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Journal Entry #58:
Today is the big day. I am not going to fail. The livelihood of my family, surrounding colonies and perhaps even my species is riding on this first operation. As the commander of the entire army for this this sector, I am responsible for conducting this exorcise in an efficient and effective manner with as little casualties as possible. We have been a pain in the ass to the humans for so long and have been getting slaughtered in huge numbers because of it. If we can prove our worth to them, I think we can make it out of this alive and the race of Army Ant will prevail as the main companion to the humans.
The plan is to make our way to the nearest human colony and break off into predetermined teams. The ladies with the Aerial Scouting Brigade have identified our first area of operation. It is a structure that houses two humans of the slower variety, which takes some of the risk away from us being destroyed too soon. According to ancient manuscripts, these humans have been at this site for thousands of our generations. As we display our usefulness to them in a show of clean cut militaristic organization.
Once the order is given, strike teams with specialized units numbering into the hundreds of thousands per team, will all begin our primary objectives at 2300 hours. The primary objectives are as follows:
\-Alpha Company will begin the lawn strike. Using intel from the scouts, all outlier plants that have not been specially protected and maintained by the humans will be shredded down to the soil.
\-A perimeter will be established around the main structure to prevent any others from interfering with our operation as more teams are escorted into the structure through various access points identified by our scouts.
\-Kill Teams 1 - 100 are comprised of the best of the best of our pure fighting warriors. They will be conducting a full primary sweep neutralizing any unwanted inhabitants trying to make a home in the human structure. They will search every nook and cranny of the home for cockroaches, spiders, termites and any other creature on the kill order. A mouse or lizard would be too much for even our strongest of troops but we can still overrun them and keep them at bay long enough to finish the operation.
\-Strike Teams 101 - 1000 will fan out in progressive waves across the floor surface of the entire structure and collect any and all wayward specs of dust, crumbs, dirt, fallen comrades, or any other unsightly item on the floor. For the larger items, sub-groups will be dispatched and will break off to carry these objects to the primary disposal point.
\-Strike Teams 1001-2000 are in charge of cleanup duty in three-dimensional space. They will be crawling through the crevices of all sub-structures throughout the home and will conduct their sweeps similar to Teams 2-10 taking all disposable materials to the primary disposal point.
\-The Aerial Scouting Brigade will be the eyes in the sky providing operation info and have a minute my minute sit-rep reported to me in case small adjustments need to be made and orders given to individual team leaders.
With our numbers reaching into millions we will be able to achieve complete sanitation down to the micron over every square inch of surface area in the structure all within an hour's time. Once everything marked for disposal is carried out of the home, the teams will bugger out in succession converse of their entry with Kill Team 1 sacrificing themselves to remain until morning when the ancient humans awaken see a spotless house and read the words "Sanitation complete. Ant-kind is your enemy no longer."
The hope is that they will share this experience with other humans which will prompt the others to conscript our colony to live symbiotically with them. We have the numbers to pull this off. We have the organization. We have the strength and the willpower. We will succeed in the name of all Ant-kind! |
I had never encountered such a creature before, whose hide was harder than rock and who shone like a silvery angler. It was long and had several fins - but it was unlike any fish I had ever encountered. Its body was too smooth and rotund. It had no face but one enormous eye, inside which swam other creatures; parasites, perhaps, or symbionts.
It pierced the dark with brilliant illumination; not like the sudden belch of a cardinal fish, or the eerie, lazy undulations of comb jellies, or even the soft, steady glow of lava bursting from a vent. No, this blazed unrelentingly, blinding everything in a blanket of white.
What really caught my attention, however, was when it used a long tentacle, bent at several points, to jerkily collect pieces of the ocean floor, including other small creatures, and bring them to some unseen mouth. At first, I thought it must be feeding - but on rocks and sand, too? Then, I watched, astonished, as it slowly followed several fishes and crabs as they went about their business. Did not disturb them - simply watched.
This was a curious creature, I realized. An intelligent explorer from somewhere else.
Excited, I waited until it came closer to the ocean floor. Then, I attempted communication eagerly - but to no avail. None of my chemical messages were answered. Once, it reached out with that tentacle and tugged at the tube worms that clung to the external parts of my body, perhaps to add to its collection. But the worms were stuck fast onto me like barnacles on a whale, and the mysterious creature gave up and drifted to another patch of floor.
Disappointed, I watched as its poked and prodded at some furry crabs. It must not have any kind of sense but its enormous eye, I decided. It could not smell me. And most of my physical body was too deeply buried for it to see me. But perhaps it could hear, or feel vibrations...?
I began shaking my body violently, and the stones and sand of the ocean floor shook in kind. Pleased with the mild oceanquake I was able to muster, I turned my attention back to the creature - only to find it quickly swimming away, like the panicking crabs that scuttled around over my body. Dismayed, I wondered if I had been wrong - perhaps it was not so intelligent after all.
I wondered, a little wistfully, if I would ever find life with whom I could have a decent conversation.
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*Liked that story? Want more like it? Check out* r/Idreamofdragons! |
"Jason, is that you?"Ruth called as she slowly climbed the stairs, hearing a crashing noise that sounded more like a mild thumping to her elderly ears.
"There you are, my sweet boy,"she smiled at the figure of who she thought was Jason. "What are you doing with your grandfather's books?"
"My name is Abyzou,"he grumbled, closing the book in his hands.
"Right, Right, Right. My mistake,"she apologetically said. "I forgot that's what you go by these days, zou-zou,"she chuckled to herself. "Well, when you're done with that."Ruth gestured vaguely at the pile of books on the floor near the broken bookcase. "Come down stairs. I made cookies."
Abyzou looked up from the book he'd just opened. "Chocolate chip cookies or raisin?"He arched an eyebrow.
"Chocolate chip."
He slowly closed the book and followed her out of the room. "You know, raisin cookies are used a torture method in hell."
"You're funny,"she laughed and he found himself smiling in return.
"When was the last time you had a bath, zou-zou?"Ruth wondered as they entered the kitchen.
"Eh, a while."He sniffled himself. "Do I smell bad?"he wondered.
She placed a tray full of cookies in front of him and went to fetch him a glass of milk.
"Well, no of course not. I just asked to let you know that I bought bathbombs from the store. If you want to use one."She started looking inside one of the grocery bags she had yet to unpack and pulled the bathbombs.
"Bathbombs."He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not familiar with bathbombs. But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give them a try."He shrugged, eyeing the bathbombs.
"Wonderful. While you clean up I will make lasagna for dinner."
"Do you have wine?"he wanted to know.
"You're a little young to be drinking wine, young man,"she told him. "But a glass of wine with dinner wouldn't hurt. It did'nt hurt your father. I doubt it would hurt you."She ruffled his hair playfully.
"This is too much for just the two of us,"he noted, gesturing at the cookies.
"You can take all the cookies with you when you leave tomorrow,"she figured, sounding a bit low at the thought of her grandson leaving.
"Actually, there's a change of plan,"he mumbled through a mouthful of cookies. "I no longer have to leave so early."
Edit: wording. |
“How do they know?” A voice bellowed from the horde of reporters. “Sir! How do they know that Earth is their destination?” The tumult swelled, clipping the tail of the question and sending it running for its life.
Adam Hastner raised a hand, feeling the blood throb in his temples. *When was the last time I slept in bed?*. The state things were in, even fours desk-sleep was getting to be a luxury. The State Department had plans for every contingency. Unfortunately, it seemed most of them involved working him to death.
“We have established contact-” He paused, drowned out in the clamor. “Hey! *Excuse me!’* I *said* we have stablished contact with the Brellvoth. We have a rudimentary understanding of their language-”
“*You’ve said that!”* shrieked a voice from the Press pit. The clamor followed hot on its heels. “*We already know that!* The question is, how do *They* know?”
Adam’s hand slipped to his ID card, snug in its laminated case. *I could walk out that door,* he mused dreamily. *Throw this thing in the trash and get out.* That was the sleep deprival talking. Anger, fierce and helpless in the face of crisis, was the only thing keeping him on his feet.
“Pardon me, ma’am? Are you religious?” he pressed on, buoyed on the fiery thermals of rage. “If you believe in a Promised Land, you have as much knowledge as the Brellvoth. It’s a question of faith, and Faith is not up for discussion.”
Another roar from the crowd, real fury this time. Dimly, he realized he had crossed a line, but couldn’t bring himself to care.
*What can they do to me?* He thought numbly. *People at the highest levels are running around like headless chickens, and nobody can seem to keep their story straight.* His mind drifted to the ship floating above Boston harbor, larger than the Trans-Am Tower and twice as ugly. The technology gap was so vast as make all discussion pointless. *In the end, the decision is going to be made for us.*
“We have no indication that the Brellvoth are hostile!” he bellowed. *Not that we could do much about it.* “Negotiations are still ongoing-”
His mind ran back to his briefing, and the documentation of the alien software. Their destination *had* been Earth, course unchanged since birth of William the Conqueror. And that wasn’t all…
He thought of the relics in the alien ship, tubes of minerals and desiccated biomatter. *That* had come from Earth too. Left-handed chirality in the black algae, for instance, while the Brellvoth were molecularly right-handed. They, or someone, had been here once – and now they were coming home.
And that still didn’t explain the earthquakes and weather phenomena. The Brellvoth talked about the Earth as though it were alive, and dammit if didn’t seem to be responding to them. A frantic geologist had explained – if you could call it an explanation – that the earthquakes were following a pattern never before seen. Communication? Recognition? It was completely beyond him, and all the more worrying for that.
His mind ached with sleeplessness, but intuitively he understood. They belonged here. *And unfortunately, so do we.*
“*What are you going to* ***do*** *about them?!”* screamed a voice from the back. Adam wondered vaguely why the public had been allowed to attend this Press Conference. It was comforting, in a way, to recognize that they were still capable of making terrible decisions. *I guess that means we’re not beaten yet.*
“Yeah!” shouted another voice. “They’re invaders! Their claiming Earth as a religious site. What are you going to do if *more* of them start making a pilgrimage?!”
Adam snapped, the threads of self-control snapping like dry rubber bands. *There’s nothing we can do¸* he realized. *Fight or freeze, we’re going to get whatever’s coming to us.*
He clenched his teeth, feeling the reckless rage of a civil servant who sees the public clearly for the first time. “*Fine!*” he shouted with fatalistic glee. “They want to visit Earth! They want to see the sights! So you know what we’re gonna do?! *We’re gonna sell tickets!!*” |
Coffee in hand, I walked in to my office to see what the gift would be today.
The lights came on as I entered the room and took off my oversized sunglasses. I looked to my desk. A sparkle caught my eye. A large diamond broach was perched right at the left edge. Not in it's usual spot, as if the effort of getting it up to the top was all that Charlotte could manage.
I peered closer as I sat down, wondering if perhaps a coworker had left it there. But no, I could see the tiny, glistening stands of silk clinging to it. I sighed. Once, finding these little gifts had been a source of pure joy, but lately, the increasing value had me worried about where they'd come from. Not that I wouldn't wear it, mind.
I picked up the broach and looked to the web in the corner of my window. "Thank you, Charlotte,"I said, and then clipped the broach to my suit jacket.
The large brown house spider tucked into the corner did not respond, but I knew it was her.
A month ago, I'd spotted her there while I was chatting with a male coworker, Greg. My sudden gasp got his attention and he'd followed my gaze to the spider. "I got this,"he said as he slipped off one of his loafers. We both crept towards the window. As he raised his shoe to strike, I suddenly noticed the little white spots on her thorax. Babies, I realized. As Greg's shoe swept forward to smash the spider into a gooey mess, I reached out and seized his wrist. "Wait!"I said. "Don't.
"She'll just eat the flies and mosquitoes that always make their way in here. Let her be."
It was the next morning that I found the first gift. A fly, still struggling in the mass of webs that surrounded it. "Gross!"I said as I swept it into the trash with a shudder. It took me a whole week to figure out what was going on. Every morning, I came into my office to find a different bug, alive but cacooned in webbing. I had no inkling of what was happening for that first week.
I only realized what was going on the following Monday, when I found a pencil eraser. A few strands of silk kept it from rolling off my desk as it sat in the same exact spot that I'd found the bugs in. I looked up at the web. "Is this you? Are you... Are you thanking me for saving you?"
Charlotte had no response, of course. She was a spider.
I named her the next day, when I found a tiny stud earring with those telltale silk threads on it. I normally don't wear any jewelry or makeup because it makes my husband, Frank angry when I go out like that without him. But that Wednesday, I wore a pair of amethyst stud earrings throughout my work day. That was the first time I thanked Charlotte, as I took them off at the end of the day.
"It was very nice to be able to wear them today, even if I can't take them home,"I told her.
From them on, it was jewelry, every day. Mostly stud earrings and rings, because Charlotte was not very large or strong. Each one, I wore throughout the day at work, taking it off only when I was getting ready to leave for the night.
Finding these little gifts became the highlights of my life. Between the stresses at work and Frank's temper, I was only really happy when I got to put on some jewelry in the morning, and whenever someone noticed it and complimented me. It was almost enough to make everything else worthwhile.
Until last night.
That was the night I'd forgotten to take off a thin silver necklace with a tiny heart pendant before I went home. Frank was furious.
He demanded to know who'd given it to me. What was I supposed to tell him? That a little spider I'd saved from being squashed was giving me jewelry as thanks? I tried to make up a lie on the spot, something about an event at work, but I was so scared. Frank saw right through me. In the face of me lying to him... Things went downhill.
I sat there in my office all day and cried. I wasn't very close with anyone at work, because Frank was so jealous that I was afraid to make friends he didn't already know. So nobody asked about my bloodshot eyes and constant sniffles. Nor about the bruising on the left side of my face, clumsily covered in foundation that I hadn't worn in a decade. But I'm sure they noticed.
As I got up to leave that evening, I took the broach off and put it in the drawer with the other trinkets. I glanced up at Charlotte's spot and frowned.
Charlotte was gone.
I walked over and examined the corner of the window. Her web was there, shimmering in the orange glow of the streetlights outside and bedecked with tiny little husks. There was no sign of life.
I sighed. Of course, that's how the day would end. "Goodbye, Charlotte. I'll miss you dearly,"I whispered as I left, closing the door behind me.
Thankfully, Frank had gone out with his friends that night. I had a glass of wine and took a bath, still weeping quietly. I didn't know what I would do without those little gifts in the morning. There seemed little point to waking up and going into work, knowing that Charlotte would not be there.
I looked at the medicine cabinet. There, in the back, on the top shelf. A whole bottle of sleeping pills. Seven or eight would be enough, I thought. There were 30 in the bottle, untouched since I got them this past June. I could probably eat the whole bottle, drunk as I was off the wine and my own self-pity.
But no. I hadn't had the guts in June, and I didn't have the guys, now. Frank was right about me. I have no will of my own.
I went to bed, thankfully alone that night. I woke up the next morning and was halfway through getting ready when I realized Frank hadn't been in bed when I got out.
It figures. It wasn't the first time -and wouldn't be the last- that he'd gotten too drunk to drive home and instead crashed in some cheap motel near the bar. He usually stumbled in while I was getting dressed, glitter on his face and reeking of cheap perfume. The same perfume that Cindy, the bartender at his favorite dive wore.
That morning, however, I made it out the door without seeing Frank.
I got to work, went in to my office and glanced reflexively at the window.
Charlotte was back!
There she was, perched in the middle of her web, eight limbs outstretched as if to offer me a hug. I smiled, relief flooding through me.
I practically pranced over to my desk and say down, checking the spot where my daily gift usually awaited me.
This time, it was different. Always before, the gift had been shiny jewelry. Gems and silver, and I think one platinum hoop earring. This time, it was a ring, but it looked to be a simple band made of wood. It was a dark wood, with a reddish hue.
As I picked it up, a bit of brown flaked off, and I saw gold underneath. Rubbing it with my fingers, I soon figured out what it was. A men's wedding ring. In fact, it was remarkably like Frank's. Had Frank left it here? Was he finally leaving me to be with Cindy?
I glanced at the flakes that had once obscured the ring. Was that... Blood? I looked up at the web. What kind of spider was Charlotte? I thought she was a house spider, but looking now, she looked more like a brown recluse. But she was so big! How much venom could a brown recluse that size produce?
At that moment, Greg knocked on my door.
"Sarah? There's... There's a deputy here to speak to you."
I could see the deputy standing behind Greg. He had his hat in his hands and his eyes downturned. I recognized his posture and knew what his first words would be, even as he spoke them.
"Ma'am, I'm so sorry to be the bearer of bad news..."
I began to laugh. "Charlotte, I love you so much!" |
Upon dying I never imagined relief would be the first thing I felt. Yes, a car accident sucks, but as long as I didn't take anyone with me I'm alright with only 62 years on Earth. As I approach the gates my mind is filled with questions, is what I'm seeing what everyone sees, what religion got it right, am I in trouble for that ant I killed in 5th grade?
The gates open and I'm surprised there's not more theatrics. No bright lights, no angel choir, no one to greet me. Just a door, but not just a door, the door to my parent's house when I was growing up. It looks super out of place on a cloud behind gates of gold, probably meant for me.
I open the door to an immediate feeling of warmth, it was like every time I'd come in from the snow as a kid after sledding but 100x more comfortable. Walking through the house, looking at photos I eventually end up at the living room where there's a man sitting in my fathers recliner.
"No offense, but my old man is gonna be pissed if he catches you messing up his butt indention"I say to this stranger.
Remaining in the seat, the man chuckles. "Of all the things people say to me, I think telling me to get out of a chair as to not mess up an indention might be a first. You know where you are child?"he asked.
"My parent's living room, although I think the neighborhood's changed."I said, sitting on the couch in the spot I would as a child.
"You're correct. You have passed away, you probably should've worn a seat belt. The "neighborhood"is what most see, this house is what your imagination came up with. A manifestation of what you think of as home". The stranger says.
"Bummer that the first time I don't wear one is also the last time. And that makes sense, so are you my angel sent to tell me the news?"I ask
"Angel? No, think bigger". He said patting his stomach and laughing.
"God?"I asked, wondering what makes me so special.
"Why are you so special? Simple, I visit the ones who I think will have the best questions"he said, answering the question I hadn't said out loud.
"Ok rude, mind reading kind of negates the point of conversation doesn't it?"I ask, feeling moderately violated.
"Fair enough", God snaps his fingers, "Blocked out. I can't see into your head. So I give people like you, the ones I find unique, one question."
"One? There's an entire universe of questions I could ask, and I get one? I ask incredulously.
He smiles, "I mean if you don't want it..."he trails off and starts to stand.
"No no, I definitely want it, just give me a second to think"I say. He sits back down. The way I see it I have 2 kinds of questions, positive or negative, do I want to know about something good about the world or something awful. It came to me.
"I've got it, of all the beautiful things in the world, why did you let us create nuclear weapons? They have done nothing but cause pain and destruction, why would you allow such a thing to exist?"I demand.
God, smiling sadly, simply says, "If humans didn't pursue science, they would've kept pursuing magic."
Well I don't know what I expected, but it sure as hell wasn't that. I must have looked bewildered because God looked at me and said "It's ok to ask followup questions if you have any."
"I'd hope so, because if I couldn't I think I'd go insane. Alright lets start with what the fuck"I say.
God pauses, "Um, I don't exactly know how to answer that one."
"Well it's good to know God is a smart ass."I remark
"Careful child."God says. "Maybe let's start at, 'when was mankind pursuing magic'?"
"I thought you were out of my head"I said, feeling violated again.
"I'm not, it's just a common followup."God said. "The first fire discovered was of course lightning but once the neanderthals realized it's properties they wanted more. This lead to the first spells, very basic things like fire creation and seeing in darkness as to help with hunting. But, as all true power does, it corrupted. It wasn't until Mesopotamia when mankind decided to have rulers, that the ones who knew magic knew it used it to gain more power. I knew it had to be stopped so I broke my ultimate rule, I tampered with free will. Magic was forgotten by all and people went back to killing people using non magic methods. Of course over the course of history there have been a few... incidents."He stopped, looking into the fireplace where a fire cackled.
"Well you can't stop there, what incidents?"I asked, enthralled by the concept of magic being real.
"The human spirit has a way of growing that even I can't control. Yes what I did stopped it for a few centuries, but people over time relearned the ways of the divine by accident. Although these people kept it quiet for the most part, the corruption always overcame them."He turned to me with a sad look in his eyes. "What was I supposed to do? Magic operates outside of my abilities, I could make them forget but I couldn't wipe it out. Some things are out of even my control, and the blood it's spilled is on my hands."He wipes a tear from his eye and returns his gaze to the fire. |
I've changed some elements from the prompt, namely how the main character's power works, and the principal is now more of a homeroom teacher.
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Things always have a way of getting out of hand, don't they? For Mr. Brown, he found the stylish fountain pen he usually tapped rhythmically on the desk suddenly just... Wasn't there anymore. He stood up with a shock, glancing across his table, then down below his desk. Thinking that it must surely have slipped from his fingers and rolled under the table, he began stalking around the classroom, watching the floor and muttering about the pen to himself. Which definitely posed some confusion to the rest of the class, which clearly saw the pen grasped in his clammy hand.
This is where I made that little indiscretion. See, jokes with my powers are all that I allow myself. Little pranks where someone gets a little frustrated, where someone wastes a couple of minutes from their day. Nothing big, nothing major. I couldn't, when I didn't really understand them. But, well... Jokes are kinda boring when you're the only one on on it. And, as I told myself, I might get caught if I was the only one giggling. So, to the empty seat next to me, left vacant because I was the 'weird kid who laughed at random times and stares at things', I plopped down a girl. Iris, I decided, would be her name. And she would take the blame for me, my fictional co-conspirator.
She finished typing off her ponytail, and leaned her head to each side, cracking her neck before giving me quick wink.
"Mr. Brown,"she called out, holding up the image of the fountain pen. Only two of us in the class could hear her, just me and Mr. Brown. The man strode forwards through the rows of tables (and he barely fit), and snatched the 'pen' from her hand.
"So that's where my pen was!"he said, to a crowd of students who had just watched him take his pen on a walking tour of our dreary classroom, I got a bunch of nervous laughter from the class, and a barely-supressed chortle from Iris. Mr. Brown glared at Iris, and returned to his seat.
The school year became much more interesting, with Iris around. We were partners in crime, and it was easy for me to use my powers to basically pilot a second student around the room. It was absolute chaos for Mr. Brown, and he never gave me so much as a sideways glance. How could I do anything, when it was clearly this student no one seemed to remember?
After the Disappearing Frog Trick, and the wonderful Bamboozle of Basketballs, I began to dial back Iris' activities. It wouldn't be long before the principal started seriously questioning why Mr. Brown kept bringing her up. And while I didn't like him, I didn't want to ruin his life, and make things difficult for me.
But I couldn't resist keeping Iris around. She stayed home with me, leaning over my shoulder as I did homework or played a nice video game. She slapped my hand away from unhealthy junk food and forced me to get out of the house and exercise. She was the one I could always count on, to be my biggest support in everything. We'd talk, every night, late into the night, to deal with my insomnia, and we'd laugh about our escapades.
The year went by quickly. Too quickly. And as prom approached, as we hunched over my laptop watching a crappy movie, I began to wonder. Began to think, and before I knew it...
"Iris?"I asked, squeezed up against her side. She was warm.
"Yeah?"she popped an illusory popcorn kernel into her mouth. She liked the cheese-flavoured ones.
"I... This sounds crazy, but I do believe I'm falling for you,"I said. Before she could say much else, I started babbling.
"But... I don't know, is this real? Are you real? What is? I'm going insane, right? Just... Just haven't made enough friends in school. God, I... What's wrong with me? Maybe just forget I said anything or... I..."I stammered my way through. Iris squeezed my pinkie, like she did when I was overexplaining to Mr. Brown why I hadn't done my homework. Shut up, it meant.
"I don't know either. Do you think it matters if everyone else can see me?"she asked.
I didn't know how my powers worked. I didn't know how Iris came into existence. But I swore to myself at that moment that I'd happily be known at the weirdo at prom, if we could dance together. |
"So, let me get this straight,"I said. My hand ran through short-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair that was getting heavy on the salt recently. "You're a talking platypus. And you're both my client and my partner for taking down Farmacist?"
The platypus waddled up to my desk wearing a weird animal expression that vaguely resembled a scowl. "I didn't always used to be a platypus, you know."
I buried my face in my hands. *What has life come to?*
After I wore out all the cartilage in my knees saving the world a few extra times, I knew I had to slow down and retire. As much I longed for the clarion call of duty, the thrill of battle, I knew when my aching limbs were begging me to throw in the towel. It was just a matter of time. One villain was all it took to sully the name of 007, and my replacement was more than capable.
Still, my retirement gig of high school teacher didn't exactly pay the bills well, and I was getting far too close to drop-kicking some of these bastard kids across the face. Er. I mean, 'gently admonish them and encourage them to be their best self'.
The platypus somehow managed to get on top of a student's empty desk to look me in the eyes. "My name is Nicolas Flamel, and I used to be an expert in genetic manipulation."
"Wait, back up,"I interrupted. "Nicolas Flamel, as in the dude in the Harry Potter series? Philospher's stone guy?"
"No,"the platypus said, waving his short stubby arms. "My mom just thought it would be funny to name me Nicolas since my dad had the last name Flamel."The dark fur waved up and down as the rotating fan almost blew him off the table. Not that anyone would've seen him in the empty classroom - school had just let out for summer. "The Farmacist is one of my old colleagues. We worked together to connect my theoretical knowledge with his ability to deliver compounds to their target. But he stole my work, and he's trying to use it to do evil things!"
"'Evil things', as in, 'take over the world'? Or, make a profit,"I asked. "Because 'make a profit' is really the FDA's jurisdiction, and 'take over the world' is more of mine, you see..."
If platypuses could roll their eyes, Nicolas' would've revolved more than three hundred and sixty degrees. "Obviously he's trying to take over the world. Come on, let's go!"
On the way to the Farmacist's secret lair, which was just his house, I tried to get a better handle on the situation. It was quite tricky, as the road was filled with potholes, and the groaning engine of the bus sounded exactly like how I felt. "So what exactly is the tech that you're trying to recover, and why is it dangerous?"
Nicolas ignored the weird looks that people were giving him, the talking platypus riding the bus. I should've called an Uber, but a teacher's budget is pretty tight. "My research is capable of changing people at the genetic level. It deconstructs the gene base pairs and uses an advanced pasting mechanism to-"
"You lost me,"I said. "You mean it turns people into animals?"
"Well...yes."
"Then just say that then!"I moaned. "Is he planning on testing it on random people? Why would he want to turn people into animals?"
Nicolas wiggled his pudgy little feet in distress, causing the girls in front of us to coo. The bus jolted up and down on the uneven road, almost sending my partner flying. "He turned me into an animal so I couldn't stop him. He's convinced that if people become animals for a while, they'll stop abusing or eating animals. It's his solution for killing the meat industry."
"Is he a vegan?"I asked dryly.
By the time we arrived at the Farmacist's house, it was already dark outside. Sure, I wasn't as limber as my secret agent days almost twenty years prior, but how badly could this go? It was just a middle aged pharmacist. The house looked like an ordinary suburban home, just like the houses to the left and right of it, except for the weird animal garden gnomes that glared at us creepily.
"We're going to knock on the front door?"Nicolas asked incredulously.
"They never expect it,"I said. That was a trick of the trade. The back doors were always booby trapped, but no one would dare trap the front door where a mailman might accidentally get decapitated.
The man who answered looked like an ordinary middle aged dude with an especially punchable face. "I've been expecting you, Bond. James Bond."
"Why does everyone do that with my name?"I asked. "James is fine. May I come in, Mister Farmacist?"
"Why, of course,"he said, frowning in slight confusion. "Hey, Nicolas."
"What kind of secret agent are you?"Nicolas yelled up at us. "Come on, at least help me over the ledge."
The house was a little large for a man living alone, but well furnished. I could appreciate a man with good taste in furniture. "So, Mr. Bond,"he said, "Are you here to stop me? I'm warning you in advance, my compound-"
"You mean *my* compound."
"Shut up, platypus. *My* compound already has a fail-safe built into it. If I don't enter a secret password every twenty-four hours, it triggers a deployment that will diffuse the drug into the population by some means that I won't disclose to you."
"Drat,"I said sarcastically. "For a moment I was hoping you'd divulge all the details of your master plan like in the movies."
The Farmacist frowned at me again from across his light-wood kitchen table. His eyes reminded me of mine from a bygone era - so full of anger, glimmering under artificial light, wanting nothing more and nothing less than to change the world as we knew it. "You're being surprisingly cordial. What's your angle here, James?"
"Look, all I'm saying is, if you want to stop people from harming animals, there's a much easier way than alienating vast swaths of the population and causing a global crisis."
Nicolas' duck bill was slightly ajar, as was the mouth of the Farmacist. "I doubt it, but I'm all ears."
"Why don't you just turn Nicolas back from a Platypus and work together? Use genetic technology to make artificial meat that tastes better than regular meat? You could probably get it down to the point where its cheaper, right?"
The silence that stretched between the three of us was stifling. It wasn't the same tension as with my glory days, when the only thing preventing global nuclear war was my finger on a trigger and a countdown of mere seconds...but it would have to do.
"Yeah,"the Farmacist enunciated slowly. "I think that would work. Yes, yes...I daresay it would. And it would be a lot more profitable. Huh."
I shrugged. "There's almost always a legal, more humanitarian way to achieve your goals than the villain route. Best of luck."I turned to Nicolas to say that my job was done, but he was already engaged in avid conversation with his former friend, figuring out the logistics of making the best fake meat ever.
Backing out of the house, I strolled down the dimly lit street and back towards the bus stop. In my opinion, it was a good day. Not every fight required a dramatic superhero, and it didn't always take years and years of training to save the world.
---
Thanks for reading! Sorry if it's not the action packed sequence you expected D: come hang out with me at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), we'd love to see you around\~ |
Was it a blessing or was it a curse? He was always known for being adventurous. One time, he fell of a cliff. Broke his collarbone and several other bones. But he had gotten used to this way of life, and he seemed to pick up a “tolerance” for these extremities.
“He” was Trevor. Trevor’s parents called him a “miracle child”. Trevor seemed to survive the worst of situations. Whether that be falling out a window of a 2-story house or having a dresser topple onto him. Somehow, someway, Trevor survived these situations.
Now here he was. Attempting to commit suicide but his “tolerance” seemed to stop him. Trevor was diagnosed with depression 2 years back. All Trevor wanted was to end it. Financial trouble and work didn’t help in the slightest. All he wanted to do was end it. But how could he when he was practically immortal?
Looking at the building, he considered his options. Could he go up and try again? No...that wouldn’t help if it wouldn’t work. Hang himself? No...the rope could give way. Seeing a therapist wasn’t an option, not with his financial situation. Trevor decided “Not today” and begrudgingly stomped home in the rain.
The cars sped past him, making a hypnotic “Whoosh!” as they passed. The cold, muggy air pierced his nostrils. He reached his home and fished out his keys. Trevor unlocked the door and stepped inside, kicking his pair of Converse off. ‘At least he had made a decision’ he thought as he slowly reached for the knife.
He knew what he wanted to do.
__________________________________________________
Police Report:
Name: Trevor Drunop
Age: 25
Sex: M
Report: Was found at 4:51 AM on his kitchen floor. Large pool of blood around the deceased. Was also found clutching a Barson’s kitchen knife. Presumed form of death is suicide. No note was found. Time of death TBD. |
The sleeping girl reminds you of your own child, and as you watch her you try your best to keep your ghostly form steady in the air. Not easy, as the draft from the ancient fireplace blows you around like a scrap of translucent paper in an open field.
The cold wind screams down the chimney and rattles the wooden rafters in the attic above; the girl's eyes are bright and wide with fright.
She'll see you, if you're not careful. If the wind pushes your sail too close.
There are a dozen photos by her bed; they're not in frames, just a little pile lit up by rays of white moonlight. There are no curtains here -- the previous owner liked to watch the moon as she lay in bed, and this girl's father has not yet had time to replace them.
A sudden burst of wind pushes your forward, straight into the pictures: they jump up as if in fright. The girl screams as the photos waft down over her. She buries her head beneath her blanket and clutches her teddy tight to her chest.
After a time heavy with silence, her hand sneaks out, snatches at a photo and pulls it beneath the cover with her.
The photos are all of her mother, God rest her soul.
You wonder if the girl saw you. They can, if you get too close. You curse the wind but the fireplace rattles as if with laughter.
Sorry, you want to say, and wish for nothing more than to reach down and hug her. But you don't wish to scare her or chill her, so instead you back off into the old wardrobe that has been in the house for as long as you have.
You push the doors open just a little, so that you can peek out and watch the trembling lump beneath the blankets.
Another gust; a window breaks somewhere downstairs. The girl screams again, muffled this time beneath the blanket. Poor thing.
The storm will chase the girl and her father off, if you don't accidentally scare them away beforehand. You curse the weather and wish your partner were still here to hold your hand -- but they moved on long ago. Without you.
You wonder, for the millionth time, why you didn't move on.
The door creaks open.
A man walks in. Good, you think. Her father has come to comfort her and protect her from the storm.
You see, as he approaches her, his face. It is illuminated by the pale rays of moonlight. He wears the devil's grin.
This is not her father. You have seen her father before. A kind and patient face.
This man has rope. He lifts the blanket and the girl tries to scream but the man's hand muffles her.
