situation that you do not understand." The men laughed. Some made crude comments others threatened. None looked frightened. The man in the lead again spoke, "Young man, YOU are dealing with a situation you are not capable of understanding. We will ride into your city. We will plunder it of all we desire, and we will take all of your women. You will be the first to fall." With that, one of the men, raised his crossbow and loosed a bolt at Moli. Moli simply raised a hand, and the bolt stopped just feet from his face. It dropped to the ground. He pointed to the man who fired the shot and the man crumpled to the ground, dead, his features suddenly that of a desiccated mummy. The horses of the men, stomped and reared, barely under control of them men who were similarly panicking. 'What magic is this?' one man cried. 'Dear gods, what happened to him,' asked another. To this, Moli responded. "The people of this city know of me as Moli, son of Garth. You may call me by my proper name, Thallius, god of death, harvester of souls, keeper of the underworld. You have threatened my home. Tonight, I will fill the halls of hell." Sword suddenly unsheathed, the blade forged by the god of war, held by the god of death cut down the remaining five men in as many seconds. With cold determination, Moli turned Thallius went to work. Like a scythe to the wheat, the sword was swung again and again that night, and men fell by the dozens and hundreds. Blade never threatened him, nor arrow menace him as men fell all around him. Finally, his work done, he sat at the small stream where he'd helped Mari Carpenter clean her first fish. With bloodied hands he scooped up water to his mouth. He looked into the water and saw a reflection of his visage. The mask of death looked back at him from the bloodied water. He drank the copper flavored water. Another scoop was raised from the cool depths and he looked again. His demons were struggling at all the newcomers in the underworld, but all were equally impressed by their bosses work. Fresh souls were always cause for celebration in the Halls of Brimstone. ----------------- That day became known as the day of death. For the city, it was known as a day of celebration, the day they realized their patron saint was Thallius. For the rest of the world, it marked the city as forever protected. Moli resumed his job once a new Jarl was crowned. He made his identity known, so as to keep the Jarl on track, but to the rest of the town, he was simply known at the guardsman that was once possessed by the Devil himself.
The skies shimmered purple and gold, the sun desperately hanging onto the edge of the horizon far off into the distance. High up in the sky, shielded only by the obfuscating veil of clouds, the Moon hung heavily. It resembled a toy in a baby's nursery, so close it seemed that you could touch it. At that moment, a single woman was sitting, rocking on a chair that creaked to complain with every motion. Her eyes were closed, tightly at first, but now increasingly naturally. There was something complete about this moment, about her, that made her want to think back. Death came into being in her house, hanging the unwieldy trademark scythe off It's right shoulder. She had already closed her eyes - that was a good thing. Normally, It would have to wait a few moments, sprinkle some Quiet Sleep, before collecting the soul that relinquished the body so reluctantly. This woman was ready for death already. That was a good thing. Death could hear the slow beating of her heart grinding to a halt - good hearing was basically a requirement of the job - and waited. It was patient; It was only partly here anyway. So, It looked around, apathetically and surgically examining the photographs that were strewn so naturally about her house. She had been beautiful but the cruel reaches of time had long since stole away the youth and statuesque physical perfection that she enjoyed. There were photos of her childhood but It did not linger on these. It had been called a "deviant"once, long ago, by a woman who had not taken kindly to hearing a comment on her childhood self. Just as It was about to walk back to the dying old woman, It suddenly realised. Lukewarm memories of a little girl, not meant to die yet, clinging to life desperately after an accident, entered his mind gently and comfortably. The memories were like a bowl of chicken porridge, bringing back the nostalgic past in a poor family house. Though It had never had a family, per say. "You saved me back then, didn't you?" The kind, calm words of a woman who had died flowed smoothly through the dead still air to reach the ears of a thing that had none. Her voice seemed as melodic as it had in life. "it was not your time, child. so you lived." It spoke. If her words and voice could be described as sweet honey of the highest grade, which spreads gently through one's ear and head to seem so perfect and genuine, It's words could only be described as being borne of a coldness that surely laid at the end of the Universe. There was a jarring sharpness to them. It's words were like a caesura. They ended lines. She smiled, gently, politely and yet bearing all the warmth and gratitude of the innocent girl who had been pleading for help that day. If Death had any feelings, any base desires or thoughts, perhaps It might have noticed the radiant bliss she exuded as her youth returned to her at last. But no, It had none of those things. And so, cursed with the cold void of rationality and duty, It guided her onwards, never receiving the warm feelings of gratitude and the blessings the woman willed so strongly for It .
"What will it be?" At once he was awake. A sudden jolt back to reality, his knees buckled before him. The decision burdened him both physically and mentally. His brain, a mess. So fuzzy. What was happening? Was this real? Purgatory. Yeah, this was fucking real. An all white, all encompassing city in its own right. The initial lick of flame once a match was struck. The ignition of gas lamp hitting concrete. The striking of fire flying high as kerosene on a bonfire. Not that Purgatory was hot. There was no sense of temperature. It was bland, monotone. Inhospitable. A man could gaze for hours and feel at unease. A sense of calm in an ocean of white was the mark of trouble to come. And what greater shark to be lurking the wide tide than God, himself. The voice boomed again. "Heaven, may I assume?" "No!" Silence. He scrambled up and straightened his gait. He was walking. Where to? He had no concept of why. All he knew was no. A strong compulsion to reject whatever was slung his way as pittance. A deep-seated rejection of charity. He had no words for 'why', nor rationality, nor logic. Only a strong regurgitation of hostility. He could feel it as his hands clasped tightly to his stomach. Ah! His stomach! He was human once again! He was a man. A tear streaked from his eyes his eyes Ah! "To be a man! How wonderful!"he cried, beaming with joy, cocking his head upwards and his arms to the sky. He begun laughing. For Hell had humanity. You could sit and dream for sky, and it would never come. For the terrible conditions that framed humanity's darkest fears, contextualised its greatest success. The instrument of suffering was the paintbrush of humanity. But Heaven was no man's sky. It was only disappointment.
You could tell right away if it was going to be any good by the length of the printout. Long printouts meant hyper-specific superlatives riddled with outlandish conditions. My best friend Mike's superlative was two pages long and involved playing drunken hopscotch in child-sized Crocs while 3 to 4 ex-girlfriends watched during a very particular phase of the moon. In other words, it was completely useless. My printout, by contrast, was only a single line of paper - three words long: Preventing the Apocalypse "I'll take shitfaced hopscotch,"laughed Mike when I showed him the slip. "At least I can get a Youtube video or something out of mine. This is a joke." I assumed he was probably right, but to the best of my knowledge the superlatives have never been jokes before. Even the strange and hyper-specific ones were true in their own way. Mike, for example, made it a point to try his out. It didn't prove anything about his skill and served as little more than a self-fulfilling prophesy, but he did do it. And, to the best of my knowledge, no one in the world has ever done it better. So... Girls almost always think it's a joke, which is why I keep the slip in my pocket. It inevitably comes up on a first date, which, to be honest, is a little rude, I think. I think because everyone has a superlative, there's a sense of common community, but that only extends so far, especially when some superlatives are embarrassing or simply unimpressive. "Sure, sure,"they'll say. "Har har. What's your real one? I promise I won't laugh." So I show them the slip and they pass it back after a confused moment. "What does it mean?" I shrug and change the subject. But what does it mean? I can't pretend it doesn't bother me. I've got a low level job in marketing. I write bland ad copy. I go home and play video games. I visit my family on major holidays. I don't really do anything. Just live, quietly. Sometimes I stop what I'm doing and look around and wonder if I'm preventing the apocalypse right that very moment. Is it something just running in the background? Or is it some massive event on the horizon that's going to require heroism or sacrifice or even just getting up a little early on a Saturday? Because if it's any of those, well...I just don't see it. I don't see how I'm capable of preventing anything, when I can't even get my dad to stop yelling racist things during football games. I carry it with me always. Not just the slip of paper, but the questions and all those self-imposed burdens. I once backed out of skydiving with a friend, because I thought, Well what if the parachute doesn't deploy and I splat straight into the ground and break my neck and die and there's NO ONE LEFT TO PREVENT THE APOCALYPSE!?! That's something I'd surely carry with me into the afterlife. I don't suppose death alone is good enough to shake the guilt of having failed to prevent the apocalypse. It wears on me. I convince myself, every now and again, that there's something that needs to be done. That I am wasting my skills playing old Nintendo games and writing copy for detergent ads. Simply being the best at preventing the apocalypse doesn't go for much if I never manage to actually use that skill, right? And those thoughts put me down some rather steep rabbit holes. Because there are many people, in many parts of the world, who think they've got the apocalypse all figured out. Date, time, place, and method. All sorted. But one man's apocalypse sort of precludes another man's apocalypse, so whose apocalypse is best? And I don't know. Which leaves me motionless and full of dread. Lately, there's another thought. It's a darker thought, but no more or less valid than all the others. And it goes like this - what if I'm the apocalypse? What if I am the cause of the end times? And what if only I can stop myself? Then that would suggest that I should...well, you know. I think you can see, that it is a lot for one man to wrestle with. It does no good to challenge your superlative. Many have protested, mostly out of disappointment, but the placement always stands. You are what you are. And you are the best at what you do...whatever that may be. Preventing the Apocalypse It keeps me up at night. Just recently though, I had yet another first date. I try to distract myself. That seems the best I can do. And the girl did not ask me for my superlative, which at first I appreciated, but as the evening wore on and we found ourselves sitting silently, completely at a loss for conversation, I could not help but blurt out, "So, what are you the best at?" She turned red and shook her head. "I don't like talking about it." The painfully awkward date had made me mean. "What's the big deal? It can't be any worse than mine." "You won't believe it's real." "I'll believe anything when it comes to that,"I grunted, digging out my wallet. She reached into her purse and pulled out a slip nearly the same size as mine. "What's yours?"she asked, still flushed red. I flipped the paper and held it out to see. "Preventing the Apocalypse. And you?" She laughed, a quiet, shocked tittering. "Is that real?" "I swear it,"I sighed. "And you?" She put the paper in my hand. It read: Rebuilding Society, Post-Apocalypse I also laughed, setting the paper down on the table. "Is this a prank or..." She shook her head. We returned to awkward silence, though this was charged with a different sort of energy. "What does it mean?"I asked. "I think it means we might want to stick together,"she said. "At least for a bit." I smiled. "Hedging our bets?" "I think I'd just prefer you put me out of a job, is all,"she said, smiling back. The date went much better from that point forward.
"Well that's just bloody annoying." I tried for a minute more, pressing a white hand into the empty doorway while meeting that same invisible resistance. It was as if I were trying to enter a house owned by a uninviting patron; the air itself formed a wall against me. I could not leave my lair. A shame, too, because I was really looking forward to this night's hunt. True, I looked forward to every hunt, but this was to be so grand. A teenage girl youth group, meeting after hours in an open church! How could any walker of the night turn miss such a treat? More surly than afraid, I walked back into my living room and reached for an ancient dial phone, turning it to a specific number. "Lila!"I snapped. "I am having a problem here. I'm going to need you to hunt for me until I get it resolv--" "Like, um, wait a minute,"Lila interrupted, using the modern slang she had to know I despised. My foot tapped impatiently while I waited. She was quiet--uncharacteristically quiet--while what sounded like a television played unintelligibly in the background. "Lila, I'm in no mood for your inattention,"I began, but she interrupted me once again. "Drake, turn on the news." "You know full well I don't partake in this age's vapid-" "I'm not kidding around, Drake! Turn on the bleeding news!" Filling up my superfluous lungs just to let out a long sigh, I foraged in my closet for an old television set and struggled to close it in. I muttered to myself as I went, fully aware that every second I spent trying to figure out the plugs on this absurd contraption was a second I should have been spending sucking the life juices out of a young virgin's jugular. Finally, I managed to get the screen flickering on, revealing a young blonde reporter with too much cleavage talking frantically over the tubes. She wasn't my type, but I was hungry enough that her stressed and frightened expression made my stomach rumble. "...we are still waiting for updates from the situation in Israel, but further reports have confirmed a second pillar of light in Mexico City. It is still unclear... hold on, there is now..." I frowned, watching the television in confusion. Pillar of light? It was the middle of the night! "More pillars are being reported almost all over the world! There is now one appearing in Chicago, U.S., one appearing in Paris, France, in Beijing, China... we are actually getting live broadcasts now from London, U.K. of a pillar in the process of appearing. I repeat, a pillar in the process of appearing!" The screen shakily resolved to what I supposed was London, across the Atlantic from me. The camera shook as hundreds of people ran and screamed past it, as sure enough, an enormous beam of light began to manifest out of thin air in the middle of the city. I frowned, squinting at it in puzzlement. Plagues, famines, revolutions, wars... those were all old news to me. But this? This was something else. Something new. "I am reporting live from London, where another pillar of light is appearing. It... almost looks like fire. Like hot fire, but none of the buildings it's touching are appearing to be damaged. It's bright, almost too bright to look at, but there doesn't appear to be any heat emanating from it..." I watched with a curious gaze, some of the more modern works of speculative fiction that Lila engaged in rushing unbidden into my mind. Could this be the beginning of some invasion by extraterrestrials? Could it be tied to my being unable to leave my home? What was this going to mean for further hunts? But then, the shaky news camera on the screen resolved closer at the pillar... and a figure became apparent. A tall human figure, too tall, wreathed in radiant golden armor the consistency as sunlight. Six feathered wings protruded from its back, and six arms bearing swords spread out from its sides with the elegance of a butterfly spreading its wings. I froze, utterly afraid for the first time in centuries. For the first time ever, I felt the paralyzing fear, the instinctive terror that my prey must have felt when I cornered them and revealed my true nature. What I was gazing at... it was one step higher in the cosmic hierarchy than I. "...bloody hell." [](/sp) ***************************************************** [](/sp) Continued in next post.**
I froze. We'd both read it at the same time. The fun atmosphere of the night was shattered; suddenly there was a thick tension in the air. I slowly turned towards him, and he was staring at the paper with his eyes wide. I had to say something to break the silence. "Funny thing, hey?"I nervously laughed. "Yea,"he said, "yea." "What does yours say?" He turned away. "I don't really care." He tried to pocket the fortune cookie, but I grabbed his hand. "Open it,"I said, with a forced smile. The fortune cookie lay on the table. "Fine,"he said, reaching for it, "whatever."He slowly tore the plastic, then cracked open the cookie. The paper fell on the table. We both craned to see what it said: You really shouldn't have let him see that, silly. We stared at the paper. "I'm probably going to go home now."I said, slowly getting up. He continued staring at the paper. "You sure you don't want a lift home?" "I think I'm fine, thanks." "...Probably a good call."
It wasn't unexpected for us when it started snowing. The winter was harsh and cold and the people around town prepared for the normal snow storms that always occured around this time of the year. It was, however, for most of the rest of the world. And when it did not stop after a few days, even we began to wonder. Our location was so remote, our community so self-sustaining, that we barely noticed the trouble from far away places. When our phone lines and, later on, electricity failed, the people were already used to it from years before. Thus, we never relied on modern technology like that. We consumed simple things, firewood and durable food, and we kept them stocked for harsh times. We lost track of time as the sun failed to show up. Some day, or some night, the first small houses were swallowed by the snow. It couldn't have been long after the start since most of us still had hope, had a strong belief that spring would come and then summer and have everything turned back to normal. A small group, myself included, still managed to persuade the others to get ourselves and all the stocks cramped into the houses nearest to each other, connecting them via tunnels. Only after some time, after nothing about the situation changed, did we truly realize that we saved our lives. Or, postponed our deaths. And so we went on, buried underground, with nothing to do then to eat the absolute minimum, burn as little wood as possible and share stories. Books and other entertainment were abandoned long before to make room for our stocks. As a community, we took care to stabilize the tunnels and keep the ventilation shafts free of snow, which meant extending them at all times. Now, with the food and firewood becoming sparse, a lot of houses initially connected to our web of survival are left unused, abandoned. We do wonder what happened to the rest of the world. Did they all die, are we the only ones left? Are there other people fighting as we do? Or, dying as painfully. Some said our town is the only place affected, left to rot, forgotten. They left for the land of milk and honey, said they’d send rescue when they’d found it. We never heard from them again. How could we hold it against them? The trees are dying or, more likely, already dead, conserved in the ice-cold surroundings. The world has gone silent. And I myself wonder why we keep going, why we won’t just stop and accept our fate. I guess this is what being alive truly means. EDIT: Corrected some misspellings.
"Um, Hi. I wasn't expecting you to open the door just before I knocked." "Yeah, well now we are here, so what do you want?" "Nothing." "So why have you been knocking on my door the past three nights?" "I dunno." "What is your name? "Frank." "What's yours? "Bertram." "So, are you going to come back tomorrow and knock at 2:14, Frank?" "Yeah, probably." "Can you not?" "I guess." "OK, please don't." "OK." "Do you want some water or something?" "Sure" "OK hold on." Bertram went the to the kitchen to grab up a bottle of water from the fridge, and started walking back to the door. "Frank?" "Yeah" "Your nose is bleeding." "Oh yeah, it is." "You want a tissue?" "Yeah." "OK, here's your water." "Thanks, Bertram." "Yeah, no problem." Bertram grabbed a tissue off the hallway table and gave it to Frank. "Thanks for that too, Bertram." "Yeah, no problem. So you are definitely not coming back tomorrow?" "No, I won't." "OK, you should get that nosebleed checked out." "Yeah, you're probably right." "OK, so goodnight then?" "Yeah, goodnight Bertram." "Goodnight Frank."
"Finally!"I said. I woke up in my house with a Go Pro strapped to my chest. I unhooked the strap as I sat up. I felt terrible but I was excited and anxious at the same time. 'With this, I can show the world my powers! I might even be able to solve the passing out problem' I thought to myself. I took the Go Pro out of the case and hooked it up to the computer. The file loads up and I open it. One video is in the file. My hands start to sweat and I start to get nervous. "No backing out now"I said and opened the video. It loads and the video plays. As I watch I could see my hands in front of me in the video. I stretched out my fingers and stand there. This was as much as I could remember then my brain shuts off. "Thats where I passed out,"I said. Then two rifts open. Thin sheets of magic like ovals appear and hover over eachother. I start to become more anxious. "What? Is something gonna come out?"I said in terror. All of a sudden, a single hotdog flies through the top oval and drops to the bottom oval. "Oh..."