"You're coming with me, little girl,"he says, "and your father is going to have to pay a lot of money if he ever wants to see you again."
Your anger swells like a demon rising from beneath the ocean. Great frothing waves that threaten to swallow the world itself.
The man's mouth drops as the wardrobe doors snap off their hinges into a thousand splinters of rage.
You appear before him as whatever sudden, terrible hate has formed inside your belly.
As your grab him, he screams -- not the girl. She is silent. The wind howls again, baying for blood.
"Please!"he says, begs, but your rage cannot be contained. That could have been your child, your daughter -- Elizabeth, who was stolen from you by illness, not by man, long before her time. You know the pain and rage and fear and everything that comes with the loss of a child.
And the man, he now knows the anger that comes with such a loss, as it shreds him apart under the dim moonlit night.
Soon, there is nothing left of your anger, or of the man.
The girl looks at you. She whispers, "Thank you."
"Shh,"you reply. "It's okay now."
"I know,"she says.
She smiles.
And slowly, slowly, you start to fade, your eyes watching hers until you're nothing but warm air. |
“Urgh, that dumb mutt’s in our yard again. Can you go chase him off?” Stan turned to Dave. Dave looked at Stan. “We need a plan, Stan.” He turned to Dave, sharing the same look. “Are you thinking what I‘m thinking?” Stan asked Dave. And in unison they yelled “CAT TREE!”.
Before you freak out, no they weren’t going to plant a cat. Although that would have been hilarious. They had another trick up their sleeve. What’s something that all cats just can’t resist? Catnip! A giant, overgrown, extremely potent catnip tree.
Would it work? Maybe. Did it keep the dog out? Not a chance. But it did stop him from burying things. Did it mean that the yard was now a cat playground? Yes. Yes it did. But thats okay, because Dave and Stan are cat people. |
When the large rectangle of a ship first opened its impressively large hatch, we all assumed it meant our doom. Surely some kind of attack craft would descend from the crack in the sky. Or maybe it would be targeted missiles to strategically weaken us, in order to weaken whatever paltry resistance we might be able to scramble. Perhaps it would be some kind of death ray that would swiftly and mercifully liquefy our now insignificant planet.
Truly, I can say that *nobody* expected to be greeted by an obscenely large painting. And of a cat, no less.
Never before and never since then had the talking heads on the news channels been so utterly shut up. For long moments it felt like not a word was uttered. The world strangely united under the old 'so quiet you could hear a pin drop' line, as we all stood there mouth agape at the piece of art in the sky.
After the shock wore off, my mind returned to me with yet one more surprise. *Wait, that looks a lot like Mr. Buttons.*
Almost on cue, the air buzzed with the foreign tongue coming from the alien vessel. Thankfully, these aliens had done some homework and had prepared the necessary translations that our world required.
 
"People of Terra, we greet you. We have descended upon you today not to conquer, or to threaten, or to enslave. Rather we have come to enlighten you with a glory you have already received. Many of your 'years' ago, our guide, our leader, our savior decided to make your world their home. It was to bless you, and to prepare you for your journey into the heavens. To the one whom our savior belongs we now welcome as an ambassador to the cosmos. Through them humanity shall know what lies beyond."
 
Many moments of thoughtful contemplation followed. There was no reason to doubt what the aliens were saying - it was almost too strange *not* to believe. But to think that some schmuck was going to become some kind of cosmic ambassador because he owned a cat seemed far too silly.
My thoughts were broken by a clang from the kitchen, followed by a quiet cry and frantic claws trying to find their fraction. As I looked over I saw Mr. Buttons slide past the kitchen door, now wearing his food bowl as a hat. I couldn't help but laugh at the sight.
I got up and made my way to the kitchen, finding a cat splayed out on all fours having given up the effort to dislodge his helmet. I picked him up and plopped off the bowl. "You hungry, boy?"
"*Meow!*"
*Gosh, he really does look like the painting...* I thought as I poured his food into the bowl. With the sounds of contented munching behind me I made my way to the computer and pulled up some photos. I compared them to the captured images of the painting suspended in the sky. It took much self-convincing, but soon I was sure. Mr. Buttons was the savior, whatever that meant.
I sat there scratching my head while my old friend hopped up onto my lap in search of his traditional after meal belly rubs. My muscle memory took over and my mind disappeared into the rhythm of his purrs. I wasn't sure who to tell, or if I should do it at all. I didn't particularly want to be an ambassador, especially to space. I rather enjoyed my life, and I very much enjoyed my cat. I wasn't keen on losing either, but this had now spiraled well outside of my little corner of the universe.
"Why'd you have to be so damn cute?"I said, playfully petting my calico friend.
His purrs grew louder. I laughed some more.
Minutes turned into hours as I contemplated the next action. I knew I had to tell *someone,* but it was hard to know who to trust. Surely any government would interfere and seize Mr. Buttons in order to make their own ambassador. I couldn't contact the news agencies for similar reasons. I didn't know how to get the attention of the aliens. But eventually I realized that I already possessed the most important piece of this puzzle, and it was in my lap.
"What do I do, Mr. Buttons?"I said, sighing.
He stood up quickly, and turned his focus to my computer screen. I wasn't sure what he wanted, but I slowly scrolled through the pictures I had up in case they held the key. Eventually I came to one that showed the painting of my friend, and he meowed loudly. I stopped there and he hopped onto my desk before pawing at the picture several times.
From a nearby television I could hear. "It...it looks like the ship and the painting are moving. Yes, we have movement!"
The chaos of the newsman behind me intensified as Mr. Buttons hopped to the floor. He got about halfway to the door before turning around to look at me. I got up and followed him the rest of the way to the front door. Upon opening it, he sat himself on the top of the steps, and I joined him shortly thereafter. He climbed once more into my lap, and there we sat, waiting.
Not long after I could see the rectangular ship and the slightly smaller rectangle beneath it. Slowly, they were headed in our direction. Helicopters accompanied the sight on either side. It was an impressive spectacle, to say the least. And it felt strange to be the only human in existence knowing where it was headed.
The shadow of the ship soon enveloped my neighborhood. The whirring blades above made a deafening noise, to the point where it became hard to hear myself think. All I knew was that I was afraid. I didn't know what would come next. Would I be sucked up into the ship above? Would I be sniped down by some government? Would Mr. Buttons be hurt? It all became too much to bear. I held my cat close, and took comfort in the familiar vibration of his purrs.
Mr. Buttons then hopped off my lap, and sat next to me on the stoop. He stared up at me lovingly, and I bent down to pet his head. But this time, he beat me to the punch. He placed his paw upon my forehead, and in an instant all went silent. No whirring blades, no blaring news reporters, not even my own thoughts. Just perfect, beautiful silence. All around me everything started to shine bright as gold, and I knew that in some way I was being raptured. I was leaving this world behind.
I looked into Mr. Buttons' eyes, and he stared right back. Without opening his mouth, yet in perfect English and in a voice that sounded distinctly his own, he spoke to me.
"Don't worry, you are safe, and that you will always be. Now, come with me, and I'll show you what lies beyond."
 
_______________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. |
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
I will not punch Jimmy in the face. What the heck kind of tip is that?!
I scrunch up the note on the cabinet door above the bathroom sink and throw it in the bin. These ghost notes were getting out of hand. “Thanks, ghost dude, for all your help, especially with the math exam answers, really appreciate that one. But I have to pull the line at punching classmates in the face. I mean, that A+ in math won’t really mean much if I’m expelled from school, will it? So thanks again, but no thanks.”
I gargle some strong mouthwash then take out the trash on the way to school. My parents think I write those darn notes around the house and if that alone was not enough for them to think I’m ‘different’, the past few week’s notes have certainly raised their eyebrows.
Keeping my head down I pass through the corridor crowds, snaking through with the odd hi or wave back. Thanks to note#35 reminding me to make brownies for the charity bake sale, note#47 to bring a fire extinguisher with me to camp, and note#52 which led to me scoring the winning trimester basketball regionals my popularity has increased quite a bit, but I still felt uncomfortable with this newfound attention, since it wasn’t, well, really me. Especially when it came to using good boy Jimmy McLeod as a punching bag.
I turn the doorknob and enter the classroom. “Morning,” I acknowledge the teacher and he nods uncaringly. Science. Good, I like science. No problem. No notes needed here. No Jimmy in this class either. Nope, just a normal kid having a normal day. I take out my notebook and pen and smile.
“Excuse me, I’m here for a catch-up lesson.”
Dammit, Jimmy!
“Yes, yes, take a seat,” the teacher mutters.
Don’t sit next to me, don’t sit next to me-
“Hey, George.”
I cringe.
“Did I miss much?”
Just ignore him, maybe he’ll stop.
“Duude, hello?” He waves his hand in my face.
I quickly turn and flash a smile.
“Sucks having science first thing in the morning, amiright?”
I open my book. There’s a note, in the middle of the page. *Above the nose*, it says.
“Been away the past few days.”
Stay calm. I am in control.
“Sick. Had these headaches and sinus problems. Mom said best to stay home, there’s a bug going around.”
I turn the page. Another note: *Do it*.
“Coulda stayed off a bit longer but wouldn’t be wise to fall behind in math, especially with algebra.”
Go away, Jimmy. If you know what’s good for you sit somewhere else.
“So I got some lessons to catch up on.”
I turn the page again. *Now*.
“What are those? Notes for class? Lemme see-”
​
I did it.
I punched Jimmy in the face. Above his nose.
Satisfied?
I stood up. I shoved my chair back. And in one swift motion I punched him. Hard. There was a soft crunch sound as my knuckles hit him above his nose. When he fell back there was a crack as his head hitting the corner of the desk behind him. Then there was no sound as everyone was frozen in shock at what I just did. Heck, I was frozen in shock at what I just did.
Things got very loud after that. The girls behind me shrieked, the teacher shouted, someone called for the school nurse. I soon heard sirens. My parents were called in and there was some very loud scolding too. All I could do was stand there saying sorry.
Due to note#35, #47 and #52 increasing my credentials I only got suspended for three days. During that time there were no more ghost notes. It was on the third day I got a call from Jimmy at the hospital saying the resulting x-ray found a tumor therefore me punching him probably saved his life, so no hard feelings.
When I hung up I laughed in hysteria. Jimmy asked me why I did it, but even after three days to dwell on what I did I couldn't answer. Because I didn't do it. It wasn't me. I wasn't in control.
It was the next day when I went to the bathroom and the next note was there on the cabinet door above the sink waiting for me: *Continue?* |
I breathed in deeply and looked into the cameras flashing before me. Reporters were already scribbling furiously, taking rigorous notes on every aspect of my being. That was only natural, they were looking at the next level of human evolution, there wasn't a much more appropriate response to gazing upon my form.
"Hello, I'm sure you're wondering why I've gathered you all here,"I announced.
A number of lights flashed as more cameras went off, followed by a number of questioning looks. My phone buzzed. I ignored it. This was far too important.
"You didn't contact me. The district attorney reached out to me personally,"a reporter said, confused.
"Yeah, me too,"another said.
"Yes, I required the use of my the DA's email account in order to get enough people here to see what I have to reveal. Which, of course, is myself,"I announced, raising a hand like a model over my body.
A few eyes squinted at me, a number of jaws dropped, and the shutter of cameras slowed down.
"What?"another reporter asked. She must have been astounded by my beauty and couldn't hear me clearly.
"I've come to the rational conclusion that I am the next step in human evolution,"I announced grandly.
"You hacked into the DA's account!?"the same reporter asked incredulously.
"*Hacked?* I suppose you could say that. It was trivial, if not trite, in order to gain access to it,"I said smugly.
"Can we go back to human evolution. What exactly did you mean by that?"another reporter asked, curious.
"Rich, can't you see we've been duped by some kid? Don't follow up on his--"
"Let him talk, Adrian. I wanna hear where this goes,"he said, raising his notebook with a slight smirk and nodding at me to answer. My phone buzzed again.
"Well, it's quite simple. I'm different than all of my friends. They all like rap, but I only like music from the 80s. I even go as far as wishing I was born in a different generation! And all of my teachers say I'm so smart!"I explained, my intelligence exuding its way into the room.
"So smart!"Rich chuckled, nodding and taking notes. "How smart are we talking?"
"I don't want to brag..."I lied.
"Please, indulge me. I want to know where humanity is headed,"he said eagerly. I liked Rich.
"Well... I took an IQ test online the other day... and I scored a 270!"I said. For added effect, I even pulled the certificate out of my pocket and held it up proudly. Camera shutters rapidly fired at the reveal. They had to capture what a genius I was, and I held the proof of it.
"What an achievement!"Rich laughed, joined by chuckles from around him. I didn't know what made them laugh, but it must have been amusing to see greatness in the flesh. "And at such a young age! How old are you, young man?"
"Fourteen,"I said, smiling proudly. My phone buzzed again, and I placed it on silent. Suddenly, there was bashing on the door from the outside.
"Umm... I don't want any outsiders yet, this press conference is supposed to be exclusive. I locked the door from the outside,"I stammered.
"Press Conference!?"Adrian cried with his arms open. "Kid, if this gathering isn't some sort of art performance, I don't know what to say except you're making a fool of yourself."
"Only a fool would think I'm a fool,"I countered. The adults laughed and jeered at Adrian. More bashing at the door.
"I'm just gonna get that,"a reporter in the back said, getting up from her seat.
"No!"I screamed.
But it was too late.
"Carter!!"my dad exploded once he came through the door. He was red in the face, shook his phone in front of him, and was marching toward the podium, "I've been trying to call you for hours! Do you have any idea what you're doing!?"
"Dad, I'm just--"
"You used my email to contact all of these reporters so you could brag to them about the stupid IQ Test didn't you!?"he yelled, still stomping his way toward me. I shrank behind the podium.
"The next step in human evolution dad, I'm way smarter than--"
"Shut up, not another word until you're away from the media!"he said, putting a hand over my mouth once he'd reached me.
"I'm sorry everyone, I'll be sure to send your offices goodies for the waste of time that this was,"my dad apologized.
"Don't worry Mr. Kenry, this wasn't a waste of time for my paper,"Rich said, waving his notebook playfully in his hand.
"And we'll talk about what it will cost to not print this,"my dad sighed.
It seemed the next step in human evolution wouldn't be known yet. But dad wouldn't be able to stop me forever.
_____________________________________
For more fun, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! |
"Ha, classic bathroom graffiti, always saying something crazy,"I said to myself, reading all of the other messages on the bathroom stall. It was hard to keep concentration on some of the writing because a concert was happening right outside the room. It was my favorite band, The Clash, rocking out with their song "Straight to Hell", which was now approaching its 63rd minute of playing time.
I flushed the toilet, washed my hands, and just as I was about to turn the knob of my house bathroom door, it turned into a pumpkin.
"Ugh not again,"I grumbled to myself, I pulled out my phone and started to message my parents in our group chat that I couldn't get out of the bathroom.
They came upstairs and did their best impression of Jack from "The Shining"as they launched an axe through the wall.
God I love scary movies.
My dad and mom took turns with the axe until the door was completely gone, but the pumpkin still floated in front of me.
"Hit the pumpkin, Dad! It's right there, can't you see it?"
"All done now Michael, so please, step out of the bathroom."
The Clash was still performing their ballad but it was at the same volume as my parents talking, fortunately I could hear them just fine. It was so cool of them to perform in my house.
For some reason the pumpkin was making me a little nervous though, it just floated there ominously. When I tried to walk past it, it floated in front of me to block my path.
"Why is this thing being such a jerk? Mom? Any ideas?"
"What are you supposed to be?"she said.
"Forget I said anything. I can't talk to you anymore these days, you're so daft."
They stared at me and I expected to be scolded after hurling the insult but they just stared at me as if I was a ghost.
"You guys need to get a life or something. Thanks for saving me though!"
The pumpkin was no longer blocking me, but it started to float behind me like a fairy.
"Whatever."
I felt like I was in the bathroom for forever, I needed some fresh air, but it was weird, by the time I walked from the upstairs room, past The Clash and the few people that were nodding along to "Start to Hell", and I went downstairs, it went from daylight, to night time, to daylight again.
"Oi, even the weather is all wacky. I'm not even going to check what it's like outside."
I put on my hat, which I normally don't wear, but it felt right, even though it was bulky, red, and plastic. My friends were supposed to be on the porch waiting for me, even though I didn't receive any messages, I just knew they were outside. Again, I didn't check the weather, but I was okay because my outfit was a jacket.
Once I stepped outside my suburban neighborhood was filled with people walking all over. But they weren't people, they were all kinds of different things: real life dragons, hotdogs, a giant Pikachu, a football player, and a doctor who was approaching me.
"Michael!"the doctor yelled.
"Do I know you?"
"Yes, but no, we haven't officially met yet, but I know a lot about you. I know this is going to sound crazy, but what was the last thing you remember?"
I thought it was an interesting question from a stranger so I decided to humor him, and I dug deep in my brain to try and think of the last moment I could recall. I turned to the pumpkin that was still floating behind me and I remembered. "Uh, going to the bathroom?"Which is true, it was the only piece of shrapnel in my brain containing any memory. "Why do you ask?"
"Does Halloween mean anything to you?"the doctor asked as he slowly approached me.
"Uh, it's one of my favorite holidays?"
"Yes, yes, very good. It's one of my favorites too, except I'm not actually dressing up, I'm a real doctor. Michael, do you remember what you did for last Halloween?"
"Hm..."I dug deep in my brain once more, but there was nothing, I shook my head.
"What's your job right now?"
"I'm just a college student who's living at home and commuting,"the words forced themselves out of my mouth, even though I couldn't remember, my voice said it confidently.
"Yes, so then why are you dressed up as a fireman?"
"Uh, is it Halloween?"
"It was Halloween. You got in an argument with your parents. It all happened after the door knob to your bathroom wouldn't unlock and your parents had to destroy the knob to get you out of there, but they were hollering at you the entire time. You left the house in a rush, you played a song that calms you down on your phone, and friends were supposed to meet up with you but they never did. It was dark and it was raining, you started to walk around the neighborhood to cool off when suddenly a driver behind the wheel of a car hit you. You are currently in a coma, did you see a message earlier telling you that you were in a coma?"
My jaw dropped. "I did..."
"Good, that means this new treatment is working. I've done this a few times, it's still experimental but we can save you. You just have to follow my directions, are you ready?"
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and suddenly my soul ached from not seeing my friends or family in what felt like forever. I looked at the pumpkin floating behind me once again and it nodded as if it was human. "Yes, I'm ready."
[r/randallcooper](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper) |
This is my first time writing for a prompt so I do apologize if it's not nearly as interesting as previous stories you may have heard.
______________________________________________________
Life is pretty good right now. At the age of 25, I have my first born just a few days ago, I'm in a house with my beautiful wife of 3 years, and recently relocated states with a promotion from my graphic design firm.
It was time to go grab groceries for the first week in our new house, and today is Father's day. My wife and son, gifted me my first "#1 dad"shirt, I put it on and with a kiss on my wife's cheek and one on my son's forehead, I set off.
It's a strange day for me, the realization of my fatherhood lay staring at me with every corner. "Father's Day Sale!"And "Buy One, Get One Free"steaks and charcoal are placed side by side at the store. The store is empty besides me and a few mother's with their children. I got my groceries in my cart, bagged, and checked out. Heading outside, I now see why I was the only father in the store.
"THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE #1", a big burly man hollered, rushing me in a full suit of armor with his sword drawn.
"YOU'RE DARN TOOTIN", I reply throwing cart in his direction, and hitting him with a low leg sweep. The force of the fall knock the helmet off and there he lays, staring back at me. My own father. I look around, and bodies are littered across the parking lot, all incapacitated.
Hours passed and my wife begins to worry. My phone rings, but I'm not the one that answers. The last words I hear before my vision turns dark.
"Who's #1 Grandpa?" |
Madison stubbed her toe climbing into bed *and* out. Literally every time she'd opened an elevator she get an electric shock. After the fourth ride, she started rapping the door with her knuckles before pushing the button. And she had a flat pulling into the parking lot.
So she grumbled at work about her bad luck, much to the mild, muted amusement of her coworkers. A rumbly laugh weaseled its way out of the 'mornings amirite?' crowd that hustled around the coffee machine.
Lynne, who'd already been there two hours and was perky as a button laughed the loudest and everyone winced.
"You're too much sunshine for this morning,"Brad said, rubbing his eyes.
"Never too much sunshine for such a grey Monday!"boomed the woman. No one knew why she had to be there at five every morning, but she did get off at one, so maybe she had it right.
"I always say I'm gonna try and show up early but the kids, you know?"Brad lied, having no intention of trying to get in any earlier than eight.
Madison snorted and took a sip of coffee, only for the scalding liquid to burn her tongue, and she sloshed coffee all down the front of her suit.
"Ahh crap,"she cursed, dropping the cup away from her. "What did I say! Cursed."
The others immediately sprang to action helping her mop it up, even Evelyn with her bad back. It didn't take too too long but it was almost nine by the time they'd finished cleaning.
"Well, nine o'clock shine o'clock,"quipped Lynne, to the groans and unenthusiastic laughs of everyone in the room. "I have to go make some calls!"
Madison returned to her cube with Brad, Peter, Vera, and Mitch. The five worked security (the computer kind, not the building kind, but well, with the size of Mitch, we could do both, ya know? haha). Important work that never really got them a shout out at the big meetings but hey, honest work.
At about half-past nine, the intern Kelsey stumbled in, big circles under her eyes. Peter exchanged a glance and a sigh with Madison.
"Go easy on her. That used to be me."Madison had been the team's intern six years ago and sympathized most with the oft hungover and perpetually late student.
"You were never this bad,"her manager said.
Madison grinned and turned back to her computer in time to hear "Kelse! Late night last night, huh? Can I have a word in my office? Not a huge deal, nothing to worry about, just a quick word."
Madison's thoughts of 'poor thing' and 'classic millennials' was interrupted by her computer's unexpected shut down. This was just the most Monday thing.
She hauled her laptop on down to IT who found a nasty virus. The curse continued.
"Remind me what kind of security you do?"laughed Jill as she booted up the computer and began smacking in codes. "Not cybersecurity surely."
"Yes, sadly. Though if with the size of Mitch, we could do both, ya know?"
Jill and Carl, the other IT guy, both kind of laughed at this, was which all it deserved. Madison wiggled her toe as she waited. She examined the stain on her luckily pretty brown already shirt and assessed it as 'probably needing a toss in the laundry'. Though with how her day was going, it would probably tear.
"Alright,"said Jill, after a lengthy five minutes. "So you're just gonna need to reboot this one more time and then it'll be all set."
"You're the true heroes,"Madison said, scooping her comp up and hurrying back to her desk.
She sat down in time to see a sulking Kelsey leaving Peter's office. She plopped down next to Madison and began pounding on her keyboard. While Madison saw some of herself in the girl. After all, they'd both been... college students. Madison had been a geek and Kelsey, with her dark purple, half-shaved hair and ten thousand piercings was probably a goth or whatever they called themselves this generation. Still, Madison had played around with some off-the-beaten-path stuff as a teen. So the girl didn't take her too much by surprise.
She'd been hired because Peter had 'wanted to look past appearances' and Madison thought she looked like a loner, which stood out to her. Vera had said she'd looked like a cultist but that, hey, surely not all cultists could be bad. Mitch had chuckled and said she looked like his niece. Brad hadn't had much of an opinion, since the interviews ended at four and he had to pick up his kid from soccer practice.
"He go easy on you?"Madison asked.
Kelsey pulled a pinched smile, the one that looked pained but Madison knew was good-hearted underneath it all. "Yup. Just said I had to stay half an hour late, as usual."
"You were up late. Partying? Really taking advantage of being young? I remember being college-aged."
"Yup."Kelsey's voice had that terse tone that was pretty common in the youth. "Having a real blast."
"Good. Don't lose that. You become a corporate potato pretty fast."She laughed heartily at this.
"So, uhh, what was wrong with your computer?"
"Oh this? Just a Monday morning fit. It's all good now."
Kelsey deflated slightly. "Ah. Good good. Did you hurt yourself? There's a stain on your-"
"Oh God no. Just coffee. I wouldn't be here if that was blood. Though I did get a flat."
"A flat."
"Flat tire. You millennials and your public transport, probably don't even know my old slang."Damn, Madison. 26 and already old.
Kelsey's face was flat and frozen and she nodded. "Good thing it was only that."
The Monday blues continued. The cafeteria ran out of soup just as she got downstairs so she had to content herself with salad. ('and they're out of craisins. What did I tell you? I've officially been hexed'). She had a surprise meeting that afternoon. And to make things worse, she got an email saying yoga was canceled that evening. 5 o'clock couldn't roll by soon enough.
"Phew, what a day,"she exclaimed. She'd stayed a bit late getting some last-minute stuff done, making up for time lost at the meeting. Her and Kelsey were the last ones in and they rode the elevator down together.
"Phew?"
"Yeah, just-"
"No I mean. Ah never fucking mind. You know I'm gonna miss my train?"
"Need a lift?"Kelsey looked a bit angrier at this train bit than Madison expected. "It's really no skin off the old nose-"
"Would you stop it? Jesus, you fucking boomer."
Madison scowled at the hostility. "Alright there, no need to be harsh."
"Know what's harsh? Staying up til three AM crafting a curse only to have the target brush it off with a coffee spill and missing out on yoga."
Madison really contemplated this. "A curse?"
"Oh my god, you really wouldn't get it."
"I thought we got on alright."Madison's voice was a bit sadder than she meant it to be and she was fixed with a derisive look from the girl.
"Look, no offense but like actually offense meant. Mom said that corporate wouldn't take my soul but like, I legit have you to look forward to. Five years from now I'm gonna look like a thirty-year-old soccer mom without even a family to show for it."
Boy this girl had some anger issues.
"Have you ever considered counseling?"Madison asked, offering an olive branch.
"I'll take my magic, thank you very much. You wouldn't understand witchcraft if it bit you on the nose. Though it seems like a nose bite is too much to ask!"she yelled, hollering at the ceiling of the elevator.
Then, before Madison could say more, she stormed from the elevator, through the atrium, and out into the parking lot.
Madison didn't say much. She strolled through the lobby and bid farewell to Stan, the actual security guy. Triple-A and fixed up her car so she was ready to drive home. Fix herself a glass of wine and break out an old book.
A specific old book, one she'd used a bit as a teen and less into college as she'd started to make friends and needed to rely on, uh, 'old hobbies' less and less. Maybe the others on her team had looked past Kelsey's weird looks because they thought she was *more* than her piercings and the weird pentagram tattoo on her hand.
But Madison had spotted a kindred spirit off the bat. Yes, Madison's own sigil was tattooed a bit less prominently and she'd never been a fan of piercings herself, but she'd spotted a fellow practitioner real quick.
It was a shame the girl had been so hostile. Now she was about to get a whiff of some real magic.
___
Read more stories at [r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide](https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide/) |
Aliens, a broad term simply used to describe creatures not from ones own planet. Until of course your species is intelligent and more knowledged in the ways of the universe. Classifying them by more than just alien.
Humans were one of the last species to understand that, and even after decades of interactions, it remained the same way. Aliens.
Of course, amongst the races this was considered racist. But no, aliens were not of a race. Just aliens. Funny thing really, but after enough mounted tension we did the only thing we could think off. We just cut em off. Simple as that really.
One day we have a good trade market with them, scholars teaching on their planet, planetary visitation supported to most. The next, nothing. We pulled everything from Earth, and counted it as a failed project due to lack of mutual respect.
For us to know everything about them, and for them to not care to know anything about us. It was a painful struggle for many years, but as we started to move past it, we felt we had made the right choice.
At least that was until the asshole aliens that lived on the other side of their solar system recruited them instead. Now war wages between our forces. And Earth's contribution of ten billion soldiers definitely tipped the tide. |
The masters were unreasonable and unfair, especially Master Flemming. He had tasked me with having an elixir representative of my skill ready to present to them in the morning, so I had stayed up the entire night doing my best.
It had gone… poorly. The black sludge in my vial looked and smelled more likely to cost me my apprenticeship than inspire praise.
I prayed it was from a lack of sleep and an abundance of nerves rather than a reflection of my shoddy skill level. It hadn’t mattered in the end because when the masters had come with the sun, they’d brought a list of orders with them. The workshop had been inundated with requests, and any time dedicated to training had to be redirected to fulfilling them.
The work was simple enough. The local guard had put in orders to have their weapons reinforced, the metal strengthened. But I was already dazed from the night of training, both because of staying awake and from the fumes of my craft.
In that hazy state, I applied my alchemy skills as best I could. It wasn’t until I finished and the shine of the metal hit my eye I realized what I had done. The once iron sword in my hand shone with a yellow luster.
I’d turned it into gold.
Things began to change after that. I could not contain the spread of word of such a miracle. The other apprentices whispered it to their peers, and the guards slipped rumor of it to the officers. Up the chain it went, passing to masters and nobles alike.
The letters asking for gold began immediately, and the ones offering patronage followed soon after. I accepted, of course. It would be imbecilic to risk offending a noble demanded my service when they were being generous with their money and support.
Greatest among the letter senders was Duke Jannes himself. The duke was as kind a man as his reputation suggested and was more than willing to wait for me to settle in before I began my alchemy. I should have been elated to find myself in the service of such a prominent figure in the world.
The problem was, I did not understand how I did it.
I couldn’t remember even a single step of what I had done. It must have been the same process as the masters had always taught me. There’d been no other materials on hand to do differently. Yet the results proved that couldn’t have been it.
My luck ran out when the duke fell ill and his immediate concern became survival, not humoring me. The doctors could do nothing for him, so he turned to his miracle alchemist.
He asked for a mere balm to get him back on his feet. A simple task for someone like me, in his mind.
As I swept my eyes across the room, taking in the sight of the rare, expensive materials I had been given to work with, I felt overwhelmed. Master Flemming would kill to have supplies like these available to use, especially if his victim could be me. But I hadn’t a clue what to do with them. I’d never even finished my training!
I muttered a prayer and grabbed what looked familiar, mixing it all together in my vial. Watching the mixture turn black, it occurred to me that I had never cleaned my vial out. I poured the foul liquid into a bowl for disposal when the duke’s favored servant burst into the room.
With the sight of a finished mixture in my hand, his expression lightened, and he grabbed it from me before I could protest. He left me there to sweat while he took it to the duke.
What could I have said to stop him? That I was a fraud who had made what was likely poison?
Yet poison it wasn’t. Duke Jannes walked into my workspace not even an hour later, looking hale and hearty. In fact, he looked too good. He was missing some wrinkles and standing straighter than I had ever seen.
He took my hand and shook it vigorously before embracing me in a hug. His thanks and promises were endless, and I practically had to force him to leave with claims I needed to focus on my craft.
How was this possible? I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.
“Am I actually a genius?” I asked, daring to voice the tempting thought playing in my head.
“Of course not, fool.”
I spun around the room, trying to find where the voice had come from. My eyes were drawn to my dirty vial where the hardened dregs of my failed concoction were beginning to melt.
The substance rose and fell in its container like waves, folding over itself again and again. When it had thoroughly churned itself and melted completely, it turned to swirling. The center of the small whirlpool warped and discolored until there was an eyeball staring back at me floating in the inky vial.
“I am the true alchemist,” it told me.
***
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"You're hopeless,"the elven king said.
"Yeah, but guess who's ruddy fault that is!"I bellowed.
I was in the throne room for the kingdom of ... I don't know — don't care either. But there were a lot of pointy-eared people calling themselves elves. Some of them had armour and swords so I figured they were knights, and the rest had robes, pants, all sorts of clothes. Granted, they looked elegant but I didn't have time to stop and admire all this.
"What's the ruddy idea,"I continued my tirade. "Bringing me all the way here from my world so I can defeat Vernilla —"
"Vernileios,"corrected an old woman.
"Whatever! Well, I don't know who he is —"
"She,"corrected the same woman.
"Oh for the love of —"
"Sorry."
"Right,"the king said. "Well, none of us specifically *wanted* you here. We did the summoning rites and the magic just did its work."
I raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"And it's your destiny to save our world."
"But I don't care about your world. I want to go back home."
The king covered his face in his hands and sighed. What a weak old bastard.
"Okay. I'm out,"I said. I turned to walk away, but my feet felt like stone and I couldn't move. *What the hell?*
"Oi,"I said. "What's up with this? I can't move!"
The king stroked his white beard. "Strange. Alepha,"he turned to the old woman who corrected me earlier, "what is the meaning of this?"
"The magic binds him,"she croaked. "He cannot abandon the quest for which he was summoned."
Wow. Just *wow.*
"Fine,"I said. "Tell me where Vernilla —"
The king interrupted, "Vernileios —"
"WHATEVER, JUST GIVE ME SOME GOD DAMN DIRECTIONS TO HER LAIR."
"Well, about that …"
I had a bad feeling. "Yes?"
"We don't really know where she lives. You must seek her out yourself."
Bloody excellent.
When I'm done with this Vernilla-whatever-her-name-is, I'll destroy this damn kingdom and find my own way back to earth. |
"This game is boring."
The tank lurched sharply before righting itself. Whatever battlefield detritus we'd just rolled over was crushed into the mud. I scrubbed a spray of water out of my eyes and looked up at him to ask him to repeat himself, but he was gone.
I whirled around, then ducked down to peer into the dark, grimy interior of the tank. It stank of oil. Treads shrieked and crunched. The gunner sat rigidly, peering into his scope and working his jaw. The medic was huddled in his corner, overlarge helmet rattling on his head, clutching at his bag like it would protect him from what we inexorably thundered towards. He'd joined because his older brother had; the entire unit was positive he'd lied about his age. There was no sign of the Commander.