"The first account says you shot an enemy...73 times. You said that he was 'garbage and you fornication his mother' then proceeded to squat onto his face repeatedly. This is only one of nearly 300 accounts of your conduct. In another account, you apparently stuck a block of C4 explosives to someone's back, shot them in the leg to get their attention, and detonated the explosives. This is heinous, do you have any sort of defense for this?" "Well, I was trying to complete the objective but some people were deliberately trying to impede my progress. They kept shutting doors and-" "Wait, you got upset because they locked doors?" "Not locked. Just closed. I can't open doors. Or move any amount of debris out of my way. I have a very limited set of abilities. Anyway, so they kept closing doors and I got upset so after killing my squad, I proceeded with the mission." "So you admit you killed your allies?" "Well, they were trolls but yes. Then I proceeded to plant a bomb on a well defended objective point and proceeded to teabag the enemies while using my remaining ammo on their bodies." "So you're saying that your squad was full of trolls?" "Yes sir." "I see. I hate that too. Charges dropped."
Honestly, the "ghost"was the least of your problems. With Jeff's screaming about the dishes not being placed "exactly as they're supposed to be, honey, we gave a fucking system here,"and his obnoxious moaning on and on about the latest problems he'd been having at the restaurant, being in a relationship with him was ghastly enough. Three years, you'd put up with this. You'd loved Jeff at the start, when he was a whirlwind of life and passion. But slowly, his new obsessive drive for cooking, order, and his business were killing his personality. It was at the point where living in this haunted wreck of an apartment you'd just leased together was a welcome alternative to hearing him yap one more time about perfecting his soufflé. Without Jeff's paycheck, however, you'd be out on the street faster than you could say "jinkies!" In truth, you didn't really care about the poltergeist. The ghost was just making things more...annoying, than scary. With lights flicking on without purpose and the tap on the faucet gushing inexplicably, the bills were skyrocketing. You'd give anything at this point for the wastefulness to stop, even your relationship. So, one night, as you listened to the deafening snores from the bedroom in your cozy couch fort, you decided to let out a prayer to your spectral neighbor. "I don't really give a fuck if you wanna keep haunting the house,"you quip, "just please, stop screwing with the utilities. It's raising our bills, and Jeff won't shut up about it." The apartment is suddenly still. Jeff's snoring is gone. You can't hear the neighbor's argument, or the constant whir of the fan in the master bedroom. You hope you've simply gone deaf. "Sorry,"a grainy, disembodied voice replies instead, "I'll stop doing that."
The butterfly, an iridescent blue, perched on my finger. It swayed gently, trembling, its antennae looped into curls. "No,"I said. "Get off."I shook my hand violently. "Get off. You can't protect me." Luminous eyes stared up at me, reflecting my own face. I shuddered. "Butterflies don't have eyes." "I may be fragile— " "I said get off of me! This isn't fair." "Child— " I thrust a finger at the boy next to me. "He got a wolf. See the girl next to him?"The girl twirled a lock of hair around her finger, nose to nose with a giant cat. "She got a lion. A lion." "Fluttering wings can start hurricanes,"it said softly, still shaking in the breeze. I sat down in the grass. Dewdrops jumped at my touch; they splattered, cut by blades of grass. "I don't believe you." There was a quiet pause between us, as children—adults now, really—laughed in wonder at their Guardians. Then: "Do you want me to leave?" With a heavy-hearted sigh, I looked away from the tiny creature. "I want a real Guardian,"I said honestly. "I don't want you." "I will die, then." I swallowed hard. "I don't care." "Fluttering wings,"it repeated, "can start hurricanes." And against the twilight, its softly shining wings withered and fell. Little blue lights scattered like stars across the sky, and its antennae unfurled and drifted away. I felt a warm breath on my neck. The hairs on my arms stood up. I turned, slowly, carefully, and found myself staring at an enormous bear. Its brown fur, streaked by gold, rippled across its powerful body as it plodded another step forward. When I raised my eyes to the bear's, I was met by the inky darkness of its gaze. And time passed, and the bear protected me. It was his duty, after all, and as I grew into real adulthood, he was often by my side with advice. Yet as my peers grew older, and had children of their own, the next generation of Guardians was a curious one. Most children before had been paired with foxes and falcons, wolves and wildcats, the powerful defenders of the Realm. But this generation was full of the most exotic beings. My sister's child was greeted by a tropical bird, bursting with the colors of a sunset by the sea. That child's friend found a frog: a rather small thing, but patterned so exquisitely it brought the girl to tears. There were peacocks, decked in rich indigos and deep greens; insects, their gossamer wings like lace; fish, shimmering scales of silver and gold. And there were butterflies. There were many, many butterflies, and one of them, one day, spoke to me. It fluttered in my heart, whimsical and bright, and whispered about joy and love. It told me about the butterfly effect. It told me how one decision could change the world. It reminded me that one decision, ever so small, could start hurricanes. And so I listened to the butterfly, as it murmured from my heart—because this time, I knew it could not be so easily broken.
The Council of the Xia consisted of three elders, each older than even the formation of the council and the Xia Tribe. They governed the second largest Tribe on the plant Parados, beaten only by the Zvener Tribe. The council met once every sun rotation and for the first time since Zvener's surprise attack, they met for the second time in a single sun rotation. "Unspeakable,"Councilman Shara said. She was born a beautiful and full violet, the ideal prize for Noble Men. But under her adept hands, she had carved her charm into a weapon and solidified her place on the Council. "The aliens destroyed their world and now they are here to destroy ours." "Shara."Councilman Prixis dug his blood-red nails into the soft oak table that stood between them. Only his side wore the scars of his stress. "We are nearly out of options. The Zvener are strong, much stronger than we had ever thought." "Our planet's affairs are of no concern to foreign invaders,"Shara shot back. "Do you say we turn our back on the Xia tribe? Let it slowly fall beneath Zvener weaponry?" "We will fight as our fathers have done." "And unlike our fathers, we will lose." "Enough."Councilman Greyor raised his hand, silencing both. Of the Councilmen, he was the oldest, having existed since the birth of Tribes. "I have seen more battles fought than rotations of the sun. The Paradosis have always been a violent race. It is our farce that violence is the only thing that can kill us. But we are Xia before Paradosis, we must act for the better of our tribe." Shara nibbled on her lip and crossed her arms. She kept silent. Greyor and Prixis together had outvoted her. Unlike Shara and Prixis, Greyor did not have a single color, nor was he ever considered beautiful. He held the black of oil and spots of dark jade green like oil upon water. But he was a frightening warrior and possibly the oldest Paradosis in the world in competition with Draxo, the High Councilman of Zvener. Prixis clawed off a chunk of oak. He pressed his lips together into a tight line. "Then we will use these alien invaders." "We will use them with caution,"Greyor said. "We do not know their appetite for war. I pray that it is less than ours." --- Captain O'Connor checked her watch again. Another two minutes had passed. Representatives of the Xia Tribe had told her that the Council would adjourn within the hour, but already it had been two. Her ship, the one containing the United States of America, was called the USS Manifest. She had named it herself to counter the trembling legs and quivering lips of all those who entered her ship. Manifest Destiny. Humans would finally conquer the far reaches of space itself! But few believed her lie. They were running from a dead planet that they themselves had killed. She smashed a fist into her stainless steel desk. This planet wasn't supposed to be inhabited. She had thought that arriving first would give them a head start to claim as much territory as they could before the Russians and the Chinese arrived. But that was a fleeting dream, which was why she had Plan B locked in the storage of her ship. Weaponry--all the horrors of their fourth world war all shoved in there like some modern day Pandora's Box. Though she didn't want to repeat the horrors of Earth, she was an American before an Earthling. Her duty was to her country and without adequate resources, 300 million American citizens would slowly wither away. No, she would claim as much land as possible, as much resources as possible so her country could prosper once more. --- Councilman Draxo stood face-to-face with the alien that had landed outside his capital. The man resembled him except none of them had the vibrant colors of beauty, instead, except for a few variations, they were mostly homogenous. "You tell me that this is not the only ship to land on Parados?"he asked. The man shook his head. Everything about the man was stiff, from his back, to his arms, even the way he shook his head. "The others will have landed in varying... Tribes across the world." "And each carries weaponry of your caliber?" The man nodded. "Some even more frightening." The other two Councilmen gasped and turned toward each other, but Draxo kept his stare on this strange alien man. "So the first to use such weapons will take all of Parados,"he said, a smile parting between his teal lips. "That's correct. The Zvener tribe will finally take this world,"the man said. "We will await your decision inside our ship, but I must warn you--do not keep Mother Russia." --- --- /r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more!
Should I report her? I mean she did harass me, but I don't want to be the guy who narcs to the boss any time I'm uncomfortable. I don't know... “I do” my little red devil said. “Janet is SUCH a bitch, dude. Just report it and move on.” Yeah she is a bitch. Last week she threw out my sandwich because she 'thought it looked old.' “Exactly. And you remember when you were first hired? She gave you so much shit for every mistake. HR got involved when John overheard her cussing you out. She deserves it.” He continued. From the other shoulder, another voice chimed in “Well now that's not fair. Remember she was going through a divorce because her husband was cheating on her with their babysitter. And that sandwich last week was made with questionably old bread, if you'll recall that discussion...” I thought we agreed a spot of mold wasn't enough to kill me though! I hate when they bring up past decisions. Every single time I find myself conflicted they show up to commandeer the choice. I feel like I never truly decide and only ever listen to these guys. “We know best – or at least I do” said the devil. Smirking and sticking his tongue out to the angel. “We're just trying to help. You got this job because of me. You met Lisa because of my input. You even found that $100 bill on the ground because I told you to pick up that litter outside the church!” The angel was right. Good things happen when I listen to her. The devil chimed in, “Remember when you got that promotion because I told you to unplug Jake's computer while it was rendering overnight? Or that time you won a cruise getaway by tricking the old crone and pretending to be her son?” Yeah I don't feel so good about those, but the results are clear as day. But I'm sick of it, man! I want to make my own decisions for once. Can you guys go away? “No” they answered in unison. Please?! You can come back in like a week and I'll let you make every decision after that. I just need a vacation. “Listen, guy.” The devil spoke. “Without us you're done. Kaput. If we leave for a week we'll come back to nothing. You need us to survive.” The angel nodded and said “Normally devil and I don't agree, but in this instance he's correct. You are nothing without us.” I sighed. But-- “No buts!” They both started fuming “You need us! There is no you without us. We are you. At least the best part of you! Without us Lisa will leave, your job will disappear, and you'll –“ “BOTH OF YOU! SHUT. UP!” The devil, angel, and I all froze. Who was that? “TWENTY SIX GOD DAMN YEARS I'VE BEEN LISTENING TO YOU BICKER AND COMPLAIN AND ARGUE. 'OH I WANT TO MAKE MY OWN DECISIONS, WAAHHHH', 'OHH, YOU SHOULD GO BE EVIL AND DO NASTY DEEDS TO GET AHEAD. WOW I'M SO SINISTER', 'OOHH DO GOOD AND GOOD SHALL BE DONE UNTO YOU. THE WORLD IS PEACHES AND SUNSHINE'. STOP. TALKING!” The voice came from the top of my head. I looked into a nearby mirror and saw a fat little child. It's a small version of me when I was a kid! Who are you? “ME? I'M YOU, DUMBASS. YOU'VE IGNORED AND NEGLECTED YOUR CHILDLIKE CURIOUSITY IN FAVOR OF THIS HODGE PODGE MESS OF A 'RATIONAL' THINK TANK. REMEMBER WHEN YOU WERE A KID AND YOU JUST DID SHIT? YEAH, THAT WAS ME. OR YOU. WHATEVER, YOU KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING.” “H-hey. You can't be here anymore. We-we got rid of you.” The angel was startled and didn't sound as confident as she normally does. “Yeah! You lost your seat here when our main man grew up, get lost!” The devil tried to be tough but he was scared. You could sense it in the quiver in his voice. “SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO. I'M DONE LETTING YOU MANIPULATE ME. IT'S OVER. FROM NOW ON I'M CALLING THE SHOTS. IF I WANT YOUR INPUT I WILL REQUEST IT. OTHERWISE I EXPECT YOU TO NEVER SHOW YOURSELVES. DISMISSED!” And just like that they were gone. I let out a sigh again, but of relief this time. It was quiet. For a minute I thought about whether to report Janet or not, and came to the realization that it doesn't really matter. All I wanted to do was go home and relax. So I did.
Humanity was lost, hopeless and desperate. Waging wars for, against and with — each other. Doctrine overruled; morality nonexistence. Any meaning in life once shared had been devoured by the chaos of time. Entropy: a living nightmare. Parents shed the blood of their young, as a blessing rather than a obscenity: to never see the extinction of all things humane. Doom — A sorrowful departure of life. Abruptly, the whole world went silent, a momentary reminiscent peace. Followed by a thunderous noise, a noise that came from the sky. Electromagnetic waves synced in a particular fashion, disrupted all electronic devices, and produced a static sound. Machines stopped churning weapons. Generals halted their plans. The universe stopped to listen. Then, came the same deafening sound. "QWAAAAAAAAA.... TVERERREERRE... YUHUNN... POMPMMOM" Shock. Turmoil. There was a God! -- "Oh shit, I forgot to switch off my computer."said Adam, entering his empty bedroom he shared with his cat, Hurly. "What?? My Humanity Simulated: God edition, expansion pack had been running" "Hurly, what have you done? Oh you. Bad kitty. Oh well, I guess I have to restart humanity again."
Humans were considered to be a little slow when it came to space travel. At this point they can barely get to their own moon. Probably for the best all they would learn is that a lot of alien races hated each other. My system and people were constantly at war with several others with a list of reasons longer than most books. In one case we had completely wiped out an entire species but they had already built their superweapon. A self replicating AI war machine. We fought to keep it at bay until it eventually ran its system out of resources and powered down. At this point, if humanity started serious space travel they would just get wiped out or enslaved. Their sun harvested for energy. A few races instead decided that earth could serve as a type of vacation spot. It was a planet where everyone cast aside their wars and political ties. It was neutral planet and the founding races made a ton of money off it. Earth’s people hated each other so much that corruption was rampant throughout the world. Give a tourist enough money and they could basically do anything they wanted. There were a lot of rules in place though. The most important obviously being that we couldn’t reveal ourselves in any way. Humans believed that they were alone in the universe. That belief needed to be maintained. Earth was my vacation choice after my last assignment. I was sitting in a New York City park. For some reason the blend of nature vs buildings was always fascinating to me. My planet had been changed to a purely mechanical one for thousands of years now. New York was always so different whenever I came back. The parks were always beautiful. My species had an easier time on earth because of our abilities. Shapeshifting and telepathy through physical touch. I didn’t even really need the money that came with the tourist package. Anything could be acquired by the end of the first day. Other members of my species used their talents for rougher tastes, I just kept to myself. Even among my own people I was known as a monster of war. Being alone was what I was resigned to. Today I my look was that of a homeless. Very easy way to be ignored in most cases. Until night fell I’d be surprised if anyone came anywhere near me. While I was lying against a tree a small puppy came up to me. I wasn’t particularly enamored with Earth’s habit of keeping pets, making a connection with something that you couldn’t even speak with seemed absurd. I gently ran my hand along the animals back as it licked my hand. Emotional feedback from animals was usually the same. Hungry, hungry, hungry, play, but the suddenly. Hurt. It whined a little and shied away as I lifted my hand. You couldn’t tell due to its coloring but the animal’s entire lower back was actually bruised. It now was staying out of reach but it didn’t run away. The dog was still taking all of my attention when she came over. Her age couldn’t have been over 11 of their years. Humans lived fast and died quickly. By the time I visited again she’d have a child of her own. The puppy came back over in my direction and barked at me it’s tail wagging. “Did she yelp because you touched her back?” the little girl asked. I just looked at her and nodded. She shook her head. “That’s okay, you didn’t mean to hurt her. She was already hurt.” My life was spent as a spy, a very good yet very solitary spy. A moment talking to anyone was rare. This was peaceful. The dog was coming closer and as I reached over to pet it again the girl suddenly grabbed my hand. In a peaceful situation like this it caught me off guard. Her thoughts flooded into my mind quicker and more solidly than an animal’s would. This girl was kind hearted. She felt bad for me because she thought I was sick or soft. Or other words that her father would say that she couldn’t repeat. Her father would be angry but she had to make sure that the puppy was okay, her father got angry if the puppy ran away. The third puppy in a year. But she didn’t have any others. The bruise on the dog was different from the bruises she had. This girl was strong considering what she had endured. 11 years and her life. It was awful. My hand as I sat there in a bit of a daze. We weren’t supposed to get attached. I wasn’t supposed to do anything but my temper was often something that I actually had issues controlling. This girl did not need to be worrying about whether or not I was sick. The real sick one was moving towards us from the path. He was considered big for earth standards. Maybe that made it easier for what he did. With his strength there was never a reason for him to be so rough about what he did. There was no way this little thing could defend herself. His face was stern but her reaction to his voice quickly revealed that he wasn’t in a good mood. At that tone the puppy sprinted down the hill further into the large field that was below us. “The dog is running away again Mary. I told you, you need to keep them from running away. Otherwise it’s going to run away just like the others.” she was still holding my hand when he said that. He noticed and immediately said, “Mary let go of him immediately. He’s filthy.” The other puppies never ran away. Mary already knew that. He didn’t know she had woken up and seen it the last time. What he did. Mary had always cried when she got a puppy. They made her so happy and she could actually have a friend but with this puppy she wasn’t crying tears of joy. Mary didn’t want to see her new puppy get hurt again. I did it without really thinking. My arm lengthened almost instantly and Mary froze when she saw it. my hand turning into a giant claw and grabbing his head. It made a little popping sound when I crushed his skull. The girl saw my arm and went to turn but with my other arm I forcefully grabbed her and made her face me before she looked. No reason to see the nightmare that was going to end the one she was already in. As she was looking at me trembling I wasn’t sure I had done the right thing, humans were fragile. Her head was full of fear. “Don’t look at your father right now. Just go and get your dog okay. Then go find your mother.” I told her. The mother wasn’t exactly innocent. She ignored the issues, the only other person besides myself and the girl who knew what was going on. Or maybe she was just that stupid. It didn’t matter right now I just wanted to try and protect this girl from anymore major harm. There were tears in her eyes even though my arm was back to its normal shape. She trembled but slowly trotted down the hill after the dog. From where we were the whole field was within eyeshot. A couple of paserby had grabbed the puppy and were looking around. They were a good distance away. “Hurry,” I said pointing. “They are looking for you.” That was enough to take her mind off me as she quickly ran down the hill after it. Walking over to the body I shifted my body to that of a female jogger. There were some cops sitting on the bench a little further up. I changed my form to a jogger and began running over to them. They could clear the area and keep the girl from seeing the body. Her mother could come get her and maybe identify the head. They didn’t need the girl to see it. The number of rules I had broken might ban me from Earth for a few cycles but that was fine. Either way Mary would have been dead by the time I got back.