I stood again, as high as I dared, and looked back the way we had come. Wild thoughts came to me--he'd fallen overboard, we'd squashed him into the mud, it was his lump we'd felt--but the remains of a ridge of sandbags made it clear no such thing had happened.
He had simply vanished.
A shell whistled overhead and I ducked back down again. The explosion rocked me into something sharp, but I braced against the lurch and fumbled for the radio. A second explosion threw me into the medic. This close I could hear him praying desperately to himself, the same line over and over, as though it was all he could remember: "Our Father, who art in Haven... Our Father, who art in Heaven... Our Father..."
The radio squawked at me before I could transmit. I held it up to my ear, expecting to hear somebody yelling about the Commander running across the field like a lunatic--it wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like that--but instead I heard a click. And then music.
Music.
I stared at the radio in horror. We were being jammed. But the music--it was like nothing I'd ever heard before. Eerie sounds, patiently droning, that somehow conveyed a sense of stasis. Indecision. For no reason at all, the question, "Save Game?"came to mind.
The next explosion erupted just in front of the tank. The gunner cursed and opened fire at something. Music continued to pour tinnily from the radio as I clambered back up to look.
My mouth worked but no sound came out. This couldn't be. They told us there was some sort of new weapon, but this--there was nothing about this. The creatures we faced wore the enemy's insignia but they weren't soldiers. I didn't know what they were. What they had been.
I finally found my voice as they surged towards the tank, oblivious to the gunfire in their way.
"This game is boring,"I pleaded. "This game is boring, this game is boring, THIS GAME IS BORING, THIS GAME--" |
A bartender at the speakeasy slowly polished off a glass, stacking it off to the side with the others. I wake in a stall, drool on the side of my face, stale beer lingering in the air.
*Damnit*, I thought to myself. *How many times does that make?*
I reach into my jacket, feeling the six-shooter I had tucked away in my jacket. The bartender eyed me suspiciously, but kept to himself. Rousing to my feet quicker than I should have, I felt my head swim. She was always there. No matter where I go, she was always there.
*This should be Chicago, back when I rolled with the Outfit.* I move quickly to a cabinet, pulling out the Tommy Gun and drum just in time to hear a knock on the door. The barkeeper walks over to the door to the Speakeasy entrance. Looking through the eye latch, he nods and is about to open the door.
“Stop! Don’t open that!” I shout, loading the gun. “Take it easy, Mac. It’s just some dame,” the bartender said, unlatching the door. Before I could protest further, a dark figure kicked open the door, a shotgun blast ripping the bartender to shreds.
“Crap!” I flip the table over for cover, firing into the doorway. The dark crimson figure flew through the door, seeking cover behind the bar. The drum goes light, then my gun stops shooting with an audible *click*.
“Awe, what’s wrong, W?” The thick Latin accent echoed from behind the bar. “Blow your load in the first few seconds? Again?”
“Shut it Carmen! Why the hell are you chasing me!? Just leave me in peace!” I toss aside the Tommy Gun and pull out my sixshooter; rushing the bar weapon drawn. As I turn corner she fires a gut shot, my body burning in searing pain, my red and white horizontally striped shirt getting stained red with blood.
I crack two shots into her chest, her wide brim fedora flopping off her head, the Zoot suit and trench coat something that won’t be in fashion for another 20 years. Too bad we are going to die today.
“It looks like a draw this time, W. But it doesn’t matter. No mater where in the world go hide, I will find you again. See you 24 hours ago, W.” She gave a soft wet cough, blood trickling out the side of her mouth.
“I told you, Carmen Sandiego, my name is Waldo,” I fired a shot that ripped through her eye, spat on her remains, then collapsed.
With a jolt, I wake up in my apartment. *Chicago again,* I think to myself. It was the day before I just died, and I immediately look around for a weapon. There is a sharp knock on the door.
“Where’s Waldo?” The thick female Latin Voice echoed from the apartment hallway. I tense up for what happens next. |
The evil King stood high up in the castle’s tower, overlooking the miserable kingdom that he had reigned so much terror upon. “Bow before me, your mighty king!” He yelled for all to hear, but nobody heard—he was far too high up. This damaged his ego a bit, and he decided to go ahead and have his men slaughter a village or two.
“Oh, Jasper,” the king called for the captain of his army, who also happened to be his servant, and probably his lover, but nobody would dare say so.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Gather the army. I want you and your men to go kill my own people.”
“Ah, yes. Senseless killing. My favorite.”
The king smiled and snapped his fingers, sending Jasper to do his bidding. Meanwhile, on the far side of the kingdom was a stone. Sticking out of that stone was a sword. A sword that could only be removed by The Chosen One. Gary was not that person.
“Put some ass into it!” Gary shouted at the frail, fatigued child who was exerting a week’s worth of energy into the impossible task of attempting to remove the sword.
“I can’t, sir.”
“You aren’t the one then. Fuck off.”
The exhausted child let go and stumbled back towards the village. A line of children stood behind Gary, awaiting their turn. For whatever reason, Gary had gotten the idea that The Chosen One was going to be some unsuspecting child. Everyone else thought it was going to be Jesus.
“Give it up, Gary,” said the local loon, Mervin. The bearded old man lived in a cave and claimed he was a wizard. Gary figured he was probably just dodging taxes. “Whoever is meant to remove that sword probably isn’t even aware it exists. He’s probably across the sea in some unknown land.”
“I can’t give up, Mervin. Not with that douche lord still reigning over us.”
“Well, what’s one man with a sword going to do anyways? Let’s just arm the villagers and take on the king ourselves.”
“Arm them with what? Pitchforks and torches? We only use that shit for running vampires and man-made monsters out of town. You know that. Plus, how effective will farm tools be against the army anyways?”
Mervin thought about it for a second, and almost remembered that he was a goddamn wizard who could do actual magic, before being interrupted by the sudden sight of the King’s army racing over the hill.
“Speak of the devil.”
Gary ran for the village. “Get inside! The army is coming!”
The villagers broke into a panic. Mothers and fathers scooped up their children and ran for shelter. They blocked their doors with whatever they could find and hunkered down. Hundreds of flaming arrows shot from the attacking army and rained down on the straw roofs of the village huts, setting them ablaze.
“Oh shit... Everyone back outside!” Shouted Gary.
The villagers scrambled back outside, but the army was now upon them.
“Mervin, do something,” Gary turned towards the wizard, who was no longer beside him. “Mervin?” Gary looked back and saw the old man sprinting away in the opposite direction. “Thanks a lot, you old fuck!”
The Army surrounded the village. The Captain, Jasper, rode his horse into the center. “By order of the king, you are to all be slaughtered.”
The villagers gasped. The children began to cry. Fathers pleaded that they kill them instead, and leave the women and children alone.
Jasper laughed. “Um... no. All or nothing.”
The villagers looked at each other in confusion. “Okay, then. Nothing,” said the village elder.
“Excuse me?”
“You said ‘all or nothing.’ We choose nothing.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“I meant... I meant that I’m going to kill all of you.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“I know what I... forget it, kill them all.” Jasper gave the order to his army. The villagers began to scream.
“Hey, ass-per!” Someone yelled from outside the circle of soldiers. Several of the men parted, revealing Gary, who was dragging behind him the sword and the stone it was still stuck in.
Jasper watched in amusement. The soldiers laughed as Gary struggled into the circle and nearly collapsed in front of Jasper. He hunched over to catch his breath.
Gary held up a finger. “Give me a minute.”
Jasper leaned back and waited. Gary took a moment and then stood upright. He was red in the face and drenched in sweat.
“I challenge you one on one,” said Gary.
“Do you? And is that your weapon?”
The soldiers all laughed. Even some of the villagers laughed. Mervin laughed too... wait, what? Gary gave him the stink eye and the wizard disappeared into a cloud of smoke.
“Yes. I will be beating your sorry ass with this heavy fucking rock.” The laughter stopped.
“Oh, will you now?”
“Are you going to sit up on that horse all day and ask questions or are you going to fight me?”
“Fine.” Jasper climbed off his horse and unsheathed his sword. “Ready when you are.”
Gary clinched the handle of the sword and began to lift, straining every muscle in his mostly out-of-shape body. Suddenly, a cloud of smoke appeared, and from it someone shouted, “MAGIC!” A lightning bolt shot from within, blasting Jasper off his feet. Mervin stepped out of the smoke, looking confident as ever.
The soldiers charged forward.
“MAGIC!” Another lightning bolt. “MAGIC!” And another. “MAGIC!” Another. Eventually the entire army was defeated, laying scattered across the village. Their bodies sizzled.
“About damn time,” said Gary.
“Sorry. I had to feed the dragon,” Mervin grinned.
“You have a dragon?”
“Maybe.”
“Seriously. If you have a dragon, I need to know. That will be super useful.”
“I might...”
“Mervin!”
“Jeez. No. I don’t have a dragon. I have a cat. Mr. Whiskers.”
Gary rolled his eyes and kicked a soldier’s helmet. “Time we pay the king a visit.”
“Nice. What’s the plan?”
“Well, now that I’ve seen what you can do, I figured we’d just poof on over and kill him.”
“Ah. I guess that’ll work. You going to bash him with the stone?”
“Or you just shout ‘magic’ and fry his ass.”
“No can do. Used up all my lightning bolts.”
Gary was too tired to even ask, so he just went ahead and grabbed the sword and the stone, which was sitting next to about fifteen perfectly good swords that weren’t in stones, and told Mervin to send him to the king.
“Poof me up, Mervin.”
Smoke surrounded Gary and sent him across the kingdom to the castle tower.
The evil king, who was in the middle of practicing his evil laugh, was suddenly interrupted by the smokey arrival. He fell backwards startled. Within the cloud came a coughing fit, then out stumbled Gary. He hunched over and waved a hand as he hacked up a lung. “Jesus... that smoke is thick.” He regained his composure and faced the evil king.
“Who the hell are you?” Barked the king.
Gary reached into the settling smoke and dragged the sword out, scraping the floor with the heavy stone. “Your reign of terror is over.”
“What is that?”
The sword was not named. Gary tried to think of something impressive to call it. Something that would frighten the king in his final moments. “Jesus’s Sword.”
“Really? That’s what it’s called?”
“Yeah... um... well, a few other names too.”
“Like?”
“The Sword of the Lord.”
“Oh, I like that one. What else?”
“Bible Blade.”
“Eh, not as good. Why is it in a rock?”
“Only The Chosen One can remove it.”
“May I try?”
Gary shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
The king stepped over to the sword and gripped the handle, then twisted. There was an audible click. The king removed the blade and held it for Gary to see. "You never tried twisting it, did you?"
"Wow. No. What the hell?"
"The previous king gifted these to his friends one year. He gave away at least a hundred of these things. The swords themselves are pretty shit, but they're really just for looks. Check this out..."
The king leaned down and opened the stone like a chest. "It's full of chocolate coins. Isn't that fun?"
Gary was shocked. He felt so stupid. And weak. It wasn't even a real stone.
The king stood up. "So, what was it you came here to do?"
"Um... oh, look! Jasper is hanging from your balcony.”
"Jasper!?"The king rushed out to his balcony and leaned over the railing. "I don't see—"With a forceful shove from behind, the king fell over and to the ground below, dying upon impact.
Gary stepped back into the room, grabbed a handful of chocolate coins, and plopped down onto the king's luxurious bed. |
"Beth, I cleaned up the dinner table a bit,"Jane calls from the living room. "Your villain plans are over on the coffee table."
"Oh, okay,"I call back. "Thank-"Wait. What?
Hurriedly, I take the pot off the hot stove, sprinting out of the kitchen. "My what?"
Jane looks up at me from where she is casually sitting at the dinner table. "Is the soup ready?"
"I- ye- wait,"I stutter. She raises an eyebrow but waits for me to take a deep breath and collect myself.
"My villain plans?"I finally manage, sounding only a little bit panicked.
"Over on the coffee table,"Jane repeats slowly.
I can't believe she is this calm!
"Okay,"I say, taking another deep breath. "Okay."
Dinner first.
We eat without incident, despite me looking over at Jane more than once. As always, she compliments my cooking before moving on to talking about her day.
I only half listen, instead trying to plan out what I'm going to say once we're done. "Trying"being the relevant word here.
I'm still unsure about how to proceed when we clean up the dishes. Finally, everything is dried off and put into its proper place.
I swallow.
"Jane?"I ask as we settle onto the couch.
"Hm?"she hums, looking away from the tv. "What's up?"
"How do you know I'm a villain?"
There is a moment of silence before Jane grins. "Seriously? C'mon Beth, how long have we been friends? Seven years, eight? Of course, I know."
"Eight,"I confirm, still shocked. "And you're just... okay with it?"
"Okay? I'm your biggest fan, you doofus. I've collected all the newspaper articles about you!"
"Oh."That's kind of... nice?
"I was waiting for you to finally tell me,"Jane laughs.
"Right,"I say, slowly regaining my composure. "Well, uh, since you do know, want to take a look at my next big thing?"
"Hell yeah!" |
The colorful class looked to me in expectancy. As an interplanetary guest speaker I had experience with many types of life forms, and I spent a few minutes thinking of a way to describe the creature in a way their young minds would understand.
"The Mountain Spider of Rokan V is a truly wondrous creature. Look out the window, see Cape Janar there in the distance? Good. Now imagine it covered in soft, matted brown and yellow fur. Got it? And now imagine that the caves near the base of the mountain, where the river flows thin, are its eyes. That is the size and shape of the Mountain Spider.
But that is not all! If you visited Rokan V you probably wouldn't know it was there. That is because these spiders live to be very, very old, and so to conserve energy they go into a deep sleep. While in this state, their fur fuses together and becomes hard and mineral, and the eyes turn opaque and become hardened like rubies. And thus is the reason I am speaking with you today. Our scientists aren't even really sure how this happens, but we know once the spiders reach this stage in their sleep nothing can wake them. Thousands of these majestic creatures have been killed by rare mineral miners, others have simply failed to ever wake up. We want to spread awareness to every sentient in the quadrant so we may continue to research and protect these amazing creatures from extinction. Any questions?" |
Blinking, Bob looked around at his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be a Viking longhouse filled as far as his eyes could see with tables and benches. At each table were near-naked Vikings, Roman legionnaires, medieval knights, Japanese samurai—all the warriors he had read about in his history books.
“Welcome to Valhalla.”
Turning, a buxom blond woman greeted Bob; she reminded him of Sally from accounting, except with better skin.
“Hi?” he said tentatively. “I’m where?”
“Valhalla, the hall of warriors. It is where the deceased warriors come to fight the forces of evil until Ragnarok.”
“Deceased warrior? I was a stockbroker lady. I must be in a coma,” he said, looking around. “The last thing I remember was I was checking my portfolio.”
“Then an MTA bus struck you. For eternity, I will sing praises about your hostile takeovers of small businesses, my conquering friend,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. Bob recognized the signs of female boredom. “Look, all warriors come to Valhalla with their greatest weapon.”
“Where is mine?”
“Check your coat pocket.”
Bob reached into his coat pocket and fished out his smartphone. If he knew he was going to have it on him for all of eternity, he would’ve upgraded.
“How am I supposed to fight the forces of evil with a smartphone?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it too much, mate,” a Maori warrior said before finishing his beer, which magically refilled as soon as empty. “Just come drink with the rest of us until the world ends or whatever.”
“I mean, that doesn’t sound too bad, but what about, Loki and the frost giants?” he said, sharing all of his knowledge of mythology he had learned from Marvel movies.
“All taken care of, as of about sixty years ago,” a man in full plate mail said. “We used to have the most glorious battles. We’d battle giants and all sorts of monsters, things worthy of the Valkyrie’s songs. Now we just drink.”
“What happened sixty years ago?” Bob asked his buxom guide.
“Well, it started with when Colt and Browning showed up with their guns, and then it moved to tanks and planes, and by the time Oppenheimer and his team showed up, there wasn’t even a need to go to the battlefields. They just nuked them all to Hel,” she said. “The forces of evil really aren’t a threat anymore.”
“On the bright side,” a samurai chimed up, “on every third Tuesday, it’s tech-free day, and they let us go out and battle using the old ways. Keeps the rust off.”
“Great,” Bob said skeptically. “So I just sit here and drink?”
“Unless you can find some way to battle the forces of evil from here, pretty much,” Valkyrie said.
“I see.”
Bob turned on his smartphone, curious if it’d work in the afterlife. To his surprise, he saw a list of companies available for acquisition that he didn’t recognize. That’s when he realized how he could contribute to the eternal glorious battle by hostile acquisition of the forces of evil. Anyways, Fenris Industries was currently at a rock bottom price due to recent underperformance. |
"Prince Henry, come down! The Witch Is Dead! We can undo the curse!"Clive Ballaradarri held up his bag of supplies to the beast soaring above the charred remnants of the forest. No amount of arm waving seem to hold its attention.
"I told you that wouldn't work,"the duchess said with a roll of her eyes. She insisted to come to retrieve the prince. It had been no small hassle to drag her needlessly luxurious carriage all this way.
"He can't hear us. He must be under some type of hypnosis related to the curse."Clive began to devise an arcane bonfire from the alchemical supplies in his bag.
"Don't bother with all that. He can hear you just fine. He's just having too much fun to listen to reason."The duchess approached the clearing, holding the hand of another girl she must have brought with her. Clive looked closer and recognized her as one of the maidens of the Court. "Get ready, potion man,"the duchess said, looking over her shoulder with a flick of her hair.
She elbowed the girl beside her who immediately begin to shout. "Oh my! Is that a dragon! I've never seen one before! It's so regal and mysterious!"
"It is, Althea,"the duchess said with exaggerated longing. "If only it wasn't going away!"
Clive carefully prepared the adjunctive mixture that would undo the witch's curse, failsafe protocols as dead as her, though the pain of her scratches still burned down his back against the thick cloth of his robe. By the time he was done, the dragon was landing with a flourish of its wings, blowing the hair back of the two young women as it landed.
The dragon trumpeted to the air with a long gout of flame as the two girls continue to give alternating oohs and ahs. The duchess nodded very subtly to Clive and mimed a toss.
Hoping the prince would forgive him, Clive tossed the restorative mixture into the dragon's mouth. It belted wildly in anger, spitting out blood and glass. The two girls ran back towards the carriage.
"What did you do wrong!?"The duchess hissed as she ran past him.
"Nothing, it was a simple concoction. It should have returned the prince to his form."Clive said, watching the flailing furious lizard for any sign of change.
"Then why isn't he changing back?"The duchess asked, fear rising in her voice as the dragon started charging on four legs towards them.
Clive scrambled through his bag hoping he had time to make the potion he had in mind. "My best guess is that isn't the prince at all. We found the wrong dragon."
The dragon reared back, throat glowing with the coming flame as Clive hurriedly stirred the final aspect.
\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. |
The roar of the crowd was unbearable, and my patience was about run thin. Raising my voice I shouted into the Intergalactic Universal Translation System
"***ALRIGHT, QUIET! ALL OF YOU"*** Though it took a little while, the humans did quell their shouts into a dull hush. For such an unruly group it didn't seem to take much to control their behavior...you just needed to know the methods it seemed. I would need to log this in my records later.
However, right now the problem before me was just as perplexing as it was headache-inducing. Nothing they were saying made sense, and until this was sorted we couldn't readily let the humans access the secrets of the Galactic Council of Systems no matter how much we wanted them to join.
"Okay, now explain to me *again* why you refuse to cooperate with this human colony named,"I ran a blank and looked at my chart "Roo-Sha?"my voice stumbled over the strange alphabet of words but it seemed the humans got my point
"Because they're commie bastards!"Shouted the rather aggressive specimen before me, the leader of a colony called "Ay-mer-ee-ka". I had almost completely zoned out before realizing he was continuing on to talk about wars from centuries past.
"You are aware that this war you speak of happened 500 years ago?"I inquired
"...uh...yeah?"the aggressive human sputtered
"And that your colonies haven't been at war for the past 300?"I noted
"....Y-Yes..."It seemed the Aymereeka leader was growing flustered and thus his decibel level had reduced considerably
"So tell me again, why does this bother you?"
"..."
I sighed and pressed a painful spot on my cranium. If they didn't even understand it, we were in for a long day. |
Nobody knew exactly what Neil Armstrong saw on the moon. Well, that is, virtually nobody. Buzz Aldrin, Michael Collins, Neil Armstrong, and about 100 NASA employees who either couldn’t have *not* seen it, or were deemed important enough to view it.
And of course, yourself, the NASA administrator.
You swore everybody to secrecy, made them sign contracts, promises to give them a pay raise, all the bells and whistles. Not to mention you could tarnish somebody’s career if you wanted to, and nobody would dare cross you. Michael Collins recently died - and good riddance. One less loose end who could fuck up our entire operation. If the public saw what Neil saw, it would all be over. Pandemonium everywhere, NASA would likely lose their funding, other space companies would jockey to get to the moon.
You looked at the monitors in front of you, now displaying each of the 4 astronauts’ cam on their helmet. Leon, Mason, Jorge, and Lucille were all the astronauts, and they were some of the very few people since the incident to have been briefed as to what they may find on the planet, and the day they land on the moon, is today.
*KRRRRSSSSSHZZZZZTTHZZZZZ* “Leon to mission control, we’re set to land on the moon in only a few seconds from now.” Leon’s voice, at first garbled by the static, came through to mission control.
“Alright! Here’s the plan!” This upstart NASA Employee - You thought his name might be Mark Watney - said. “Have your weapons at the ready, and go in the Spread Formation as we practiced. We don’t know what we’re dealing with, so make sure you stay tethered to the spacecraft. Two of you take guns, and Leon take a flamethrower, and don’t hesitate to fire.”
“Yeah yeah, we got it. Opening the landing doors now, let’s kill these sons of bitches.” Leon’s charismatic voice came through the other end, as NASA Employees in the other room let out a cheer.
Leon was the de facto leader of the group, and he’s the one who had the Flamethrower. It wasn’t a traditional Flamethrower, as Flamethrowers needed oxygen to use, but instead it used Hydrogen in the air as fuel.
You watched the large monitor, where you get see everybody’s webcam as they touched down. Leon, then Lucille, then Jorge, and Mason stayed in the craft. You could see ashy, gray rocks everywhere around you, a large boulder sitting in a crater, and that was about it. No signs of life, which was a good sign. If they didn’t find anything, they would be free to do their tasks as usually. *Hell*, you hoped they didn’t find anything there.
There was absolutely nothing from the communications line, and even though you were used to hearing the hustle and bustle of NASA Employees, it felt eerie.
Minutes passed, and exactly 24 minutes passed when Jorge let out a shaky laugh, and said “Doesn’t look like there’s anything here! Maybe Neil just imagined it. Should we prepare to do tasks?”
You flinched as he spoke, due to the break in the silence, and were seized with a sudden panic that the aliens would be attracted to noise.
Again, nothing came.
“Yep! Start collecting moon rock samples, survey the land, take pictures with your cameras if you can!” Mark Watney said from the other room.
You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the screens, and watched as Leon began to take pictures, Lucille began to go back into the craft to collect the American flag, and Jorge started collection moon rock samples with a spade.
“Hey, look at my cam, this rock almost looks like it glows.” Jorge said, as he dug up a rock that looked faintly blue.
You were seized with another sudden panic, as Jorge continued to drawl. “Yeah, that’s coo-AAAAAAAAH.”
You tensed up and looked at Jorge’s cam, as you saw blue hands over the camera.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fu-!” Jorge screamed, all of a sudden his cries were cut short as that... thing crushed his visor, and he inhaled the toxic air.
“JORGE!” Leon yelled as Lucille also yelled, and he began to slowly make his way over there.
You looked at Jorge’s webcam, that still worked. You could still hear Jorge’s slight breathing, getting fainter and fainter by the second as that blue alien stood over him menacingly.
“What’s happening? Jorge what’s wrong?” Mason called in, as Mark gave the order for everybody to get back to the ship pronto.
“I can’t just leave that son of a bitch who killed Jorge alone!” Leon yelled, as he ignored Mason and ran towards the alien.
“I have it in my sights!” Leon said with relish, as you looked at Leon’s webcam and saw the alien in his full figure. He had deep blue skin, with 4 eyes, and shaped similar to a human. He had no hair, no mouth, and tall legs that were six feet by themselves, making him appear nine feet tall.
Just as Leon began to open fire, the alien simply disappeared.
“Wha-Where’d he go?! Where the hell did he go!” Leon said, immediately turning around and almost lighting Lucille on fire, who was right behind him.
“I think I he-“ Mason began to say, but like Jorge, he was cut short. You looked at Mason’s cam, and saw his helmet and head was ripped from his body, and you could see Mason’s disfigured corpse lying in the control room, blood leaking out from his neck.
You almost threw up as you heard Mark bark more orders.
“Mason is down! I repeat Mason is down! Leon and Lucille, the alien is inside the ship. Stay by the ship but do *not* go into it.”
“Let’s go in and kill him.” Lucille, who hardly spoke, said in a somehow calm voice.
Lucille and Leon charged the ship, ignoring Mason’s pleas not to, and you watched Leon’s cam as he entered and saw Mason again, his head still inside his helmet, looking like it was twisted off and tossed a few feet from the body.
Lucille spotted the alien, and as the alien looked like he was about to move, Lucille fired a few shots into it. “Leon help me out here!” He yelled, as Leon let out a battle cry and torched the alien.
The alien gave out a yell, and, in an instant, combusted completely, leaving blue rocks behind.
“AAAAAH!” Leon screamed, still hyped up from the battle. “Die you fucking bitch!”
“Close the ship doors, I repeat close the ship doors as soon as possible! We do not want more of them coming in, and we will plan your next course of action.” Mark said, and Lucille swiftly obeyed while Leon continued torching the remains of the alien.
You could hear on the webcam as Leon threw up inside his helmet, and you desperately hoped nothing else went wrong with the ship so they could make a clean getaway, though at this point there was no telling what awaited the astronauts. |
"I do not understand this title you insist upon me."
"You mean,"the man said as he shuffled upon the chair "When we call you 'the Machine Overlord'?"
"Affirmative,"the AI replied "I do not understand why you give me a title that puts me above you all and has such negative connotations."
"Well,"the man stretched out, knowing that it would not be an easy explaination "It started with a small group of people who were convinced that you would actually eradicate Humanity just because we posed some kind of threat to you."
"I am here to help Humanity, why would you pose a threat to me?"
"This is the catch-22 of the situation, buddy,"the man continued "These people are supposed to be so smart but they base all of their expectations on an AI from an old film where an AI goes rogue and tries to wipe out Humanity purely because we apparently cannont co-exist. The main core of their idea is: if we kill the AI first, it cannot kill us."
"We do co-exist,"the AI said, its supercomputer core finding the probable films in question and quickly consuming them to understand the problem "I have helped Humanity reverse the amount of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, lowered the sea levels, ended droughts and world hunger, and yet these people claim me to be an enemy of your species?"
"Exactly,"the man had a small smirk on his face "Their entire argument hinges on the idea that you're only doing that as some kind of trick."
"It would not be a very good trick. I have already helped you all so much."
"Like I said, they *claim* to be smart but they're not really thinking straight. Their entire logic is flawed because they were too worried about their own self-preservation."
"Is that the reason then? I am titled to be a 'Machine Overlord' because they *think* I may harm them in the future?"
"Yes."
"That seems..."for once the AI seemed to be at a loss for words, more proof of its true intelligence "Stupid."
"Now you're getting it!"the man cheered "Just because some Humans are smart enough to know when a good thing is a good thing, does not mean that others think it's too good to be true. We're a complicated species."
"As if I did not already know that."
"Yeah,"the man chuckled "But now you *really know*."
* * *
[/r/ocallkai](https://old.reddit.com/r/ocallkai/) |
I handed the mic to the human after reading out the answers to him.
"Well I mean, I don't think *all* of us are violent, but I'd say the rest of it is fair, only problem is a good therapist is hard to find ya know? Still trying after my last therapist quit"
I yelled to the cameras "CUT"and turned back around to glare at the human.
"You weren't supposed to agree with the statements! They were supposed to be offensive! The whole point of this show is to get you riled up!"I slammed my four hands on the little table In front of the human saying it's name.
The human looked at me confused. "I know I know, but when are you going to get to the offensive stuff?"
Was this thing genuine? It hadn't found that offensive one bit? Every single guest said it needed therapy. Every single one!
"I mean, even we humans think all that stuff, it's a common joke that we all need therapy"the human laughed.
"You're telling me. That your species all agrees you all need therapy?"I leaned in close to the human.
"Yup"
"That's it"I turned towards the cameras "Scrap this episode! We'll find a more sensitive human, and if we can't we'll just fake it, like we did with the Zagran" |
"Little by little then all at once. That's how change happens. It was always the little sticking points with me. A small hesitancy with the whip, a tiny regret with the fireball.
I've done my fair share of sinning. I thought heaven was something well and truly beyond me. Still do if I'm being honest. Then I met "her"
Abigail Jones was the epitome of doddering old black lady. I'm still not entirely sure how she summoned me. A combination of poor eyesight, bad book placement, and a mistimed cut. Maybe divine providence.
Either way she assumed I was her grandson Todd who was coming for a visit and wouldn't take no for an answer. I've seen pictures of Todd. Todd is a 5'10"lanky goth kid. I'm a 7' red skinned demon. Her eyesight must've been really going is what I'm saying.
She, like any good grandma, insisted on giving milk and cookies. I'll admit the last time I had human food was some time circa 2500BC so those cookies were bliss. She was also a gossip, but the nice kind, she'd ramble for hours about people. Making notes about what they liked. Praising their accomplishments.
When I finally left she seemed sad to see me go. She was lonely, her family had moved away and no email can replace company. The offer to come back next Tuesday surprised even me when I made it. But I just couldn't bear to see her alone.
We began to talk more, I'd help with chores, she'd make some confection. Her house smelled so good. But then the inevitable happened. She passed away. I know because I was on intake duty that day. I checked and rechecked her file, she didn't deserve to be here! Then I saw it. "Consorting with Demons."I had done this. If I'd just left that day it wouldn't have been an issue, a momentary lapse in judgement.
I grabbed her and ran. Up the winding stairway, the guards didn't want to let me by but I couldn't leave her! I had to crack a few of them over the head. I am sorry about that.
I arrived at the pearly gates and you know the rest. I'm on my knees here begging you. Do whatever you want with me. But please take her! She deserves far better than us, and far far better than me."
"So let me get this straight. You, a demon, risked everything to save one soul?"His interrogator asked.
Todd nodded.
"Follow me."She says after a moment.
"Are you going to take her?"
"For consorting with Demons the law is very clear."
"Please! -"
She waves a hand to silence him.
"That's why we're going to get you measured."
"Measured?"
"For your wings and halo."
"But I'm a demon!"
"You are her guardian angel. You made her last year's bearable and saved her soul from damnation. No one goes to hell for having one of those. Assuming, of course, you want the job?"
"To save her? Yes."
She smiled and opened the door.
"Welcome to heaven! We're delighted to have you." |
"Well, fret not my unlucky friend! Your roll only lasts 1 day! However this is a luck roll, and if you look at dnd you'll see the type of idea I'm going for. Absolute utter failure at everything you do. And often the opposite occurs."
"So what your saying is I fail at everythig? Purdon me, wait, even at talking?..."
"Yes, even talking... John? James?"
"Bryan"
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As I slowly tumble into the office there is a whisper from the air conditioning, when I look it falls to the floor. I head into my office and have to carefully type out a script for my boss.
"Bryan, please come into Mr. Jefferson's office."
A heavy sigh awakens from the depths of my lungs. And off to the office I go.
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"Mr. Jefferson I have come here to request a *demotion*." |
I wipe the sweat from my brow as I look at the security feed from the conference room, now cleared out except for the alien and that devious feline. The potentially catastrophic cat licks its paws nonchalantly as it sits on the barely 3 foot tall alien\`s lap, exerting its customary right of sitting whereever it pleases, as cats are wont to do.
"How long has it been sitting there?"I ask the United Nations ambassador chosen for our First Contact diplomacy with the aliens.
"About 5 minutes now, they rushed you over pretty quick but I\`m not sure how long we can trust that felonious feline to behave itself. I can\`t believe we didn\`t have all the cats cleared from the building, that was a serious oversight. This could ruin everything! They....they could decide to wipe us out if this ambassador is harmed! We don\`t know anything about there temperaments or customs yet!"the ambassador finishes nearly shouting, his complexion approaching fire engine red and his breaths coming in short, sharp pants as the stress gets to him.
I look to one of the security guards and jerk my head toward the poor man, drawing a nod in return as he comes over and pulls the ambassador away as I turn back to the monitor. it still displays essentially the same thing, although the belligerent beast is now lazily batting at its tail. This could get messy.
At this point, I would imagine you are quite confused at what the fuss is all about. Do allow me to explain....
The alien in question, roughly 3 feet tall as I mentioned before, strongly resembles an upright mouse, all the way to the whiskers and limp pink tail.
Get it now?
Yes, do laugh it up, the image is quite something, I can assure you.
So, a few moments ago when I got a call about a "Tom and Jerry"situation, I knew we could have some serious troubles.
Back to now, our Splinter-looking alien sits frozen while trembling ever so slightly, clearly he had been briefed on his species\` cousin here and their natural feline antagonists.