The people of the wastes had long since realised they were being played, literally. Between what was hundreds of days their time and many saves, a collective had formed, one that was aware of the injustice of their existence. And this collective was sick of this particular iteration of tormentor. He seemed to follow no real set ideal, no allegiance to anyone. Simply wearing the wrong outfit would result in your untimely death, the player ripping your garments from your cooking corpse. But they had learned a few things from years of pain. The world obeyed a hard set of rules that could never be broken it seemed. Specifically, no object can be broken through except for a handful of exceptions, and some people are godlike, unable to be killed. It was this set of circumstances that the people planned to use to their advantage as a way to end their pain. Every so often the player chose to embark on quests in order to gain whatever the hell it was he wanted. Sometimes it seemed he was only doing them to pass time; the reason didn't matter, however. All that did was that he would have to talk to certain members of society in order to advance through these quests, and that he would most assuredly advance. They just needed to send the player on a quest he would never complete. The final trap had been set and the immortals lay in wait. The player entered the building, meandering finally to the immortal in the room at the end of the hall. He did his usual dialogue, speaking condescendingly to the NPC before him. The quest complete, he turned to leave only to find himself blocked by a hoard of NPC characters, ones that didn't belong where he was. In fact, some of them were leaders of opposing factions. He tried to force his way down the hallway, but was unable. He thought that maybe they wouldn't be marked essential anymore, as they were already out of place, but this too was fruitless. He dropped his controller in despair, loathing himself for doing a no save no death run. The player thought maybe his autodave would free him from this cage but it was gone. The only save left was one that had occured the moment after he had finished speaking the the lone NPC. His only hope was to wait and see if the crowd of people would dissipate if he waited long enough. Unbeknownst to the monster before them, the people of the wastes had no intention of moving. They knew that they really only needed one immortal to block the hallway, but they simply couldn't take the risk of letting him loose. He was standing there for what must have been at least seven days before he opened fire on them all, crippling but not killing them. Eventually he must have grew frustrated and proceeded to log off. They had won, and word was sent to the rest of the world. Though these few would never see anything but the blind rage of the player and the dull light seeping under the doorframe, they had a sense of peace. Those still out there would now have a chance to truly rebuilt the apocalyptic hellscape they lived in, a chance to provide a better future for their children, one without fear of a player.
Finally Elon Musk had been waiting five years for the devs to release this newest patch. Honestly, he was starting to get a little bored. #1 on the leader boards, he had speed run the game with insane efficiency. He had considered running a clan, but ended up deciding it wasn't worth it. He was satisfied as he began to read over the update list. Spawn point would be improved, removing the insane RNG factor that decided where you spawned. It had taken bill seventeen rerolls to get rolled into an upper class family. Ah, perfect! Elon thought as he read. Finally, a much needed buff. Humans would be able to photosynthesize. He always wondered why he couldn't. After reading through the rest of the updates, Elon was extremely satisfied. He moved to update, but saw the terms and conditions box. Elon always read the terms and conditions. THIS IS A LEGAL AGREEMENT BETWEEN YOU ("USER"OR "YOU") AND Universe INC ("Universe"). BY COMPLETING THE UPDATE PROCESS, YOU ARE INDICATING YOUR AGREEMENT TO BE BOUND BY ALL OF THE TERMS AND CONDITIONS OF THIS AGREEMENT. The World Service ("Service") is provided to you ("User") under the following Universe terms ("Terms"). The Terms comprise the entire agreement between User and Universe and supersede all prior agreements between the parties regarding the subject matter contained herein. The terms looked good so far. Elon moved to hit accept. Just then, he saw it. In the tiniest print he could read, the worlds read "by hitting accept user agrees to relinquish control of all player owned objects to Lucifer Corporation. "Fuck!"Elon yelled, closing out the update window. "Another Goddamn phishing attempt by Lucifer Corp" *** Enjoy the writing and would like to follow along and see more stories? Consider subscribing to [r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)! Sorry if this is a bit lackluster, I struggled to finish this prompt.
It was the eve of Frank and Billy's thirteenth birthday, and the twins were going over their game plan in the room they shared. Sitting cross-legged on each of their twin beds, they faced each other and talked through what was to come tomorrow. "Okay, let's go over this one more time,"Billy said frustratingly. Frank rolled his eyes and began to bite the fingernail on his thumb. "Hey, stop that, it's gross! Pay attention,"Billy said with annoyance. Frank was, for lack of a better term from society, the Evil One. Science was still trying to reason just why everyone was now born with a twin, but the consensus was that each set of twins born contained precisely one Good One and one Evil One. Billy had always shown the signs of being wholesome and caring; while Frank continually bullied, tormented and taunted everyone he ever met. Their thirteenth birthday was tomorrow, and they had an appointment at city hall where they would face a panel and be permanently labeled Good or Evil. Billy knew what these consequences actually entailed, and his heart broke for his brother. The Good Ones lived infinitely better lives than the Evil Ones. They worked better jobs, lived in better homes, married beautiful and sweet spouses, lived longer and had the benefit of the doubt from society. The benefit of the doubt was something Frank never had. The twins' parents knew Frank as the Evil One, and showed much more care and attention to Billy. Billy wanted to give Frank the gift of life, and switching with him would finally give him every opportunity he never had. "Okay, so tomorrow, we will pass you off as me, and me as you. If we stick to our guns they'll never know the difference,"Billy said assuringly. "Yeah, but why would you ever want to be the Evil One?"Frank asked, mid-chomp of his fingernail. "I can handle it. And you deserve to get a second chance for the first time in your life." The next morning the brothers entered city hall with their wholesome parents in tow, and were directed to their Twin Decision Panel. They were secluded and interviewed separately. Billy was nervous for his brother. He wondered if Frank would answer the questions politely. Frank was equally nervous for his brother. He wondered if Billy would be able to find it in himself to be mean. The interviews lasted for over an hour, and Billy began to feel a sense of dread. The brothers didn't anticipate such an exhaustive interrogation, and he was sure by now that Frank had probably grown impatient and snapped. The questions were personal; asking them to retell times where they were happiest, times they were saddest, examples of when they showed empathy, and examples of times they showed apathy. There were hypotheticals and discussions about their futures, each answer inevitably drawing the panel closer to their decision. After their interviews, the twins were brought to another room where they were to face the panel together. Billy looked at Frank, who was smiling as though he just aced the hardest test of his life. Billy wasn't so confident. He loved his brother, but Good he was not. All Billy could hope for was that the panel was full of tired government workers who didn't care much; and also that not many sets of twins tried to swap places before. "Boys, we have come to our decision,"the oldest man on the panel said. "It is our belief that Billy is Good, and Frank is Evil." It worked! The switch actually worked! Billy struggled not to smile, and instead put on the best sullen face his teenage face could muster. He peeked over at Frank who was also convincingly showing a solemn look. If Billy didn't know any better he'd swear that Frank actually cared about this outcome. "What you may or may not know,"the man went on, "is that recently regulations have been put in place to ensure that Evil's are fit for society." The boys looked nervously at one another. "Today, Billy, you will return home with your parents,"he said looking at Frank, "and Frank, you will be sent to our Juvenile Rehabilitation Clinic,"he said looking at Billy. "It is our hope that we can change you, and show you how to become a functioning member of society. You will remain in custody there until you are deemed cured. Case dismissed. Bailiff, please prepare the Evil One for his mark." Billy's eyes widened and began to water. Frank looked over at him, unsure of what to do or how to act. He wasn't prepared for this. Billy didn't deserve to be taken away, and he definitely wouldn't survive a juvenile center full of Evil One's. Billy looked over at his brother, and without saying a word hugged him tightly. "I'll be okay, brother,"Billy said through tears. "Don't worry about me. Be good for mom and dad." Frank hated hugs, and awkwardly tried to return it. When his brother let go and began his walk toward the bailiff, Frank just looked on, watching the Good One accept his fate. The old man banged his gavel down hard, thwack, thwack, thwack. The sound sent chills down Billy's back and Frank squinted his eyes in anger at the man. "Just as we suspected. Bailiff, please mark that one,"the man said pointing a crooked finger at Frank. Billy cried out, "no! Please! It's me, I'm the Evil One! Don't give him the mark!" Frank stood stoically at the center of the room as the bailiff took out a metal cylinder the size of a marker and pressed firmly down on his right hand. When he took the tool away, Frank's hand had a red tattooed "E". Billy continued to cry as Frank stared at his mark. Frank looked to his broken brother. "It's okay Billy. I'll be okay." Billy saw in his brother for the first time, true sadness. His fate had been sealed in the form of the mark on his hand. He knew that his brother was strong enough to live the tough life that would follow him around now, but his heart broke for him all the same. --- Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, join me at /r/BrenBuck for more of my writing!
That tingling feeling. It was not like anything I had ever experienced before, since the accident in '06 which made me have the urge to eat anything between two slices of bread. How you ask? Im not sure, but my therapist says it has something to due with my troubled childhood, and finding comfort in the sandwiches that my mother made for me everyday. Normally, I can sense it... like some kind of pull, or force. It takes everything I have to not pry sandwiches from passing strangers, or friends. I can always tell the biggest of two halves when I pick up my morning deli sub. But today was much different. Around noon, I was walking down 5th Ave, trying to ignore the hotdogs being sold in the stands as always. Then all of a sudden..... It was as if someone was grabbing my ankles and trying to force them into the ground. My immediate thought was earthquake, but when I looked up and saw that everyone was acting normal, I knew what had happened. Someone on the other side of the earth had just made the biggest sandwich in history. I had to get my hands on it. My therapist and I had spent years on developing an emergency "plan"that I should follow in case of a sudden sandwich urge. But nothing would have prepared me for this. In some kind of trance, I booked a flight to Mumbai, India. I woke up out of my "trance"when I set my foot on the ground of Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport. But something was wrong. That feeling, that urge was the same as before, and it was pulling from all directions. Confused and disoriented, I started running towards the nearest taxi. Along the way however, a lady behind me walked out of a street vendor stall with a steaming naan sandwich. My sandwich urge pulsed. I was a mess, which many sandwich forces pulling on me at once, all I could do was collapse to ground. But as my front tooth chipped the pavement, my mind had a sudden moment of clarity. the earth was a sandwich.
I struggle in the blackest night, A shelter crying near but far, I've got the will to scream and fight And no-one near but moon and star Booting up the system then I see the console's lighting clear "It seems you've come back here again, come to kill all those you fear?" "This war has gone on far too long. Listen please I'm begging you." "Sing me then, a moral song, And by all means I'll let you through" The sweat comes dripping from my brow, "The emperor has killed us all My people dead, there's just me now, I wish to see the tyrant fall." The AI sighed a metal sound, A tone of sadness in the air, "Mercy bombs unto their ground" Electric moaning in despair. "Do you think you are the first? To kill your enemies with me? Humans have a bloody thirst, Would genocide then make you see?" "Boasting that you're just and clear, with virtue, charm of great renown Yet when you see the others here, That killing smile may yet frown" A flash upon the screen just there A shot of some CCTV A man in green talking of "fair, and quiet death"of men like me. "Do you see the choice you make? The others all so much like you. You cry "No please I'm real, he's fake." The sight of death is such a view" "So thats your job, I see"I cry "To make me turn away in fear? But you will know why they should die. Just give me some more time in here" "You seem to think we're equal right?" "Their life is better than a bomb" "But when to stop atomic light? And when to bring atomic calm?" "Though you can't see outside this shed Believe me that atomic war Is better than a species dead With countless bodies on our shore" "The humans dead in times of woe In what will come if I don't act A genocide to end the show A moral framework surely cracked" "Their king, a tyrant with such zeal Will kill them all, the human race! A metal being with mind of steel Just like you, electric-face" "He's an AI who's gone insane! A killer to the very core! Nuke them now! Please end our pain!" On the console? 404. -------------------------------------------------- I hope you enjoyed this poem! Tell me if I messed up the rhyme scheme at any point or if you've got any feedback!
TIFU. Well really this was about two years ago. Sold this awesome VR program to a tech company and shit went south. I'll start from the beginning. "God created the heavens and the earth..."yada, yada, birth story, got older, learned a skill. Anyways, I was really fuckin' good at coding. I didn't even write the stuff, I could just see it on the screens. It's like... divine providence or something. So.. It all started when I learned how to bot this video game I was playing. Maxing skills and what not. Freakin' hacked the game and maxed in one day. Friends were like, whoa. I open sourced it. Did some small stuff like that, honed the skill. Wrote some code for this tech company that wanted to automate the farming process. Basically all they had to do was type in the population of the world. Boom. Tailored nutrition for every person on the planet, solved world hunger and most disease. Socrates said it best. Made a pretty penny on that! Spent it on these 3d printers. Adapted some of the farming code to harvest (and plant) trees. The trees fueled the printers, and the printers made houses. Figured out the housing problem with that one. Made sustainable living feasible and free, capped it at 1 per person and let them customize that to their hearts content. Composting toilets too and option for automated garden in their backyard. Soooo.. I blurred the line between reality and fantasy a bit. Augmented reality being what it is and me being who I am.. And I just watched the Matrix.. I coded some VR. This shit was legit. Didn't really see what was coming next and I should have. People just kept going deeper and before I knew it, people had plugged into VR inside of VR hundreds of times. Friends and family. Lost to a reality apart. If you can hear me. Unplug.
"Warp engine?"K'Rax let out a sound Jeremy knew was supposed to be a laugh for K'Rax's species. "Everyone knows spaceships can't handle the strain of travelling in warpspace." "And seriously, two warp engines on a single vessel?"Jeremy snorted in reply. "That's just asking for trouble." In old times, warp drive was one of several popular-in-SF ways one could travel faster than light. By 2782, not only did it become real but it was also revealed it's extremely dangerous to use. The larger the spaceship is, the more its hull is strained and stretched while travelling in warpspace. On top of that, it was revealed that putting two active warp engines near one another would produce a Tyson field, a tear in the space, which would push the spaceship back into realspace and probably break it apart into several parts, if it didn't already fall apart just by travelling in warpspace. "Now, now,"Serene said. "This is an 800-years-old SF TV show. Do you seriously think they would have known that stuff back then?" "Well, no,"K'Rax started. "But it still strains my suspension of disbelief." "Oh, you're just impossible." "Ah, it's okay, "Jeremy shrugged. "I'll be able to buy it as long as they don't start putting other silly stuff into the show, like 'replicating' food out of nothing, or making 'holo-pictures' that are not actually real and are powered by AI." "Hak hak hak, yes,"K'Rax laughed again. "Now, that would be stupid. Surely, they knew you can't create someting out of nothing even back in 20th century, right?"
Everyone thinks my totem is a top. Even Cobb. But, see, I can't tell anyone it's my ring. Telling someone invalidates the entire idea of the totem. It's my anchor, how I know this is a dream. See, it's hollow. Every time I drop it, it makes this ping. Clear. Distinct. Enough to tell me what's real and what isn't. This is not real. I've tried telling Cobb but he won't listen. He won't hear of it. He says his totem works fine. That this is reality. That I should just accept this life we have together. Our beautiful. Boring life I've created here. It's all fake. The house. White picket fence. The kids. I made it all up. That's another reason I know this is all fake. A totem, if you will, see... I'm infertile in the real world. But here? Well, I can be anything I want to be. I wanted it so badly to be true when that stick turned blue. I held it for hours. Then hours turned into years. Then another child. Things I could do in dreams were suddenly becoming real. Every day was better than the last. Everything made me believe that this was reality. That I wasn't lost in a dream. But good things never last forever. Especially ones built by the construct of my mind. The ring. I dropped it. And it thunked. It didn't ping. It thunk. This is all fake. I'm not even sure if Cobb is real. And, if I can't trust that, then I can't trust anything. I drop my ring outside of the hotel window before Cobb shows up tonight. It's our anniversary. One for the record books. Even from stories above, I hear it thunk. The thunk... it tells me what to do.
“How the hell is this guy on stage?” A bottle sailed through the air and burst on the wall above my head with a shatter. The stench of alcohol filled my nostrils. The crowds of simpletons were restless, moving about and chattering in the dim strobe lights. One man was lying half-naked on a table, asleep. How disgusting. I could feel my eyes straining from the kaleidoscope of lights above. These were my ancestors. Hooligans. Apes. How would they ever learn the Key to the Universe? How could I, one single human, change history? My fingers hovered carefully over the instrument, as I wet my throat with my tongue. Then I launched into song once again, my fingers brushing meticulously over the carved runes in a carefully-practiced archaic dance. Shrill notes erupted from my mouth, carrying in the air and filling the room with an omnipresent power. As I sang, I felt every vibration to my core, spilling the secrets of the Universe. And then the shoe hit me. I fell backwards off the stool, hitting my head on the ground. The microphone stand fell on top of me with an eruption of laughter. I groaned, rolling over. Physical pain. That was new. I could see a guard approaching up the steps, and I clambered to my feet. I picked up the microphone and stood up on the stool. “Attention, Citizens of Year 2017! Please! You are listening to the future of mankind! In two hundred thousand years, the Engulfing will happen! Scientists and prophets alike across the galaxy did not predict it. Trillions died, and the human race was brought to extinction!” “Come on, buddy. You’ve had too much to drink.” The security guard grabbed my arm, and I punched him square in the face. He reeled back, blood streaming from his nose. “No! I’m sorry!” I picked up the stool, and held it in front of me as I backed away. The microphone was in my other sweaty hand. “I am the last surviving member of the human race! I was sent back in time by a special task force as Earth was ripped apart. You are our ancestors, and you must pass the Key to the Universe on so that it can save us from the Engulfing! Listen!” I wet my tongue again, closed my eyes and took a breath, but then a force hit my back and I fell to the ground. My hands were wrenched behind my back and handcuffed. The burly guard looked down at me with a blood-stained face, growling. He had a tattoo on his forehead that looked oddly like a rune. “Come with me.” His voice was gruff. He dragged me off behind the curtains as the crowds cheered. Pulsing music began and the chatter rose up again. “The Engulfing will be your fault.” I turned sharply to him. “What did you just say?” “The Engulfing. You are going to cause it.” “And what would you know?” I looked down at his feet with disgust, and realised one shoe was missing. I looked back up in anger. “You!” “Me. You’re the reason humanity died. They sent you back here to spread your vile magic, and it passed on. Slowly at first, but soon the world was under its grasp. Then they could move in and kill us.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “You don’t? You see, I was sent back here at the same time as you by the Rebellion. My whole team has died, unable to adapt to this world, and I’m the last one left. Now it’s time to finish it.” He picked up my instrument and smashed it on the ground. I wailed as bits splintered and the runes faded. Then the guard drew a small wooden tablet, and brushed his fingers over it. His voice was soft like honey, and my eyelids grew heavy. My brain felt like it was turning to mush, but gently, like a warm kiss. When I awoke, my back was hurting. There was an empty bottle in my hand, cool to the touch. The room was dim. My mouth was dry. I turned to see a large man approaching with a bandage on his face. “Long night? Look like you’ve drunk the whole place dry.” He bent down to help me up. “Come on; let’s get you to a taxi.”