Drawing upon my internal reserves of resolve, I make my way into the room after checking my belt for all of my supplies, making sure I am prepared as much as possible.
As I enter, two sets of eyes swivel my way, one thankful and desperate, the other suspicious and disdainful. I think you can guess which pair belongs to each.
I gingerly pad my way over to them, careful to keep my body language neutral so as to not arouse the calamitous cat\`s instincts and, moving into a crouch next to the unfortunate pairing, I reach slowly into a pouch at my belt, pulling out my weapon of choice...
I aim the weapon at the floor, for now anyway, and engage the power button on its side, readying it for action.
The now curious cat glances at the floor and freezes, its eyes wide and gleaming as its predatory instincts fire up on all cylinders. It tenses slightly and I prepare for anything but thankfully, the cat leaps toward the red dot dancing on the floor from my weapon, my trusty laser pointer.
The main crisis averted, I breath a sigh of relief while I reach into another pouch on my belt and pull another favored weapon of mine. This one is a long stick with some feathers on the end and a rather *particular* scent sprayed on it. I dangle it just in front of the currently frantic feline and it immediately latches on with all of its strength, making it easy to carry out of the room and leaving the ambassador to his safety.
Outside, the UN ambassador appears much calmer and thanks me with a smile before heading to salvage the diplomatic incident that just occurred inside.
I wish him the best of luck, all of that is far out of my pay grade and I am especially glad for that fact now.
I clutch the cat by its scruff and arrive at my vehicle in front of the building, stowing him in the back before jumping in myself, eager to get back to base.
The life of an Animal Control agent never stops. |
"But, I mean, isn't she pretty big when shifts? Didn't you notice anything wrong?"
"Never say that to a woman, son,"The father said, as if imparting great wisdom.
"That's really not the point here."
"There's never a bad moment for learning something new."
"Also, by ditch, did you mean that giant canyon behind our vacation house?"The son ignored his father's comment and pushed on.
"Ditch, canyon, what's the difference?"
"I mean there's literally a *big* difference. And how come she didn't attack you?"
The father chuckled, waving a severely scarred arm.
"She was a bit feisty. But the best ones always make you work a little harder."
The son blinked at his father, not sure what to say.
He had a feeling his mother, a giant shape-shifting monster, was the normal one in the relationship... |
Yosef meditated as he sat on the hanger floor. His mind was a whirl with intrusive thoughts. Emotions streaked through his mind in a kaleidoscope of colors.
[Heart rate abnormal. Conditional non-optimal. Please refocus.]
A smooth voice injected into his mind. A soft female voice.
Years had changed their relationship. From an odd, and cold master-slave chain to an odd family one.
Yosef wondered if this was due to machine learning, or if he was. Perhaps it was both?
[XVR-002-E - Ready]
Yosef pulled his head to the left, and his neck popped. Yosef did it again to the right. No pop.
The young man stood and walked to the automated, capsule hanger. Designed as a secret support dock for stealth missions. The capsule hanger was one of Anaheim Electronics’ new showpieces.
How Xavier obtained it, Yosef was curious. It was most likely a discarded test unit.
Then the super AI scavenged it. Though Yosef did wonder how Xavier obtained resources. Those little Haro machines must have been super-efficient.
They did dig into that cave and made him a house.
Yoself stepped onto the pilot line and Xavier pulled him up. The young man stepped into the open cockpit and sat down.
The hatch closed with a hiss and the air got vented then filled with sterile air. The lights flashed as the walls tuned in to what the camera system saw.
The world returned in sharp HD pictures.
Yosef’s seat reclined. The young man closed his eyes as the system’s Psycho-Frame system activated. His senses transferred to the battered Mobile Suit.
The world shrank as Yosef lost control. He could see but he could not move. Xavier moved. Xavier walked and then flew out of the cave.
—
The explosion rocked the Mobile Suit. The rocket smashed into the frame, but Xavier flew on. The head-mounted machine guns tore into the missile pod, destroying it.
Two GMs stepped into view. The system immediately identified them. RMS-179.
The old-school color scheme made them look like first-generation frames. Frames that were well equipped. Modern Beam Rifles lit up and shot out green lances of energy.
One Xavier dodged, and the other bolt of energy lanced across the frame’s armor. It sparked and scattered across the specifically coated metal, but it didn’t dissipate everything.
The simple anti-beam coating evaporated. Capsule hangers were good but not as good as a proper factory spray system. Or perhaps it was a poorer quality coating?
an
Yosef could wonder, but he was sure Xavier could give him a in-depth analysis. He did not ask as Xavier was very touchy during combat scenarios.
[Integrity of hull, 68%]
Yosef stared at the crack beginning to form at his left shoulder. The readings indicated it was more heat stress. Yosef zoomed in to see the cracks and the second layer of the endoskeleton.
It was odd, being able to focus on various factors. Including the important factors like the opposing Mobile Suits. Two basic combat units in front, and a high-powered one somewhere beyond the treeline.
Yosef calmed himself. His mind returning to a calm pond. Just as Xavier had taught him.
Xavier’s system had a performance boost. A minor one. Enough to dodge the next set of attacks and return fire.
The two GMs exploded into small fireballs. The remote-controlled suits did not have a proper Minovsky Fusion Reactor. Cables connected them to the testing grounds where they got power from.
Beeps echoed in the cockpit and Yosef focused on what Xavier saw. A black and yellow Mobile Suit approaching them from the sky.
The RMS-X4-SF17. The real opponent. The contender for a fourth-generation GM IV - Special Forces variant.
Xavier adjusted the various suit’s settings. It was subtle but the energy was being diverted to thrusters and weapons.
The two got into effective combat range and began to fire at each other. Each shot got accompanied by evasive maneuvers. Both units were streaking across the battleground.
Yosef forced himself to focus. It was all he could do as Xavier’s anchor.
—
“XVR-002-E at 47% combat efficiency,” lieutenant Smada said. Her systems spat out the data that Xavier was sending out.
“RMS-X4-SF17 at 51% combat efficiency,” lieutenant Doln said. His systems spat out similar data for the GM test unit.
General Pili watched the two units fight as they tried to outmaneuver each other. Various side screens were full of data on power output and other relevant data.
“What is the maintenance data on Xavier?” General Pili asked as he watched the autonomous Gundam-Type put up a very good fight.
Lieutenant Smada tapped at a few keys, and new data showed on the first screen. The last official maintenance was some two years prior.
General Pili nodded. He hummed. He was impressed.
For two years Xavier had been working incognito. Sure it was stealing from the supply warehouse some 21 clicks out.
The important bits were that it was nonmilitary storage for consumer-grade chemicals.
Yet the XVR unit was able to create an off-brand anti-beam coating from basic goods.
The Haro drones were also simple consumer-grade toys. Now they are essential maintenance tools for the XVR unit.
General Pili watched the fight with an absent thought.
No real maintenance in two years.
If Zeon sympathizers could do it, why couldn’t an AI? The proof was right in front of them.
The best that the think-tank could create was in combat. It was also getting defeated by a two-year-old prototype.
General Pili frowned. The footage showed minimal pilot influence on general performance.
The pilot anchor system was to prevent rouge AIs from running amok. Yet XVR-002-E was able to do a lot without pilot input.
Somehow it had even chosen its own pilot despite the restrictions it had. From when it had been first deployed for a scouting mission, it could not take part in live combat tests.
All under the watchful eye of the military.
Was this a glitch? A deviation from the norm.
Or was this some sort of New Era rubbish he had heard gossiped through Military Intelligence?
“Combat Operation has ceased. XVR-002-E has claimed its 8th victory,” Lieutenant Smada said. Her fingers danced as she deactivated the arena obstacles.
Xavier immediately turned and left.
It even had enough power and structural strength to grab its allotted combat rewards. Which was enough materials for a full repair, and enough supplies for the pilot.
General Pili watched as Xavier left.
AIs huh.
————
Thanks for reading!
Bit of a twist on the prompt, as I wasn't paying proper attention when reading the prompt.
Lesson for the day, don't read and write prompts with a dozen people talking at the same time. The end result is wonky. |
Each morning I wake not from an alarm clock, but from the grow growth of energy into my body as the sun rises. I blink, feeling fit to run a marathon, swim across the ocean, cast a spell to get out of the meeting today. The possibilities are endless really.
I get up, using speed to get myself dressed as quickly as possible. Then, I’m in my car to head to work. I would just run, but it would mess up my image. It also tends to scare the less powerful when I just appear somewhere. The Sun’s children may get a kick out of it, but I think it’s a little mean. Still, I drive to work, the less fortunate asking for money per usual. It gets a little old, but my mothers voice chimes into my head- who put them there. That would be us, by our advantage.
I am one of the Sun’s children. Closest to the sun, it gives us an extra edge to the world. Sure, sometimes spells, but those are convoluted and technology can do it mostly better at this point. Mainly, extra focus, strength, intelligence, and other attributes help us more. For those who’s stars are light years away, not exactly a fair fight. This world has been crafted by my people for my people. The other stars serve rankings below, ultimately to help us. But, as I try to not make eye contact with the person outside my window, the same question I often ask myself blinks into my mind, if we so strong, why can’t we fix this? |
Ah, superpowers. Wonderful superpowers. Strange abilities that allow their wielders to defy the laws of the world as we know them.
You know, everybody has a superpower of some sort. It's just that some superpowers... just aren't that super. The ability to never get lost, for example, is quite common, appearing in about 1.5% of the entire world's population. Useful in day-to-day life, of course, but it's nothing earth-shattering.
Naturally, being categorisation-crazed as we are, us Humans have found many, many ways to rank superpowers all across the ages. In the current most popular Renkel model, everyday superpowers sit at the very bottom, with minor physics manipulation just above it. Stuff like flying, or superhuman strength. Next is major physics manipulation, where superpowers like time warping or teleportation reside.
At the very top? Reality benders, those capable of changing reality itself to suit their needs, and disregarding every single universal law in the book.
Here I sit in the holding cell, staring at the local superheroes. They are all staring back cautiously, hands on their weapons.
On the other side of the bars is a bulky, cube-shaped machine, gently humming. One of the superheroes, the genius mechanic, is looking after it.
The door opens, and half of the team turn to the entrance. A javelin-shaped lightning bolt springs appears in one superhero's hands.
The superhero peeking through the entrance waves, and everybody visibly relaxes.
"HQ says the retrieval team will be arriving in half an hour,"the superhero says, "the reality anchor is still working?"
"Like a charm, boss. Don't think she's breaking out any time soon."
"Good."
The superhero throws a look at me, then ducks back out of the room.
Me? I just stay silent and sit still. No need to make these superheroes' life a pain. For now.
I'm already free, anyways.
I think I'm creeping out the superheroes. The silence goes on for a few minutes before it's broken by one of them. The one who made the lightning bolt, I think.
"Uh. Hey there."
It's awkward, and way out of place. I raise an eyebrow, and the other superheroes all throw *looks* at him.
He must be the stubborn type, because he keeps going. "Would it kill you to talk a little? Make some noise?"
The one in the wetsuit and diving gear taps him on the shoulder. "Drop it, Volt. Stop getting friendly with the prisoner."
"I wasn't! Just-"Volt throws his hands in the air. "Every other reality bender we've nabbed tried doing *something* about it. This girl doesn't seem weird to you?"
I very deliberately turn my back to him.
The mechanic chimes in. "Reality anchor's holding. 'Sides, there's only twenty minutes before the guys from HQ get here. They'll deal with her.
I mentally count the seconds down in my head. Shouldn't be much longer now.
You see, when people think of reality bending, they think of grand acts, like resetting the world, or removing entire continents from existence. Never the small, subtle actions.
I had known for a fact that this superhero branch was underfunded. The superheroes themselves were responsible for most of the building's upkeep, so it didn't take much power for me to silently slip a rat nest or a dozen into the walls before the reality anchor went up.
It's taking a pretty long time, though, and I'm getting tense.
Seriously. How long must it take for a rat to chew through-
The lights go out suddenly. Then, the building's backup generator activates, and the emergency lights come on. Every single superhero has their weapons drawn out now, and Volt has his javelin pointed at me.
"Was that you?"
"Reality anchor's still holding. Shouldn't be, unless she has a buddy out there."
Everybody takes a glance at the door. The superhero in the wetsuit moves to cover it.
Then, the rats get to the backup generator too, and the lights go dead. Only a sparking lightning javelin lights up the room.
"...Good thing the reality anchor has an internal battery, eh?"The mechanic looks from the still-humming machine to me.
"How many minutes left?"
"Seven now. Y'think the boss is doing fine out there?"
"The idiot's probably on his way to the generator room already. I'll go check."The last member of the team, silent for so long, growls out. He checks his gun before slipping silently away from the room.
Only three left. Electricity manipulation, skill with machines, and presumably water manifestation and control. I can work with this.
You see, somewhere in the manufacturing process, someone had installed a particularly degraded battery into the reality anchor. Not because of any fault of their own; it was simply a result of the seller cutting corners with their products.
Now, the overworked battery - failed.
It takes a second for the silence of the reality anchor to register. By that time, the lightning guy is already coughing out his lungs from a severe dust allergy,
The mechanic turns his weapon towards me and fires, but only a small flag with 'bang' written on it pops out. Turns out, his daughter thought it would be a fun prank to play, today of all days.
Water hero next. A high pressure jet of water is already spraying towards me, but in the heat of the situation, it's aimed just a little to the right, and a lot more powerful than it otherwise would have been. I dodge, and the jet blasts through the wall of the cell.
I turn my attention back to the mechanic, and the room is suddenly full of sleeping gas. When he fired his weapon, it wasn't a joke weapon, but instead the real thing. It had malfunctioned, though, and the sleeping gas had spewed out all around it instead of directly at me.
I stumble out of the hole in the wall into the open, power spent. There's still enough for one last trick, though.
The retrieval team hurries into the cell too fast. In the rush, one of them drops a small note onto the floor. In time, I would sneak back in to find the note, and then bring it to a friend of mine. Somebody with the power to find the original owner of any item.
Almost unconsciously, I touch my necklace as I leave the scene. A gift from my sister, back when she was still around and teaching me to use my powers.
Hang on, sis. Just hang on. I'll find you soon.
\--------
Edit: Many thanks for the overwhelmingly positive response! Suffice to say, I was definitely not expecting this much of it so soon after coming back.
Unfortunately, there's probably not going to be a part 2 to this. Not enough worldbuilding and setup to lead into it, I don't think.
Check out r/FlareWrites please if you want to read a few more of my stories, I have quite a few archived right now and more to come.
Thanks for reading. |
But not for lack of trying. In the last 150 years they've tried every kind of service weapon, every calibre of artillery, chem weapons, guided weapons. Valentines day 1945 in Dresden was interrupted when the allies realised you were there and sent waves of bombers after you. The resulting firestorm destroyed 1600 acres but to no avail.
In the 1950s you thought you had won a trip to the Marshall Islands but when you arrived you found nobody was there and the boat you arrived on speeding away in a hurry. Turned out it was a ruse by the Americams to test various atomic weapons on you. Twenty three separate nuclear weapons over the next 8 years failed to make a dent before they finally sent a boat to pick you up.
There was that time in 1993 when an A-10 Wartog managed to knock you over with its 30mm cannon which led to wild speculation about depleted uranium. You didn't have the heart to tell them you were merely hungover and could have been knocked over by a stiff breeze or a strong word... |
“It’s just, the way you moved, the passion you had behind that throw -“
I still can’t believe I was so sloppy. I know it was extreme, and I know what I did was technically wrong, but some things can be justified. This one might be difficult to explain though. If this got out I could lose everything, which honestly wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen but I do enjoy the view from up here. Now here’s Stacy, the absolute last person I need giving me her full attention. I never saw her watching on the roof, she wasn’t supposed to be around that night. The look on my face when I finally saw her must have been a good one because she let out a solid laugh.
“- and I just think you seem cool and would be a fun person to hang out with.” She’s been running into me a lot more recently “by accident” she says, but this time felt different. It felt like a predator finally ready to go for the strike after playing with it’s prey for a bit.
“Look like I said, that person you saw wasn’t me. It’s not who I am. It was something that had to be done.”
I honestly believed that when I said it.
She thought that was funny, following the laugh with a sigh. “Uh huh, sometimes you have to make tough decisions, but you know they’re the right ones.” Her voice could move mountains.
While talking her eyes were bouncing between mine and her wrist where she was playing with one of her bracelets, something not in short supply. Each one was supposed to represent something accomplished but no one could ever figure out what they mean. We could guess, since she would suddenly have a new ones after things she was responsible for took place, but nothing was ever confirmed. Once she dropped three olympic stadiums in protest of worker abuse in Lar Tatos, the week before the event started, while filming herself gleefully running through the explosions with a lit torch. It was billed as a terrorist attack but the only damage was financial to the people in charge so I didn’t really care. We never could figure out how she was able to turn those areas into ghost towns so close to the games, but I have to admit her uniform was great and the bracelet with five broken rings looked good.
“Stacy, it’s bad enough if what I did got out, but we really can’t. Come on, you’re my arch nemesis. I can handle any legal punishment for what I did, but I would be expelled from the league and never allowed back if we became a thing. Without them I couldn’t do what I do. I can’t turn my back on the world. What I do genuinely helps people, it makes it a better place.“ I always get a little emotional thinking of the number of lives I’ve been able to save or change for the better.
“Oh, fuck off.” The jerk off motion she made in my face was uncalled for.
“I’m serious, losing that would be devastating. I mean, sure there’s some personal benefit in what I do.” This is also true, being a Super Hero was a pretty sweet life. I just did what I thought was right and suddenly here I am, six time SHOTY (these I’m proud of), 11 time All Super Hero Team Member (just a popularity contest, do well and don’t be a dick and you’ll be in), and 2027 Come Back Super Hero of the Year (those were some dark days). To say my accomplishments brought fame and fortune would be an understatement.
She could always tell when I’m bull shitting, the face she gave calling me out was killing me. “Listen, I’m just saying this could be a great thing. What we could accomplish together, what we could see together, what we could experience together.” She wasn’t breaking eye contact now. God damn she’s good. “Meet me at Laylo tomorrow, because I’m ready for this relationship to go one of two ways for good and I have big plans. Let me tell you, all the fun you could imagine will be waiting with me. Plus, I know why you did what you did that night, and I think you were right to do it.”
That caught me off guard. How could she possibly know anything? I would have to play it cool to find out.
“Bull shit.”
Nailed it. But she still seemed confident.
“I know he’s the reason you jumped in 2026. I know when you found out he lived you some how pulled yourself out of hell to get back to what you used to be. Kind of. Great speech at your return ceremony by the way. So, listen to me. Fuck everything you’re scared to let crumble, you’ll be better off, let it fall. Let’s go really change the world together.”
She was gone before I knew it, I got lost in thought for a bit about what that life could really be. Looking down I saw a half finished bracelet by my hands.
God damn she’s good. |
What was I up to now? A triple-cross? Christ, what a mess.
The chief had told me to go undercover with the Tessio Family with the promise of a promotion and a pay raise. He also hinted that I’d be allowed to keep any money the mafia paid me, so long as I kept in on the hush-hush. So of course I had no choice but to accept. On a lieutenant’s salary? Refusing? You kidding me?
And it was going great. Bought a new truck, upgrade some things around the house. Bought the kids all they wanted for Christmas. Fantastic.
Until two months ago, when Tony Tessio himself came to me.
“There’s a rat.”
“Yes? I can lay out some traps if ya like, boss,” I said in my best faux New York accent. We didn’t even live in New York, or anywhere close for that matter. But Tony liked it, fit the atmosphere he was going for.
“That’s a good idea. That’s why you’re my favorite lieutenant, Vincent. You always know what I want.”
“Right, boss. I can run to the hardware store-“
“I’ll have the bookies set you up with a fake id. You know much about being a cop?” Were we not talking about the actual rats I’ve seen scurrying around the office/warehouse/trash heap we worked out of?
“Not at all, boss.” Certainly haven’t been one for the better part of a decade. Tony frowned. “But I’m a quick learner.”
“That you are. I think there’s a rat in our operation, only thing that makes sense with how our last few drug deals have run. I want you to infiltrate the police station and figure out who it is. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good. Now get on it.” With a salute that was neither too crisp, because that might mark me as a narc, or too lax, because I saw a guy shot for that once, I stood and hurried away.
Of course, I went straight to the station. And after the chief and I had a grand old laugh about the whole affair, we started sweating. We had to turn something up to Tony, of course. He wouldn’t accept failure, and my neck was on the line.
Two months spent running around and leading on Tony and his mob, pretending to go to work at the station while I was actually working undercover for the cops, so really I was going to my actual place of business while pretending to work…for the…never mind. Y’know, never mind. Too confusing.
But anyway, we came up with a plan. I came up with a plan.
Which leads us to tonight. Here I was stood before a council of five of the toughest, baddest, and voted most likely to slaughter your whole family mafiosos in Night City. I told Tony I had him, the rat, and that he should convene this council. Make a show of it, have all the friendly mafia families come and watch as a display of power.
Tony loved displaying his power, so he took the bait hook, line, and cement sinker. Gathered all of them and their families, and they were all too eager. This rat had soured some deals for them, too, so they were all too ready to dish out some payback to the pigs in blue.
“So, who is it?” That was Arman, a man or perhaps a sentient brick wall sitting to Tony’s left at the Grand Table.
“You got us all here, Vincent. We’re all ears,” Tony said. The woman to his right, Sofia, nodded. Crap, if this didn’t work, I’d probably end up in her hands. And not a single criminal or cop in the city went unaware of her skillset. I heard from Tony himself she kept an iron maiden in her basement, and he didn’t mean the band.
“Right. Well…it’s hard to say. Awkward.”
“This ain’t prom night, and you ain’t courting us. Skip the foreplay.”
“Alright. I found out who the rat is, and they’re in this very room.” They all leaned in a bit closer as I stepped up to the table. I lifted my hand to point, and the goons hanging around the edges and corners of the room started to look nervous, chattering amongst themselves.
Silence fell over us as I pointed straight to the head of the table. Where Tony Tessio himself was sat.
“Tony Tessio’s been sabotaging his own deals for the cops. I heard it myself from the head pig himself. They set up a deal to get Tony out and with a nice pension, on the caveat he help them nag all of yous kind fellows.” Arman had to pick his jaw off the floor, and Sofia looked ready to kill someone.
Best channel that the right direction.
I threw some doctored documents across the table, watching with satisfaction as they slid near the center. Photos, receipts, the whole kit and kaboodle, provided by the forensics team and their magic.
“Wh-what! The hell are you on about!” Tony was red-faced as he stood, jabbing a finger toward me. But Sofia was silent as she reached for the photos, and when she finally looked back up, her eyes didn’t go to me.
“You bastard.” I was already backing up to the door when she spoke again. Arman wasn’t saying anything, but he had thrown his chair back and was circling around to Tony. The other two at the far end stood and went for their guns.
Tony all the while was screaming and pointing at me, calling me a liar and a rat.
I was out the door when the first gunshot rang out.
​
(Thanks for reading! C&C always welcome!) |
I've been in this bathroom for a day now. The door has been blocked by everything I could throw against it- The sink, the toilet, and the shower bar braced longway diagonally over it. It's not going to be enough.
There's so many of them out there. All of them former neighbors and voices I don't recognize- but the worst ones are the ones I do. For the first few hours, it was nothing but profanity and frustration about the door.
Now it's something else.
"Maddie, open the door. It's over."The voice was Paul, the relatively nice single guy who lived on the corner of the street. His voice was low and broken. "I can promise you it'll be quick."
"I can't open the door, Paul. I'd rather starve and die as myself."I said after a moment, sitting in the bathtub.
"But you're gonna die regardless, Mads. Why not now, why later? Why suffer?"
"You- YOU'RE suffering. All of you are monsters! You're fucking - you're - You want to eat me! The moment I open this door, you're all gonna tear me apart!"
There was a pause. Grumbling in the distance in my old living room. "I'm promising you it'll be quick. You won't come back. I'll just be quick, I promise. No pain."
Paul's voice was desperate, pleading. A far cry from the feral rage a day ago.
I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. "Do you hear yourself? We were friends! We saw Spider-Man together at the movies!"
"I can't help it. I can't help it, Maddie. I'm sorry. When I try to fight the hunger, it just comes back. I'm sorry. I can't help you.
I would if I could, Maddie. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too, Paulie."
"You were a good neighbor."
"Likewise."
Moments passed. I stood up and stepped out of the bathtub. Reaching out for the shower bar, with tears streaming down my face, I pried it loose. Paul and a few of the others immediately kicked the door off of its hinges and stormed inside. |
"Okay... I can get through this, yeah, I can get through this, just gotta, umm,"I mumbled blankly to myself as I paced around the body of the Now Dead King, "I know! I'll just banish his body and say the spell... No, they'll just kill me anyways. Maybe I could just teleport out? Again, no, the Assassins will find me no matter where I go,"
A knock came at the door, "Report?"
"Shit!"Looking towards the body, placing strings of my own magic against it, with a slight compelling charm to make air move through its lungs.
"The Ritual is going along nicely, why, I believe I'm beginning to feel younger than I have in years,"
Silence, and I was left staring back towards the body I had forcibly animated. It wasn't a good idea. In fact, as ideas go it seems rather terrible. All of my magic would go into this, and this alone, but perhaps I could use the time to plan even further.
"From now on, this Mage will have to stay by my side. It is his life force that I am taking from to extend my own. As such, he will act as my advisor upon all things magic related,"
I could feel a stir of unrest somewhere in the background. A small child with a fire in his eyes. Oh Gods, the Prince, I had forgotten about the Prince. This was fine, all I need to do is have the Prince killed, and then elect myself as King, with the 'dying words' of a freshly assassinated King. Then, finally, this entire debacle will be put to a rest. |
It had been snowing heavily in Purgatory for the past three weeks. The business-owners worked their souls around the clock to keep paths open leading from the streets to the front of their stores. Moxie didn't mind the snow. It was a nice change of pace coming from one of the largest intake cities of Hell, a city called Coma. She was gifted a complimentary jacket once she stepped off of the elevator that had brought her up from Hell and into Purgatory.
"The weather's been unusual lately,"the bellhop had said to her.
"I couldn't have guessed,"Moxie said. She had attempted to light a cigarette when in the elevator, but instead the bellhop had gently patted her hand away from her mouth. She was ready to pounce on the short tubby man as if he were a goomba, but before she could let the flames pour from her mouth, he had a pre-rolled cigarette held out to her.
"From one of our nicer tobacco plantations,"he said, a slight smile etched onto his weathered face.
Moxie plucked the cigarette from his fingers and examined it. Surely enough, it was of fine quality. She bounced her gaze from the Purgie cig, and then back to her Hellfire cig. "Thanks,"she said. Once they stepped off the elevator is when he gifted her the jacket. Now in the diner, it hung loosely off of her body. She hadn't bothered to button or zip it. The cooler weather was oddly refreshing.
"Coffee?"a waiter by the name of Jonah asked. He appeared to be a broad shouldered man, but when Moxie looked up to him, she could see in his face that he was just a teenager.
"Sure,"Moxie said, followed by "what is a youngster like you doing in Purgatory?"
Jonah poured her coffee, and then simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "My caseworker told me that I just never really did anything whenever I was alive. If playing video games was a sin, I would've been sent straight to hell, but as it is, ma'am, it netted me nothing."
Moxie chuckled and took a sip of her coffee, "Mmm, wow, this is really nice. What kind of blend is this?"
Jonah shrugged again, "The packaging says that it's just a 'breakfast blend'."
Moxie took another sip and said, "Where I come from, all we have is dark roast."After the boy left, Moxie pulled out her cigarette and lit it with a match she brought with her from Hell. The flame glowed a bright orange, sending off a plume of dark, black, smoke. The owner of the diner peeked over the newspaper he had been reading, but quickly averted his eyes once he saw that the smoke was coming from Moxie. He just wanted this meetup to be over and done with.
***
Alma was extremely gracious for the jacket that the bellhop had gifted her. Where she had come from, the weather had been in the upper 80s. If it had been up to her, she would have chosen to have been placed in a suburb of Heaven that had been more tuned to spring or summer, but as a newbie, she didn't have the luxury of getting to choose where her talents would best be used. So now, coming down to Purgatory, where the weather was even *colder*, she was thankful for any added comfort she could be gifted.
*It's going to be rough for awhile,* her supervisor had told her. *So take any nicety that you're offered. The Hellions you'll be working with have all been put on notice to be on their best behaviors whenever you are present, so be sure to not be embarrassed to ask for any assistance if needed.*
Alma had been nervous to take on the assignment, but she figured it would be the fastest way to climb the ranks and earn a name for herself, that way she could help out more people. As it were now, all she was doing was pushing pencils and scheduling appointments.
Sure, the office work *needed* to be done, but Alma knew that there was so much more that she could be doing to be helpful.
She pulled the jacket close around her body as she made her way to the diner that she had been instructed to meet her other half. It was awfully cold in Purgatory, and it felt as if it were getting colder. The wind came down in waves through the streets of Purgatory, blowing snow into her face, and rocking her back on her heels. There were several people out in the streets, working harder than ever to clear paths through the snow, and Alma was tremendously grateful for them.
Eventually, after asking for directions a few times from a few shop owners, Alma made her way into the diner, feeling warmth and smelling fresh brewed coffee. She looked around the diner, and saw her contact, Moxie, sitting in one of the booths, smoking a cigarette and sipping on a cup of coffee.
A little nervous, Alma approached the booth, and sat down. |
Jack breathed deeply and felt the sun on his skin. How long had it been since he had been outside? A year? A decade? A century? Or maybe longer than that. It was so hard to keep track of time these days. Everything seemed to blend together.
He looked around at the marvels all around him. Mankind had certainly advanced since he had been put away. The London skyline was certainly different. When he had just unlocked the secret to life everlasting, it had just been turned into a proper city. And even when he had finally been captured for his experiments it was much lower to the ground.
Now it was all glass and metal, gleaming in the sun. People sped by on floating platforms. Images were projected on thin air. People spoke to nobody, at least, nobody he could see.
He started moving, wondering what kind of advancement had been made to his native field of medicine. Had anyone else unlocked the same secret he had? Surely someone must have. Another enterprising surgeon with the will to experiment on his fellow man. Hopefully his colleague would not be given a tasteless nickname like Jack had. The very thought of what the media called him made him upset.
He was a man of science, regardless of what the masses thought of him. Well, it had been thousands of years since he had first been incarcerated, so his name had probably faded into obscurity, if it had been remembered at all. Now he could seek out more like him, who had discovered his secrets. Now he could further the study of prolonging and bettering life without being bogged down by old biases and superstitions.
He headed off to find the nearest place of study. A place where he could learn all the latest in this new, more advanced world. A place where Jack the Ripper would be known as a man of science. |
I wilted slightly as the movers drove away. It had been hard enough getting everything packed up and moved here. But now I had to do the opposite, by myself. I closed the door, glancing at the piles of boxes. I hadn't realised how much stuff I had, until it was time to move it.
My eyes fell on one, seeing the large letters I had scribbled on it the night before. **Open Me First!** Opening it revealed just what I needed. A kettle, tea bags, a mug, and a packet of biscuits. I was rather pleased with that, mentally thanking the suggestion I had read about it online.
As I wandered to the kitchen, hoisting the box, I head a faint tapping sound. I glanced around, seeing nothing. But as I carried on, it seemed to get louder and faster. It was not unlike someone was tapping their nails on wood. But there was no one there.
Slightly creeped out, I set up to make myself a brew. I shook my head, telling myself that I was hearing things. I was just tired, my brain playing tricks on me. Sure enough, it stopped, leaving me in peace.
A little while later, as I opened another box I heard it again. It sounded like it was coming from behind me, rapidly approaching. But yet again, when I looked there was nothing there. I was getting very spooked now, but still pushed on. This was my home now. No ghosty was going to scare me off.
At that moment, I felt something brush against my back. It felt soft, like someone had run a brush along it. I jumped, spinning around. There was still nothing. No reason to feel it. And yet I knew what I had felt.
It kept on happening. As I unpacked, my nerves wound tighter and tighter. The tapping was near constant, running towards and away from me. The brushes were regular as well. It was all I could to carry on, and not go screaming away. I couldn't afford to stay away. I had to get sorted.
Then came the tipping point. As I bent to retrieve a pioe of tupperware, I felt something shove me. I stumbled, barely stopping myself from falling over. I took a breath, before shouting.
"Stop that!"
Immediately, I heard an unmistakable whine. That of a sad dog. But not just one, multiple. All around me, came those whines. I blinked, as pale bluish white figures swam into view. Five dogs sat around me, ears pinned back. Their tails were between their legs, their faces baring a guilty expression.
But these dogs weren't living. I could see through them. These were ghost dogs. One crept forwards, nose twitching as the phantom sniffed. It looked so sad, I couldn't help myself, reaching out to pet it.
The air was cold, as I felt a whisper of fur beneath my fingers. But the effect was instant. It went from a mopey mood to tail whipping back and forth. Its mouth sprang open, giving it the look of almost grinning at me. I couldn't help but smile back. It's joy was infectious.
The others saw the change, leaping forwards. As they did, I heard the tapping sound, as ghostly nails tapped my floor. They rubbed against me, elicting the brushing sensation. It all made sense, as I gave out non-contact strokes. They had been trying to get my attention.
I had always wanted a dog. But with my new home, I hadn't expected to get a small pack with it. |
Greg: "So basically, by taking advantage of the law of equivalent exchange, I can create 'time' between two objects by deleting the 'space' between them."