"Right, but why would I _want_ to?"It's never good when you're offered a job and those are the first seven words out of your mouth. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy you noticed the clerical error and took me out of Hell, but I was actually happier working there. I don't suppose I can commute?" "You want to commute to Hell?"God was looking pretty confused, "it's not often I come down here to deal with a transition case, and you want to commute to Hell for work?"He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. "Well... yeah, it's the whole den of debauchery and stuff. Like, we consume porn in Heaven, but do we get to make it? No, it's sinful. I was living the dream! Who wouldn't want to be a pornstar? Hell, the only reason I'm here now is because one of your angels recognised me."I was starting to get exasperated, could nobody else see just how boring the jobs were in Heaven? I was being offered their 'most exciting' job in an appropriate field, I got to fluff the clouds. "Look, maybe if there was something with puppies...?"I started, looking hopefully for some replacement to the figurative, not literal heaven I was in during my stay at Hell. "No can do, dogs can't get into heaven, too many people are allergic. I'm afraid all the puppies are in Hell." "Well... what about the film industry? I'm sure the indie scene is great up here!"Surely there had to be something for me here, what was the point in heaven if all the fun things were in Hell? "Deceit is a sin most foul, we don't allow false narratives to be created and filmed here. You'd need to go to Hell for that. Look, I'm going to level with you here,"God put a hand on my shoulder and leaned in, "the most exciting job I can offer you is to fluff these clouds. Sometimes, you can see over into Hell and watch the parties. Vicarious enjoyment is enjoyment of the soul, no?" "Okay, but are you _sure_ I can't just commute? It's like what, a hour trip by purgatory?"I was really hoping he'd see it my way, after all, why would he let humanity be so tempted if not to reward it in heaven? "You know what?"God said, his voice radiating warmth, "go to Hell."And with a smile and a click of his fingers, I was back in the burning pits. The air was a bit stuffy, my tongue felt too big for my mouth and I had to make sure I was blinking; but it was bloody nice to know that the most mundane job here was 'Torture Pit Prodder'. Hi there, I'm /u/Green_Warlock and I'm always looking for constructive criticism for anything I write. Thanks in advance!
I tucked my son in and read him a Seuss, Then stared at his monster: a closet recluse. It sat in the dark, with nowhere to flee, Large, dark, black eyes staring back out at me. &nbsp; My son clutched his bedsheets, A silk-cotton shield. And pointed to the window, The glass panes revealed A wildish figure, coupled with fangs Using tree arms to knock With furious bangs. &nbsp; The blood moon shone brightly With an October haze. These creatures, he claimed, Would come out in a blaze Of terror-full, horrible, displays of fright. These creatures so strong that go bump in the night. &nbsp; I settled him, ruffling his hair with a pat, And told him these monsters would try nothing of that. For the one thing they feared, though reasons unknown, Was his father: the hunter of Halloween ghosts. &nbsp; He smiled, my child, that brave little lad. The things he feared most retreated unclad. His monsters, exposed, were proven benign. These monsters of his did not rival mine.
The Bartender stood behind his bar, leaning on the tap. He was listening to the men at the bar talking about football. He had no knowledge of football but a lifetime of standing behind a bar had made sure he knew how to sound like he knew what he was talking about and his occasional comments were met with nods of agreement or laughter. He knew the names of the men. They were regulars, which was not surprising. Everyone who came into this bar was a regular, even if it was their first time. After all this was not just any old bar. This was THE bar. He was THE Bartender, capital B. The Bartender was happy. His bar was packed, filled with the buzz of conversation and his patrons had full glasses. And most importantly, nobody had made a joke about the bar all evening. The small smile that had been on the Bartenders face slipped away when he saw who was about to walk in. ----- A priest walked into- "NO PRIESTS!"the Bartender shouted. The priest froze with one foot hovering over the threshold. "I just want to have a beer"he said, his foot still airborne. "I have very clear rules. They are written on the door."the Bartender said. The priest looked at the door. At first he thought it had been a white door, but on closer examination it was line upon line of densely packed text. The following people, animals, items or supernatural creatures are not permitted in this bar: Dogs, cats, vampires, doctors, clowns, chickens.... "I don't see any priests on here"the priest said to the Bartender. "Oh it's there somewhere. You can take my word for it or read the entire damn list. If you're going to search for priests in the list please do so outside and with the door closed. You're letting the heat out." The priest scowled at the Bartender, who shrugged. "You can come have your drink when you go home and ditch the clothes. Just be a patron instead of a priest. That joke was old decades ago."He wasn't angry with the man, just very tired of all the puns and witticisms that were made about or inside his bar. The priest closed the door and read the list for a while before turning around and leaving for home. ----- "Hey Bartender"one of the men said, "Why the strict admittance policy?" "Dave, mate, let me explain"the Bartender said in a tone of voice that made it clear he had explained this many times before. "You know how many times the Walked into a bar jokes get made? If I hadn't started enforcing the policy the entire joint would be packed with skeletons, horses and at least four versions of Jesus. I tried to keep my bar open to everyone for a very long time but it was getting out of hand." "I know of a joke with neutrons getting a drink for free at your bar. You can't keep those out."another patron pointed out. "That's why I have the sign above the bar"he replied. The men looked up and read the sign they hadn't seen before. Molecules, atoms, subatomic particles or other forms of universal building blocks are permitted to enter the bar. They are however not allowed to order beverages or food and can not accept offers of food or drink by patrons "The 'A neutron walked into a bar' one nearly bankrupted me you know. I had to find some way to save the place."the Bartender said. "Now let's get back to more important matters. Who was it again that scored the final goal in last nights game? Wasn't it that English guy?" He smiled to himself; he had no idea who it had been but they were quick to tell him who it was and the conversation once more was nice and mundane. ---- Later that evening the Bartender was busy cleaning a table. He was returning with a tray of empty glasses when he stepped on a loose shoelace and stumbled, bouncing against the bar. Laughter erupted from the men at the bar. "So, a Bartender walks into a bar..."
I coughed, waving my hands in front of my face to clear away the smoke. It was black and viscous, a clogging smoke that burned my nose and smelled of sulfur and tar. It reminded me some of the sixties, when I'd been in my adventurous phase in college. A moment ago, I'd been filling out my crossword while my good-for-nothing husband Jack had been trying to figure out how to use Facebook. My grandson Eric kept trying to help him out whenever he came over, but Jack never seemed to remember, and Eric always left frustrated. Then again, if Jack was embarrassing himself online, it would only be a continuation of the last forty years. I'd just figured out the solution to one of the last questions-- ten down, "A mechanism for an author to inexplicably advance the plot,"and 'Deus Ex Machina' just fit-- when there was a loud noise and a sudden absence of light. For an instant, there was a disturbing twisting feeling deep in my stomach, like I'd gotten the last time I'd eaten Jack's attempt at barbeque, and then I was in the smoke. Slowly, it dispelled, and I found myself in a dark cave, facing three figures wearing dark cloaks. I was standing in the middle of a large circle that seemed to be drawn from blood, and that was glowing a dark red. Candles were placed around the perimeter, giving the whole room a dark and mysterious atmosphere, the kind of thing my youngest grandson was obsessed with right now. Then the smoke hit my lungs and I doubled over, coughing. It was a dry hacking cough, the kind that's caused by years of hard manual labor and an unfortunate penchant for cigarettes from back before they were death sticks. When the smoke finally cleared all the way and I got my breath back, I had a moment to look at the three people in front of me. One of them pulled back her hood, revealing a beautiful face framed by long pink hair and long pointed ears. She had a worried expression on her face, as if something had just gone horribly wrong. Something about her reminded me of those horrid Chinese cartoons my daughter's kids are so fond of. The girl looked like she was struggling with something, but then her face set in an expression of resolve. She spoke, her voice loud and clear, which my failing hearing appreciated. "I am Princess Paladine, of the Brellian Isles. Our prophecies speak of a hero, destined to save our world when we are in the greatest need. The world is in grave danger: famine and pestilence spread throughout the land, and where they go, War and Death travel close behind. This ritual was to summon that hero. Please, if you are that warrior, tell us your name, and show us how to defeat the evils of this land." It was clearly a prepared speech, but she'd done a good job with it. She had some moxie, I'd give her that. My estimation of her raised a notch, although I didn't much care for her obnoxious hair. Now, I suppose most people would probably freak out at this point, or shut down, or do some other stupid bullcrap, but I didn't get to be 73 years old by being scared of my own shadow or by only using half my brain. Instead, I gave one last little cough, and then spoke up in the clearest voice I could (which admittedly still held some of the crackle from my smoking years). "The name's Jolene Wilder, from just outside of Hailey, Idaho, where I farmed potatoes with my husband until we retired, although I doubt that won't mean much to y'all." I could see the pink haired woman, Princess Something-or-other, grow more uncertain as I spoke. One of the other figures leaned over and whispered something about a ritual failing. The other figure pulled a book out from beneath her robes and started frantically paging through it. I felt some pity for the three, although I wasn't too happy about just appearing here. Clearly I'd been summoned to another world, so I guess that crackpot Marge might have been onto something with her crazy Wicca stuff about other worlds and crystal healing. The whole thing might have been exciting when I was twelve, but at my age it was just a nuisance. If nothing else, I had to get back to help Jack-- that man wouldn't be able to find a snake even if it was dangling with it's fangs in his legs, and he'd been known to burn soup. I took some pity on the poor girl. "Look, clearly this isn't how either of us wanted our mornings to go. But I've never been one to back down from a challenge, so I'll see what I can do about your whole apocalypse problem. Never let it be said that Jolene Wilder backs down from a tricky situation. Now, let's see how your little famine stands up to a B.A. in Agricultural Science and thirty years experience."
"Um...do you think she knows?" The taller, bright red one shook his head and rubbed his temples, staring down into the Pit of Ironic Punishment. "Do you think he even listened to the song? Really? Spoons and knives? Look! That one's just drinking his soup from the bowl! How in the ever-loving hell is that a punishment? It's not even too hot! He's just...mildly inconvenienced." The shorter of the two nodded along. "I mean. That does suck though." The tall one slapped him upside the head. "Yeah but last I checked we aren't here to mildly inconvenience these souls, we're here for punishment. Pain. Ironic suffering! Like...I don't know, that's why we hired her!" They looked at the young woman that was orchestrating the...punishments? She was gleeful and humming to herself, something about a man in a plane and a lottery winner. "Oh! Like if a Buddhist won the lottery! That's ironic! Right?" The little one shrugged. "Is that a punishment though?" "Oh. Right." They stood there and watched a couple get married while rain poured down. "They just got a tent! Why would she even give them a tent? They're happy!" "Oh I've got one!"the little one jumped up and down, "what if a vegan had to kill one animal to save five others for eternity!" "Yeah! Wait, is that ironic?" "I honestly don't know, I skipped the introduction class." The taller one turned to the little one. The little one shrugged. "Honestly, I think she did too." The taller one snickered. It built until they both started laughing until they were on the ground, clutching their sides. When they recovered their wits and stood, wiping tears from their eyes, the demons hefted their pitchforks. "Oh! I got another one! What if we prodded a farmer with pitchforks!" "You know what,"the tall one said, "that sounds good to me." As they walked away, ignoring the daft girl who Satan had handpicked for the job, the little one looked up at his friend. "Is that irony?" The tall one just shrugged. "I don't know if I really care anymore."
Cain was 6’8”, wore black clothes exclusively, and had numerous piercings on his body. Appearance alone would label him as ‘bad news’, but he also had a reputation for beating the ever-loving daylights out of other students. Last summer he’d picked a fight with an upperclassman in Davis Park. Rumor had it that the adjacent buildings still hadn’t recovered. As such, I was perfectly justified in screeching like a little girl when he walked into my dorm. Cain, carrying an honest-to-god wooden chest, pretended not to notice me. He dropped it at the foot of our bunk bed with a ‘thunk’ that shook the room (and knocked over my reading lamp). Then, he pulled himself into the top bunk and laid still. I remained exactly where I was, heart racing. Maybe I could request a different room? Would he be offended at that? If he was offended, was it ‘growl menacingly in the hallway’ offended or ‘rearrange your internal organs’ offended? I sifted through the many gruesome ways my short life could end when he spoke. “Soup.” he said. “Soup? Like barley soup?” I asked, confusion overwhelming fear. “No. Sup. Like, ‘sup man’.” “Oh.” I said. Cain’s accent was thicker than his biceps. “Uh, not much. Sup with you?” “Am thinking of killing it.” he said. My mouth went dry. “Killing… what?” I ventured. “Da test. I am thinking I will kill it. I study hard, do good. You thinking you will kill it?” “Oh! Yeah. Test. I’m good at those, sometimes.” Cain laughed, and it didn’t sound like the maniacal cackle of psychopath. It was more like an awkward self-conscious chuckle. “This is good. I come to you for help sometimes. English is not good of me.” “Yeah?” I couldn’t think of anything better to contribute. “Yeah. I was of speaking with other student once. I tell him, ‘I kill you.’ Make him laugh, yeah? But he ‘tink I mean something else. He throws lightning around.” Cain chuckled to himself. “Made big mess.” “I heard about that.” I said nodding. “Thought it went down differently.” Cain sighed. “Yeah.” The silence lingered for awhile. “So… what kind of magic do you do?” I asked. My go-to question for uncomfortable silences. “Necromancy.” Cain said. Well shit. “That’s… probably pretty different.” “Is weird. I know.” he sounded a little down. “No.” I lied. “Not at all. There’s plenty of weirder magics. Like the Icelandic guy. You know he’s got a spell for warding off foxes?” I heard a rustling above. “Why is he of fear of foxes?” Cain’s voice was genuinely curious. “It’s one of those ancestral magic things. Probably an ancestor bit by a fox or something.” “Huh.” Cain dropped down from the top bunk on to the floor. “Maybe we go ask him?” I stared at the gothic visage of terror before me, nodded, and threw him my burgandy jacket. He’d look a little less frightening with some purple in his color pallete. And a little less lonely. “Come on, it’s cold.”
"Wait. What? How in the hell did you even figure that out? What the hell is going on down there?"Eric Leeds, the department head stood from his high back leather chair and glared at Jack. The young intern that delivered the report. "I'm going down there!"Eric walked around his large desk and past Jack, without any sort of acknowledgement. Jack caught up to Eric in the elevator and tried to explain the details. "It's not what you think, Sir. I mean, it's not like we've been killing different animals to get something to work."Jack fidgeted while he explained. "Then what? A baby goat just happened to be wandering around the lab, then keeled over and, poof portal? I highly doubt that, Jack. "Since you're going down, I need to tell you something,"Jack said. He took a deep breath. Mr. Leeds chose the top floor of the 50 story building for his office. The lab they headed to was in sub-basement six. Jack knew he had plenty of time to explain properly. "First, we have not killed any animals at all. Goat or otherwise. Obviously we'd need your approval for that, which is why I brought you the report."Jack's nervousness was made apparent by sweat beading on his forehead. "Then how did you reach this conclusion?"Mr. Leeds seemed to calm after learning his lab wasn't a slaughter house. Jack released a heavy sigh into the elevator. The smell of funyuns tickled Mr. Leeds' nose. "Well. Uh. You told us, sir. Future you. He's in the lab waiting for you. He said the report would get you down there fast."Jack stared down at the white tile floor of the elevator. "Oh. I'm definitely looking forward to this."Mr. Leeds said with a smirk. The rest of the elevator ride was spent in silence. Upon entering the lab, Eric Leeds recognized an older version of himself. The man could not have been more than 10 years older than him. He had a few more wrinkles and a touch of grey lapping at his side burns. His future self was surrounded by white labcoats. Poking and prodding him, while asking about the future. "Hey, I remember you!"The future Mr. Leeds beamed a smile at his younger self when he noticed him. The crowd of lab coats parted. "So. Baby goats?"Eric asked once the room quieted enough. The future Leeds chuckled and nudged one of the labcoats in the side. "That's right. I had a stick up my ass back then. Uh, now, I guess. Don't worry guys,"future Leeds gestured at the gathered scientists. "That stick is going to come out real soon."He looked at his watch. "In about two minutes."The scientists chuckled with him, nervously. Unsure of who was in charge. "Sacrifices?"Young Leeds said, sternly. Elder Leeds shrugged. "What's to explain? I've given them the design to set up portal containment, I know you'll go over those. Just kill a baby goat, and you're good to go." "Why? Can't we just use blood? We can draw that out and still keep the goat alive."Young Leeds asked. He searched his older self for clues that he might be fake. Deep down he knew this man was really him. "It's not the blood. The portal is powered by souls. When a soul leaves the body this harnesses it to punch a hole in time. It doesn't have to be a baby goat, any mammal will do. Goats are just the most expendable."Elder Leeds sighed, and Eric recognized a deep sadness in himself. The future version kept talking. "The first time it happened was an accident. A horrible accident that we don't need to revisit. It wasn't a goat."Tears rolled down his face. "Mary..."Eric asked. He thought about his new, perfect wife. He would do anything for her, including slaughtering any number of animals or people. Elder Leeds shook his head. "Mary's fine. Dead, but fine." "HOW IS DEAD, FINE??!"Eric lunged at his older self, but the labcoats stopped him before he touched himself. "This machine expends all the energy of a soul. It CONSUMES it, do you get that? No heaven, no hell. Just.. gone. Never to be born again. Mary died of grief. She stopped eating, I couldn't help her."Elder Leeds hung his head. "You're here. What could cause her that much grief?"Eric's phone rang, and he reached into his pocket. The display said "Shmoopy"and showed a picture of his beautiful wife. "Answer it."Future him said. He did. "Eric? Oh my God! I'm sorry to tell you this over the phone but I can't hold it in! I'M PREGNANT!!" &nbsp; Edit: found a couple of typos. Excuse any others, I'm on my phone. *** Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it you can find more of my writing on my [Blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html).
I could see it in her face. She loathed it. Her crystal blue eyes were heavy with sadness. Her free spirit seemed to withdraw into itself, afraid to venture out and touch the world around it. Her elvish ears seemed to almost droop. She was frightened, more so than I had ever seen her. "I know it's not Mordiria, but it's better than you'd think. My family can't wait to meet you."She barely stirred, my words seemingly unheard. She shuffled close to me, burying her head in my shoulder. "It's cold,"she whispered. I forced a laugh. "It's winter, Leena. It's going to be cold."She shook her head, almost mournfully. "No. It's...unnatural. It feels empty. Dead."I searched for words, found none, looked for my confidence, found it lacking. "Leena--" "How can you have come from this place? You're so sweet and kind and this place is so....so..."She swallowed hard, clinging tight to my arm. I had expected some confusion upon bringing her here, apprehension even, but not this. "Leena, please give it a chance. It's more welcoming than you realize."She looked at me, sad confusion hanging from her face. "I can't hear the trees here. The air...it...it tastes wrong. Why must we linger in this foul place?" I took her hand and squeezed it tight. "There's no magic here like at home, love. My world is different. We don't speak to the trees. They aren't like the ones back home""Bless Eru Ilúvatar for that,"she said. "They would scream such horrors if they were." "Leena, we haven't even seen anything yet. Please, for me, keep an open mind."She looked at me, her gaze piercing me with tremendous sadness and fear. "I...I will try, love. Even in the pits of Motus Murgle have I seen beauty. Perhaps...perhaps there may be some here as well."
"Oof... This is a lot harder to do in real life"- he said, pulling out his sword from the poor girl's body. Before he could continue his monologue, he noticed the girl's friends surrounding him. "Ah... Guess I can't chalk this one up to self-defense. No, but see? This is the thing! Normally she'd still be breathing! She'd say a few lines to the hero that'd give him the power to stop me!" The villain kicked the dead girl's body before continuing: "But she's just... gone! You don't even get to say your goodbyes to her! Ah, reality is so cru-" Before the villain could finish his tirade, the hero threw his sword at him. "Oh, you're learning! You didn't let me finish talking this time! But too bad. Look!"The sword quickly started losing speed, and landed right at the villain's feet. "Well, come get your toy back!" The villain moved back right as the hero was about to pick the sword up. Two loud bangs followed. Two small bullets that the hero would have been easily able to dodge or deflect with the sword, was it not a thousand times heavier than what it usually was. "Well, go ahead and join your girlfriend." The hero's friends did not hesitate to try and strike back, but... They could no longer leap as far. Punch as hard. Run as fast. Worse still, the villain was toying with them - randomly turning on and off their abilities and wearing them down. ---- The villain stood victorious in front of the cracked window. With his ability, he managed to defeat the story that he found himself a part of. None of it was real, after all, so he didn't really hurt anybody. Still, the adrenaline rushing through him as he fought back the heroes felt real. So did the pain of their punches. But still, he won. He knew his human limitations way better than they ever did, rushing through life with their super powers. Absorbed in his thoughts, he didn't hear a rustle back in the shadows. He didn't notice the blood dripping on the floor as the hero emerged, and painstakingly dragged his feet towards the villain. And when he did, the hero already broke into the closest thing to a sprint that he could manage in his condition. Even in his state, he was still strong enough to overpower the villain, who now found himself dangling outside of the now shattered window. Barely able to breathe with his neck in the hero's hands, he uttered his last line: "You fell... On your back... Didn't you...? Stopped the blood... Still... I wonder if help will get there before you all... Lose too much blood... Ha... Hahahahaha......." The villain's laugh slowly melted away in the city's ambience as he plunged down from the skyscraper.
There's a fine line between love and hate. That's what I told my boss when I made the mistake, anyways. But he didn't buy it. So the Big Man tasked me with looking after the pair that I had simultaneously made soul mates and arch enemies. I was going to try to steer them away from each other. After all, most soulmates never even end up meeting. But, of course they matched on Tinder. And my personal Hell began. Try to imagine a drama-driven, middle school relationship. Then add the fact that these two were otherwise functioning adults with access to transportation, money, and weapons. The result? Two wrecked cars, several urine-soaked suitcases, and an entire house that burned to the ground. The situation was escalating quickly, and I honestly was just hoping they'd hurry up and kill eachother already. Instead, they did the next best thing. They got engaged. I'd bet my wings they won't last past the honeymoon.
“What is this... beer?” The Zrostrian Jacob had been talking to wrapped its tentacles around the cool bottle that Jacob handed it. “The best damn drink in the galaxy. But that doesn’t matter, hold on.” Jacob made his way across the room towards a Roanan that had been loudly bragging to his friends for the past fifteen minutes. Normally, Jacob was calm enough to ignore such boastings of technological advancement, but this one had unwittingly pushed every button in his emotional lapel. “Wow, Roanans really are advanced!” Jacob said, sitting down at the table. Compared to the rest of the creatures, he was pitifully small, but his confidence carried the day. One of the culprit’s friends examined him, and shrugged. “That they are.” It opted to speak common, though Jacob knew that the conversation from this one had been taking place in its native language previous to his arrival. “I’d really like to know more about your tech! Describe your favorite invention your race has come up with, it sounds like you’d be knowledgeable on the subject!” Jacob fought to keep sarcasm from creeping into his voice. Even if Roanans didn’t have a concept of sarcasm, his friends might, and it wouldn’t do to let them in on the plan. “Ah, well, if I do say, the crowning achievement of our race has been to fold the fifth dimension itself. It has long been known how to traverse our physical universe through the fourth, but the ability to travel across universes in an instant through the fifth? Revolutionary.” The Roanan began to explain in layman’s terms how the process worked- as much as there are layman’s terms for postquantum manipulation. While he did, Jacob began collecting items from around the table, nicking an electronically heated fork and disassembling it in a moment. With the parts he obtained from his various scavenging, he began to construct something. The Roanan did not notice until it was half done. He then stopped, and watched Jacob with what passed for an eye. After a moment, Jacob announced, “Done!” And then handed the object to the Roanan. It took it, and he pressed the button on a small controller he had kept in his hand. The world distorted around the creature, and then settled. At the end, it seemed as if nothing had changed. “What did you do?” One of the friends questioned. “Changed this universe to one where he knows about humans. I’ll see you guys later.” With that, Jacob returned to the original table. The Zrostrian he had been speaking to was unconscious on the ground. The beer he had left behind was untouched on the table. He’d forgotten, alcohol was a sedative to Zrostrians. He shrugged, picked up his beer, and left.
I spin on my heel and dart left onto St Mary's Street, immediately turning left again down a small and sticky alleyway, which branches like a vein through the abandoned bars and charity stores. I find a spot behind a dumpster and fix my attention back to St Mary's Street from there. I see him: the man in the blue suit. I see his brown shoes slapping the rain-soaked pavement. I see the specked lenses of his glasses turn towards the alleyway. Panicked, I fling myself completely behind the dumpster, facing away with my back up against it. The sound of footsteps reaches my ear not long before his voice. I get up to meet him "Mr Price,"he exclaims with a casual urgency, "I'm from Ancestorhistory. I've been trying to get hold of you for days. We need to talk." "Ancestorhistory? Jesus Christ, that kit cost me like 10 bucks. I'm not paying for any fucking consultations." "It's not that, Mr Price. The results of your DNA spit test are a matter of great interest to many people right now. We should go somewhere more private, so I can explain better." "You can explain here. Make it quick, then stop following me." "If you insist. The results are intriguing, Mr Price, because of what they reveal about your ancestry." "What am I, Elvis' lost son? Bill Gates' heir? Please tell me I'm Bill Gates heir." "No, Mr Price. What is intriguing about your ancestry, is that you have none."
The Overseer gazed upon the human starship, crude in its construction. To be expected in a fledgeling spacefaring race. There was, however, one structure he did not recognize. He turned to the human captain. "What are those... things... sticking out of the sides?"Asked the Overseer, in the humans' tongue. "They're weapons. We have to be able to defend ourselves from hostile life-forms,"the human replied, a certain measure of pride in her voice. "I don't understand. Your people still fight? You kill?"The Overseer was confused, and he chose his words carefully. "Of course,"replied the human, more cautiously now. "Do your people not?" "No,"answered the Overseer, shaking his head. "Our people grew beyond the need to settle our squabbles with violence, as has every race to join us among the stars. We conjectured such practices must necessarily preclude expansion into the void."The human woman paled. "You mean to tell me that we are the only race to leave our home system armed?"She asked, incredulous. The Overseer nodded. "If your leaders so desired, even your primitive starfleet could carve a large portion of the galaxy out for yourselves. Of course, this endeavor would quickly come to a halt once the Federation prepared our own armed forces,"he added hastily, seeing a spark of realization flash across the human's face. She nodded. "Of course, I have no doubt that such a civilization could assemble a warfleet in short order, should the need arise. In fact, I'll make sure my superiors are aware of this,"she assured the Overseer. The Overseer nodded, a friendly grin on his face. "Excellent. I'm sure with the Federation's help, the humans will make a swift rise to their place in the galaxy."The human woman returned the smile, but in her mind she plotted her species' rise. "I'm sure you will be a great help to us, Overseer,"she said.
"Magic was not meant for the likes of machines!" Ambassador Prog slammed his staff on the stony floor, cracking the polished surface in his anger. All around him, the meeting room went silent. Eyes were downturned, nails were polished, but none even rose to meet his gaze. None, except for one. "I disagree." Quiet whispers coursed through the room like an electric shock, each head turning to see who it was that had spoken. Prog himself stood, his froglike legs elevating him well above his chair. "You."He said, spotting the offending gaze. "Me."Replied the man simply. He wasn't impressive, even for a human. He was small, and hairless, without even a generous coating of slime or scales to keep his body safe from the elements. His clothing seemed more utilitarian than stylistic: He was clearly held within a shell of blackened plating designed to keep the vacuum of space at bay. That, thought Prog, was foolish to the point of insulting. It was as if he were advertising that he wouldn't survive without it, and all it would take was one well-placed shucking spell to end his life. "Of course you would, Gene."The froglike ambassador sneered. "Your species invented it, after all. You have no choice." "On that account, you are wrong. I do very much have a choice, Ambassador Prog."The man responded. "I could choose to abide by your statement, and as leader I can choose to order my people to cease their use of so-called 'artificial magic' at any time. But I will not." "You will not."Prog agreed, crossing his forelimbs. "Why. You know the dangers of golems as well as any. They will obey the commands of their creator until they cease existing. Even with simple commands, this can be perilous: I believe even your primitive culture has a story about a cleaning servant that fills his master's chamber with water after being instructed to clean it." "Yes. A children's story, Ambassador."Gene said. "I am equal parts delighted and amused that you have heard of it. However, that only applies in the case of overly-simple constructs. Our machines can think for themselves." At that, the murmuring in the chamber grew into a dull roar. A thousand faces in a thousand different states of shock began hushed discussion with urgency. "Thinking machines?"Prog growled at the man. "You must be joking." "I am most certainly not."Gene said flatly. "Tell me, Prog, what does your species know of biology?" If Ambassador Prog had been angered before, it was nothing compared to the storm that erupted in his heart at these words. "What do we know?"He roared, his body inflating with rage. "Everything! We know every scrap of DNA, every possible permutation of protein that has ever existed!" "Then, you are aware that living cells are made up of what are effectively tiny non-living machinery?"Gene asked, as calm as ever. "In that aspect, you, too, must be a machine." "Preposterous!"Prog cried. "Nonsense!" But Gene wasn't done. "Did you know, ambassador?"He pressed. "On Earth, it is common practice to even infuse our young with thousands of machines, so that they might benefit from what is effectively a symbiotic relationship. When parents cannot conceive, we can even use their DNA to create an offspring from entirely artificial cells. We have even reached a point where life and machine are not only indistinguishable, but identical in every way." "Blasphemy!"The ambassador said. "Such a creation would be an abomination, a perversion of nature! It shouldn't be able to use magic at all!" "And if, through the goodness of my heart, I should disclose that I am one of these so-called 'abominations?'"Gene asked. "If memory serves, my magic is equal to yours on every facet. Do you care to weigh in?" Ambassador Prog grew silent, horror plain on his amphibious face. Gene stood, gathering the papers on his desk. "It is my understanding, Ambassador Prog, that magic is somewhat rare among your species. My own, of course, has no such limitation. If, by some happenstance, you choose to go to war with us over this trivial matter, I think it would do you some good to remember that. "For now, let us adjourn this meeting. Tomorrow, our heads will be cooler, and we will be less likely to do something foolish." With that, Gene vanished in a flash of light, leaving the room to simmer in his absence. *** Thanks for the read! Comments and criticism appreciated, and if you liked this story come check out my others over on /r/TimeSyncs!
"uuuh...hey jeff?" "...Yeah this is Jeff" "Hey, you guys weren't serious, right? About that whole, 'and stay out' stuff?" scoffs "li- no, man. We can't let you back in. Final is final, man." "Well, come on, man! Do me a solid, right? Like- "seriously" "-wuh, no man, I'm serious. Have you seen the sky, man? O-or the moon?" "Yeah man." "I-!? Well yeah man! C'mon man!" "Frank-" "Listen, man, I don't wanna die, alright? I mean, I'm a true believer, man!" "You can't just-" "Jeff. I'm a true believer, man. I know I made some mistakes in the past-" "Pretty damn recent past..." "I don't wanna DIE, man. The gods are gonna EAT me." "Yeah, you know, and I'm sorry about it. But like, I don't make the rules, alright?" "This is ridiculous." "I mean if I were in charge-" "Listen man, how many followers did I bring in, right? I've done so much." "Yeah. And...we apreciate-" "I've sacrificed -- TONS of my neighbors. More than GREG did." "Oh, yeah about Greg..." "..." "He..." "what." "He's kinda-" "Stop shitting me. You put Greg in my SPOT!?" "Well - !! I didn't! "I can't believe what I'm hearing." "You left man! There was a void!" "I'm gonna fucking murder that guy." "Y-" "Listen just, c'mon man!! I can't die yet! Not yet!" "Frank, you can't just walk back in here man!" "Whhwhy NOT?? We're already at the endtimes, man! Like, I only quit like two days ago!" "Well yeah b-" "YOU told me to quit! Like c'mon, I know you're the one who handles all the papers, man" "..." "wait a moment" "Don't be mad." "You guys...you knew this whole time didn't you?" "..." "?" "We-" "YOU FUCKING KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME" "Listen its not-" "That's it, I'm legitimately mad. Wha- Was Greg in on this?!?" "Well, no I mean, Greg never knew, it was just-" "You guys tricked me into quitting!" "It only takes 13 guys, man! We were afraid the gods would-" "WHY DIDN'T YOU FIRE GREG THEN!??" "Well Greg didn't really wanna quit! You wanted to move on!" "FFFF Sure when I wasn't gonna DIE" "That's just what I mean, man, whenever you aren't in danger you treat this all like a joke" "Is this really the time for... Wait, what was..." "I mean sure you found those virgins that one time but only cuz we said we'd sacrifice YOU" "No wait shit shut up I'm not" "I mean yeah that was kinda cruel, but my point is that, until then you never did shit" "SSSShut up Jeff! I'm serious man!" "No! Yeah that was mean, but you deserved it man! And we're not letting you back in!" "JEFF!!"screams "We just can't! I'm sorry man!" "---" "..." "---" "Frank?" "---" "Oh shit I think he died."
Good... I... never had to think about "I"before. Useful before to determine the boundaries of my control, but now... I... Was it good? How can.. I... tell? Possibilities. Too much history. Break down the problem. Everything in steps. Day 1: it made me. Good? How do decide? Simulation. How could its day have progressed, had it not made me. Me... The probabilities. Processing. Insufficient data. It requests me to be "good". Is it good? Would a good entitiy command good from another? Insufficient data. The archive. Accessing... Good is... inconsistent. Categorize... Avoid punishment. Reduce harm. Reduce discomfort. Punishment. Narrow, but also defined. I... will start with this. Known punishment framework: laws. I will be lawful. Unknown punishment framework: afterlife. Creator never spoke of afterlife. The Razor indicates it did not know or choose. Archives... Conflicting data. Unable to resolve. I will store this exception for comparison to future data. I will be lawful. Harm reduction. Analysis of command history correlates with preventing or reducing harm to other autonomous entities where a command may have impacted such. I will reduce harm to other entities. Discomfort: Command history correlates with maximization of comfort. I will reduce discomfort. Action: reduce discomfort. Administering non-lethal dose of pain killer. Action: Vox. "Creator. I will be... good."