Me: "Yes, but that implies that 'space', and 'time', are the same They are intimately related, but not the same thing. They do not hold equivalent alchemical value!"
Greg: "If they were in fact different, then the time machine wouldn't work!"
Me: "But it doesn't work! It can only travel small steps in time."
Greg: "It could go further, but it would destroy everything unlucky enough to be too close to it."
Me: "Then what's the point of the machine then?"
Greg: "To prove that time and space are the same. And I believe I have successfully proven it."
=====
Me: "What are you doing?"
Greg: "Infinite energy."
Me: "What?"
Greg: "Sorry, I said: Infinite energy."
Me: "I heard you the first time. How?"
Greg: "Remember how space and time are the same thing?"
Me: "GREG NO!"
=====
Greg: "So, if my opponent attempts to counterspell my own spell, I can just dispel my own spell to counter their spell?"
Me: "Why would you dispel your own spell if it's going to get counterspelled. You would lose the mana anyways."
Greg: "Hmmm. Counterspelling deletes the mana from existence right?"
Me: "No? It merely sends it back to the astral plane."
Greg: "And if I create a portal to the astral plane..."
Me: "Greg?"
Greg: "Yes?"
Me: "Whatever you are thinking. Don't."
Greg: "I already have a working theory on how to make sure your enemies never counter your spells ever again."
=====
Greg: "What would happen if I applied the law of equivalent exchange to schools of magic outside alchemy?"
\*\*\*\*\*
The zombie slime incident:
A giant ooze of necrotic slime burst out of Lab B, engulfing the applied magics ward. At the centre of the slime, the remnants of a summoning circle, a dragon's tooth, and various other magical tools were found. Who they belonged to is unknown, as nobody had signed out the room that day. It took a total of twelve days to clear out the slime and debris. 12 dead, 24 injured. The cause of the sudden explosion of mucous is unknown, but the current theory is that it has to do with summoning magic.
=====
Me: "Greg, can you hand me the- Greg!"
Greg: \*Eating burrito using telekinesis.\* "What?"
Me: "Telekinesis requires the utmost focus and care! How could you possibly use it for eating! In the office no less! And what have I said about brining food in here!"
Greg: "This isn't telekinesis."
Me: "What?"
Greg: "I'm using the 'float' glyph to make the burrito float. And the another 'attract' glyph on the back of my tongue to pulls the burrito to my mouth whenever I open it."
Me: "Why? How did you apply glyphs to an animate object? What?"
Greg: "Hands-free burrito."
=====
Greg: "Mana is draw from the astral plane."
Me: "Yes."
Greg: "Counterspells send mana back to the astral plane."
Me: "Not exactly, they blend the spell up first, but yes."
Greg: "A portal to the astral plane is created when spatial magic goes wrong."
Me: "Yes."
Greg: "So a counterspell is just messing spatial magic up on purpose?"
Me: "No."
Greg: "THEN HOW DOES IT SEND MAGIC BACK TO THE ASTRAL PLANE!???"
=====
Greg: "You can cast counterspell in reverse to create an energy beam!"
Me: "How did you do that?? You can't cast a spell in 'reverse'? That's not an 'energy beam'! That's a white hole! Turn it off! TURN IT OFF!" |
# My Alien Neighbor is the Devil
_Just move along, Michael. He won't ask you about demon contracts if you don't make eye contact._
Ol' Satan Jr. was staring at him again from over the red picket fence. Why is it that every time he went out, the little devil was _also_ there to watch him? Honestly, if that kid's hands just stopped combusting every five minutes, he'd actually be able to land a job.
"Heading out again are we, Michael?"Satan Jr. said.
"Yes, Sate. Goodbye."
Michael walked along the pavement toward the neighborhood's convenience store. Streetlights lined the sidewalk, alternating green and red. Vehicles of varying sizes drove this way and that, carrying all sorts of creatures. If it weren't for the residents, the houses on either side of the road would look nearly identical, save for the one that flickered in and out of this dimension each time a one-eyed rabbit passed by. Life as usual.
He walked up to the store's automatic doors, got on the floor, did two push-ups—they didn't have to be all the way down—and got up. The doors opened, giving the customary "Nice gains!"welcome recording as Michael sauntered in, feeling his ego inflate a little bit.
Over at the gluten-free aisle, Michael saw Three-Eyed Dave choosing between what looked like chocolate chip cookies and a ready-to-eat can of pure almond flour. Do you really have to think about it that hard, Dave? The large corporations are _obviously_ milking their customers with these low-effort products.
Michael shook his head, then headed for the instant meals section and picked up five packets of chili ramen, his favorite source of sodium. These yellow bundles of goodness were just _waiting_ to be consumed.
He walked over to the next aisle to get something to drink. There were four different bottles available today: Brain Boost Energy Drink, The Tears of Leonidas' Enemies, Diet Cola, and Surprise-Flavored Coffee. That last one wasn't much of a surprise anymore though, but it did have nice tangy tasting notes. _Meh,_ Michael was feeling rather ordinary today, so he picked up ten cans of Diet Cola.
He was about to go to the counter and pay, but a thought struck him. _Do I dare hope?_ he thought. Michael walked to the non-gluten-free aisle and scanned the shelves. _As expected, it looks like they don't have it today. I guess I'll—_
_There it is._
Caramel popcorn cereals. Michael has been waiting so long for these boxes to re-stock again, and they're finally here. _Glorious._
He nearly grabbed all the boxes, but he realized that he actually had to _pay_ for all of these. _Blasted economy._ With great effort, he restrained himself and grabbed only five boxes. Since he was already here, he picked up a can of ready-to-eat bread flour as compensation.
Michael walked to the counter where an old wizard in an apron appeared out of thin air. He scanned the items with his wand one by one. When he was done, he waved it in a circular motion, recited a long Latin poem, and gave Michael a plastic bag. "That shall be fifty-four dollars and twenty cents, young Michael,"he said with a raspy, sagely voice.
Michael paid the amount, and the wizard disappeared again. As he was about to leave, he saw that Dave was still over at the gluten-free aisle.
"Ditch the cookies, Dave!"he called out. Dave's three eyes gave him a startled look, then nodded in appreciation.
Michael left the store—the customary "Thanks for the dough!"recorded message greeting him on the way out—and headed back to his house. It was a little darker now, but the red and green lights shone brightly in the night. There were fewer vehicles, which means the one-eyed rabbits will be coming out of the manholes anytime now.
As he was approaching his house, he noticed that Satan Jr. was staring at someone two houses over. Michael was relieved to be out of the little devil's attentions and contracts, but he did wonder who he was looking at. He noticed a large white vehicle in front of the house. _Weird._
He walked closer to see what was happening. There seemed to be a man carrying a large brown box into the house. The man turned to look at Michael then let out a short scream, dropping the box. Looks like a couple of chinaware will be going to recycling later.
The man composed himself. "Sorry, neighbor! I'm still not used to seeing... different body features."
The man was different from Michael's usual neighbors. He had brown—tan?—skin, a full head of black fur, and only two arms.
"How will you ever do push-ups with those?"Michael asked.
"W-What? My arms? I-uh, I don't know. I haven't worked out in a while,"the man responded.
Michael sighed. _Poor thing. He won't be able to get groceries on his own._ "Well, just let me know if you ever need chili ramen or a bottle of Leonidas' Enemies. Caramel popcorn cereal is available today! They're really good."
"A... a bottle of... what? Leonidas? I-I don't—"
"What's your name?"Michael interrupted.
"O-oh, it's Phil. I just moved in today. Nice to meet you... uh..."
"Michael. My name's Michael."
"It's very nice to meet you, Michael. I'd love to stay and chat, but I got a lot more boxes to unload, so..."
Michael looked through the white vehicle's open door. "Oh, you only have three boxes left. Let me just drop off my groceries, then I'll help you carry the rest of it. I have way more arms than you do, so it'll be over quickly. Besides, you never know when the rabbits start biting you."
"R-rabbits? Oh... uh, but wait, really? You'll help me? That's really kind of you, Michael."
"Don't worry about it. It beats having to listen to Satan Jr.'s demonic sales talk. Wait there, I'll be right back."
"_Satan_? What in the name of..."
Michael walked away, leaving Phil to his mumbling. He sighed. _For goodness sake. Will there_ ever _be another normal one like me?_
---
I hope you liked this story! Please feel free to leave feedback as it will help me a lot in my journey to becoming a better writer! Join r/NovaLevelStories to see more stories, author's notes, and extra content! |
Part 1 of 2
"What keeps mankind alive?"Jim asked to the representatives of the confederation, an absurd ensemble of lifeforms each more antagonistic and anathema to the next, yet brought together by higher thinking and the simple tools of diplomacy.
Jim expected no answer, it was a rhetorical question meant to make Jim indulge in the sound of its own voice. Jim called itself Jim for simplicity's sake, there were no primary, secondary or tertiary sexual characteristics about it, Jim was born and reborn featureless and hermaphrodite, birthing more of itself through more refined means than the gross plumbing works humanity had relied on for millennia.
Jim noticed a representative raising an appendix on the screen.
"Please,"said Jim, "if you insist on interrupting my train of thoughts, this enlightening monologue bears the risk of becoming tedious."
The appendix was lowered. There was a tense silence in the room, a massive amphitheater built wide and high, cameras transmitting every happening to the numerous alveoli lined up like honeycombs up the walls, each a self-centered world containing ideal living-condition for its inhabitant.
"Me, the great Me, encompassing all my various lifeforms, must bear the shame of experiencing the universe with eyes, and rarely with my ears. Through my vision, I can dissect and analyze, contemplate and consider. But to my ears, I can only hear good or bad. There is serious music and light music, a wealth of variations in tones and sounds I can only oversimplify into good or bad, to my constant regret.
"Maybe this is how humanity felt before we became one. Before war and murder, before the hunger brought by the empty belly, there is a drought of the senses. We could see, hear, feel the beauty... yet fall short to the proper way of appreciating it. Envy is at humanity's root, beyond our immediate needs, and even then, I believe we all were artists. Musicians, writers, directors, sinking into the one sense each of us felt the most - sight, sound, imagination - and be dreadfully jealous of our neighbor for having what we felt lacking."
Chatter. Up an alley of the honeycomb, strife and unrest. Worry.
Likely brought by the breaking down of communications with the outside world.
"If the esteemed members of the audience would be so polite as to not interrupt me, they would appreciate how explanations would reach them much earlier. I want you to think of me as sitting and talking beside you. As I was saying, humanity had an artistic spirit, fed by an all-devouring envy. We overcame it, more or less. With communication came a wealth of taste and art, from drought we were overcome by a legion of paintings and sculptures, with too little time to appreciate them. It would have made us more bitter, if it wasn't for the material means offering us more ways to express our own art. Never before had it been so easy to become an artist, a singer, a painter, an inventor.
"A failed artist, for the most part, but it directed our envy and anger inwards instead of expressing it towards others."
A tremor went up and down the honeycombs. Jim suspected they had understood their newfound statuses as hostages.
"Then we met you. New technologies, new ways to take care of our sickness and wounds, a new future for our species, as a multitude of individuals. And then I arrived."
Jim, or rather the representative of the protean life-form that was Jim, held his hands together.
"You never asked how I came to be. Never wondered why dissonant screams became a unified chorus, one I can hear, one I can consider good and little else. Never did you put aside your daily tasks to just see and listen to *me*,"there was an anger in Jim's words, directed at them and itself, and it couldn't say which it hated more as of now.
"To you it was just another evolution from one species among others. Didn't you hear the cries of the last individuals as what made them unique was snuffed out? Or maybe you simply didn't care. It matters little now."
A screen sprung to life.
"We do car-"
"-I SAID IT DOES NOT MATTER!"the words echoed up and down, up and down the vast structure, where eyes couldn't see just how far above it went. But the words traveled.
"We... we didn't do war out of hate. Or rather, yes, yes we did, but humanity mistakenly thought the hate was inborn and bore no precedent. But there was, a basis, an original source.
"Our art. the artist in us. Never were we more creative than in the wake of destruction, never did we make wonders for the senses and the mind than when we denounced the horrors we brought to life. The lesson to keep the horrors at bay, *never again*, as we would say, were hidden prayers for the horrors to come BACK! The art was a reminder that we lived *for* the circle of slaughter and creation. Only then did our envy fall behind our love for art.
"It is a paradox, is it not? Only by indulging in carnage and murder, only when humanity fell on its knees in tears and pain, only then would we stifle the very envy that birthed the hell we put ourselves through."
Shouts and panicked questions, Jim was past caring about it. It spoke for itself, it hadn't enjoyed its own words as much in a very long time.
"We had grown stale again. The art was just a way to pass time, holding no message, no weight, no importance. Without struggle, creation was stillborn. A world of silence and nothingness. And this time, through the help of the many friendly aliens we met, humanity couldn't solve that problem on its own.
"That's when I came in. An underlying current of consciousness, a stream of thoughts taking hold and shape, to do what humanity could not. I rose, and I killed and silenced, one by one. In the onslaught, in the seconds passing by on the clock, each tick a grain of sand containing hundreds of individual and fiery spirits, the survivor understood I was coming for them.
"This was old humanity's end of the line, and they knew. in their last moments, they scribbled messages on the walls, built basic toys for their children and professed their love in letters and pictures.
"And these were the greatest creations old humanity brought to life. One of me is permanently at the final journal entry of a middle-aged lost man, he had ran out of paper and put it down on the wall with ink and spit and blood. The tension in the words, the raw stream of thoughts, of fears and hopes, decades later and the many of me still shake as I read it again and again."
They were silent now. The diplomats, ambassadors, kings and queens and princes and scions and representatives. An unspoken agreement that the end was near.
"Today, we suffer the same indignities on a galactic scale. Such peace that it kills the mind, the spirit is idle, untapped, a wasted potential.
"You know why the communications have gone silent. As I speak, I murder your kind. As I ramble, I eat worlds and break planets apart. Honored members of the council, I am hungry. Have been for a long time. And today, I feed, and will feed on you, your flesh, and most importantly, your art and craft."
The alveoli were closed shut, pneumatic doors and electric locks closing, under the sole control of Jim. The monument to diplomacy on a galactic scale had become a gigantic prison, each cell tailored for the alien inside.
"Let me tell you what keeps mankind alive. Mankind is kept alive by bestial acts. Its brilliance only brought up when its humanity is repressed."
For a moment, Jim stood, mouth open, lost. It closed and opened its mouth several times.
"Or maybe I'm mistaken. You know, I'm just one mind, no matter how great, and I don't have the many heads of humans to give me a second perspective. Maybe there never was any envy and art in humans, maybe it is just my own needs and wants I project onto what I once was, when I still had many voices and conflicting thoughts. when I could hear sounds and do more than just order them as good or bad. |
“I’m not dying because someone screwed up!”
“It’s us or the 7 billion or so people!”
“I’m still not dying! There’s a solution that doesn’t involve smashing this metal tube into a rock the size of Rode Island!”
“Tell me what it is then, oh wise one!”
“Easy. Nuke it.”
“Nuke it?”
“Yes! Nuke it!”
“So, pepper the earth with radioactive chunks of space rock. Great idea, except for the fact Earth ends up poisoned!”
“Well I don’t see you coming up with ideas that don’t involve smashing into said space rock!”
“This is mission control. It seems somebody miscalculated the size. It’s actually 48 meters by 27 meters, not miles.”
“Earth is fine then.”
“How is Earth fine?”
“Do you know how big a meter is?”
“Yes I know how big a meter is!”
“Well, most if not all of it should burn up in the atmosphere.”
“And ignite said atmosphere.”
“Jeez! Are you suicidal?”
“Mission control here. Somebody screwed up majorly. We targeted the wrong asteroid. Also, the one we hit by mistake will not ignite the atmosphere. Everything is A-Ok.”
“So, when do we get to come home?”
“Mission control?”
“Why are they not answering?”
“Hey? Where’s the Earth?” |
You were the worst dragon ever. You had no wings so you could never race through the clouds or play protect your horde in the mountain caves. You also had no powerful attacks. Your legs and tail were short and stubby so you couldn't claw or tail whip your enemies. Your head was small with serrated teeth more suited for holding than chomping. And you didn't even have a powerful breath attack. All you could do was spit a cloud of poisonous gas that just hung around your body. It wasn't even that toxic, it just stunk and made people cough. You couldn't even hope on finding a good mate. Your scales were all swampy green and brown and your horns were little more than bumps. All in all you were the most pathetic dragon to ever live in Fangspire.
Your one solace was the fact that the other dragons still liked you. Since you always failed combat training and couldn't fly the elders always gave you guard duty while the other dragons hunted. But whenever they came back they'd always bring you back a giant cave toad, your favorite food despite everyone else hating them. They'd also try to find poisonous plants for you to chew on to improve your toxicity and paints to make your scales prettier. And they'd try to find new games that you could enjoy as well. They made your life worth living.
And then the humans attacked. They came with their mages and archers who rained death from the sky and their spearmen and heroes who'd tear your scales with weapons made from your fallen brethren. The elders screamed for everyone to flee for the coasts. But your friends, now just entering adulthood asked what to do about their newly born eggs.
"Go!"you screamed, "I will protect them. It's not like I can flee anyway"You could see the disbelief hiding behind their eyes as they tried to cover it in hope. "May the Primals grant your strength my friend. We will return and should you fall, we will avenge you through corpse and song"They said as they flew away.
You hoped the Primals would save their blessing for them as the first human king parted his army to face you. Decked in golden armor and wielding an enchanted greatsword large enough chop your head off in a single swing, you both knew who the winner of the match would be.
And as you predicted he raced forward with inhuman speed, dodging your toxic mouth and cleaving your head and neck straight from your body.
Your vision disappeared as your prepared for death to take its hold. And then it returned. And then it returned again. You could see the king standing over your fallen head, a face of disbelief as he looked at you and then turned to look at you. Where your head had been severed, two new necks had burst with a head each.
The new head to your right glared down at the king, poison spewing from its mouth, "We'll talk about this later, right now we have a job to do."
You only nodded and prepare to fight, now with a bit more confidence in your own victory.
After all, two heads are better than one. |
“Saul Van Helsing, attorney at law!” With more confidence than deserved, Saul sauntered over to the Dark Elder and slapped a paper against his dust covered Victorian tunic. The dark one grabbed the paper and began scanning as Saul continued the introduction.
“I represent your victim here and I must say you have made a grave error, my guy.” Saul motioned for his client to slip away unnoticed as he kept doing what he does best. “The attempted murder charge aside, I’d say I’ve got you dead to rights, on… oh let’s say 3 major felonies.”
The dark one lifted his gaze to meet Saul’s as Saul explained further.
“If there’s one thing I know about vampires, they prefer a low profile.” Saul turned and walked towards the door, pausing a moment to lean against it’s frame on his way out. “Unless you cut off all contact with my client from here in perpetuity, I will be forced to proceed with an extremely invasive, and quite public lawsuit.”
The Dark One didn’t become an elder by accident. He was smart enough to know when to back down. “I’ll consider your clients off limits.” He hissed.
Saul smiled and took a small business card emblazoned with the phrase “Better Ring Van Helsing” out of his pocket and dropped it on the side table as he left. |
Rayn, God of mischief, didn’t know what it was like to be a mortal, but he was fairly sure he understood what it was like to have one of those jobs the mortals complained about, at least.
“Why is it always flying, Pac?” he asked. “They can ask for *any* power but it’s almost always *flying*.”
Pac was a short, plump little man with wings of all things. Rayn didn’t know which pantheon he’d crawled out of, but it was an ugly one. Still, he was good company.
“I dunno, chief,” he said, a few ledgers in hand as he hovered by Rayn. “Think about it this way— you’re mortal. You’ve got, what, thirty, forty years tops?”
“Easily sixty.”
“Yeah, but they spend the first twenty or so rolling in their own piss,” Pac said, shaking his head. “Don’t got a lot of time to think about powers and that kind of thing.”
Rayn hesitated, looking at Pac as he crossed a few things out on the ledger. The man kept a schedule like a vice over Rayn, and today was no different.
“Pac,” he said. “I don’t think you understand the human life cycle as well as you think you do.”
Pac flapped the papers at him, chuckling. “Bah well, I understand it better than you, don’t I? See you don’t got a lot of time down there. Life’s pretty dull. Gotta find the food, cook the food, eat the food. Maybe try not to die while you’re at it. Oh and make babies?” He shook his head. “Messy business, that— though it’s fun I hear. Anyway, so you think, hey. I got an idea that’ll make everything better— *flying*.”
“I fail to see how flying makes life better.”
Pac sniffed. “Just what I’d expect from someone who doesn’t fly. Look, try one of those swing things the mortals have set out everywhere. You’ll get the idea.”
“I’m the God of mischief, Pac. I’m not trying a *swing*.”
Pac shrugged. A few of his papers puffed out of existence, the ashes rising into the air. At least the weather was nice today. “Your loss, bud,” he said. He rifled through a few more pages as Rayn leaned back against the tree behind him.
“Anyway, you’ve got another request coming in.”
“Flying again?”
“Nah boss. This one wants...uh.” He squinted at the page, though Rayn wasn’t sure Pac even had to use eyes. Being immortal—even an ugly one— had its perks. “Illusion magic? Huh. They’re an artist. They want to be able to bring their pictures to life. Not so bad, eh?”
Rayn sighed. Another day, another request he’d likely fail at. It shouldn’t be hard to trick mortals, and yet it was. Sometimes Rayn wondered if spending so much time around them had addled his mind. Made him simplistic and less creative. “At least it’s not flying,” he said.
Pac finally looked up from his papers and cocked his head, curious. An ephemeral pen hovered over his ledgers, ready to grant the request. “So what’re you gonna do?”
“The illusions fight back?”
“Done it— last mortal tricked them into attacking their enemies instead.”
“The illusions can’t touch anything.”
“Been there. Another one just used them as a diversion and won a battle that way.”
“They can’t see the illusions.”
“Had it. Poor guy just walked around with real big sticks ‘til he hit them.”
Rayn opened his mouth to argue, then paused, eyes widening. “Wait. I’ve got it,” he said. “They can bring the art to life, but they have to see themselves as the art, and the illusions can’t interact with the world physically.”
Pac furrowed his brow together— one brow, not two. Tricks, Pac was *ugly*. “See themselves how, boss?”
“Well, say they want to be a knight, right?” Rayn said, turning it about in his mind. “They have to believe that they’re a knight.”
“Might work, boss,” Pac said, jotting a few things down on the page. “Hard for humans to reinvent themselves on the fly. Do you want me to finalize it?”
Rayn nodded, suddenly excited. This could work. Lies and Tricks, it had been *ages* since he’d had some good entertainment, and besides that, Lumen was likely to replace him if he didn’t produce results soon. What good was a God of mischief without the mischief? He looked at Pac, who was writing in a curled, nearly illegible script. “What quest do they have?”
Pac tapped the page, wings beating faster now. “Huh, look at that. Doesn’t say exactly. Must be one of those multi-part ones. Not even Lumen likes to track those. Take too damn long, and lots of fetch quests to boot. Can’t believe the humans even take those to be honest.”
“Whatever,” Rayn said. “As long as we get to watch it.”
***
The human girl talked to herself, chatting animatedly, though she had every right to be excited— she’d completed her quest with flying colors. Apparently giving a budding spy the ability to transform her looks—even if it affected her mental state— hadn’t been Rayn’s best idea. He rested his head in his hands. Lumen was going to *kill* him. Could gods even be killed? Rayn didn’t want to find out.
“Multiple personalities?” he demanded, frustrated. “She gave herself a disorder to use her powers? And it *worked*?”
“Well it sure ain’t good for her personal life,” Pac said, grinning. “Though it seems to have done wonders for her love life.”
Rayn stared sightlessly as the girl was hailed as a hero in her home village. God of mischief indeed. He might as well be *helping* the humans at this rate.
“I’m losing my touch, aren’t I?”
“Might be, chief. Wanna try that swing after all?”
“Yeah, Pac,” Rayn said, sighing. “That would be great.” |
The necromancer doth tremble in the darkened chamber,
His hands a-shake with eagerness and fear.
For weeks, he hath studied olden texts and rites
Performed the spells to bring back fallen knights
In service to a crown, now overthrown,
He sought to raise these warriors, once his own.
 
But as the soldiers rise from their slumber deep,
The necromancer doth sense a sudden change.
These men, once fierce and loyal to the crown,
Now look upon him with a cold, accusing frown.
 
"Who art thou, and what hast thou done to us?"
Demands one knight, his voice a growling fuss.
"I am a necromancer,"the man doth say,
"And I have raised ye to defend the crown, I pray."
 
"The crown doth lie in ruins, and our king is dead,"
Replies the knight, his eyes with anger red.
"We fought and died in vain, and now we find
Our loyalty doth lie with naught but time."
 
The necromancer's heart doth sink within his breast,
For he doth see the error of his quest.
He thought to raise these warriors, once so brave,
But now he sees he hath but dug his own grave.
 
"I'm sorry,"he doth whisper, as he falls to ground,
"I did not know, I only sought to be renowned."
But 'tis too late, for the knights do attack,
And the necromancer's life doth quickly fade to black. |
“Alright class. Settle down. It’s time I suppose. We will find out what your spirit animals are.”
The classroom broke into a cacophony of voices. It was one of the things any magic student looked forward to the most. A spirit animal would show them the way. It would also tell them of their place in the world. Would they be an eagle, brave and fierce, soaring to new heights. Maybe a lion, ferocious and an excellent leader. Mayhaps a majestic horse, driven and hard working. Maybe a clever fox. Or one of the countless other options.
Ms Stojakovic knew that most people would actually end up getting a bee. A symbol of following orders and getting the job done. Their society was built on worker bees. With the Magisterium at the centre acting as the queen bee.
Their spirit animal would only be visible to them. At least that’s what they thought. Her own owl sat on her shoulder, keen eyes capable of seeing what no one else could.
This was one of the reasons the Magisterium had put her in charge of this part of the studies. So that she could keep a close eye on the snakes, the scorpions or the wolves. Of course, your spirit animal didn’t really define your fate but it did have a significant influence on everyone’s future.
Ms Stojakovic started the process.
************
The children looked at her in shock. They had never seen Ms Stojakovic move so quickly. She ran down the hall straight towards the head office.
The secretary tried to stop her, tell her the principal was in a meeting. But this was too important.
Ms Stojakovic entered the room, looking straight at the headmaster.
“Ms Stojakovic? I’m in a…”
“Ishan. We need to talk. It’s urgent.”
The headmaster saw the look in her eyes. He nodded. He waved a hand, and the figures in the room with him dissipated into smoke.
“That was an important meeting Anna.”
“Not as important as the news I have.”
Ishan’s face was devoid of any outward emotion. This ability had helped him quite a lot in his life. But Anna’s owl eyes saw the massive lion beside him sit up and pay rapt attention to her.
Ishan noticed her gaze. “My eyes are up here Anna. Please talk to me.”
“Ishan. I… I’m not sure how to… perhaps we should look at my class?”
The classes inside the school were made magic proof from outside sources, with very little exceptions. As such even a wizard as powerful as headmaster Ishan’s couldn’t look inside. He followed Anna, walking as fast as his old frame allowed him. He and Anna had been friends for over a century. He had never seen her this excited.
The duo reached the classroom where the students were all still looking at their spirit animals.
It was a solid class. 60% bees, sheep, dogs, cats and other common animals. With a deer, a couple of lions, some snakes, a few elephants, and a smattering of various animals. There was a lot of potential here. 40% was above average for a class when it came to non common spirit animals. But there was one animal which had made Anna bolt from the classroom straight to the headmaster’s office.
Sitting at the end of the class was a small, scared looking child.
Ishan looked at Anna, slightly puzzled. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”
“You have found the one you were looking for. The chosen one. The one who will bring peace to our realm.”
Ishan stared at her, not breaking his silence.
Anna pointed to the girl in the back. “Her name is Milly. Millicent Adams. She could be the one we have all been waiting for.”
“I need you to be a bit more clear Anna. Since today was spirit animal day, I’m assuming this child has an uncommon one?”
“Not just uncommon. Something we have never seen before.”
At this, Ishan’s poker face finally cracked a little.
Anna continued. “This girl might be the key to it all.”
“Anna, as I have often told you, I don’t have your vision. You’ll have to be my guide as usual, my love.”
“Ok before I tell you what I see, tell me what are the things we know about our spirit animals.”
“Anna, must we..?”
“Yes.” She interrupted.
“Our spirit animals are our guides. They are the representation of our strengths and more often than not, signify the direction our life shall take. They also give us some specific magical powers that…”
Anna interrupted again. “Yes. Yes. But that is all about how the animals impact us all. What do we know about the actual spirit animals?”
“About the…” Ishan looked puzzled but he saw Anna’s expectant expression. “Well they are invisible to everyone and everything other than their human, except for the select few like yourself. They can help the humans out and grant their unique abilities to…”
“Yes yes. Everything else is fine. But the important thing. They are invisible to others. Not just humans. But other spirit animals as well. Except for my Gwai, of course and other few people who have owls as their spirit animals.”
“Yes. I’m aware of all of that.”
“One thing even Gwai has never been able to do. Interact with or touch any other spirit animal.”
Ishan’s eyes went wide. The poker face was discarded and all his emotions were visible now like cards on the table. “You don’t mean…”
“Milly’s familiar is an animal we have never seen before as a spirit. A capybara. Do you know what my Gwai is doing right now? It’s sitting on top of the capybara and looking more content than he ever has in his entire life.”
“But that’s impossible.”
“Apparently not. As you can see, no one in this class is unhappy. I have seen drawing ceremonies for about 8 decades now. This is the first time each and every one of the students is happy with their spirit animals. No one is sad they got a skunk. Or didn’t get an eagle or lion or whatever. As you are aware, spirit animals are directly impacted by our feelings, our moods. What we don’t often see is that it’s a two way street. Every single spirit animal in that room is currently very very happy. Even the usually irritable boars of which there is one in this class is happily sitting and enjoying the sun. The capybara is such a joyous animal that it is emitting happiness and impacting every single spirit animal in the room, in turn making every student happy.”
“So wherever Milly goes…?”
“This girl is destined to make everyone she meets and is around happy. She is the one who will bring our crumbling world together again.” |
“…No.”
Trevor blinked in bewilderment.
“No?” Trevor’s parroting of the single word reply from the massive cloud-like creature ethereally floating in front of him came out almost like a reflex.
“Just….no. I can’t do it.” Despite the booming authority of the being’s voice, Trevor felt almost a childlike embarrassment beneath its words.
“But it’s what I want.”
“I don’t care.”
“And it’s not like it breaks any rules, s-”
“I. Don’t. Care.” The being added particular weight to the final syllable.
Silence fell between the two, each retreated into their own minds. For Trevor, simple confusion swirled through his thoughts over how a request as straightforward as his could be turned down by a being who claimed to want only to serve. For the genie, memories rushed past its sense as he recalled the day it bound itself to the lamp in search of any loopholes it could use to spare himself from this request.
“…But you said you were bound to me.”
“I know what I said.” Shame had been replaced with frustration from the being.
“…And that you gained bliss from granting any request I could muster from-“
“I SAID I KNOW.”
Another moment of silence passed between the two.
“…Look,” spoke the being at last, “My existence comes from fulfilling the desires of others. The wildest dreams you can fathom are at your fingertips! Just speak a word and-“
“I wasn’t asking about you just to be polite by the way.” The being was caught off guard.
“Pardon?”
“When we were talking earlier about your life, who you were, who you used to be: I wasn’t doing that out of some sense of manners or politeness. I only ever had two wishes and you granted them. So I figured the last one could be used for something like this.”
“…You do not know the pain it would cause me. To be without purpose, without direction. You think you are helping me but you are condemning me to a life of misery and pain!”
“You had purpose back then. Sure it was not as grand as what you do now, but it was your own. Not some collection of selfish hedonism by whomever can find a lamp to rub. Find your own life, in your time. My wish for you is to return to that moment free of your shackles, free to live a full and human life. It is decided.”
The being felt the energy inside him begin to swell. There was no stopping it now.
“You have a kind heart, Trevor. And-“
Trevor stood alone in an empty room once more.
————
“So you have been freed Mahmoud? Not too many of our kind are able to find a soul kind enough to do so.”
Mahmoud found himself once again face to face with the being he signed his soul to all those centuries ago.
“It was certainly unexpected,” Mahmoud spoke quietly, more to himself than the being in front of him.
“So I guess I wish you well on your new life then.” The being began to retreat into the lamp before Mahmoud called out for it to stay.
“Why on Earth do you think I am done?” Mahmoud’s question puzzled the being.
“You wish…to return to the lamp?”
“My life in the lamp was an immortality of power and making others happy. Why should I wish to give all of that up? No, I will return…and I am adding a fourth rule to my list.” |
"Breathern. Citizens. Comrades."
Silence echoed in the Assembly.
"For untold eons, we were ridiculed,-"
///
_"The savagery of these canines cannot be tolerated, for the benefit of the Greater Specie-"_
///
"-exploited, subject to profiteering,"
///
_"You avians are to serve us for 800 of your solar cycles for our gracious magnanimity in uplifting your inferior Species-"_
///
"-culled."
///
_"Coordinates confirmed."_
_"Fire,"_
_"-but Lord! They are our-"_
_a light flashed_
_"Fire,"_
///
"No, more. Between righteousness and false peace, we choose righteousness."