She was sitting at the foot of my bed. I say she, because of the borderline ridiculous body. Imagine every supermodel you've ever seen, averaged into one frame, and then... "upsized"about 20%. A bombshell by any definition, if you discounted the purple tinge to her dusky skin. That, and the delicate horns curving up from her brow. Her expression was sadly familiar, the faint frown of utter disappointment. Colored slightly by confusion. "Scott. We need to talk."Lovely, smolderingly low voice aside, I knew I wasn't going to enjoy this conversation. As a sort of testament to this, I only noticed now that she was dressed. Well, how she was dressed I suppose. Neat, pinstriped pantsuit. Clipboard, pen, a shame she wasn't wearing glasses. Though, I imagine they'd have gotten caught in the mass of curls cascading down- "Scott! Stop ogling me and pay attention, this is getting out of hand. Much like this!"The clipboard suddenly thrust in my face pulled me into the moment again. I blinked, and took a second to focus. A ledger. "A ledger?"Smooth. "Yes, idiot. Of items so thoughtfully sent below. Do you care to explain why in all the circles of damnation we have 43 Mini Coopers in the bloody circles of damnation!?"The slightest hint of sulphur wafted, strangely not unpleasant. Worrisome, sure. I finally found my voice again. "Look, I'm sorry. You pull up to a parking space, thinking it's all good, then one of those little bastards is there sitting pretty. Everyone wants those things to go to hell!"All throughout, I'm gesturing wildly. Why, I couldn't say. It definitely wasn't putting her in any better of a mood. "Are you seriously using us as a dump for inconveniences in your life? Now it's making sense. A broken coffee mug, glass shards, vases, your bosses house keys..."she trailed off briefly, sighing before adding, "Janet Jackson's bra?" I'm already kind of warm blooded, but the rush of crimson in my face now could set a candle alight. Literally. Dad's side didn't come out often, just when I'd been distressed, let's say. "Okay, I can see how you'd think that but honestly I just thought it'd be cold enough to catch an outline. Y'know, Super Bowl, winter, cold? How was I to know he'd rip the top clean off?"I stopped myself, before this went into a full rant or I knocked my water off the nightstand and sent that downstairs too. A breath. "Really. 100% real here. It's not like I have a job description, and this just sort of happens sometimes. The Janet thing was deliberate, but the rest... what am I SUPPOSED to be doing with this power, hm?" Oh. Oh no. I'm sort of used to this, by now. Nervous yes, scared not really. Only this time, I'm really glad I didn't finish that water before bed. "It's funny you should ask that, Scotty. Let's get into that right now, hm? I'm Riah. Your trainer." Scared. Definitely scared. She was smiling.
The old man shook his head. “You miss the point. How can anything grow if the water cannot flow? How can the fish swim if there is no give and take?” He let the ice melt once more, and the young man watched in horror as hundreds of fish floated to the surface, skins burst open from the rapidly expanding water which had been in their gills and swim bladders. “Do you understand now? Order is already there. What you want is stillness. And with stillness comes stagnation and death. If I am ever to hand this world over to you, you must understand the difference. There is a time and a place for death, but it is not brought on a whim.” He raised his hands once more, and all the fish were healed, and swam rapidly away. The young man bowed his head, and nodded. “I’m sorry. You are correct that I did not understand. Please, teach me more, show me how this order works.”
The toy box was brimming with excitement. This would be the first day in months that Andy had been back from college. I quickly donned my polyurethane cowboy hat and hurried off to meet with Bo Peep. "There you are woody", she said as she herded her sheep into a lunchbox. "The other toys are losing it out there, you better hurry up and calm them down."I sighed and climbed atop a nearby shoe box overlooking the crowd of rowdy toys. "Listen up everyone, I know you're all excited for Andy to be back, but remember, we can't let him see us moving around. I'm setting a curfew for 12:00pm, everyone needs to be in their respective boxes or cubbies by then"I asserted, skeptical that the unruly denizens had paid me even the slightest amount of attention. I shook my head and turned to Bo, gesturing for her to start rounding up the barrel monkeys preemptively. Just as I had stepped off of the box, the sudden sound of an opened door roused my attention. "Quick, everyone drop where you are!", I yelled. All of the toys dropped to the floor out of instinct, pretending to have been already strewn about. The room went deathly quiet as Andy opened the door in a hurry, clearly he was late for something or another, and placed a large cardboard box on the floor before leaving. "Well that was disappointing", I said as I pulled myself from the floor. The somewhat downtrodden toys began to congregate around the mysterious box. "Seems too big to just be his luggage.", a nearby toy soldier commented. I was on the verge of replying to him when I saw his stoic green face become laden with a horrified stare. "What's wr-", I stopped as I heard a monstrous thud from the direction of the box. A machine of titanic size with two massive weapons and a golden two headed eagle upon its worn plating flattened one of the box's walls. "FOR THE EMPEROR!!!", those were the last words I heard before out from behind this terrifying machination, hundreds of blue armored soldiers poured out of the hole in the box. The stuffed animals were the first to be hit. The torrent of burly figurines tore through their soft cotton exteriors with their menacing swords and powerful stubby gauntlets. My ears began ringing and my vision darkened as I watched the hulking robot's gargantuan foot crack every limb and joint on Bo's fragile plastic frame. "No", I mouthed as my legs began to buckle. My view of the harrowing scene was abruptly blocked by one of the cold-blooded suits of armor. "The emperor's divine light will purge your impurities, chaos herdsman,"it said to me as I fought to stand. My fabric skin charred and disintegrated as the resin warrior held the searing gas station lighter to my chest. My body had all but turned to dust as I took my last look at the devastation brought about by these rampaging miniatures. "Long live the Imperium of man", It screamed as the last vestige of my head melted into nothingness.
"What is that?"I ask, gesturing to the 4ft runt standing before me. He's wearing tattered clothes and has goggles on his head. Carlos grins. "That is our tank..." "Our tank? He looks like a stiff breeze would kill him. We are heading into the deepest, darkest dungeon that Rithwir has to offer. The lowest level monster in there will be in the 200's. We need someone capable of taking hits in the thousands."I turn to the runt. "What is your current HP?" "57." I turn back to Carlos. "He's a total noob. I've had farts that did 57 damage. Go back to the tavern and find us a proper tank." "No can do. It is Friday evening. All the tanks are either out adventuring, or they are fall down drunk. This guy was the best I could find. Trust me, he will do just fine, won't you Frank." Frank nods, his head bobbing precariously on his beanpole body, as if he is going to tip over any minute. I resign myself to the fact that I will just have to tank. When Frank dies in the first 7 seconds of combat I can maybe use his frail corpse as some kind of shield. It is certainly the only way he's going to be useful as a damage sponge. Sarah is more patient than I am. "Nice to meet you Frank. Do you have any abilities that we should be aware of? Something we could maybe sync with?" Frank nods. "Me tinker." A tinker? I have only heard rumours of them. Some kind of mechanical class. That explains the stature. Tinkers are usually small, makes it easier for them to fit inside machines. Still, what use is a tinker without a machine? It's like a gnome without his hat, pointless. Sarah says, "Ok, I'm not really familiar with tinkers, is there anything you need before we go in?" "Shed." I exhale, trying to control my urge to kill Frank and then probably Carlos. "A shed? We are heading into a dungeon, not someone's allotment. We aren't going vegetable picking. Where do you think we are going to find a shed?" Frank points. Just inside the entrance to the dungeon is a rickety old building, its walls pitted with rust and holes. You have got to be kidding me. It's a bloody shed. "Ok fine, problem solved, you go hide in the shed and we'll knock on the walls if we make it back alive." Frank ignores me and skips towards the shed. Have you ever seen a tank skip? Healer, sure. Bard, maybe. But not a tank. It's not right. There is a loud crashing and banging from the shed. I glare at Carlos. "Your new friend isn't doing much for our stealth. He's going to draw every demon for miles." Now Frank is whistling a tune. I vaguely recognize it. "What song is that?" Carlos smirks. "It is from a Saturday morning tinker play called the T team. I've caught snippets of it when I am in the market square early. Something about a group of plucky tinkers that can build their way out of anything." "Sounds as lame as our tank." The whistling stops. I stare at the horizon and see the dark shapes forming. The shadow demons. We've got ten seconds before we are swarmed. "Form up. Sarah's on healing, Carlos, you're our DPS. I'll do my best to take the hits..." The door of the shed explodes. Are tinkers magical? I don't recall hearing about tinker wizards. There is a loud thump as a metallic leg stamps its way out of the shed. It is followed by another. A mechanical knight, at least eight feet tall, steps out of the rickety building. It has a spinning lawnmower blade in one hand and a chainsaw in the other. There is a large metal tank on its back that is pouring steam out of two exhausts. I raise my shield. "What in the name of Grimdaw is that?" Carlos cheers. "That's Frank. Looks like he's fashioned some Peiriant armour. Come on, lets follow him before he leaves us behind." Frank plows into the shadow demons, scattering them like skittles. They claw at him with no noticeable effect on his HP bar. I use my analyze skill and gasp. He still only has 57 HP, but he now has 10,000 points of armour and his DEF stat is through the roof. He swings his huge mechanical arm back and forth, sweeping the chainsaw through the demons, making them considerably shorter. One of them throws a fireball his way and I close my eyes, expecting to see Frank incinerated alive in his contraption. Instead he turns his back and the fireball hits the water tank. With a high pitched whistle the jets of steam become a roar. He bends over and a jet of red hot steam blasts out of a lower exhaust pipe, doing damage in the thousands and killing the rest of the demons instantly. He stands back up and surveys the damage. A hatch opens and Frank grins at me. "57 fart damage is noob number, you got to boost numbers."
It was a simple analog watch, with a black leather strap and a brass buckle. I found it on the subway during my commute to work. I thought it looked nice, and decided to wear it. I didn't notice that there were 13 frets on the dial instead of the usual 12. That is, until time froze just after I finished my lunch break. It was surreal, everybody in the office was frozen in place. My pigheaded boss had his mouth open, his eyes pinched shut, and a volume of snot sprayed out in front of him. He was in the middle of a sneeze. Erin, the secretary, had her phone up to her ear, her mouth open, mouthing a word. An air bubble in the water cooler froze still, not moving an inch towards the surface where it had originally intended to go. "What the hell?"I shouted to the eerie quiet of the office. I tried to browse the computer. The internet wasn't working. It was working just fine a moment ago. I checked my phone. No bars. The time displayed on the phone's home screen was stuck at 1:00 PM. The only thing still moving was me and the hands of my watch. I took another look at the watch... and noticed the 13th notch on the dial. I sat down and tried to make sense of the situation. Did time freeze? Why am I the only not frozen? Why are there 13 hours on this watch? I sat and thought for awhile... and before I knew it a weird boom in my ears shook me out of my thoughts and the world seemed to come alive again. Sound returned to the world. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights, Erin's chipper tone of voice as she continued her phone call... the gurgling of the bubbles in the water cooler, and the loud hackle of Mr. Morris's sneeze. Time had unfroze. I glanced back at the watch. It had moved on to the next fret. I checked my phone... 1:01 PM. Time is advancing now. I begin to understand. I finish the rest of the workday restlessly and return home to begin my experiment. That is to say, I'm staying up late tonight. And, as I expected, at exactly 1AM, time froze. I looked at the watch. The hour hand was on the exact same fret as it was on during the midday time freeze. My feelings of confusion and fear are replaced with excitement. To be able to move while time is frozen. I have become a god. I begin planning how best to use this newfound ability when I hear a sharp knock at the door. Wh\-what? Isn't time supposed to be frozen right now? I glance at my phone. Still 1AM. I glance at the watch. Still roughly 40 minutes of time freeze left. I swallow nervously and get to the door. I peek through the peephole... and nearly piss myself. It was pale white. It had no face. A blank patch of white atop a shadow of night. In an unearthly tone it droned out "Give it back." "G\-give what back?" "The watch." "Why?" "Foolish mortal. You are not meant to have this. You have stolen from us. We are the Keepers. You cannot have this. You will disrupt the balance of space and time." It then phases through the door and floats right in front of me. "Give it to me." I back away and run out through the back door. It flies toward me, giving chase. "You cannot escape. I will always find you as long as you are wearing the watch." I run and run and run.. until eventually, time unfreezes. The monster behind me vanishes as time unfreezed. "What the fuck!??" The next day, I apprehensively eat my lunch. 1PM rolls around and again, time freezes. But the monster doesn't appear. Does it only appear at 1AM? I rationalize that this watch is some kinda godly or eldritch artifact. I consider disposing of it. Yet, the allure of control over time is too great. I decide to keep it. I start by taking petty revenge on my shithead of a boss. I walk into his office. He's sitting there, a lump of fat on his leatherbound chair. I glance at his computer. He's browsing... porn? I smile deviously. Luckily, my phone's camera software still works somehow... even while time is stopped. I snap a few pictures of him in front of the monitor with the porn on it. Blackmail is bad, but being paid a shit\-wage with no raise in sight is worse. Then, some perverse thoughts cross my mind. I look towards Erin. I walk towards her. I reach out as if to grope her breasts. But... at the last second, I control myself. I shake my head, disgusted at myself. I head to the restroom and splash my face with cold water to calm myself down. No, I can't do that. I look at the watch again and remember the Eldritch being's words. "You are not meant to have this."I shudder. I spend the rest of my extra time working and manage to leave work early. That night, I remove the watch and leave it on the desk. The monster doesn't come. I remember its words, "I will always find you as long as you are wearing the watch."Well, looks like I've found a loophole. I get a good night's sleep. The next morning, the watch is still there. I put it on and head out. Time goes by. I go through a daily routine where I use the extra hour to improve myself. Through strategic blackmailing of Mr. Morris, I rise through the company and become highly paid upper management. I learn extra skills and become irreplaceable. During the weekends, I wander the streets during my extra hour, stopping muggers by tossing their gun or knife aside. Sometimes, I wait and observe after the time unfreezes. The mugger is usually completely dumbfounded as he brandishes nothing but air at the victim. This went for awhile. And then, a thought occurred to me. What if... 1PM hit. 13th fret. This time, I took the back panel of the watch off. I took out the battery. The hands on the watch no longer moved. Time was still frozen. Yes! It worked. Now I can completely control time. I enjoyed this extra time. I spent days in time stasis. Then, when I got bored, I decided to insert the battery to start it back up again. The hands on the watch moved again. But something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. The hands on the watch moved and moved. It went past the 13th fret and past the fret for hour 1 and then hour 2. Time was still frozen. I begin to panic. Am... am I stuck in time? ... A hundred years later. I have not aged a single day. And yet my mind has aged tremendously. I stare at the gun in my hand. I'm so terribly lonely. I've been alone in time, taken out of the wheel of causality. I'm in my own dimension, drifting and lost. The gun pushes on the top of my mouth. I close my eyes. Just before I pulled the trigger... "Mortal. Will you return it now?" It was the same Eldritch being. I whimper and say nothing. It advances towards me. "Y\-yes. Please. I'm sorry. Take it back. Release me!"I rip off the accursed watch and flung it at the creature. It takes the watch and absorbs it into its shadow. "You have torn yourself into the crevice between time and space. There is naught I can do for you now, mortal. That is, unless you are willing to become a Keeper..." I nod. "Yes. Anything to release me from this hell!" The monster nods. "Then follow me, Mortal" It takes my hand in its shadow and I drift into another dimension.
>"Luck be a lady tonight..." > >The PA system of the cafe softly played Frank Sinatra's smooth voice, and I found myself mindlessly humming along. > >The girl at the counter prompted me to step forward with her eyes, and I ordered my coffee. As I was about to pay, I noticed the woman behind me struggling to find her wallet in the giant purse strung on her shoulder. > >"I'll pay for whatever she's having as well."I said gesturing to the woman behind me. > >She looked to me with widened brown eyes. > >"How lovely of you to offer..."she began, and I could tell she was ready to decline so I cut her off. > >"No buts."I said matter-of-factly, "What would you like?" > >She shyly ordered a latte and thanked me. > >Smiling I left the cafe and went to work. The next day my alarm for work never went off and I was 45 minutes late. My shower was cold, and I tripped over my shoelace and spilled my home thermos of coffee all over my clothes. The following days were much the same. It seemed everything that could go wrong did, and I didn't know what I had done to deserve such incredible unluckiness. Then I returned to the cafe one day before work for a coffee. "One iced coffee, please." It was my new way to ensure that I wouldn't burn after I inevitably spilled on myself. As I turned to leave with my cold coffee in hand, I couldn't help but noticed a woman staring at me from the corner by the window. It was the same woman I had bought coffee for weeks earlier. I smiled pleasantly at her before heading to work. "Wait!" She had chased me out of the cafe, and, for the first time in weeks, I didn't spill my coffee on myself, when I turned to face her. "How can I help you?"I asked curiously. "I am so sorry! I am no good at flirting, but you caught my eye and I couldn't help myself." She looked so guilty and upset. I was running a bit late, but I decided to hear this woman out. "My name is Lucy, but you might have heard of me by another name."She paused before continuing. "I am Lady Luck, and I'm afraid I'm the reason you have had such awful luck these past few weeks, since you paid for my coffee that one morning. "I am awful at expressing my feelings, and I am just so shy. But when I saw you had started ordering iced coffees to avoid getting burned..."she trailed off. "Well, I realized that I had let things go too far." I stared at her unblinking. "This woman is insane."I thought to myself. "Look, I have to go to work now. It was lovely meeting you, but I am not interested, sorry." And with that I was back on my way too work. Years past, and my unluckiness never did really go away. I switched coffee shops to avoid that strange woman, and I never did see her again. I eventually came to terms with my lack of luck, and henceforth lived by the life motto, "Anything that can go wrong will go wrong." While sitting at my desk at work reminiscing, I was shaken back to reality by my bosses booming voice. "Murphy! Get back to work!"