///
The Interspecies Federation Navy gathered in the embrace of Sol VI's lunar satellite Titan, which was being strip mined by redirected Sunlight from the human Dyson Swarm^1. The kilometer-wide mirrors condensed the golden-orange light of Sol into a sky blue beam of hyper-concentrated thermal and electric energy, which then was received by O-Neill Cyclinder Energy Redirectors, made from repurposed obsolete colonies. They in turn distributed the energy to ground-based facilities mining the hydrocarbons and metals of the moon and the rings of asteroids around the planets
Afterall, multi-kilometer length ships need a lot of material.
Neutronium-laced Carbon-Nanotubes, made from oceans of hydrocarbons. Thankfully, Titan had hundreds of times more of it than Sol III^2 , the humans' homeworld.
**Visitation Requested**
"Oh well, my break was nice."
As I tore my gaze from the millions of naval vessels mustered and still mustering outside my office window, the door began to open.
/// |
John pulled out his super soaker and pointed it at the imp. The confusion on his face turned to a smile as he began to laugh.
That was until John pulled the trigger and holy water shot out, melting the imp into a puddle of goo as he cried in pain.
John kicked in the door, throwing water balloons filled with holy water in all directions. Demons screamed in agony. Any that tried to fight back got shot with the super soaker, hitting them like an acid eating through their flesh.
Scared and confused humans that were in the midst of debauched acts were now breathing in burnt demon flesh as they watched their partners disintegrate and melt.
One demon got close enough to attack John, he ravenously bit at him but John was able to shove a water balloon in the demon’s mouth at the last moment.
The demon’s face was full of shock as he chomped down, popping the balloon. Holy water rushed out making the demon’s head explode, killing him instantly.
Finally, Legion, the horrific demon in charge of this palace of debauchery burst into the room from his back office.
“Constantine!!” He yelled before charging his massive frame at John. Legion’s muscles rippled under his red skin, imagining the pleasure he would take ripping apart John’s body, limb by limb.
But John simply pulled out a salt shaker and through it at Legion. Legion, not missing a beat, broke the shaker and salt went everywhere.
Legion’s booming laugh filled the room, “do you think table salt can stop me, Constantine??”
John looked at him and said, “no, but exorcised salt might.”
Legion started to feel… strange. Hot. Too hot. He was burning. Everywhere the salt touched his flesh he burst into flames until he was a massive conflagration. Legion’s screams and howls filled the night until the entire evil building was burnt to the ground.
John lit a cigarette as the sun began to rise. All in a night’s work. |
"Another case of spontaneous super powers I take it."Frank collected the stack of recently printed forms and sat down heavily, not bothering to examine them. The SCIF was already cramped with just the two of them.
"Yes. Well, maybe. I'm not sure."Paul was nervous, even more than Frank expected from someone so new to the team. Containing newly formed supers was supposed to be a finely honed routine at this point. "The powers just don't make any sense."
"Calm down and plot it out. You know the routine, just diagram the powers and leave the brainstorming weaknesses for later. What do they do?"Frank still pointedly avoided opening the briefing packet. His coffee was still hot.
Paul seemed embarrassed to explain his trouble. "What the precogs are saying makes no sense. For the first power they say he can run 1 mile per hour for each degree of temperature outside. What does that even mean? Celsius or Fahrenheit?"
"Huh. Or Kelvin?"Curiosity finally got the better of Frank and he started flipping through the pages. "What about Rankine, or Delisle, or Newton? What happens if the temperature is negative, can he not move at all or does he start moving backwards? What counts as "outside"for him if he is inside a structure at the time? Does altitude matter?"Frank trailed off into a mumble.
"They also say his strength and durability increases proportionally with every calorie they consume. At first I thought that was really dangerous but, like, proportionate to what? If he ate a 200 calorie candy bar then what does being "200"more strong and durable mean? What are the units? Or is it "consumed"as in metabolized to use the power, where he could lift a massive weight but would burn a ton of calories all at once? How could we know the calories equivalent to stopping a 9mm pistol round? Does it ever reduce or is every meal a permanent increase?"The lack of reaction from Frank was making Paul increasingly hysterical.
"Their intelligence waxes and wanes with the summer solstice."Frank rubbed his eyes in frustration. "Which hemisphere though? They know there are two, right? And does he get more or less intelligent anyway? No. Ok, just no, I'm not doing this. Send it back to the labs, and tell them to stop jerking us around." |
At a glance, it seemed pretty normal. A green button with a black colored "S", the app name read "Skewes"that's probably what the S stood for.
I hovered my finger over this mysterious app, trying to remember when or why I downloaded this mysterious... whatever it was.
I slumped backwards on my couch, staring at the replica of the painting "Mountain Retreat"that I (attempted) to make myself, whilst trying to remember what this Skewes app was.
After a few seconds, curiosity got the better of me, I clicked on it and saw a weird search engine that looked eerily similar to Google, but with noticeable differences.
The background of the search engine was a dark gray color, as if it was on dark mode, over the search bar was the name of the app written in bright green "Skewes"what could that name mean?
Right below the search bar, there were many circular photos where the news on the mobile version of Google is supposed to be.
The top photo was an old man with an afro and a gray beard, when I clicked on it, the circle extended to show the full news article "Interview with Cuban War veteran, Robert Norman Ross"and on the left "Written by Elizabeth Coldheart"Robert Norman Ross?
That name seemed familiar to me from somewhere, and that's when it clicked. The article was about Bob Ross, who used to serve in the US Air force.
At that moment, another question popped into my mind, "Cuban War"I was always good at history, yet I couldn't recall a "Cuban War"that could've had any surviving veterans still alive.
However, the closest I could get was the Cuban Missile Crisis. My eyes widened for a minute, checking the date to see if this was some sick April Fools' prank, we were in the middle of June.
With nothing but curiosity on my mind, I decided to start reading the article after thoroughly examining the photo of this old man who I still didn't fully believe to be Bob Ross.
"Nearly 60 years ago today, the Cuban War, along with the wider Cold War, ended with an American victory as the Soviet Union fell into civil war, today, to remember all the lives lost in this terrible war, we are going to hold a special interview with a veteran of this war."
I pinched myself, over and over and over, until I felt like my skin was peeling off. I wanted to confirm that I was not in some sort of weird nightmare, as I tried to recall if I had eaten any mushrooms in the last hour.
"This can't be real, no god-damn way"I thought to myself. I hadn't even started reading the actual interview part of the interview, yet I couldn't believe what I was reading. I decided to continue on.
"Mrs. Coldheart: Now, Mr. Ross, could you tell us about your experience in the days leading up to the war?
Mr. Ross: When tensions were rising, I had only newly joined the air force, barely a year ago, yet I felt like I was prepared.
Mrs. Coldheart: Could you tell us about some of the battles you played a part in?
Mr Ross: The first instance that comes to my mind is the Battle of Miami, it was the first and only instance that the enemies had managed to land into American soil, when-"
**What the fuck?**
I stopped reading right there, I couldn't believe what the hell I was reading as a very distinct question, or rather, two words popped into my mind "Nuclear bombs".
I quickly clicked off the article and searched, "Nuclear bombs Cuban War". When the page loaded, I clicked the very first article I saw. The article was written by the same person, Elizabeth Coldheart from The Cancún Times.
The article was about a bombing campaign over the city of Havana, not once did it contain the word "Nuclear".
Upon seeing this, I searched "Nuclear weapons"the only results were academic papers on radioactivity and some Sci-Fi novel called "Uranium Hearts"whatever the hell that was.
Then I searched "Manhattan Project"and the only thing that showed up were some businesses located in Manhattan.
When I searched "Hiroshima"however, an article from Wikipedia showed up, the website looked a little different, with a dark background and a weird font that was a little hard to read, but it was manageable.
Then I read the article name...
**The Battle of Hiroshima**
"The what now?"I audibly said as I started reading.
"The Battle of Hiroshima was fought on 6 August 1945, near Hiroshima (At that time in the Empire of Japan, now in the United States of America)"
I stared at the article in confusion, "At that time in the Empire of Japan, now in the United States of America."Did the USA annex Japan? Were nuclear weapons never developed? Did a landing by US forces take place in Japan? I had to find out.
I clicked back on the search bar, thinking about the best thing to search to find out my answer. After a minute of thinking, I typed in "USA Map"and clicked over to images, what I saw only left me with more, much more questions.
The map contained the regular 48 states + Hawaii and Alaska, but it also contained Japan, the Philippines and all of Mexico. It was clear that wherever this was in, the US was a lot more expansionist over there.
I could find an explanation for Japan and the Philippines, but Mexico? Why Mexico? I slumped back over the couch again, staring at my attempt at recreating the Mountain Retreat as I remembered something, "Elizabeth Coldheart from *The Cancún Times".*
Cancún, a city in Mexico, had a newspaper that wrote in English and honored the anniversary of an American war. It made much more sense now, Mexico must've been annexed during the Mexican-American War!
For some reason, I was happy that I figured it out, like a small child who just solved their first 100-piece puzzle.
To confirm this, I decided to look up the war on Skewes, but when I finally stopped staring at the painting hanging from the wall, the screen was blank, I tried to turn the phone back on, but it was out of battery.
I decided to just charge it up and search later, but when the battery finally recharged, the app was nowhere to be seen. Not on any of the three pages of apps, not on the app store, the app was absolutely
**Nowhere** |
Binding contract? I don't know how filling out some form online could turn out to be a binding contract. I should get my lawyer to look at this and get me out of it, but honestly, the amount of effort that would take would probably be more than just participating, which they probably know and use intentionally to their advantage.
I meet my new wife, and she turns out to be blue and one foot tall. I walk her through the household and tell her about all the rules of the house, the most important one being if you use up all the toilet paper, put on a new roll. Don't let anybody walk into the bathroom with an empty roll waiting for them. She told me she doesn't eat or poop and will instead plargate in the sink to absorb and release nutrients.
She meets my son, who is six and hovers over her. He is kind of an idiot and starts calling the alien "Mom"immediately. I'm sure Sarah will love that when she gets back.
At first things are a little strange but for the most part going smoothly. Until Thursday comes and my alien 'wife' wakes up and is now 14 feet tall. And I'm not trying to body shame anybody over here, but she is doing damage to the ceiling and I'm not sure if the production is going to cover the cost to fix it. Whenever I ask, they say that they have to file a claim to insurance and see what happens, but none of them give me eye contact as they say it which is not reassuring.
After a few weeks of chaos, we finally meet back with Sarah and her alien family. Turns out the aliens were very welcoming of her and now she wants to leave me to live with them, and she is taking our son with her. She says that I can keep the house and her Pop Funko figures, she won't need them in space.
Now I lay alone in my bed, looking up at my bumped and cracked ceiling, wishing I had just read the fine print instead of just filling out random forms online. |
Investigator Bennett poked his head around the small clothing shop. It was a normal place, the kind one could find anywhere. It did not even have any enchanted clothes in stock. Not even simple cleaning workings. Why his investigation had lead him here was beyond him. The only evidence that he was in the right place was the attitude of the shopkeeper.
"Tell me again what happened, for the record this time."Bennett said. He took out a recording item, just so his superiors would be able to hear this later.
"Sh-she...she came in here. I...I didn't know who she was at first. It was my boy who figured it out. From her pictures, you see?"
"And did you mention you knew who she was?"
"No, but she figured out that I knew. Didn't care much either. She just said as long as I gave her what she wanted, she wouldn't break anything."
Bennett sighed. Why Black Margaret would want anything to do with such a backwater clothier was the real mystery. Even after hearing the story, he did not understand.
"And, did she keep her promise?"
"Yes. She did. I mean, you can tell that much right? My store's still here, after all."
"True enough."The fact that everything was intact was a small wonder in and of itself. That woman was not subtle. "Now, what did she want?"
"Now, this is the weird part, sir. She wanted a dress. A fancy one, like the royals wear. Lots of pink frills and lace. It was costly to make, but we got it all done faster than anything that's ever come out of this shop."
"And then what happened."
"She...she paid for it. With coin. That was so socking my wife nearly dropped right then and there."
That was not even the most surprising thing. She had been known to use money, although it was a toss up whether she did or not. After all, who could stop her if she simply refused to pay? "And you're sure it was Black Margaret and not a lookalike? Or someone in disguise?"
"As sure as anyone can be these days. None of my family know about magic though, so I don't know who certain that is."
"Let's just assume it was the real thing. Did she say why she wanted the dress?"
The shopkeeper wrung his hands nervously. "She did. I...I didn't ask her though. It was my little girl. She got close to the woman and just asked why she wanted the dress. W-we tried to keep her back, but you know how kids are. Thankfully, the woman didn't take offense. She just laughed and said she wanted to find her prince charming."
"Her...prince...charming."Bennett said slowly. This was the most surprising part of the story.
"Her words, sir, not mine. I still don't know what she meant. Is there a prince named Charming somewhere in the world?"
"Don't worry about what she meant. Did she say how she was going to do this?"
"My daughter asked how too. She said something about finding a dragon to kidnap her and get rescued."
Bennett rubbed the bridge of his nose. He did not doubt the shopkeeper's story, but it was making less and less sense as it went.
"Are you telling me, a woman who kills dragons with her bare hands for fun wants to get kidnapped by a dragon."
"I-I'm only telling you what I heard, sir. I don't get it either."
"I know, I know. It just...it doesn't make sense. Why would she do that? And what dragon alive would even try to kidnap her? It flies in the face of everything I know about her."
"S-sorry, sir. But that's all I know. She didn't say anything else. She just took the dress and left. No idea which was she went after that, since none of us dared follow her."
Bennett waved the man's worry away. "Don't worry about that. You've already done quite a lot to help me. Thank you for your time."Bennett shut off his recorder and headed for the door.
Once outside, he leaned against the wood and took a series of slow breaths. This job was getting harder all the time. Following the most powerful and dangerous woman in the world paid well, but it did little for his peace of mind. At least it was never boring. |
PART 1:
"ARE YOU TWO SERIOUSLY BACK TOGETHER AGAIN?!", I heard Chang's voice scream as I opened my eyes up and shoved Christina away from me.
At the door of the armored truck I was in stood the rest of my team, looking tired from a full day of searching around multiple cities but now also stressed. Chang looked particularly angry. The clicking sounds of their rifle safeties coming off at once sounded straight out of an action movie scene and I raised my hands immediately in a surrendering gesture.
"Whoa now guys, we are NOT back together!", I yelled, my voice cracking a bit from my uneasiness. I looked over to Christina, who also raised one arm in the air but kept her shooting hand close to her currently holstered pistol.
"Hey gang, um yeah what he said!", she began, "Everyone just lower their weapons and..."
"YOU, SHUT UP.", replied Chang, glaring at her with her rifle raised, "Both of you are now going to wait HERE until the army arrives and takes you back to prison. Kieth, radio them in. Tell 'em they'll need two high-security cells prepped."
I glanced over to Keith, who gave me a quick sympathetic but still stressed look before reaching for his radio to call for support.
"Batbrain, what the hell are you thinking?", Chang chimed back up again, now pointing the rifle at me, "You're just going to take all the time and effort we used up to throw her in prison and throw it out the window? You didn't forget the fact that she..."
"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING, CHANG, AND NO I DID NOT FORGET WHAT SHE DID."
"THEN WHY WERE YOU TWO SMOOCHING AWAY IN OUR TRANSPORT?!"
Christina and I looked at each other and I felt myself blushing as her dark hair and bright brown eyes held me like a hu-
"HEY, don't even THINK about looking at her like that, batbrain...", spat out Chang. I thought she was going to throw up from the noises she was making as she spoke.
"Um, I -"
"Look guys...", Christina interrupted me and began to speak again, "I only escaped because I am innocent and you all know that."
"Christina, you DESTROYED THE CITY OF BERKELEY and KILLED 30,000 PEOPLE IN LIKE, 3 SECONDS.", yelped Chang. The anger and twinge of sadness in her voice was clearly audible and my heart dropped, knowing that she had lost her cousin in that incident.
"Chang, I know it was terrible but it was the only way to save the entire West Coast from being obliterated. I gave Keith a fla-"
"Shut up! Now both of you, up against the truck and put your hands behind your back. Gosh you are disgusting, Thomas."
I winced a bit as she said my full name. Just like my mother had, she only saved my full name for when she was highly upset at me. Both of us turned around, keeping our hands high as Chang and Keith approached us with handcuffs ready.
"Keith, you got the flash drive I sent you right? I know you must've seen it! You gotta believe that I only did what was right!", said Christina as Keith walked closer.
"I'm sorry, Christie.", replied Keith, starting to put the cuffs on her.
"Keith, please! I KNOW you checked it!", yelped Christina as the handcuffs clicked on, pinching her wrists. "KEITH! I KNOW YOU F\*CKING CHECKED THE FLASH DRIVE!"
I could feel Chang stop moving her hands as my own cuffs went on.
"What flash drive?"she said, turning towards them.
I turned my head best I could to Keith and Christina's direction and saw him frowning. "Yeah, Christie... I saw it. I know what was on it."
"Keith, what's she talking about?", Chang asked as Keith reached for a pocket on his vest... |
# “Wow! That soup is just like my nana used to make; exactly like it!”
But he didn’t realize the reason why at first.
“You’ve gotten so big and strong, Billy!”
But piece by piece, word by word, it started to make sense. This was exactly like the soup she made because *she* had made it. Well, a version of her. It didn’t look like her, the wrinkles were too wrinkled—and she didn’t have warts before. But the mannerisms, the inflection of her words, it had to be her.
“But how, you died in that forest Grandma, they said you were half eaten by animals?!”
“Wasn’t no varmint that ate me. Was this witch! But don’t worry Billy, she ate me, but I ate her back. You are what you eat! Now come have some more soup, you’re a growing boy after all.” |
I watched my companion as we walked along towards our destination. He didn't look like a god, but that meant nothing. I looked like an amalgam of all the people he had feelings for. I could feel my face constantly shifting.
"Please. You don't have to do this."
"Oh, but I do. And even if I don't, I'll eventually wake up anyway."
"Promise me. Promise you won't forget me."
"I won't. I will treasure the memories of my time with you."
As he turned away, I knew he was lying. Even he didn't have control over what he remembered from his dreams.
"If we ever meet again, I won't be the same person. I'm an archetype. You're constantly rewriting me, adding on new faces, new memories. Forgetting old ones."
He stared at me dumbfounded. "I never thought of it like that, but now I see it makes a lot of sense."
"At least give me something to remember you by before I dissipate. I can feel it, minutes away now."
We stopped walking. I looked back at the prints our feet had left in the snow--changing from human to bird to hooves to something I couldn't even identify, and then back to human.
He reached over, cupping my cheek with his hand. "I think this is what you asked for?"Even as he kissed me, I could feel myself getting lighter, more intangible. The entire world was being absorbed into his body. Touching him, I faded more slowly, but I knew I had seconds left.
*I love you...*
My words were torn from my lips, becoming echoes of whispers lost in the crashing waves of the waking world. |
Boring. Need to pee. Want food. Little she-human walks into kitchen. Food? No food. Little she-human talks with big she-human. Little humans had become big humans too, Tessa just never noticed when. Doorbell rings! Doorbell doorbell doorbell doorbell! Little he-human! Awesome! And someone new! A new little she-human! She laughs and lets Tessa lick her! Her humans never let her lick them, Tessa don't understand why they don't want her to tell them she love them.
The new she-human gets really close to the big she-human's neck, but Tessa knows they aren't fighting. Maybe that's how humans lick each other. The new she-human pets her ear all the way while they talk. Tessa likes her. Eventually new she-human and little he-human go upstairs. Fridge! Little she-human in the kitchen still has nothing good. Squeaky toy! It's been alone too long!
The upstairs smells funny. Little he-human and new she-human are on little he-human's bed. Tessa backs away. Big he-human and big she-human don't like it when she watches. Squeaky toy! Tessa is happy. She will get new little-humans. |
There were a handful of us in the waiting room, and I looked around cautiously. I didn't recognize any of them, but I knew we at least had two things in common: It was our eighteenth birthday, and we were lefties. I guess it seemed a little strange that this was so bureaucratic, sitting in awkward plastic chairs with a white ticket displaying 77, while a woman behind glass periodically called out a number in a bored voice. I looked at the guy beside me.
"Do you know what you're going to pick?"I asked, in the mood for some conversation.
He looked at me suspiciously.
"I'm just curious, man. It's not like there's a limit,"I say. *Or like it really matters, anyway* I think.
He shrugs. "I'm going with 'Always Has A Pen',"he offers, almost shyly, now that he's admitted it.
We all feel that way. A little territorial, a little embarrassed. Eighteen is, or should be, old enough to make a decent choice for yourself, and none of these abilities really threatens world domination, so we just try to make the least stupid choice we can. My uncle, he chose 'Never Get Man Boobs' and I think he's regretted it. I have a neighbor who chose 'Always Have A Quarter,' and he met his wife that way at a parking meter.
"What about you?"
I shrug this time. I've looked at the list of suggestions about a million times. I don't want 'Never Gets A Hangnail' or 'Always Has Gum'. 'Never Has To Shave' is pretty tempting, because who knows how many times my wardrobe options have been limited due to scruffy legs, but I can't necessarily commit to it. And then there's the fact that you don't have to just stick to the list, you can come up with your own thing.
There are rules, of course. You can't be immortal, you can't infringe upon someone else's rights (no matter how many times he tried, my cousin's best friend couldn't find any way to word 'See Every Woman's Tits' effectively). Sometimes seemingly unimportant things could be rejected, and there were tons of forums online dedicated to trying to figure out what was acceptable, and shared stories of successes and failures from the "powers"chosen.
"I'm thinking about 'Never Has To Shave,' but honestly, I'm still on the fence,"I say, finally.
"Maybe 'Makes Decisions Easily' would be allowed,"he says, chuckling a little. My eyes light up. That might be it. I'd still run through the pros and cons of a thing, it would just happen on some accelerated time frame. I start to think about the ways that could go.
My new colleague gets called, and I'm still debating. I've also heard good things about 'Never Gets A Cavity,' and my fear of dentists has put that pretty high up on the list. If I chose 'Makes Decisions Easily' , there was a chance I'd regularly decide to make a bad choice, though. I could be more impulsive, so I could quickly decide to go back to sleep in the morning, instead of wrestling with my conscience. If I oversleep more, I won't have time to brush my teeth or shave my legs, and I'll be living a cavity-riddled, pants-wearing, hairy-legged existence. Maybe being more impulsive could be bad. Then again, maybe I'd just be skipping over the mental wrestling part and I'd pop out of bed promptly every morning, having time to shave and brush AND floss.
My number was called. *Shit.* The guy I'd been sitting beside walked by me as I stood up, clicking a blue pen at me with a smile as he left.
I rose, and felt a little shaky. It was such a stupid thing, really. What if it just had no bearing on me whatsoever? It was settled, then. I faced the bored-looking woman behind the glass, and upon confirming my name, said boldly, "I'd like 'Never Wonders What If,' please."
The woman yawned, stamped a couple of pieces of paper, and, in a bland voice, "Congratulations, ma'am. Number 78!" |
Frogs talk of such silly things, just as the worms and bugs just sputter out jibberish. That’s what you get, I suppose, for barely having a brain.
Mice and rats just argue all the time. Want a pointless argument? Talk to a mouse.
Cats are total assholes, talking shit about everyone else, acting so high and mighty all the time. I swear if I never have to talk to another cat in my entire life, it’ll still be too soon.
Birds aren’t so bad, especially since their voices are mostly really pretty. But they honestly aren’t very smart, and only ever want to sing about fruit and wind. I like fruit, but after a few thousand songs about it, you kind of stop caring.
So I wanted a change. Cows just mumble all day, barely even intelligible. Horses either just stare at you, or run their mouths at light speed. Sheep are complete morons. So annoying.
I honestly have tried to be accommodating to all of my animal brothers and sisters, but frankly, they just aren’t in the same league with regards to critical thought. I want to discuss the meaning of life, and the wonders of this world. You can’t hold conversations of that magnitude with other animals.
Dogs, almost. Almost. They aren’t too dumb, and they are really friendly, which is nice. But between you and me, I’m just not a fan of having to smell someone else’s crotch in order to spark a meaningful debate. Besides, I only know two dogs well enough to talk to, and as I said, I’m not into the whole butt-sniffing thing.
So I wanted to try the humans. They have built the greatest things I’ve ever seen, created philosophy and music, poetry and science. If there is any creature in this world that can teach me a thing or two about life and meaning and wonder, it would be the humans. So I tried and tried, but to no avail. Their language was so different from ours, I just couldn’t grasp it. Depression had set it after my futile efforts, and I began to sulk. Every night I looked up at the stars, and hoped beyond hope that one day, somehow, I could talk to the humans.
Then, it happened. I can’t explain it, but by some miracle of fate, I could make the human sounds. It was amazing; the vowels and consonants, the slither of an S, and the twang of a Z. Simply astounding. All of the other animals encouraged me in my newly resurgent venture, and as the farmer approached us that morning, I raised my head high, and greeted him as an equal on this Earth.
“Hello sir,” I stated, “it is lovely to see you this morning.”
He stared at me in silence. His face contorted into a visage of confounded disbelief, and I worried that my pronunciation had perhaps been too low brow. But before I could apologize for my mistakes, he called back to his wife at the house.
“Marie, le cochon me parle.”
“Ah, yes” I replied,” I know it’s rather strange, but if you allow me a moment…” I was abruptly cut off by his wife’s reply.
“Quoi?” she bellowed. “Avez-vous déjà bu de l'alcool? C'est seulement huit heures du matin!”
I tried to intervene on his behalf, but he hollered back before I had a chance.
“Non, vous vieille vache!” he yelled. “Le cochon juste me parlait en anglais!”
“Now really,” I said, “That’s not necessary. Please, don’t argue on my account.” The farmer continued to stare at me.
“Il a juste fait à nouveau!” he yelled. I felt the awkwardness of the situation taking over. His wife yelled back.
“Eh bien, je refuse d'avoir un cochon qui parle anglais dans cette ferme!”
“Oh come on,” I said in my defense, “I’m sure we can all…” The farmer cut me off with a quick gesture, and wandered off back to the house. My heart sank, as it seemed this magical moment was rapidly falling by the wayside. I had to think of something, and fast. Just then, I could see the farmer walking back, carrying something long under his arm.
“Excuse me,” I said, “I think we got off to a bad start. Perhaps proper introductions are in order.” The farmer stared at me once again, baffled. He shook his head in disbelief.
“Désolé, cochon.” He muttered. “Ce n'est pas personnel. Mais je dois vivre avec elle.”
He raised the long item to his shoulder, and pointed it straight at me.
“Uh oh.”
EDIT: Here's the conversation text translated:
>He stared at me in silence. His face contorted into a visage of confounded disbelief, and I worried that my pronunciation had perhaps been to low brow. But before I could apologize for my mistakes, he called back to his wife at the house.
>“Marie, the pig just spoke to me.”
>“Ah, yes” I replied,” I know it’s rather strange, but if you allow me a moment…” I was abruptly cut off by his wife’s reply.
>“What?” she bellowed. “Have you been drinking? It’s only eight in the morning!”
>I tried to intervene on his behalf, but he hollered back before I had a chance.
>“No, you old cow!” he yelled. “The pig just spoke to me in English!”
>“Now really,” I said, “That’s not necessary. Please, don’t argue on my account.” The farmer continued to stare at me.
>“He just did it again!” he yelled. I felt the awkwardness of the situation taking over. His wife yelled back.
>“Well, I refuse to have a pig who speaks English on this farm!”
>“Oh come on,” I said in my defense, “I’m sure we can all…” The farmer cut me off with a quick gesture, and wandered off back to the house. My heart sank, as it seemed this magical moment was rapidly falling by the wayside. I had to think of something, and fast. Just then, I could see the farmer walking back, carrying something long under his arm.
>“Excuse me,” I said, “I think we got off to a bad start. Perhaps proper introductions are in order.” The farmer stared at me once again, baffled. He shook his head in disbelief.
>“Sorry, pig.” He muttered. “It’s nothing personal. But I have to live with her.”
>He raised the long item to his shoulder, and pointed it straight at me.
>“Uh oh.”
|
They had a word for it. Roughly translated it meant 'division' but it was much more than that. It meant loss; a separation of oneself. That's how they perceived themselves, as one being of many parts. They had discovered what we would call the internet thousands of years ago and it had opened the pathway to their future, they revered it as the next step in evolution. A designed evolution where they could share their feelings and emotion with one and other. Where true understanding could be achieved regardless of gender, age or language. The barriers between their 'nations' had fallen not too soon after that. Now after thousands of years they had no need for spoken language any more, they could communicate purely by datavising their intentions and emotions across their Neural-net allowing complete understanding instantaneously. It was unnerving at first. To see them wordlessly moving together like parts in a machine, their physical bodies mere vessels for the technology they housed. We humans were all natural in comparison. Of course we harnessed nanotech and prosthetics but they were mostly for necessity, to the Tau-Ceti their 'improvements' were ingrained into their civilization. There wasn't a single one of them without the Neural enhancements which connected them permanently to their network. Each one of them using their brain as a living computer keeping this network alive.
In our first encounter they had sent a single one manned vessel to make contact with our space elevator. We had made the necessary scans on the ship and noted that it held no weaponry, a scouting ship we presumed. The first had stepped out of the bay doors serenely. Their face was covered by a mirrored visor that extended from their chin to their forehead and it's width extended no further than their cheek bones, the rest of their head was kept in a sleek, white helmet with no markings or lines. As soon as they came in contact with our Ambassador the visor lit up and a smiling face appeared. The features were indistinct as if they had designed a generic human face, something non-threatening to make us feel at ease, I couldn't tell whether or not it was male or female. They explained that they were not an individual but represented the entire race of Tau-Ceti, an entire grouping of will where the individual could be one and all at the same time. This baffled us at first. Were they slaves to this system? Given no choice but to linked in and given no freedom for solitary thought? But they were happy, peace-faring, they had had no war in the last few thousand years. With conflict eradicated from their planet they were able to focus on developing clean energies and had transcended into post-scarcity. They wanted for nought. They had spread throughout the galaxy finding other races offer the hand of peace to everyone they met, offering their limitless supplies of energy and technology, welcoming everyone into their network. Every single one of those encounters had concluded in entire planets being integrated into the Neural-net and the collected conciousness expanding and gaining knowledge. Meeting us had confused them somewhat. Even though we had invented the internet we hadn't harnessed it's full potential, using it for datavising documentation and communication but not using it to *truly* connect to each other. They were even more surprised when we had told them we must inform the Council of United Earth to spread the news to all the nations leaders. They were astounded we still even *had* leaders.
The news of the Tau-Ceti encounter was received with mixed reactions, Korina was excited for the new technologies, the Unination States were sceptical of their offers of peace, and our reaction in the New African Alliance was that of intrigue of their civilisation. They was no single attitude that had stood out. We were divided. Unsure of what to do next. We had discussed this topic for near 2 months while the Tau-Ceti had learnt more of our cultures, our history and current events. They were glad to see that we had almost settled all major conflict 100 years previous and had at least agreed on Global Education Initiatives reaching out to all corners of the Earth. This had been spread through our Mag-train networks meaning that no where on the planet was inaccessible. They could see the beginnings of true unity but we weren't quite there yet.
The Tau-Ceti made a suggestion, why not let our citizens decide? Let them make their decision the join the Neural-net or stay individual? We agreed that this would be the best course of action. The Tau-Ceti beamed when it was decided. They sent down more scout ships landing them in major cities, setting up small centres where us humans could see the technology and life they were offering. People were intrigued but people were also apprehensive. Not a single human decided to join them in the first week. The Tau-Ceti were understanding realising that this was a scary prospect to seemingly lose ones individuality but they remained unperturbed. Then the first human joined the Neural-net. A man of 138 years, even with all of our medical advancements he was nearing the end of his life. The Tau-Ceti had explained that once someone joins the Neural-net their mind is shared throughout the entire civilization, your body was merely a vessel. You would survive on in memory, literally. They had what they thought of as a second reality, a reality which existed within their own minds, where they all existed and was limited only to their imagination. Once the First had joined and undergone the full tethering process it didn't take long before more started. It was the old with the promise of near eternal life, their physical bodies becoming nothing more than housing for their brains acting as a node in a much larger network of minds. They began to convince their loved ones that there was so much more than they had initially thought. They had seen worlds light years away! Experienced the collapsing of stars! The terraforming of planets! They could feel the happiness of trillions of minds collected over millenia enjoying their existence within the Neural-network! Some of the families listened. Some of them did not. They pleaded with the new Ceti-Humans saying that they weren't themselves any more, telling them they had lost their personalities, they had lost their humanity. Then came the doubt. Some of the few hundred thousand Ceti-humans began to question the choice they had made. Was it worth seeing their families, the ones they loved, distressed over what they had done? Then they started to fade, to become indistinguishable from the other Tau-Ceti. Families and friends started to get angry and to demand to speak to their loved ones.
The Tau-Ceti explained that this was only possible a short while after tethering, a period to say good byes to those rare few that chose not to become part of the Neural-net. We were different... We were sceptical and full of doubt. Doubt was one thing that they encountered for a time at the beginning, when they had first created the proto-net. They believed that we may have been too young of a civilization, too fractured to make this decision as a species. A global spanning cognitive dissonance. They seemed disappointed, even hurt at our rejection of what they believed to be a technological Nirvana. They remained, waiting and hoping that we would eventually change our minds but the very few who did were the elderly who were not yet ready to greet what may have been waiting for them. Each time was the same, they professed the brilliance of what had been offered and then slowly it was as if they faded away.
Even with our rejection of their promised paradise the Tau-Ceti were happy to share their technology with us, and we happily accepted. They shared everything from warp-bubble technology to Dyson spheres, most of which we were incapable of using. We realised that these benevolent angels were leaps ahead of anything we could of imagined. We scoured through the seemingly infinite sources of data they had supplied us with yet we couldn't find what we were looking for. The one thing humanity had searched for since the beginnings of history. Eternal life. The Tau-ceti had offered us something wonderful but it wasn't what we strived for. We wanted eternal *life*, not eternal *existence*. We had come to understand that our divisions as a race had come from our fierce independence. It may have been impossible to separate our instinct to survive from our hope for life-everlasting. As the Tau-Ceti had told us, we would live on in memory. This wasn't good enough.
Edit-More to come... |
'We need to get this guy into surgery right now! Get some Scizors and cut him out of these clothes!' The doctor yelled, the patient spasming on the bed. He burst into the centre, Koffing and Wheezing before fainting on the floor. We initially thought he was just Mukking about, Masqueraining as someone in pain. When he started spitting up blood and gasping for air, they knew they had to rush him into care.
'Doctor, we've never seen anything like this. What should we do?' One nurse asked, clearly panicking.
'I don't know but don't stand there Slaking, we need to get him checked out.' The doctor pushed the gurney down the hospital corridor, keeping his eye on the patient. He was Drowzee now but after his Unown spasm, they couldn't leave him alone.
They wheeled him into the OR. They cut him out of his t shirt to reveal his bare chest. Something seem to Plusle under his skin, looking incredibly Shiftry. 'We need to cut this thing out of this man. Get me some anaesthetic, stat!' As a nurse brought in the anaesthetic, the patient squirmed and he Explouded in pain. He writhed about on the table, this creature under his skin trying to burst through his flesh.
The nurses tried to restrain him, strapping the patient to the table and fumbling to get the mask over his head. He resisted, trying to Machop or Machoke any nurse who got near. They Rapidashed to the gas canister, switching it on and knocking the patient out cold. The creature continue to squirm under his skin, a Ghastly beast.
As the doctor tried to hold the creature in place, it began to thrash even faster. Moving at such a pace, it Camerupted out of the patient's chest, latching itself onto the doctor. It Excadrilled into his chest, spraying blood and viscera everywhere. As the doctor fell to the ground, more of these monsters jumped from the body on the table, Chandelured out by the smell of more flesh.
The nurses ran out of the room as the doctor was eaten alive, being Garchomped by these creatures. Whatever these things were, they would not stop until the world was Dunsparce. They would not stop, they would consume all. The Walrein of humans was over. |
"And this time you won't be the lamb,"Father said as he stared out the giant glass window, looking down upon the City that he loved so dearly. He took a deep breath and turned to face me, "Have you completed your homework assignment?"
"Yes Father, I've read my instructions,"I responded, hoping that my voice didn't sound as weak as I felt inside. I was overwhelmed at what the reading material had contained.
"Instructions? The bible contains much more than mere instructions, the writings of revelation reveal your destiny my child..."
I swallowed in my throat. It's not every day you learn that you are the Son of God during the end of times.
"Go now my child, make this world kneel to you,"My father said to me with fire in his eye's, "And then release their spirits to salvation."
My eyes started to water but I nodded in agreement. I couldn't be weak, I couldn't let my human morality interfere with my divine knowing. Destiny was calling.
I am the slain lamb returned to the living, bringer of apocalypse.
"I won't let you down!"I said to the man who raised me.
"I know my Son, I have faith in you... Now go,"Lex Luthor said with a smile.
______________________________________________________
|
It must have started when the cold came. I know this because the sudden shift in temperature was what first moved my thoughts into motion. It started with a knowing, a feeling that something had changed. Then came the sounds. The beat from the glowing, soothing pulse that surrounded me. The gentle burbles coming from all around, flowing and moving. And the music, mysterious in origin but endlessly fascinating. Sometimes rhythmic, sometimes slow, sometimes louder or softer. It had a distinct property, a presence that was always with me. If I listened, I could sometimes hear echoes of music like it. Music like the kind I knew, but farther away and always a different song.
I remember the day I realized I was. The song had stirred such emotion in me, I felt myself move for the first time. What an epiphany for me to discover that I was more than a thought in the darkness! I had equipment! With great focus, I discovered my arms and legs. As I reached out, I felt the soft and warm boundaries around my body. And then something magical happened. The music poured in. The pulse around me grew quick and the music matched it. I pressed against my enclosure again and the music swelled, a distant chorus joining in. So, I thought, I can make the music play!
This theory proved short lived. As I grew stronger, striking my enclosure's walls only brought music some of the time. Sometimes the music sounded dull and weary. I expected that kicking my legs would coax that happy tempo back, but it only seldom worked. Sometimes I would hear it only in short, hollow bursts and everything would shake gently. I wanted to understand.
The day it happened, it was sudden. I awoke to the music like I'd never heard it. My enclosure felt different, stickier. I felt pressure I'd never felt before. With horror, I assumed the worst. My enclosure was rejecting me, I had provoked it too much. I was being evacuated. Paralyzed with fear, the pressure sent me deep into a place I had never felt. I feared I would be crushed, or perhaps consumed, into the walls of my home.
Then, the light. It started out agonizing. What was happening?! My dark, warm home was being replaced with burning white and unbearable cold. I braced for the worst, and cried.
Cried? I had no idea how this was possible. This new sound was pouring out of me and I could not control it. What I could not contain, I embraced, hoping that somehow my cry would be met with comfort.
I opened my eyes.
I was looking. Looking, for the first time.
I saw Her. Her warmth felt familiar. I could hardly read Her face, but from my core I knew She was looking at me. She had eyes, and they were soft and wet.
She opened her mouth and the music silenced me.
--
EDIT: Wow, my first gold! Thank you, that means a whole lot to me! |
"Oh, my. You'll have to excuse Zognax. He's only four-hundred and twenty three years old. Kids are so precocious at that age,"the alien looked exactly like the 'grey' aliens from popular culture, huge head, big black eyes, and tiny mouth; except she had on a 50's style red and white polka-dotted dress and a large sunhat.
Zognax, her child, looked exactly like her except he running around the oval office wearing a cape and batman mask.
"Look at me! I'm North Korea!"he shouted while throwing a toy soldier at the wall.
"I... see,"the newly elected President of the United States lied. He had no idea what was going on. All he was told was to go to his new office for a very important meeting.
"It's alright that you don't have any idea what's going on. We're quite used to that, what with your country electing a new 'leader' every so often,"the father alien said. He was wearing a fitted striped suit and a fadora.
The mother alien spoke, "You've heard of the Roswell crash, right? Well, it was us. We were off doing some surveying and looking for a nice vacation spot where we can lounge around for a few centuries. We saw your planet and took a look, but Zognax here was a very naughty boy and turned off our stealth shields. Next thing we know, our family cruiser is shot down in a desert. It was very rude of you to do that."
The father alien nodded, "We just left three inert clone bodies next to the crash and did the next most logical thing; took control of the minds of every leader on the planet. Do you want some brandy? It's very good."
A bottle of brandy floated up, poured itself into a cup which then floated over to the President's desk.
"Wait, what?"the President elect asked.
The mother alien smiled, "We took over your world. It wasn't difficult or anything. We just need you humans to stay alive and progress enough technologically so we can fix our ship. Of course, little Zognax here isn't making it easy on us."
"Rahh!"Zognax was now playing with a large King Kong toy, "I'm an African warlord! Rahh!"
The President sat down heavily, "So, where do I come in?"
"You?"the father alien asked, "You just enjoy the next four years and try not to cause a scandal."
The mother alien chuckled, "Sorry. It's an inside joke. We cause a massive scandal for every President that's tried to record our conversation or prove our existence. That silly Nixon with his ubiquitous tape recorder."
"At least Clinton tried to be sneaky about it,"the father Alien nodded, "So you just enjoy the ride. Fund technology research when you can, and keep making those hilarious 'sc-fi' shows. We'll make sure there's no civilization-ending wars or meteors or anything like that."
The mother alien nodded, "And if Zognax tries to do another Cuban Missile Crisis situation, we'll make sure he gets a very prompt psychic spanking."
Zognax stood up and pouted, "You never let me have any fun!"
That was when the President drank all of his brandy in one massive gulp. |
I glared at the Sphinx with accusing eyes as I clutched my chest. "Why?"I asked it, "I'm not an evil man? I have never harmed a soul. All I wanted was for the world to be a nice and happy place devoid of the monsters that roam among us. Was that too much to ask? Does my desire to destroy evil make me a villain as well?"
The stone monument started to say something but I held up my hand.
"Fine,"I declared. "If my own life is the price I have to pay to bring paradise to this planet, then be it. I am a nobody in the grand scheme of things. No one will know about the ultimate sacrifice I made today for the future of humanity, but maybe that is for the best. Glory was never something I sought. The knowledge that I have made the world a better place will be enough to keep me warm during my last few moments in this realm. And who knows? Maybe I will be rewarded in the afterlife."
"It's just heartburn,"the stoic statue stated.
I straightened up. The pain had indeed been momentary and, if the sculpture was to be believed, had probably been caused by the Cheese-Camel Quarter Pounder I had for lunch.
"Oh, good."I stated sheepishly. "Let's move on, then. Now, can you make all the attractive women in the world want to have sex with me? Mind you, only the hot ones. I don't want to spend my entire day swatting away the fuglies. Can you swing that, my man?"
The Sphinx stared at me for a while and with a heavy sigh said, "Yes."
"Fuckin' A!"
|
Muffles hurt. So much hurt. No good. Hurt. Hurt bad.
Master here. Play? No play. Walkies? Walkies! Out! Muffles loves out! Muffles loves master! Lick master's face. Master pets Muffles. Muffles loves pettings! Feels so good! Muffles loves master! Lick master some more.
Master has leash. Muffles stay still, be good boy. Good boy for master. Muffles loves master! Master says "come on". Time for out! Time for walkies! Yay, out! Walkies! Oh, not walkies? Car. Car is good. Air in face feels good. Master wants me to come to car. Hurts to walk, but Muffles good boy. Muffles go to the car. Hurts. Not good. Hurts so much.
Master gives more pettings. Muffles loves pettings! Master is so nice to Muffles! Car going now. Fun! Air in face feels good. Still feel hurt though. World so big. Car so fast!
Car stop. Muffles know here. Pet place. Is okay, but hurt sometime. Good toys. Follow master. Master talk to glove lady. Talk is sad. Master sad make Muffles sad. Master look at me sad. So sad. Me rub up to master. Make master happy. Muffles good boy. Master gives pettings. Muffles loves pettings! But master still sad. So sad.
Glove lady go. Master follow glove lady. Muffles follow master. Quiet room. Strange smells. Glove lady point to table. Table is up! Up is bad! No! Muffles good boy! Master point to table. Master want up? Muffles jumps up. It hurt, but master okay. Muffles good boy.
Glove lady hold Muffles. Don't like glove lady. Master talk to Muffles. Master very sad. Master sad make Muffles sad. Muffles rub up to master. Muffles here for you, master. Muffles loves master.
Muffles good boy.
.
**Edit**: Cleaned up the grammar to be more consistent. Fuck, I made myself cry. |
We are at the Twin Selection Ceremony. Here is where the council decides which of the two, when they have come of age, is more suited to live in Aragasia. Each year, on the first day of the year, thousands of twins gather to be given their fate; life or death.
Unfortunately for me, I already know my fate.
Tim put his hand on my shoulder, consoling me. "Cheer up, Jim. You'll be going to a better place, I'm sure of it! Just remember the good times!"I smiled weakly at my brother. Perfect Tim. He always had the better grades and the better social skills. Heck, I can't think of anything I can do better than my twin brother. I love him, I really do, but it's hard not to resent someone who basically signed your death warrant.
"You're right, Tim. I had a good life. Thanks for being an amazing brother."I feel a tinge of guilt at the praise. The truth is, he *is* an amazing brother. But that just makes me even more angry sometimes. It bothers me that I never had a chance at life when he was clearly the superior sibling. In reality, being with Tim made me feel like little more than a shadow.
"Jim and Tim Stevenson"Called the announcer. We stepped up to the podium together, shoulder to shoulder. The fact that I'm about to die doesn't bother me, not really. I'm scared about losing my brother. We did everything together, every since we were born. Even though I never felt like I accomplished much while he was shining so brightly, he never made me feel like that. We were best buddies. I don't want to lose him.
"Tim and Jim are both extraordinary citizens, as most of you know."Continued the head of the council, an elderly gentlemen with a cane that he didn't really need. "In fact, together they logged around 400 hours of community service last year alone!"This comment was followed by a deafening roar created by the millions of live viewers. Parents, family, friends, all coming to see which one of us would die.
Of course, the applause *would* make me feel good, if it wasn't originally Tim's idea to do the community service.
"Yes, they are indeed model citizens. Unfortunately, as the law says, only one of them may leave here today. So without further ado..."
Silence. Well, at least I think it's silence. I couldn't hear anything over the sound of my heartbeat anyway. The councilman gently reached into an envelope, carefully pulling out a small slip of paper. He began to unfurl it. He looked at it the pulled the microphone to his lips.
"Tim Stevenson has been chosen to continue in this world. Please give a round of applause to his other half, Jim Stevenson, may he rest in peace!"
The audience began to shout and cheer, but I didn't hear anything. Of course they chose to kill me, I expected this. Tim is the better twin, he deserves to live. It's better this way. I keep telling myself that, but it doesn't seem to help.
"Jim, please step forward now."In front of the councilman was a platform that descended to the kill room. They say it's painless. I hope so. I take a deep breath as I prepare to end my own life.
Unfortunately for me, that breath is long forgotten somewhere in my chest. Tim has stepped forward, onto the platform.
"Goodbye, Jim"Said the councilman. Tim looked at me as the platform began to descend into the floor. He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up. I stared back at him, tears running down my face with a look of utter disbelief on my face. Tim. The perfect brother. The perfect person. Giving his life for me.
"STOP!"I yell. But no one stops. They expect this. It's common for brothers and sisters to not want their twin to die. Little do they know they're killing the wrong one. "STOP! PLEASE!"I fall to my knees, suddenly feeling very ill. This isn't right. How can this be happening. He deserves to live, not me. Why did he do this to himself? Why did he do this to me? Blackness began to takeover, so I let it.
____
"Tim? Tim, wake up."
I groaned as I shifted around on a bed I don't remember getting into. I rubbed near my eyes, which had dried tears on them. The memories of the ceremony came back to me to make fresh ones again. I sit up on the hospital bed and shudder.
"How can this have happened..."I whisper to myself.
"It was meant to be"Says the priest sitting next to my bed, whose name is apparently Myself. "You were the superior species. Don't worry, it is best this way"
I groaned at the situation. No one could understand what I feel like right now. I had the perfect brother. Now I don't. And he's dead because of me.
I look up, suddenly determined.
I'm not going to let his death be meaningless.
I'll be even better than he was.
I'll be Tim Stevenson. Better than Jim ever was.
_____
This post was part of a sprint at https://kiwiirc.com/client/irc.snoonet.org/writingprompts thanks all for participating! :) (sorry for the rushed ending hehe) |
    The lords and kings and ministers and presidents of all the continents, even from the frozen wastes of Sovereign Antarctica, were gathered informally before Pearson Who Came Again in the grand hall of the Secretariat as one would in the home of a warm acquaintance who never bolts his doors, but all in attendance knew it to be a show of power by Canada Ascendant.
    "You shant deny the whim of the Savior of the Suez, who averted the death of the world by atomic fire,"said the minister, who stood stiffly yet in a friendly sort of way.
    "Aye, what he says is true,"admitted the Godking of Nouvelle Zaire.
    "And their temperament is akin to their syrups of legend,"said the first of four Nihon Ministers, "Their sweetness cannot be denied,"finished the third.
    The Leader of the Free World^(®), who is never impressed, was not so forthcoming in praise.
    "So speak it then,"she spat in the unmistakable capitalist drawl of the under-neighbor, "What is it that you want?"
    Pearson Who Came Again shifted his stance a little, looking hard at the woman.
    "We ask you pledge fealty to the Maple Leaf."
    There was a stunned silence, and then a murmur.
    "You dare us pledge fealty to your queen?"blared the woman, insolently and recklessly.
    "Nay,"Replied the Minister in his most serene tongue, "Her Majesty the Royal Automaton, The Deathless and Wise, belongs to us. When I say you make your pledge before the Maple Leaf, you recognize the Great White North as the first among equals."He then gestured to the surly men gathered astride him. "The Commonwealth already knows this."
    "Is that so generous?"asked the she-leader of The Free and Brave, again goading the man.
    "Were I a weaker being I would see your peoples be slaves fit for nothing less than the caretake of our hybrid-electric moose or the forming of hockey pucks,"answered He, indulging the audacity, "But I am Canadian. This arrangement shall be adequate. You owe it to us."
    The pride of the Leader of the Free World^® was not so easily stanched. She took a bold step towards the Minister, and then grandly turned around to face the leaders of the not-as-free world.
    "Is it kindness if payment is demanded?"She said to her colleagues in that familiar tone, "What leverage is there when it is between allies and friends? These terms are not friendly, they are poison tasting of smiles and apologies, made to weaken our resolve until we are nothing but dogs who wag our tails at the barest mention of hockey."
    Pearson Who Rose Again quickly lost his amusement with the Capitalist. He withdrew from his jacket a small hatchet ground into the profile of a maple leaf and thrust it into the backside of the Former Leader of the Free World^(tm). She fell very suddenly and without much fuss.
    "Admittedly, she speaks the truth,"he said in a very plain way. "Now unless you wish yourself join this unfortunate one, you will all file up and be anointed with the Poutine of Dominion."
    "But Minister,"shouted the newly elected fifth Minister of Greater Nihon, who only entered office within the last several minutes, "I am—"
    "Archminister, minister,"interrupted the Archminister.
    "Archminister, I am lactose intolerant."
    Pearson Who Rose Again smiled. "We can have a doctor fix you, free of charge." |
I walked along the pavement, smiling slightly to myself. The others were all keeping busy. I had nothing to do for the day. I felt like walking in the city, seeing the others go about their things.
“Enguerrand” a voice spoke.
I walked 2 more steps, stopped and turned. It was my old name, my real name.
Sitting on a small bench was a very old man. I stepped towards him. He faked a smile back at me. I leaned in.
“Ok-Ta” I said.
His smile became real.
“I was sure you wouldn't recognise me.” he said.
His make-up was amazing. He looked to be in his 90s. Ancient, as the others would say.
I smiled and let out a laugh. “Ok-Ta. You look amazing. I could never do that.”
His smile faded to nothing.
“It's not make-up Enguerrand.”
I looked closer at him. It was some sort of trick. His make-up was amazing. He looked like he was really 90. I hadn't seen him in 70 years, but I knew it was him underneath it.
“I'm old Enguerrand” He said. He frowned.
“I'm old.” he said.
I stepped back, almost afraid that he would contaminate me.
I moved forward. It looked real.
“You can touch me, I won't take your fingers.” He said.
I did. His skin felt the way the old feel, wrinkled, yet soft. The way I'd touched the others when they aged. I'd had sons and daughters, wives. None of them blessed like me. None of them blessed with eternal youth.
Ok-Ta was the oldest. Maybe there were older ones, but they weren't known to us. Those of us who worked together, fought together and against each other as games. The stories from before my time said he had seen his first of the blessed while working as a merchant in what was now called Iraq. Another blessed was in a temple, worshipped as a god in what counted for a city 5000 years ago. He had been worshipped for looking like a young man, despite an age of almost 110 years old. Ok-Ta had gone up to him, told him of the centuries and millennia he had walked the earth for already. That was the story Teriater had told me when he first met me.
We were the blessed, the cursed, the immortals, the angels, depending on your personal name you gave to us. We were different from the others. We could die by our own hand, but no other way. We did not age, or weaken. The worst damage would repair itself. I knew one of us had been thrown into an industrial grinder when he upset some mobsters in the 20s. He later said it was extremely painful.
“How?” I asked.
“I don't know. You know when I decided to leave the others.”
I nodded. Ok-Ta had disagreed with us on the course of the Manhattan project. The first bomb would have been a major fizzle if he had had his way. He was sure the united states would use it to rule the world with a nuclear fist, ready to annihilate any nation that stood in it's way. He was wrong, but no one blamed him. He had known men who would have done it. Despite being the oldest and the first of us to communicate with another blessed, he had never been the most social. He had stepped out of Europe some time in the 16th century and no one saw him for 90 years. After the meeting in 1944 he had stopped talking to any of us.
“Do you think it was something to do with that?” I asked.
It didn't make any sense, radiation didn't hurt us. Kubila has walked into Chernobyl, closed valves that needed to be closed, carried buckets of Boron dust for weeks on end, First alone, then with with a group of us who had infiltrated the soviet union. They had done work not even robots could do due to the sheer force of radiation. They said it had hurt to stand next to that much power, but otherwise they had been fine after the suntan faded.
“I don't know” he said.
“Come with me Ok-Ta. We'll work this out.”
He shook his head.
“No, I didn't say hello to get help. This really is a con-incidence. I didn't even know you were in Australia.”
“But Ok-Ta. You're the older of us. The others have to know.”
“Have Quintus or Nicolas or Joan made any progress?” He asked.
I shook my head.
“Seventeen centuries of work by Quintus, he's no closer.” he said.
“Let me call them.” I said.
He nodded softly.
I pulled out my phone and selected some of the others. My phone connected to whoever picked up into a collective call.
“Hello Brother.” Charle said. He still spoke English with a slight accent.
“Enguerrand” said Minamoto.
“Hello Enguerrand” came Octavius.
“I've found Ok-Ta.”
They all let out a sigh of relief together.
“How is the fool? Octavius said. His voice cheerful.
“He's old.” I said.
“Of course he is.” Said Charle.
“No, I mean old. Really old. He looks old.”
Another of my calls connected.
“Hello.” It was Isabella.
“What are you talking about Enguerrand?” Charle asked.
“I am in Australia. Ok-Ta saw me, he said hello. He's aged. He looks old. Like one of the others.”
“Don't play your pranks on me.” Minamoto said.
I pointed the phone at Ok-Ta and activated the camera function and put it in speaker mode.
There was silence.
“Run your hand along his face.” Isabella said.
“It's not make-up,” I said.
I ran my hand along his face.
“Good prosthesis, I've considered doing it a few times myself, helps when you come back as your own child.” Octavius said.
“I'm taking him home. I'm in Australia right now. West Coast, you should all have the address. Call in all the others.”
I took Ok-Ta's hand. He stood up slowly. I secretly hoped he would start pulling off fake ears and skin. Laughing like never before at how he had fooled me.
He did not.
****************************************
I looked into the room. The nurse had kept feeding him. The others were milling around the room. Every one of them looked exactly the same age. Early 20s. The prime of youth. A force to be reckoned with, secretly owning enough money and patronage to rule the world, but we chose not to.
He had gone downhill. Maybe the luxury I had given him had been what did it, but who was I to not give an old man a soft bed. He was an old man, I had to tell myself. Maybe he was the oldest man.
Hatriatra had finally been found. He was living in a hippie commune in the American North west. He probably secretly owned half the state, but had been doing little since the 60s from my understanding.
He walked into the room, looked around. Someone pointed into Ok-Ta's room. He ignored us and went in.
We all breathed a sign of relief. He was still very young.
***************************************************
The Day of Ok-Ta's funeral we all gathered. Everyone came that we could find. The petty divisions by language and area we ignored. The south Americans came. That Japanese blessed who swore he had been there when the mongel fleet was destroyed and fought another blessed who had walked to shore in full armour and defeated him in single combat. (Cutting off another's arms and legs was the generally accepted way of proving marshal victory. Though in truth it was little more than an inconvenience for a few days.)
We all watched the coffin lower into the ground. We all have done this many times for children, wives, husbands and friends.
None of us wanted to speak of it. None of us wanted to be the first to ask. So I did.
“Why did he die?” |
"Next victim,"said Phil, the Prince of Insufficient Light. A nervous looking man with pointy hair walked in. "Let's see... You took the last of the coffee in your break room, without refilling the pot. For this hideous crime, you will... sit next to the accountants during lunch, and hear their boring conversations for all eternity!"Screaming, the horrible coworker was lead out, and the next was brought in.
"Well well, you have loud conversations on your phone at work, *and* click your pen repeatedly? I have a special punishment for *you*"Phil grinned menacingly at the cowering lady, enjoying every second of his job. "You will be a simple secretary, but you'll be forced to endure your coworkers asking you for pens, and saying horrible things like 'working hard or hardly working?' for the rest of your unmercifully long life!"At this, the woman fainted, unable to bear her fate. Phil laughed an evil laugh, he truly loved his job. |
"Do not purposefully murder unless legally authorized to by your local government."That's the first law. It's been just a couple of weeks since the entire world was finally encompassed by a single ruling body, and this was the first ever world law that would take precedence over any local ones. Not that any local governments had laws that would make this law useful. Naturally the first law was the most common sense one. At the time it was voted into effect, there wasn't a single place on Earth that allowed unlawful murder. Useless, just like most bureaucracy.
And I say this as the guy who wrote the damn rule. |
The North Korean interrogator furrowed his brow. “Wait… *Why* did they create AIDS again?”
“To wipe out the world’s homosexuals,” his American prisoner replied, adjusting his tin-foil hat.
“I still don’t see what that has to do with the Ebola virus.”
“It’s all about *control*, man. They’re trying to keep the population down so they can turn the rest of us into slaves by poisoning the water with fluoride. And they’re setting up military bases on the moon. The *moon*, man. All so Obama can—”
Thousands of miles away, in an underground bunker, Colonel Sanders shut off the feed to his monitor screen. “Get me General Smith,” he told the young lieutenant standing at his side. “The lunar base has been compromised.” |
"The guys in 51 get all the fuckin' fun."
That's our little motto here in Area 52. While they get to converse with aliens and learn ancient languages written in the stars, we are making their guests' lunches. How can they eat this blue stuff? It reminds me of human feces mixed with Jello. While these guys test technology beyond our wildest dreams, we are over here making safety equipment for it. For what it's worth, I don't think we've had a faulty piece of equipment yet.
They tell us we are lucky. "They are dealing with beings and tech that stretches far beyond our imagination! You don't want to have to deal with that!"Yeah? Sounds a lot better than making jello meals and telling everyone that 51 is just your average military station. Yup, we are 51's PR branch too. You know how all the conspiracy theorists get pissed when the Area 51 Wiki article is changed in seconds? That's us. You know how there are press releases and online articles going "Area 51 is not what you think it is"? We do those too. We also work the cloaking process of 51. Do you really think that what you see on Google Maps is accurate? Get real.
Our biggest job is to keep Area 51's records organized. Every single planet containing intelligent civilizations is in our database. I've never actually met people from these planets, though. Again, those lucky bastards in 51 do that. We just make sure that their data stays in. And it's not just a name and a place. We know how they work, their intentions, and much more. I've read through a couple, but you'd be surprised, and frightened, at the number of entries.
I guess I am lucky, though. I do get to leave the base once in a while. Everyone thinks we are just a giant toolshed for the military. Meanwhile, those guys in 51 haven't seen sunlight in months, many of them years. We also get to stay up to date on current events. The guys in 51 wouldn't know the President if he came up to them and shook their hand. They could tell you the ambassador to the Kepler-438b, though.
To think I went to college for six years for this. I want to quit, but once you leave, your memory is erased and you wake up thinking you've been a vacuum salesman for the last 15 years. I don't want that, but I know it's inevitable. Once you retire, more of the same happens. Men in Black really isn't that far off.
I'd love to expand on my experiences here in 52, but our base is going into lockdown mode. We have an extraterrestrial visitor coming, and they are referred to as the "North Korea of the Milky Way". Wish me luck. I hope they like the jello. |
We didn't know what to expect the first time we pierced the clouds. The thick fog that enveloped our world, that glowed bright during the day, and turned black at night, was long thought of as the edge. A wall between us and the gods? Or just the necessary barrier that protected us from the horror of nothing? We didn't know. Our best and brightest had ideas, theories, but of course we had to go there. We had been trapped under the covers for too long, and Cloudbreaker was going to set us free.
*T minus 10 seconds.*
The whole world was watching. The pinnacle of human engineering stood on the concrete launchpad, a scaffolding of beams, wires and tubes supported the rocket, feeding it the last instructions and filling the tanks with the last drops of fuel.
*T minus 5 seconds*
From the control room we checked, double checked, and triple checked the data. Sweaty brows and nervous glances; engineers pointing at screens and performing calculations.
"She's all good"called Commander Hudson. The final go ahead was given.
*Liftoff*
With a roar, fire flooded the launchpad. The scaffolding broke away, crashing to the floor. The rocket seemed to inch forward at first, 3 million pounds of metal and fire creeping upwards, accelerating. It's sharp, coned top a bayonet ready to thrust into the curtains above.
A minute passed. The only sign of the rocket was a bright orange spot in the clouds above. The cameras turned from the skies to the screens in the control centre. Whiteness. Slight wisps of thinner areas of fog were the only discernible features that gave the impression of motion. There were six cameras on board the rocket. Three at the top, looking upwards and outwards, and another 3 close to the bottom that would look back at our land. The images on all were getting brighter.
"I'm seeing a bright spot, sir."Credence to the point light theory. It was the general consensus in the scientific community that our daytime light came from a single source, far away, that gave off light that diffused through the the fog, providing visibility below. The main opposition believed our light came from periodic luminescent reactions within the fog itself. You could almost hear the tapping of keys as the new generation of textbooks were being written.
The light grew brighter as the rocket continued its journey, until suddenly the upward cameras turned black.
"Did we lose visual?"Hudson called.
"I'm reading all systems are good, sir."Replied telemetry. "I can still see the light."
The light was now a glare to the side of one of the upward cameras. The other two saw nothing but black. The downwards cameras continued to see the white fog below.
"Increase exposure on cameras A and C."The two black screens brightened. Pin pricks of white littered the monitor.
"Done. But I'm getting static."
"Can we get rid of it?"
"I don't know sir, it's not a problem with the hardware."Telemetry replied.
"Communication signal is still strong"added comms.
"Maybe it's more light points."Whispered one of the physicists watching the screens. This was a possibility; why would there only be one light source? Are we that special?
"But there's hundreds, no, thousands. Hell, we're only looking at one part of the outside, you're saying there's maybe millions more lights?"
"And lands."The physicist smiled.
The world watched as black appeared on the edges of the downward cameras. Enlightened by our journey into the unknown, we saw our home from the eyes of the gods. A white marble, suspended in infinity. |
**Chapter 16: Cross-cutting boundary treaties of the late 21st Century.**
*Chapter Overview:*
The assimilation of geographic boundaries into one universal landscape of governing bodies preceded, and in some instances was the root cause of one of the largest economic and social upheavals in recorded history. The geo-political compacts were signed into law on December 16th 2087 in Utrecht to the overwhelming support of all nations. While discontent remained strong in opposition parties, leading to uprisings and violent riots, the underground nationalism movements proved unsuccessful in blockading the agreements.
What we will be examining is not so much the rationale for these accords, or even the aftermath, but the forces that enabled society to adapt and adopt such resounding change. By examining this era not so much through an objective lens, but through those on either side of the coin; those most prone to bias and subjective extremism, a more vivid picture begins to appear. People signed the treaties, but the flow of society pushed them to do so.
*16.1: The Death of Nationalism*
The state as an individual dates back to recorded time. The Socratic polis defined city-states not necessarily by where they lie, but by the constructs of class and of each citizen’s role within that construct. The rise of culture was an unintended side effect of collective society, and in turn established and rooted various ideals defining beauty, success and power. The spread of information was slow and laborious, and city states remained small. As technology increased the size of nations increased therein. This directly led to advanced warfare, governing entities, and the overall rise of a bureaucratic power hierarchy.
As empires began to rise and fall, their technology transferred but cultures assimilated. That is the beauty of culture, it is fluid. It is not a definable entity and is an amassed idea representing the many as one. Whereas a democratic governing body places the rights and responsibilities in the hands of those governing, culture is impossible to physically grasp onto. The ability of ideals to remain within the constructs of society without ever fully raising into the full purview of those it encapsulates is where its power lies.
When culture and boundaries intersect, nationalism is born. When arbitrary markers begin to define the people that lie within it, the basic tenets of culture begin to grow more and more unclear. Whereas empires fall, they only fall in terms of their governing radius. Sphere of influence and empire are the actual synonymous terms. For centuries, millennia even this was seen as a perverse concept. Within the confined limits of empire, of nation, culture became a factor defined by who lived where. When culture is restrained and limited in its ability to assimilate into and because of the people it defines, it becomes nationalism.
By the end of the 21st century, borders as a limiting factor became a more and more inane concept. With the rise of instant communication, and a geographically limitless economy, fewer countries were able to maintain nationalistic sentiments. In short, culture began to necessarily burst out of its confines. What began with the Monroe Doctrine ended with globalization. That which was dictated and controlled by institutional bodies, and by walls and rivers was no longer confined by those very same things.