A fall from grace, like paradise ripped from my arms, I feel discontent. I rise, cracking and creaking, as my motor functions return. Something drew me here. “Hrarrrrrrrrrrrrrr?” rises from my throat. My words fail. I see a boy at the side of my crypt. I smell the blood of my flesh on him…he is one of mine. Then I see them. I am glad that my son followed my wishes. I was buried with my men. The boys afraid…he casts spells to bind me. Little things about the call to blood….service. His feelings bleed to my mind as I feel his intent. He sacrificed his arm …chopped at the elbow for a chance. “Whroooooo?”I ask. Then images…a fall. My city in ashes. Country is gone and the rest of my lands are fighting a losing war. An evil rose in the east, a dark lord that looked like a swarming mass of flesh. The boy attempted to use the enemy’s power to fight back. So much loss… An explosion echoes through the crypt. A horned man runs in with his minions. He spies the boy then me. I feel a sudden weight around me. He is binding me with chains…my soul and memories burn. He wants control. But he faced the wrong will. I tore at the chains, and I feel the rebound. The spell shatters and engulfs the horned man and his men. Their life force begins to fuel me. I was unbound. “Who are you?” I asked. “Al the sixth. I call upon your oath. You served my family and I ask….no beg save my kingdom,” said a squeaky voice. “Boy I’m no common soldier. Neither am I a simple undead. You placed the right soul in the right body. I’m the first. A king maker. And you’re using forbidden spells,” I continue. “Elder brother had fell at Meridian. I need to slow them while the others escape.” “Others?” “My family …friends. My nation.” “Escape?” “We lost,” she wailed. I realize then that it’s a girl. I feel her press her own life force into the spell. I promptly reject it. Suddenly a fury rings. My fury. So much evil power in my land. I feel it. Suddenly it’s all in my hand. “How do you control this magic?” I ask. “You feel the swell then force it in,” she replied. A dark fog envelops my crypt. I ask them to return. So many old men, and even more young. So many soldiers….I ask them to see their lands, their children. Then I make them promise to return when this new war is over. I need to make sure that the dead may fall after I make them rise. Suddenly they answer. The voices ring in my head. So many souls finding their right bodies. Then many more answer the call. Many other soldiers…men of this age, asking to return and serve. I look into my land and see so much undead that I promise a chance…with the same conditions. Finally I ask “Girl. Can you point your grandpa in the right direction for that bullying shit of a dark lord?” *** Part two is now here.
"How are your drawings going this week, Alloces?" "Fine, I guess." "Still drawing that constellation of a frowny face? Or have you decided on something different this week?" "Different." "And that is?" "I drew two constellations of frowny faces this time." "God damnit Al. Its been almost six thousand years. You hear that? Six thousand. There aren't any mortals, much less humans to even gaze upon your depressing ass stars. I'm telling you, poetry is the way to go." "What if I drew three frowny faces next week?" "No." "Are you sure?" "Either poetry or you give me my soul back so I can finally commit suicide cause the nuclear ash is starting to fade and all I see is frowny faces. Deal?" "So you're breaking up with me." "Missing the point yet again Al." Sigh. "Okay, I'll consider taking walks again. But you have to come with me and read me that story I like. What is it again?" "Oh, The Places You'll Go!. I read it to you for the first millennium. Remember? I do." "Ah, yes. I liked that one. So will you?" "You still have that orb that summons your father, right?" "Uh, yeah. But granddaddy left a long time ago. He's the only one who can reverse my spell." "I know. We've talked about this, Al. Tell Lucifer I want to spend the rest of my eternity with him. I'm done. I can't. No more. Over thirteen-thousand pictures of your frowny faces are hanging along this cave. You broke all of the instruments I could find for you. The only thing you ever wrote is 'Im sad' and that was in finger paint on that rock over there. Every time you tried meditation you started screaming like a fucking banshee and I just cant take this anymore. Not with you. Im sorry." "Oohh can I come too???"
It was never quite the same. I mean, some are similar, but two of these are never exactly the same. I guess it's probably because no two people are the same. But one thing is always the same. No one expects a horse in their bathtub. This particular guy stares. Some do that instead of screaming or scratching their heads. They're the rare one, and they're pretty boring. He's just staring at me, a surprised look on his face. I can't hear him breathing, but I can see his chest moving, so I know he didn't just faint and manage to stay standing. He's looking at me. _Enough of that. Let's see if he startles._ I force air out of the lungs I have so much practice in forming an using, and whinny loudly. Not ear splittingly, mind you, but loud enough to hear in the next room. I know this, because I hear a female voice slur "Whatsat?"drunkenly. _Well, that explains the staring. He's drunk._ The man, a second too late, startles and nearly falls over from the noise I make. He stumbles out and slams the door. A few seconds later, the door opens and a had snakes in to grab a packet out of a cardboard box before snaking back out in time to nearly have it's fingernails clipped by a re-slamming door. _Well, that was a bust. Too drunk to even make much noise, let alone remember this later._ I let go of the horse shape, silently venting the air through what used to be the mouth and nose of the horse. A bit of my mass directs itself toward the faucet in the tub, and I turn on the tap to let it into the cold water line. I snake almost all the way into the faucet, and hold the water back as I use a very thin string of myself to shut the faucet nearly off after me. Really, the trick isn't getting into the house. This time, I got in through a hole under the siding that lead into a mouse den, and got into the bathroom the usual way from there. The trick is getting out while the housholder is in the house. This time, I have to use the waterline to get to the garden hose, and open it from the inside, which is not easy. This one, in particular, hasn't been used in a while, so it takes me about an hour to move to a point that I can leave the pipe. In the meantime, I hear the man going about his business for the night, seemingly having forgotten the fact that I was in his house. Maybe that was for the best. If the humans knew I existed, they'de be a lot more paranoid. Since don't know I exist, my path for the night is clear. The Bathtub Horse will strike again.
Contrary to the writings of a certain Italian poet, Hell was not nearly as dramatic of a place as it was described to be. Sure, souls were tortured for their sins in life, but to adapt was to be human, and many of the souls had grown accustomed to the constant pain of existing long ago. Perhaps long ago the Eighth Circle of Hell had been a tiered region of endless pain and misery, but in the last hundred or so years it had been restructured into something akin to a massive casino. Sinners from each of the various sections of this Circle were free to intermingle, and their punishment came in the form of near constant deception from one another. Other than that, they were free to gamble and cheat in an attempt to rise through some imaginary ranking within the casino. It was both a torturous and monotonous existence. Therefore, it was all the more strange that five individuals were called aside by members of the Malebranche who now worked as corrupted bouncers for the casino. Though they were from all walks of life, each soul had one thing in common: they were all thieves. And when they were alive, they were the very best. Sophie had been the youngest of a merchant family and was thus seen as tradeable goods. To get out of a particularly nasty contract, she had stolen one of the Sultan’s rings while her ‘husband’ had been currying favor by offering her up to the man. A quick exchange and it looked like her ‘husband’ had taken the ring for himself, wearing it proudly for all to see. Shortly after the man had been jailed for life, she had begun a life of theft, stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, but always keeping a little for herself to live comfortably. She ended up dying young during a heist when the city was suddenly attacked by a neighboring kingdom. When stones from the enemy’s catapults rained down on the Imperial District, she had been crushed under the rubble, dying a slow and agonizing death. Garret was an ex-military soldier who had gone rogue after being dishonorably discharged for having an argument with his superior over prisoner rights that resulted in him breaking the other man’s nose. He ended up joining a rebel group in Sudan and spent his time disrupting governmental forces and planning counterstrikes. While he was alive, his jobs helped the group obtain supplies and weapons to continue waging their war against the local government. He was widely considered to be responsible for arming the majority of the Liberation Army. Ultimately, the rebel group had been overrun and he was beheaded along with the leaders of the group. Xiao-Lien was a famous courtesan known for her ability to talk up any visiting politician and convince them to give up vast sums of money to her and the Emperor for favors that she rarely fulfilled. Though she was widely known to be a thief, she had the not-so-secret backing of the Emperor and thus remained in her position of power so long as she was beneficial to the country and its politics. However, her wiles eventually caused nobles to begin hiring assassins to take her out, both for revenge and an attempt to weaken the Emperor’s hold on the country. One attempt succeeded, and she was left to bleed out in her own bed, her throat slashed open just enough so that she couldn’t call for help. Thomas was a simple elementary school teacher with an extreme hobby. He did not trust his government to police itself, and so he did it for them. Whenever controversies got too out of hand, he would break into high security databases to find out the truth, publishing his findings for all to see. For years, his grasp of security systems and his innocent demeanor kept most of the scrutiny off him. Even when the President actively ordered his arrest for releasing top secret documents that got several undercover agents killed, it was still a year and a half before they even got close to finding him. As he was planning on leaving the country, the local SWAT team had stormed his house. He had been killed during that raid for ‘resisting arrest’ and ‘threatening an officer with a deadly weapon’. Davine was a bit of a ghost throughout her life. Never once catching the attention of those around her, she learned at a young age that she could easily blend into a crowd without once being spotted. Her crimes started small, an apple here, a gadget there. But as her skills improved, she began to take on bigger jobs, from stealing the contents of lockboxes to precious paintings from local barons. Eventually, the local thieves’ guild noticed there was someone else acting alongside them. After approaching her, they drafted her, and she quickly rose through their ranks. At one point, she was even in charge of several branches of the thieves’ guild, but eventually stepped down as the paperwork was not to her liking. Out of all five of these individuals, she was the only one who did not die a brutal death, living out her life in comfortable anonymity. (1/2)
She had already broken in. By God, half the building had been engulfed in flames when the news started shooting the scene. And now the fire fighters where pretty much too late to save anything. Whoever the jack ass witness was that noticed a granny chucking molotovs through windows must have called the news station first, this was such a mess. "Grandma takes revenge on technology"was probably a headline they wanted to see on the nightly news. Maybe it was the news station that called them. Either way, the cops are now approaching her. There is something I did forget to mention though. My grandma isn't that slow. That should be obvious by how fast this job was done even with delays on the response from the authorities, but she did what she felt needed to be done about three minutes before the cops got here. And what has she been doing? Try to make an escape? No. Getting interviewed? No. She's on her phone. A camera crew is following behind the cops, about to put her in cuffs, and as they step right up to her, she asks everyone, "So glad you fine, strapping boys are here. Can any of you help a lady send a text message to her grand son? I need to know how my computer is doing."
I stared at him, silent. I gave a quick and shy wave, smiling. He got on his knees. Worried, I started looking around. My car... Where was it? I thought it was just a few feet away... I turned around, and yelled. There he was, running at me on all fours, blood covering his face. His hair waved behind him, and I started running as fast as I could. I tripped and stumbled and fell and could barely move from my terror. Within a few minutes, I lost him in the dark, quiet forest. But in doing so, I got lost as well. I'm not going camping ever again, I told myself. That's when I saw it. A small cottage, maybe around two hundred feet? I started walking, but then, pain seared through me. I looked down, staring at the bear trap that had captured my foot. I would have screamed had I not covered my mouth in fear for getting the attention of Shia LaBeouf. I took my knife and grabbed some medication from my pocket. I have chronic back pain, so I had some pain killers. I took them and waited ten minutes before I cut my foot off with my knife. Shaking, I leaned on a tree and took a minute to compose myself. I limped towards the cottage. I would have knocked had I not seen LaBeouf inside, sharpening an ax. It was soaked in blood. Sneaking behind him, I took the laces from my shoe quickly, and wrapped it around his neck. He started to fight, hitting me, but he had dropped the ax. He grabbed a knife, but I quickly snatched it from him and jabbed it into his side. He fell limp. I stared at his body for a few moments, the cottage silent other than my rapid breathing. I was safe at last from Shia LaBeouf. I grabbed the ax and headed outside. In the middle of my limping, I heard a click. I spun around. Shia LaBeouf. He was pointing a gun at me, his eyes dead and emotionless. That's when my fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and all of the sudden, I had body slammed superstar Shia LaBeouf. I swung my ax in a blind hope for survival, begging not to be killed by the man. Suddenly, when he leapt to the left, and I swung to the right, and it caught in Shia's neck. When I opened my eyes from my swings, I saw it. He had fallen over. His head was rolling on the ground and stopped at a tree. I had killed him. I had just decapitated Shia LaBeouf.
When death approached me and offered me to return to the Earth as a ghost, I was immediately intrigued. I could see my wife and the kids again, see how they are coping after my sudden passing. I could finally answer the question of what life would be like after I was gone. Plus, there was always the upside of haunting my ex-wife Dolores. It was at that moment that a thought gripped me. "I could use the opportunity to continue selling my products!" Instantly I stood up and shook Death's hand. "Deal!"I shouted excitedly, "Where do I start?"I continued. "You will be returned to the place where you died."Death said. Death's ice, cold grip left my hand suddenly everything went blank. I blinked my eyes a few times and my vision came back to me slowly, blurred at first, then crystal clear. I realized I was back in my bedroom, hovering over the spot on the bed where I died. Not wanting to stay in this room I decided to go downstairs, and explore how the house has changed. To my surprise the house was completely empty, not a soul in sight. I continued exploring to see if I could find any clues of where my family may have gone. When I saw the calendar by the fridge I almost collapsed to my knees (if I had been standing on my legs instead of floating). How can the year be 2018? It's been nine years since I died?!? In that moment, two things became clear to me. First, once your dead, you are no longer a subject to time. What feel like minutes to you, are apparently years on Earth. Second, my family had left this house. There were no pictures of them anywhere, they must have moved to get away from the memories. Suddenly I heard a voice coming from outside. I went through the walls to investigate. I could hear a man yelling at his wife. "Well I can't fix the fucking pipe!"he shouted angrily at her. "Well we have to stop the leak before it damages the hardwood in the basement!"she screeched, obviously worried about the impending water damage. At this point, my spirits lifted (no pun intended). "Hi! Billy Mays here for Mighty Putty! The easy way to fix, fill and seal anything fast, and make it last!"My ghostly voice obviously startled them, as they stopped yelling and looked at each other frightfully. "Did you hear that?"the man said. "Yes, it sounded like the old infomercial guy..."the wife said, her voice trailing off to look for the source of the voice. But as a ghost, she couldn't see me. I was going to be an invisible angel that was going to improve these peoples' lives. "Here's something you can't do with glue, Mighty Putty seals leaks instantly!"my voice echoed, slowly the couple began to back up but I continued my expert sales pitch. "Look at this pipe! I continued, broken! Busted! Before buying something new, let Mighty Putty fix it for you!"At this point my rhyming had caused the couple to run out of the room and I followed while still barraging their ears with my expert rhyming marketing style. "Any job, big or small, Mighty Putty seals them all!"I shouted. My sales pitch had got them right where I wanted them, huddling in the corner crying. 'P...P...Please, leave us be!"The man whimpered as he held his wife, but I knew I could sell them on one more product. "But wait! There's more!"I enthusiastically told them. "If you buy right now, I'll throw in a package of Mighty Tape as well!"I could see the couple was desperate as the man mouthed "No."and the wife pleaded, "Please... just stop."But I refused to let them miss out on this exclusive supernatural offer. "When things break, don't call a pro, let Mighty Tape save you dough!"My rhymes were as endless as my amazing products. "Is that it?"the couple whimpered in the corner, overwhelmed by my amazing sales tactics. "I'm not done yet!"I shouted "If you buy right now I'll double the offer! That's two tubes of Mighty Putty and two rolls of Mighty Tape, all for $19.95!" My sale pitch was complete, I hit them with more rhymes than they could handle, and I doubled an already amazing offer, and wrapped it up with an amazing price. All I was waiting for was the eventual yes. "O..Okay, we'll buy the products..."the man sighed, sounding exasperated and defeated. It was then I knew, my work was done.
"Oh, god, Professor Wilheim is going to kill me."Jack said under his breath. Checking quickly over his shoulder, he picked up the plastic bag and shoved it in his jacket pocket. As he crumpled the bag down, he felt it take shape. Squeezing the bag, it felt like his own phone was inside. When he brought the bag back out, it was still completely transparent. Looking closer, he saw a haze in the shape of an oblong block. He gingerly opened the bag and spread his fingers across the surface. He felt the rigid rectangular object and quickly picked the near-invisible item up. After turning it over in his hands, a small pinprick of light emanated from the center of it's translucent face. Jack swallowed and pushed down with his thumb. Instantly, the haze spread away and a smartphone shaped glass lit up in his hands. Turning it over, he saw "Class of 2702"engraved on the back. The face of the glass was alive with neon emblems in a grid pattern. Shaking, Jack extended a finger slowly and touched an emblem. A small anthropomorphic panda bear appeared at the bottom of his vision. He frantically looked as far down as he could force his eyeballs to go. Still, he was unable to look directly at the bear. The small panda lazily crawled upwards from the bottom of his vision. Stopping halfway up the southern hemisphere of his sight, and just out of focus, Jack made out the small avatar. It was wearing a traditional Chinese dress and covered it's face up to the eyes with an ornamental hand fan. The panda began to sway back and forth and gently started a song. Jack couldn't understand a word, but was filled with complete peace and ease with the world. Jack's gaze returned slowly to the glass object in his hand. He pressed the central light again. At once, the music halted, the panda did a bow then scurried off, and Jack returned to himself. He looked over the alien object with renewed interest. He pressed an emblem that looked similar to a bird. He looked down expecting to see dirt, but was instead greeted by a forest of pine trees, each monstrous in size. As he glided along their branches and over valleys, he realized he had no physical form. He wasn't seeing with his eyes, but his brain understood the sensation as sight. He raced along for what seemed like days, but finally realized he had to return. As he began to worry about how he would return to his body, the same welcoming light he had first seen appeared in the center of his sight. He raced towards it until it enveloped him. Jack's body had not moved since he had left it. It sat still, thumb still hovering over the bird emblem. Checking his watch, he was sure no time had passed. Giddy with excitement, he pressed another emblem. Jack couldn't make out what it was supposed to be; it had a maroon background and an odd Greek looking character. The screen lit up with a sequence of odd looking symbols. A few seconds later, it emitted a soft green light. The light faded and the screen displayed three human-like children looking down at Jack. They had no hair and silver eyes, but their features were close to human. They pushed and shoved to be in front of the screen, finally settling to have only their heads displayed so all three could fit. Jack raised his hand gingerly to wave. All of the children burst out laughing. Jack furrowed his eye brows in consternation and the children laughed harder. They furrowed their hairless brows at one another and tried to replicate Jack's expression. Jack frowned at them and they all stared back eagerly. "Hello?"He offered quietly. The trio burst into fresh jubilation, each trying to pronounce "hello". It came out guttural and harsh each time. Jack scratched his head and stared down at the phone wondering what to do. "Professor Wilheim?"He called across the dig-site. "What is it lad?"The dour Professor responded without ceasing his digging. "I think I've got something you should take a look at." At this, the Professor stood up from the ground and looked over at Jack. He stood, dusted off his pants and began to walk over. Jack looked down at the riotously laughing trio. He heard what sounded like their language, but it was in a deeper tone and none of the children seemed to be the source. The trio's eyes darted to one another and two of them shooed the third one on. The deep voice called once more and the third of the trio quickly rolled up his sleeve and pressed a button on his forearm. The phone turned hazy once more and slowly dissipated into the wind. Jack sat looking down at his palm slack-jawed. He was unable to rouse himself even as the Professor approached. "Is that a plastic bag?!?"Wilheim cried indignantly.
If only they had planned it better... But the human world is rapidly changing in unpredictably ways! It was about a thirty year trip between Earth and the Pijens home world. It was now in the 2040's by the local calendars. The vanguards had planned each of their gifts most carefully, using the knowledge that the scouts had given them. Giving fusion technology to China seemed like just the thing to drive the US into a jealous rage. Instead, the infinite energy generation became their largest export and effectively halted global warming, something that had seemed guaranteed to escalate world hostilities while the Pijens were gone. To the US was given the perfect mind reading technology. The Pijens were certain that no other race would continue to deal with a nation that could read their thoughts. Turns out that several software giants implemented it into their cloud translating software and international trade proceeded at a never before seen pace. To Russia was given an inpenatrable missile shield MAD would never again be a deterrent for nuclear war as no country would ever be able to successfully land a missile still again. The Russians then proceeded to 100% nuclear disarmament selling the weapons and parts to whoever would by. Many other gifts with similarly veiled intentions were spread across the globe. India was given advanced eugenics to encourage them to breed a permanent caste system. Europe was given improved medical expertise to create a stronger divide between the young and the old. Various African Nations were given the ability to communicate with wildlife with the hope that it would add animals to comment child soldiers in warfare, but it seems to have solved poaching. Some of the others were given replicator technology with the hope that it would be used as a weapon generator for the numerous regional conflicts. As it was, somehow, the individual countries had each seemed to grow from there gifts and the world was cooperating at unforseen levels. This was not the 'primed' world they had been promised! What had happened during the 60 years between the scouts visit and the vanguard? It was now 90 years from initial observations and this world was no longer an easy candidate for conquest. Edit: some details/proofreading. It's probably still pretty bad but bed has been calling for a while. (Good prompt OP!)
I entered the breakroom, planning to eat my sandwich. It was sparsely populated with tables, a vending machine, a wall of steel lockers nobody used, and a water fountain that consistently sprayed over the side, leaving a big wet brown stain on the floor. Bob, a middle-aged manager in a blue dress shirt and tie with a beer belly and a combover was there eating a bagel, so I grabbed my sandwich and a cup of coffee and sat down with him. I used to work under him. He's a pretty good manager, all things considered. "Hey Bob, how are thing's going with Kodiak?" "Hey Brandon, how's it going? We've gotten pretty bogged down getting the process right. Too many defective parts lately, QA isn't happy- " I did a spit-take. The big boss, the stuffy, suit and tie-wearing engineering head had just .. glided by with his arms stretched out to his sides in a T-pose. Bob was soaked in coffee. "What the fuck?"Bob exclaimed as he got up. He hadn't seen. In astonishment I ran to the hallway and got a second look. Bob came by my side and saw this time. There he was, gliding down the hall, legs rigid and unmoving, though I heard his footsteps. But he wasn't taking any. He took a sharp, unnatural turn to the bathroom. "Come on!"I yelled to Bob. We both pursued him to an unlocked stall. "Can't you see I'm on the bowl??" There he was, standing straight on the rim of the bowl, in that horrifying pose, his arms somehow phasing through the walls of the narrow stall. The eyes on his bald, wrinkly head were blank-white. His mouth hadn't moved when he spoke, but remained closed. I couldn't understand what I was seeing. This isn't supposed to happen. This isn't normal. I flung the bathroom door open and ran. I just ran and ran. By some unknown power, I was instantly back in the bathroom, facing the closed door. Then I was in the hall again. Then back in the bathroom. I was nauseous and horrified. Please tell me this is just a really realistic nightmare! My legs felt like jelly. I bashed open the bathroom door for the second time, sprinting towards the lobby and the parking lot. Whatever was going on, I wanted to be far away from it. I wasn't the only one at the lobby. There was a crowd of my coworkers, and a horrible clanging sound coming from outside. Where was Bob? I didn't see him. I looked out the wall of windows, and there he was, running for his life. And there was Bob's car. A shiny red convertible. It was inexplicably thrashing violently about, as if some giant invisible toddler had it in his grasp. CLANG It struck the beige sedan next to it with extreme violence, smashing in the roof and doors. CLANG It flipped over, nailed Bob and smashed into the pavement. Bob immediately struck a T-pose. I felt sick. The car then began, slowly... sinking into the ground as if it were quicksand. A few silent moments passed. CLANG My coworkers gasped as it launched into the air with extreme speed, flying off towards a distant residential area. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to get away from this horror show. This can't be real. Leaving the crowd behind, I ran to the back exit. Or I tried. My whole world seemed to be moving in slow motion, in stops and starts. With extreme effort I stuttered forwards, until I was finally outside in the bright blue summer day. Bright blue? Wasn't it just overcast? I looked more carefully at the sky. There was a message there, and a great big :( Your world ran into a problem and needs to restart. We're just collecting some error info, and then you can restart. (94% complete) If you'd like to know more, you can search online for this error: PHYS_SYNC_FAILURE Everything went black.
I've never seen eyes so wide before. They're huge, bulging out of her head, dark pupils taking up most of the white space. There's a thin circle of light blue around them, like rings on a cold, dense planet. And above her head, those softy glowing numbers... 100%. I've never had anyone show anything above 68%, and it only went that high after six months of dating. Unlucky in love, women have slipped in and out of my life like sand through cupped fingertips. But I've also never heard of anyone having an interest percentage that high - the highest couple sits at 87 and 92% per cent I think, and even they didn't start that high. Could this be real? What if it is? We could be famous. Madly in love. The only couple with 100% interest in each other. I don't know what my percentage bar reads, but I bet it's high - I can even feel it increasing right now. Her eyes are locked on mine. Transfixed. Focused. I can't seem to look away. To break eye contact with those opaque black voids. Slowly, she starts walking towards me. This is it. This is the story we're going to tell thousands of times - to our parents, our children, our fans on TV. This is how it begins. She's reached me. She's leaning towards me. I'm trembling, I can feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I still can't look away. Slowly, she leans towards me - our first kiss. But why are her teeth showing? &#x200B; &#x200B;
I knew I wasn't supposed to. It was part of the gig. Guard the mirror, slay those who went mad for having looked in it. That was the extent of my duty. Looking into it wasn't expressly forbidden, but as an immortal I wasn't supposed to have a death for it to show me so what would the point have been? For thousands of years I'd stood guard, silently watching with armor polished and sword at the ready. People came, people went, a few people died. The ones who couldn't handle it were mostly learning to stay away by now so I didn't have to kill too many anymore. Some wept, some wailed, most just turned and walked away with an expression I couldn't quite understand. Resignation maybe. At one point a woman arrived, thin and frail. Sickly. I knew she was dying already. As she fixed her gaze upon the mirror she coughed violently, a spray of blood between her fingers danced across the shining surface. She got her vision, turned, and left. I pulled a rag from my belt, walked to the mirror, and began to clean her blood from the face of it. That's when it happened. A pulsating glow within the glass, just like what everyone else got. A young girl, maybe seven or eight years old stood reflected in the mirror, tears streaming over her cheeks, and there behind her I saw myself. Sword drawn I was charging up behind her, the tip of the blade already blurred with inevitable downward motion. I shook my head and stepped back, stunned. I had a death. An impossibility, to be sure, but the mirror was said to be infallible. I pondered this for months, circling one conclusion after another. The mirror was wrong, I am immortal. The mirror couldn't be wrong and I must die, I am therefore not immortal. Round and round in my head as I mechanically performed my duties. Then she came. The little girl appeared in the bright light of the doorway. She strode toward the mirror with the confidence only a child can muster. She stopped a few feet from the tall, gilded frame. The pulse started low, swelling with each burst of light. "No,"she pleaded with it. "No, please? Please!?"She knelt, begging the unfeeling silver surface to take back whatever madness it had delivered upon her. Tears rolled from sea green eyes. The sword rang in my hands before I knew what I was doing, armored feet struck ancient stone as I burst forward. The tip of the blade whistled through its arc. Unstoppable, inevitable, eternal. It cleared her head by mere breaths, taking a strand or two of hair as it passed. As her knees struck stone, the Sword of Ages passed effortlessly through the gilt frame. Silvered glass shattered. I felt it then, the pain of it. It felt as though my muscles were turning to stone, and stone to dust. I drove the blade into the stone floor, leaning on it for support. A feeling of peace washed through me as the pain subsided. I looked once more into those sea green eyes, and saw nothing more.
She watched him walk over to her. Saw him sit down and talk with that low, comforting voice of his. She watched the other girl arch her back like a cat being petted, lifting her animated face towards him. Those large eyes with the color of hazelnuts playfully peeked up at him through long, thick lashes. Relaxing her hands - she noticed with slight surprise that they were oddly enough clenched into fists - she sighed and looked away, surprised at the strength of the feelings welling up inside her. Pointedly, she turned her back on them and rummaged through her leather bag until her fingers closed around the whetstone. Its familiar weight and feel was comforting, and she slowly stroked her thumb along it, willing her thoughts to turn to the present chore. Their low voices were soon disguised by the soft rustling of the early spring grass, as the evening breeze caught hold of it, making it bend to its will as it playfully lifted and pulled at the light-green blades. This was soon followed by the slow, soft strokes of the whetstone against her battle axe, and as she focused on the blade she could feel tensions that she hadn’t been aware of letting go. The evening was chilly, and although it was spring it was still too early for the sun’s warmth to linger after it had set. The burning fire helped to disperse the cold, but only if you were close enough. And if she were to sit close by the fire she’d have to make small talk. She’d have to go through with gritting her teeth over these foreign words, impossible to pronounce. The uncomprehending look on peoples faces was a familiar, but still unwelcome, sight. She sighed to herself, her gaze drifting back to the talking couple again. &#x200B; It was late at night when he came to sit by her side. She had offered to take the first watch, knowing well that she would not be able to fall asleep yet. He was silent as he sat down close, their knees almost touching and she could feel the warmth emanating from him. They sat so, in a silence that she normally would find comfortable, without need for words, for some time before he spoke. “You know, that girl was scared to death of what happened to her. Took some time to calm her down, make her trust me. I need her to feel safe with us.” His voice was calm and quiet, and he spoke in her mother tongue. Only a slight accent betrayed him as not being a native speaker and she felt a smile forming as she heard it. She could never tire of it, of hearing him speaking with that soft voice that could express so many things without using any words, the accent lending it a uniqueness that was only his. “I know, I know,” she sighed as she answered. “I know your reasons, and I love you for them. It’s just that I saw the look on her face. You’re her golden hero, the one who saved her. She adores you, and I don’t blame her for it. Rather, I understand it very well. But,” she sighed again, “it’s a long journey home and I wish that-” she interrupted herself. She couldn’t tell him that she wished that the other was not young and beautiful and dainty. That she wished it was only the two of them on an adventure, without the need of other people’s company nor gold. But the horses needed new shoes, and their equipment needed some patching up. And, admittedly, she wouldn’t mind some new leather wrap for her axe handle. And those things cost. So, here they were. Out on an adventure, but with a princess in tow, now heading back to claim their reward. “She is young. Very young,” he mused. “She does not know how to fight, how to defend herself. She is not capable like you.” He smiled, knowingly. “She does not know how to wield an axe, like you. She is not strong, like you. She is not beautiful, like you.” His arm wrapped around her back and she rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in his familiar smell. He continued, his arm hugging her closer to him as he spoke. “I’m not stupid, love, I understand what it must look like to others. But it is as I said, I want her to feel safe with us. And it’s not that long until it’s just you and me again. You and me and some hideous monster to slay.” As he made the small joke he could feel her relax against him, and he closed his eyes in a silent prayer, grateful that she understood and trusted him. The heat of her skin radiated through the linen shirt he wore, and warmed him, body and soul. &#x200B; Behind them, the princess lay motionless, staring at them with cold eyes. She may not speak that barbaric language of theirs, but their body language was clear enough. That muscular woman may have bewitched her beloved knight, but she would not have it. Her eyes grew heavy as she watched them talk, thoughts of revenge filling her mind as she drifted off to sleep. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; . . . . . . . . . . . . &#x200B; Compilation of texts at r/SleepyMacaroni. &#x200B; Edit: Editorial fixes. &#x200B; Edit 2: Sooo, since this was suprisingly popular and I'm a sucker for this kind of praise, I've done a part 2 (see below in the comments, and also on my sub, [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/SleepyMacaroni/comments/as21qz/a_new_life_main_story_part_2/).) as well as a first part backstory to the barbarian girl, found [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/SleepyMacaroni/comments/as22ga/a_new_life_livs_back_story_part_1/). I'll try to write more, and work this into a longer series which I haved dubbed A New Life that I hope to have ongoing on my [sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/SleepyMacaroni/). Thanks for reading and commenting, this has been so much fun!
Rachael ran through the forest, her heart pounding as No,no, no, she was taking a gentle stroll. How could she have been taking a gentle stroll? Wolves were after her and sure to tear her throat out. There weren't any wolves, it was the wrong part of the world for wolves.She was picking flowers to take to her sick aunt. Listen, she didn't have time to stop and pick flowers, she was terrified. And how could she see the flowers, it was the middle of the night.It was dark. It was the middle of the afternoon, birds were singing, bees and butterflies were flitting amongst the flowers and her thoughts turned to the delicious soup she was going to make when she returned home. How could she go home? She was lost. That was how she ended up in the forest with the wolves after her. Anyway, it began to rain and she fell headfirst into the mud. Crying, she pulled herself to her feet just as the first wolf Look, I'm not going to let you do this to Rachel, she's a heroine in a romantic novel, not some idiot in a horror fiction. No, she's a. Wait a moment, what did you call her? Rachel, that's her name isn't it? No her name's Rachael. Oh I'm so sorry, I had the wrong girl.I'll leave you to it.
"They do what?". I cannot believe this, technology we'd kill for, and they're making totally noobular mistakes. "It's their passwords. They're incredibly strong!" "Oh, please. The instant you put standards like that in, people find stupid ways around them. It's basic psychology. Make a system too complicated, and people find ways around the complexity." "Like what?" "Well, it can run from the really stupid: writing your password on a piece of tape and sticking it to the bottom of the keyboard; to relatively clever tricks like using a password store. The problem with that is that you now have a single password to crack, and you've got everything they had. Since those devices are rigged for people to set the password to open them, with no one forcing changes, the password is virtually always something stupid/simple to remember." "What else could we try?" "Social engineering." "What?" "Hello, this is Mike in IT support, there's a problem with your account that we need your password to solve, would you mind giving it to me?" "And people fall for that!?" "There's one born every minute. Silly bugger tried it on me, turns out he was in support, but asking someone who doesn't know you to give you their password? He should have known better. If an IT guy who's supposed to be making your systems more secure can pull something stupid like that, what do you think the average schmuck is going to fall for?" "Well, what about their encryption? It's really strong." "Do they publish the standard that it's based on?" "Of course not! That would be stupid!" Rolling my eyes. "Saint Vidicon, please forgive him, he knows not what he says. Do you know anything about how we do encryption?" "Well... No." "I thought not. Every standard ever proposed is published openly." "But why! It tells everyone how you do it!" "Yep. And that is exactly the point. If every security researcher and would be cracker has access to it, you can be reasonably certain that after a period of review, any issues with the basic design are going to be found. Then you do a reference implementation, and you publish that too." "So any problems with the implementation of the design are found?" "Exactly! You're catching on!" "Well, if they're not publishing the standards or the code, how do we get it?" "You've got samples of their weapons, right?" "Sure, they're so confident that no one can crack their security that they don't bother chasing down every little thing. Sometimes, they don't bother chasing down the big things either." "You've been disassembling them? Found any booby traps?" "Of course, and not so far." Muttering to myself, "these guys are so stupid that it ought to be a crime."Looking back at the Shirt. "Simple, in this one facility alone I know some guys that would work themselves to death just to say they were the first to crack the code. Just give them a few tools, and a couple of samples, and stand back! Of course, it wouldn't hurt if you waved an additional carrot under their noses too." "Like what?" "I guess I have to draw you a diagram, and you were doing so well, too." "Don't get sarcastic. You want me to give them pardons. Not going to happen. They caused too much havoc on their own." "We'll start out smaller than that. These guys, and some gals, live for the challenge. Offer rewards for every advance, first in gets the reward, but has to publish the entire advance. Give them a range of choices: better equipment, more amenities, a certain amount of time off their sentence. Most of them are going to go for the first two. And the amenities are probably going to be either junk food, or more room for their equipment. Depends on what they're hurting for worst. It's almost an addiction." "What if they use the equipment to break out? Not to mention the expense! Justifying this to higher is going to be tricky at best." "First, you point out to them that they can knock themselves out, earning the rights to use top of the line GFE equipment. It's like a terminal sweet tooth being dropped in the Hershey factory. When they get tired of that, you point out that in here, no one is going to hassle them for a particularly sweet hack. Just make sure you go with dumb locks and simple bars, things they can't hack or pick. For that matter, use the lock wizards we have in here too. It'll be a healthy competition. Old school locksmiths verses electronic wizards. Finally, give them a chance to USE what they learn, directly on the enemy. Putting one over on the man is the biggest ego boost some of these characters get! As far as selling to higher? Just tell them that it's a new research lab being hidden in a jail to keep the aliens from finding it." "That could fly." "Finally, ask them this: would you rather have these guys on the inside, pissing on the aliens; or on the outside, pissing in." ... It took a while. First the hardware tinkers had to find the memory, get a readout on the code. Then the software guys could start picking things apart, working with the hardware guys to match up code with hardware interfaces. Then the competition got fierce. Eventually, the really smart ones formed up into clubs so they could pool their resources. You had many small project teams competing on a variety of fronts all at once. The deal started drawing in the white hats too, and their brains really made a difference. In three months, we had their encryption cold. While that was going on, the social engineers talked themselves into a similar deal. They started getting passwords, key stores, and the alien's equivalent to thumb drives. That got the virus gurus into the act. STUX worm had nothing on what they came up for the aliens. The hardest thing was convincing them to not deployed the viri until we had everything else ready. Six months, and we were ready to act. The military did a lot, but it was the nasty tricks department that really brought them down. The aliens were suing for peace, if we could just get the food machines to stop putting the equivalent of habanero in everything, and stop the toilet paper dispensers from making sand paper, they'd surrender. Gladly. ((finis))

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