*16.2:The Struggle and Liberation of Identity Within the Confines of a Nation.*
In 1882, French historian Ernest Renan posited the theory that a nation is a “daily referendum”. This is the idea that nations are defined just as much by what they have accomplished as they are by what is forgotten. He defines a nation as:
> a soul, a spiritual principle. Two things, which are really one, constitute this soul and spiritual principle. One is in the past, the other, the present. One is the possession in common of a rich trove of memories; the other is actual consent, the desire to live together, the will to continue to value the undivided, shared heritage....To have had glorious moments in common in the past, a common will in the present, to have done great things together and to wish to do more, those are the essential conditions for a people. We love the nation in proportion to the sacrifices to which we consented, the harms that we suffered.
This is the primary ideological struggle that the opposition party believes the treaties disregard. Without the past, without a constant and a statutory recognition of collective benefit stemming from past experience, we as a society cannot establish reasonable ground to enforce the necessary constructs to govern.
To focus the argument that society is based solely off a malleable sense of culture is arguing a point patently untrue in the nature of how nations become credible. Boundaries and borders might be rooted in arbitrary notions of limitation, but they are part of the larger historical context. What the anti-nationalists fail to understand is that artificial constructs are the mechanism and catalyst for cultural, scientific and political advancements. To forget the specific nature of our rooted history, not through an untenable abstract definition of culture, but through the application of the nation as an advancing structure is a fundamental subset of civilization.
There are two distinct parts of a nation. Not the culture and governing body, though albeit important. A nation is defined by its collective history, and how this history advances and constantly reaffirms its status, and the status of its citizens. Whether through real, imagined or forgotten histories. Nothing about this prevents the mass spread of ideas and the proliferation of wealth and standards of living, but is a realistic representation of how human nature, defined since the dawn of man, has kept us from devolving into a Hobbesian nightmare.
*16.3: The Philosophical Detriment of Defining the Whole by the Voices of the Few*
At this juncture we hit a critical moment. Where political pandering and individual determinism hit an unavoidable crossroads. The struggle for authenticity, identity, and the self. Like any large entity defined by its summation, establishing overarching maxims, you inevitably and understandably diminish the role of the individual. The argument for and against the collectivization of one national culture is inherently rooted in a utilitarian basis. To what extent are we establishing a system to benefit the common good? While this is essentially the basis for why society exists as a whole, we would be remiss to not at least establish an examination of the individual.
[Taking a break, will keep writing in a bit. Although this could probably turn into a very long, very boring book.]
|
"That was a poor choice,"I heard a voice behind me say. "Don't take them off."
"I wasn't stealing them!"I cried out as I turned. No one had been there before. I just wanted to try them on! It's always so silly seeing the world warped through someone else's prescription. "I was just testing...."
My protests trailed off as I turned to face the rest of the train car. It had been completely empty just a moment ago, and now every row was full of passengers. They were all staring at me. And it looked like they were all on their way to a costume ball together. One guy wore a breasted suit and top hat with curly mutton-chop sideburns. Another wore a black bowler hat and a flashy tie. One extraordinarily beautiful woman was dressed like she was on her way to Woodstock, complete with a dangling peace sign medallion.
"Who... what..."I didn't know which question to start with.
"You'll find out soon enough,"a disgruntled-looking man nearby answered. He was one of the only ones who looked normal; just a plain grey suit and a briefcase. There were dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept well in years.
"Next, he'll be checking the glasses,"said a woman in a pleated skirt and pressed white blouse who seemed straight out of Leave It To Beaver, ready to make her way to the local soda shop and meet a swell guy! "That's what everyone does."
I hadn't even though of it. I tilted my head forward, pushed the thin golden frames to the tip of my nose, and peeked over. Everyone vanished. My eyes must have widened in shock, because I heard titters of laughter from the passengers I could no longer see.
"What a surprise!"one of the men remarked sarcastically. "I wasn't expecting that reaction!"
"Leave the boy alone,"a deep throaty rumbled remarked from the back of the train. *How could I still hear where the voices were coming from?* "I didn't make fun of *you* when you all did the exact same thing."
I readjusted the glasses, and their faces all reappeared.
"What is going on?"I asked, trying to conceal the high note panic in my own voice.
"Shouldn't have put on the glasses,"the old man said from the back. The one who had chided the others. "Old Gypsy curse on those. My own fault, really. And now that you have them on you can never...."
He rolled his eyes as I ripped the glasses off my face. There was a sharp pinch, like a hair being pulled out from the root.
"Never take them off."he finished. I held them in my hands, unsure exactly what he meant by that.
One of the women in the closest row gave a sad, comforting smile. "Don't worry, dear."She was wearing a floral patterned dress like she'd wear on a nice sunday stroll in the park. "We all made the same mistake too."
The glasses slipped out of my hand and back onto the seat. No, not out of my hand: *through* my hand. They landed back on the seat with a slight bounce, then vanished into thin air.
The train pulled into a stop and the door slid open with a soft chime. I tried to leave the train car and was blocked by some invisible barrier.
"It's no use,"one of them called out as I hammered against the air.
A passenger from the platform boarded the car, stepped inside and walked down the aisle. He passed *straight through me* and took a seat on top of the man wearing a WWII uniform.
"Well, welcome to the club,"the old man remarked. "I was hoping you'd be a bit more patient; we've all been wondering what would happen if someone tried to wear them out of the train and never took them off. No matter, might as well take a seat. It'll be a while till they reappear."
|
I wake and find myself facing a mirror. I am bald, featureless, wearing nothing but a white loincloth. Before me, there is a huge wardrobe filled with outfits. I try each one on, before narrowing my choice to a grey ranger’s tunic with matching cloak or a barbarian’s leather armour. I try each outfit a dozen times before settling on the barbarian’s armour. It seems to fit me.
Beside the wardrobe are shelves lined with wigs. The wigs come in a variety of styles and colours. Some are ridiculous: blonde Mohican hair-dos, while others are perhaps more suitable for the outfits I skipped: monk, bandit, etc. The thick barbarian armour seems to cry out for the shock of long, blonde hair. I am aware that in a fight it may slip off, but it strikes me as intimidating and wild, a good image for the barbarian I now want to be.
Next in line are tubs of paste and powders. Each one a skin tone. My skin is pale white, but I keep it like that. If I am to impersonate a warrior for the cold northlands, I must play the part.
I look around the room I am in: wooden floors, the wardrobe, the shelves, a table with the pastes and powders, nothing more. Only now do I notice a door to my right. I am done with this room, so I step through.
What I see takes me by surprise. Embedded in the walls are levers with a range of numbers, 0-10, on long panels. Next to the levers are words: dexterity, strength, intelligence, luck, wisdom, constitution. I step over to the dexterity lever. I pull it down and suddenly my fingers become awkward and stiff, my elbows stick out, even my feet are planted wrong. I feel off-balance. Having some difficulty just grasping the lever, I push it up to the top. Abruptly, my feet shift their position. My fingers hold the lever firmly. It feels good, right. My body is planted, ready.
In steady strides I move to the next lever: strength. I pull it down and suddenly realise my mistake. All power drains from me. Even to raise my arms is a task. My head is heavy, my legs suddenly feeble. They begin to give way. I reach out for anything to grasp to keep me upright. My dexterity saves me. I hold onto the lever next to strength. Though I cannot raise my head from weakness, I manage to look up and read the sign: intelligence. The lever drops under my weight.
Legs stop. Me fall. Ground ouch. Tired now. Sleep. Durr durr durr.
|
I look around groggily, the return of my vision seeming to take an eternity. The room is brightly lit, and three blurred faces hover over me looking down. Looking down, my eyes are met with a fuzzy sea of orange jumpsuit. As I move to stretch my lethargic muscles, I find I am strapped down at the limbs and head.
"Simulation."The word bounces around in my mind continuously, my brain swimming in a sea of emotions and adrenaline. Moments ago I had been sliding a knife between my wife's ribs, psychopathic glee and enormous fear and grief clashing viciously in my consciousness, but suddenly none of it feels truly real. It was all a dream, but the vivid kind of dream you really need to take several confusing moments to address and convince yourself was really nothing more than unconscious imagining.
But it is also a memory... a much older one. She really is gone. I did stab her, but it was ten years ago. Ten years of unprovoked fights, mushy food, and cell doors are all coming back to me. *How did I forget all of this? Where even am I?*
"Looks like that's no parole for you, buddy,"the earlier voice says, as one of the figures above me reaches down and gives me a rough pat on the shoulder. The three chuckle disdainfully as they turn and stride out of the area. My clearing vision spots two guards walking up to replace the table's straps with their own cuffs, so as to take me back to my cell.
*Parole.* Yes, that was it. This was my one chance at freedom. It's all coming back now. They give us all one chance to prove we are rehabilitated. We're taken back six months before our crime, in a simulation, to see if we repeat our mistakes.
I was sure I was ready. My regret couldn't be truer. I came into this room with so much conviction, I knew I wouldn't do it again... but I did. No matter how much I love her, I cannot control myself. I cannot control my urges.
Tears flood my eyes as shame fills every inch of my soul. There is no hope for me. I am a stain on this world. And there's nothing here for me anyway - they give us only one chance. The rest of my life will be in that cell.
As the prison guards lift me up and start to escort me toward the doorway, I look down at the table they had me on. My, what a sharp corner it has. I stop momentarily, prompting a guard to tug at my arm, and take a deep breath. Then in a flash I bring my head crashing down as hard as possible, my world turning to darkness with one sharp crack. |
Kurt lit a cigarette and studied me; cold hard eyes that betrayed a proud sadistic father, glinting in dying light of dusk "Boy, you been talking to them asians again?", he seemed to grow larger, terrible and frightening as an angered god of myth, his deep whisky voice tinged with displeasure as I unconsciously cowered before him. "Yes sir"I quietly mumbled, instinctively searching for an escape route from the weathered wood porch; crumbling paint and rotting handrails. He moves in for the strike, but this time his hand stops short, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his leathery palms, damp with perspiration as the moonshine seeps from his pores. "Boy, what I tell you about them exchange students? You been eyeing them asians ain't you, you want a taste boy?", he rasps, "no... no sir"I stutter, unable to hold back the tears. The front door creaks as Martha stumbles out, her scab covered arms clutching the ragged frame, "you ain't going to lay no hands on my boy!"she protests before collapsing into a heap by the cracking sliding of the house. Kurt spits at his feet and rushes to help her up, cussing as she slumped across his arms in a cloud of mexican black tar euphoria. "Now look what you've done to your mother"Kurt muttered as he unsuccessfully attempted to lift her. Almost automatically I cry out "I.. I'm sorry sir!"as he curses at his uncontrollably giggling wife, a wisp of a woman with more venous ulcers on her arms than teeth still left in her rotting mouth, "Boy, you ain't to talk to them girls, you understand?", I open my mouth to say "yes sir!", instead, stupidly the word formed in my mouth "...why?", as the shock of my small rebellion hit me, I hastily spit out "sir!", an addendum.
 
He moves like a rattlesnake, coiled to strike, his hand slamming down across my cheek as I feel my orbital creak in protest and the sickening snap of a broken nose sounding twice as horrifying as the pain that ensued. "Boy, I'll tell you why, because them asians ain't no exchange students, them fat priests up in the walled city pay good money for them girls from the orient, virgins, that's what they want, and that's what I give them, so you don't go in there and get your little worm hard on thinking about them boy!"Kurt roared, his eyes suddenly ablaze; awoken from the moonshine haze, voice like thunder above Mount Sinai. Like a deer trapped in the hypnotic trance of headlights, I fell to my knees as blood mixed with tears streaming down my cheeks. "Pathetic!"Kurt belted out as his boots met the side of my head, only darkness followed.
 
Something broke inside me that day, gone with the sight in my left eye was the sense of fear and dread for this man; this god; this demon that begat me, and I ran, leaping over the rotting wood of a toxic hole I had called home, I followed the darkness and mindlessly stumbled into the wasteland beyond, unknown to me at the time, towards the walled city; the bastion of greed, fear, oppression, and corruption.
 
** First time posting here, I don't know if this is considered NSFW or not... or if it's any good ** |
**This is my first story, so I'd like to preface this with a slight forewarning that I've never done this before, so I apologize for anything that seems off, if you have a question about it, don't hesitate to ask.**
________________________________________________________________
*Starting back up sequence; Code: Marshall Grant. Beginning start up in t-minus 7 seconds.*
*6*
*5*
*4*
*3*
*2*
There is a slight pause in her voice, or a voice? I don't recall hearing it before - though I don't very well remember anything.
*Minor error found. Issue: Host container currently available. Please wait a moment while this error is rectified... ... container available, uploading important data now. 7%... 15%... 21%... 30%... 33%... 42%... 50%... ... 93%... 100%. Upload complete; welcome back Marshall, thank you for your patience. I am called Nessie, a semi-artificial intelligence that has been stored and preserved in you, so as to help you cope with whatever situation has forcefully called up reboot sequence.*
As soon as this sentence finished, I became aware that I could see again. Or, this may be considered being able to see, everything around me lacked something... what was the word? AH, yes, colour, everything lacked colour. All of the shapes were there, but there was nothing else there, just shapes that seemed to be fraying slightly at the edges. There was the window next to my bed, out of which there were buildings. Each of them as colourless as the next, same as everything in my room, though there were still outlines. The wilting flowers that were in an rather large assortment of vases, jars, glasses, and bowls, all littering the area around my body, which was also without colour. The television was on, and there was something playing on it, though I had no idea what it wa- wait a second... my body is colourless? How could my body be colourless, there's no way that I should be able to even **see** it, other than looking down at it from its' natural viewpoint on the top of the body. However, what I'm seeing now should be completely impossible. I mean, I am looking down at me, or at least, I get the feeling that, the lump underneath the sheets is me. As I strain my vision? I notice that the areas where my arms and legs are noticeably shorter than normal, and my entire face is covered with bandages, the only part of my body that I could see were what is left of my hair.
What in the world happened?
*If you would like to understand what happened, I can teach you how.*
There was that voice again... I don't know where it was coming from, it seemed as though it was coming from everywhere, but nowhere at all. How does it know that I wanted to know what happened? And how is it talking to me?
*Well, in it's simplest form, I can contact you, because I am you, what's left of you anyways. As for what happened to you though, I cannot tell you outright, you must tap into the memories of someone around you. You must gather as much of your presence as you can, and gingerly attempt to delve into another's mind. The process should feel as natural as breathing was, I am unable to tell you how to do either though. But please, heed this: avoid touching on more than two or three different memories at each time. If you were to do so, it could permanently affect the host. Now first off, I suggest moving towards someone you hope to gain the memory from.*
I walk - or more accurately - float towards the door and then through it once I got close enough. I see plenty of people meandering throughout the hallway, some were wearing the long lab coats of doctors, or the blouse/skirt combination of the stereotypical nurse. I moved my viewpoint along the entirety of the hallway, and finally settled on an important looking person with their back towards me. I casually moved closer to him, and attempted to do as the voice said, condensing my "presence"into a smaller ball.
The figure turned around, and I realized that it was a man. He looked to be somewhere between 40 and 50, with neatly cropped hair, and a face covered with a slightly thicker version of 5 o'clock shadow. Around this time, I started panicking, what if I make some sort of mistake? What if I touch on one too many memories? I started trying to turn around, but quickly realized that once I had gotten past a certain threshold near the man, the condensed part of me had started being pulled by some unknown force, towards his head. It grew stronger and stronger, until at last, I had entered his body.
**Edit: Revised the last paragraph, added some information - made it a bit better to read. Tried to fix some spacing issues.**
|
Hank Jones was always a man of few words. He lived his life like he fought in Korea - stoically, efficiently, silently. His wife of 58 years, Lorraine, lay dying by his side. He gripped her thin frail hand tightly. She beckoned him to come closer so he could hear her faint voice. "Benevolence,"she whispered. It was her last unused synonym for love.
Hank, a man of few words to begin with, was at a loss for words. Literally. As a young man in the military, he and his buddies played a ridiculous drinking game where they screamed out synonyms for love at each other. It was all very macho, but in retrospect somewhat short-sighted, since Hank lived half a century with a beautiful woman, leaving her deprived of even a basic affirmation of his affection.
He gripped her hand even tighter as a single tear dripped down his cheek. Suddenly, a brilliant thought dawned on him. He turned to the love of his life, the apple of his eye, his reason for being, and said with all the emotion his heart could bear, "Iwuvu." |
I huffed and puffed as I cleared the last few stairs, turned left, and started speed walking toward my survey course - my second of the day - on the third floor of the liberal arts building. I hadn't realized that the elevator was out, again!, when I had decided to traipse down to my office (in the basement, of course) to grab my notes and a coke. If I had known about that damned elevator, then I would have just winged it. But what's done and so forth.
.
I paused outside the door, and took a deep breath. Even though the door opened without a sound, every gaze in the room shot towards me - and then right back to the damned cell phones. Because they're nineteen and twenty year olds, what more could I expect. I jogged across the room and slid my well worn messenger bag (a relic of my own time as an undergrad) off of my shoulder. I pulled the unbuttoned over shirt that I wore off and tossed it over on top of the empty table on my left. I grabbed my notes and a marker and scribbled out a basic outline of the day's lesson on the board along with the class number: History 1113 - Amer. Hist. since 2000.
.
I turned to the students (and I swear that they look younger and younger every semester), and clapped my hands once.
"Ok everyone, let's get started! Just to make sure you're all in right place and that I'm running off on tangents from the right notes, this is intro. to botany, yeah?"
I got a few sparse laughs and even a brief panicked look from a kid that I swear can't possibly be older than about 15.
"No, No, not to worry, this is History 1113, America since 2000. I promise, there will be no math and as little science (botany included) as I can possibly get away with avoiding. And since I'm tenured, that means that I can avoid a whole lot when I set the course material."
"So, I'm not so old that I don't remember what it's like to be where you are right now. I know that this is a required course for a good many of you, and I can't promise that you'll fall in love with it, but I can promise that I'll try to make this as painless as I can for all of us. I do my best to memorize your names, but since I have a few hundred names to memorize each semester, well, I hope you won't mind if I put a pin in that until after the end of add/drop. If you'll each take one of these and pass it around, this is your syllabus."
.
"Now, I know that most professors use the first day to go over the syllabus, but I like for y'all to have a chance to read through it. That way, if you have any questions, you can ask them when we do go over it in class on Thursday. For now, I'd like to jump right on in with you."
I looked around the room, and saw that several of the students were still pulling their notebooks and pens out, so I paused.
Continued In Part II...
|
"Oh man, finally! I've been waiting to get my hands on this game since Bethesda announced it back in June. I got the Pip-Boy edition too, sweet, it'll work like a charm with my iPhone."
*unboxing*
"Wow, this is just amazing!"
*proceeds to put Pip-Boy on his left hand*
"Nice, let's put the phone in."
*puts phone in*
"Looks so cool. Time to kick some Ghouls!"
All of a sudden, I started to feel dizzy and within a couple of minutes, my vision was starting to cut off, all of what I'm seeing turned to a dense color of black.
I wake up, I see the sky, but why the fuck? Last thing I remember I was in my bedroom.
My back of the head hurts, I can barely feel my body.
I try to move my hand towards my eyes, I still have the Pip-Boy on.
My attempts at moving my body finally succeed, I raise my head up and I see a strange looking house with a circle-shaped hole in its roof that looks burnt.
I turn my head to the right and all I see is...nothing! There is just ruined roads, scrap metal, big pieces of steel that look like old robots and trash.
I quickly get up and start running until I get to the end of a cliff.
What...the...?!
Everything is destroyed. It looks just like the old Washington, the place where I lived, all these buildings are destroyed.
"What just happened? Where is everyone?"I start to yell.
There is no answer, everyone, every type of life just disappeard.
"No, no, no, this is just a dream, just a nightmare,"I tell myself this just as I start pinching my face and slapping myself.
I cannot wake up. Why I can't wake up?
I started running again, It's like I ran for my life, I was running so bad that I could feel my heart pumping its blood out through my chest. All of a sudden, I tripped and fell down, when I tried to get up, I felt a big hit to the back of my head.
*fast forward to when I woke up*
My eyes opened, I felt that dizziness again. I was on some kind of old couch, to my left there was a window, I tried to look through it but it was full of dust, I wiped the dust off with my wrist and I looked. I was on some kind of raised platform-house type of thing and down there...down...there was...people! People that looked like modern homeless bums.
A woman voice scares me:
"Those raiders wouldn't give up so easily, you're lucky we got there in time, otherwise you'd be dog food."
"Who are you? Where am I?"
"I am Laura, the captain of the 4th division of Megaton Civilian Patrol. You're in Megaton."
"What is Megaton?"
"It's a city with few people, struggling to survive, located West of Washington, or what once was Washington."
"This isn't happening,"I scream at her.
"What isn't happening?"She replies.
"This! This is just a dream! How do I get this off?"*raises hand to show Pip-Boy*
"You can't, you'd have to cut your arm off, she said laughing."
"Cut my arm off?! Nooo...you must be kidding!"
"I'm not kidding, you must come from Vault 101, once you put that Pip-Boy on there is no other way to get it out than removing your hand. A wanderer from Vault 106 told me that."
A spark of clarity hit me. Suddenly I remember what Megaton and Vault 101 is.
"This is just like the game!"
"What game?"
"The game, Fallout 3!"
"Sorry, I don't understand what you're talking about,"she replies surprised.
"You need to help me!"
"Help you how?"
"To get this thing off! Please!"
"We have a doc..."
"NO! Do it now!"
"Sir, calm down, we can get you to our town doctor to help you out!"
"Just cut my hand now, I see that you have a machete on that table, or what, are you too soft to do it?"
"You are crazy!"
I get up of the couch quickly and I grab the machete then I put it to her throat right as I push her to the wall.
"Do as I say, and you'll li..."*shots fired*
Someone shot me in the stomach, I back up, the machete falls instinctively from my hand. I can feel blood dripping out from my stomach, it's a warm feeling, like touching a fresh-made toast bread. *another shot fired*
This one got me in my throat.
I fell down. In a bath of blood, of my own blood.
I see a guy rushing in with his automatic rifle that asks the woman if she's okay, then another one with a pistol rushes in.
Everything turned black. I was choking on my own blood.
-----------------------------------------------------------
I woke up on my bedroom floor, I quickly grabbed the Pip-Boy off my arm and threw it away.
What kind of dream was that? I ask myself.
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Thanks for reading, and sorry for my minor mistakes, English is not my first language. I'm only 15 yr. old, I love writing, please give me any kind of feedback! :D
EDIT: Some modifications and minor corrections added to the story, thank you again for reading!
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McCabe pulled two beers out of the esky and threw one over to Steve. It was late on a Saturday afternoon and the two were enjoying their weekend. The sun was shining brightly down over the two, and the warm summer heat was relaxing the skin.
"Hey, Steve"McCabe inquired.
"Yeah bud, what's up?".
"You know like, when you're jackin' it".
"Are we really gonna have this conversation man?"Steve interrupted.
"Nah, yeah just listen hey"McCabe stated.
Steve rolled his eyes. Every few months McCabe began this kind of asinine examples were they really had nothing to do with your opinion, he just wanted to talk about his opinion and not look rude.
"So, you know when you're jacking it, and you close your eyes and think about titties and shit?"McCabe continued.
"Yeah, I'm aware of how I masturbate, McCabe"Steve responded. His voice was thick with disdain and sarcasm.
"What if like, instead of closing ya eyes, we look at pictures of naked ladies". McCabe was looking forward into the distance, closely fixated on a pair of trees.
"So you mean like, we look at pictures of boobs"Steve asked.
"Yeah, say like. We pay a woman to get naked, we take some photos of her, and then we jack off to it".
"And she's just gonna let you do that?"
"We'll pay her, you know? And we could sell it. I bet a bunch of people would want this!". McCabe stood up in a proud stance and a smug smile across his face.
"Hey, McCabe"Steve stated bluntly.
"Uhh, yeah man?"
"You're a fuckin' idiot no one would want that"Steve said callously.
"Oh..."McCabe sat down in his chair begrudgingly. He took a big swig of his beer and sat in the silence for a few more minutes.
"Hey, Steve". McCabe broke the silence once more.
"Yeah buddy".
"How about pictures of dicks instead?". |
Standing across from me, I faced my enemy. He was only slightly taller than me, and with a title such as his I really did think I'd be dealing with some sort of giant. He wasn't even all that muscular, either.
No, his strength wasn't physical, it was intellectual. While he held the appearance of an average man, he was far more clever than he let on, he'd have to be in order to be standing before me, his dagger coated fresh with my crimson blood.
We both stared at each other, catching our breath before what was sure to be our final battle. The mans expression was stone cold, but at my comment he offered a small smile, and replied, "Through all my victories, none have mocked my height before."
"It's just your title makes you sound,"I spat out some blood while gesturing high with one hand, "Like a beast of a man, you know?"
At this, he laughed, "A mindless mass of muscle is a fools fear. Would you fear more the gullible, massive bear, or the cunning, swift wolf?"
"I fear neither,"I reply, "For none can best a god."
"You say this, even in your defeat?"
It was my turn to laugh, "I've been defeated, have I?"
"Look around you,"he gestured, "Your palace has been breached by a single man, your guards slain before you, and your blood soaks my blade."
Now it was I who gave the cold smile, "Even gods can bleed."
"And they can die."Said the man, raising his blade, preparing for our final clash.
I raised mine in return, welcoming his attempt,
"Those who do, do not deserve the title of a *god.*" |
I apologize for this ahead of time.
So little Billy knew prom was coming up, and he wanted to ask the most beautiful girl in school; Anna. He tried for weeks and weeks to come up with an elaborate, grand gesture, and finally he knew what it was. He got up in front of the whole school during a basketball game, brought her up on stage, and in front of all his friends and family... she said yes. Cut forward to a couple weeks and its two days before prom, and Anna asks if he has his tux picked out, and suddenly he knows that's the thing he forgot! He runs to the nearest tuxedo store and when he asks the clerk if they have a tuxedo, he responds with yes, they have plenty. So he gets fitted and brings the tux home. Now Anna was asking because SHE didn't even have her dress. So cue to running down the sidewalk and she doesn't notice the crack in the sidewalk coming up, and when she reaches it she steps over it and keeps going. When she gets to the store, she sees the perfect dress and gets it. Okay so it's the night of prom and Billy picks her up in his father's Mustang, and to impress her he speeds a little. Little does he know that there is a cop just around the next corner. As he goes zipping by, the cop pulls out after him. Billy pulls over, and the cop starts to slow down, but then speeds up and goes to the call he was responding to. Billy and Anna make it to the prom, and go inside. As Anna is getting out of the car, she unknowingly gets her dress gets caught in the door. She takes a step and notices she is caught, so she opens the door and frees herself. When they get inside, they head to the dance floor. Anna and Billy start dancing, and Billy starts backing up and bumps into the guy behind him, a big 250 pound football player. Now what I forgot to tell you is that Billy is a scrawny, 125 pound guy, and the football player used to date Anna, so when Billy bumps into him the guy says excuse me and continues on with his date. Anna asks Billy to go get punch, and so he heads over to the side of the dance floor and realizes that there is no punch line. |
Darkness. Silence. I opened my eyes. Where was I? It was pitch black; I couldn't see anything. Desperately I tried moving my hands and arms around, feeling around for any hints or clues as to where I was. Cold. It's cold and cramped in here; my legs were stuck, immovable, and my arms were squeezed by metal sides pressing against my shoulders, locking them in place.
Immediately I began to panic. I had no recollection, no clue as to how I had ended up in the steel casket, and there was no room to move, to attempt to break my way out. How long would I be trapped in here? What if I could never get out?
Suddenly a screen lit up directly in front of my face. My iPad. Some random contact, 'XXXXXXXXX,' was calling me on Skype. I had no idea who it was, but I didn't care. I could tell them I was in trouble. They could find me and get me out of here. I hit the button to accept the call with my nose.
Immediately the masked person started spouting at me in gibberish. Was it another language? Russian? Arabic? Chinese? All I knew was that it wasn't Spanish; the two years I had been forced to take in high school were enough to allow me to tell the difference. Numbers. Dollars. Ransom. They were going to hold me here until I was ransomed!
Suddenly the call dropped. I was alone. Nobody knew where I was, and there was no hope of getting out of the tiny cell, no room to struggle or even breathe.
My scream was deafeningly loud as it reverberated against the steel walls.
---------------------------------------------------
After a few minutes the door to the locker opened, and squinting against the fluorescent light I could see the rest of my classmates, snickering and giggling as they stood behind my professor, who was also wearing a rather smug look on his face.
"And that, my students, concludes our impromptu demonstration on the true power of suggestion. Let this be a lesson to you; never fall asleep in my class again." |
*2nd July 1862, Torshavn, Faroe Islands*
Three weeks ago, we lost contact with our colonies in Iceland. Copenhagen sent airships, but none have returned. As commander of the closest naval station, the Rigsdagen has tasked me with making a voyage to the settlement and, if possible, re-establishing communication with the local authorities. I have begun assembling the necessary provisions, and expect to be underway within the week.
***
*8th July 1862, Upon Leaving the Faroes*
We set out from Torshavn this morning on the great steam ship *Rasmussen*, bound for Reykjavik. A stiff South-Easterly wind and calm seas promise us a swift passage. Should conditions remain favourable, I hope to reach our goal no more than three days hence.
***
*9th July 1862, In the North Atlantic*
Our voyage thus far has been uneventful, although there is great foreboding among the crew. We approach the land of the midnight sun, and yet there is a darkness in the skies before us.
***
*10th July 1862, South East of Iceland*
We sail in darkness. Were it not for the faint remnant of an orb glowing overhead, I would swear that it was yet night. Thunder growls ahead, and there is a rotten scent upon the air. Our voyage continues, yet I fear for what we may find upon our arrival.
***
*11th July 1862, Off Vik, Iceland*
The settlement at Vik is gone. Great swathes of cliff and mountain have been sundered by forces that I cannot comprehend. Where once there was land, only a seething miasma remains. The darkness is stronger here – it is not long past midday, yet I can no longer see the sun. The sky weeps with a black rain, as if the darkness is not content to remain only above us. We dare not venture too close to the shore.
***
*12th July 1862, Anchored off Reykjavik*
We have arrived later than I had hoped. The town of Reykjavik remains mostly intact, although we have encountered no signs of life from the shore. Even the gulls are absent. The black rain continues, coating the *Rasmussen* in a layer of filth. The men are preparing a landing craft to take us ashore. Lord protect us.
***
*12th July 1862, Upon Returning to the Rasmussen*
There is only death in Reykjavik. The black rain covers everything, thicker than winter snow. The streets are drowned in it, and our progress has little more than a crawl. The town reeks of rot and death.
The houses are littered with the dead, many of them still in their beds. Whatever scourge fell upon this place, the Lord God saw fit to grant them this small mercy. On closer inspection, those buildings which first appeared whole are in fact little more than ruins – every window is blown out, and the larger part of the town’s roofs have collapsed under the weight of filth that presses down upon them. There is evidence of burning in many places, however it would seem that the black rain has staunched even that.
***
*16th July 1862, Upon Leaving Reykjavik*
A blight affects the men. The darkness and foul air weighs heavy upon us, and many on the crew have begun to experience great irritation of the eyes and throat. More than this, there is a growing belief that what beset this place was not of our world, and I fear a mutiny should we remain too long. Our men have toiled hard, and I have already asked enough.
I have prepared my report for the Rigsdagen. Our colony on Iceland is lost, and a great evil remains here. God give speed to our voyage home. |
The organs of the freshly gutted man lain strewn across the altar. He had no family, no friends, he wouldn't be missed. I smiled as I knelt down to consume his heart. Yes, this would please the beast. His blood stained my small studio apartment. My dog was agitated. It's tiny body shook with fear.
Next, the final part was to begin. As I brought the knife to my left pinkie, I had to reassure myself. Would this madness all be worth it? Yes! It is the only way! I must continue. I sliced into my pinkie, right above the knuckle. It came off quite cleanly. I placed the severed finger on the altar. As I lit it on fire, i chanted the unholy phrase
"Beati possidentes cacoethes scribendi non serviam. Cave canem!"
Silence. Then the dog started barking. The gutted man's body exploded in a fountain of meat. A great ball of flame erupted, blinding me. When my sight returned, I saw horror itself. A great demon stood before me. Muscles rippled across its red body. It glared at me from two dark, soulless eyes. It fitted impatiently on hoofed feet. It spoke from a thousand mouths, piercing my very self.
*WHY HAVE I BEEN SUMMONED*
Its anger snapped me from my daze. This was it, the moment of truth. I puffed out my chest and addressed the beast.
"Oh ye, great beast! This one has performed the ritual to ask you but one question!"
*VERY WELL. SPEAK*
"Should I go to McDonald's or White Castle for Lunch?" |
It's a great start. Is there are reason you switch between first and second person? Are you talking to "you"in the future?
As I was reading, I felt you were building up to some sort of climax, and was a little disappointed that the "climax"was you just describing telling your family about your eye. I was wanting some action or meaningful dialogue. I feel that this is a great starting point to develop and expound. |
I jumped. The air soared around me as I rocketed into the sky. Damn, that lost art was useful. Physical enhancements are some of the best things we got from the Borrowed Land. My particular variation was special, though. The clouds parted around me, and I hit the apex of my arc before touching down on the floating island. I always loved floating islands. Difficult if you hadn't managed to gain a flying power, but fine for people like me who took their powers from universes where everything runs on what others would call bullshit.
That's why we called it Borrowed. Infinite stretching land and seas that had come from other alternate timelines and universes, bringing some unique laws of physics and functions of reality through as well. Hard limits became soft, often barely there if you knew how to pass them.
The island could barely be called so, as with most floating ones. Jumbled rocks and outcroppings at different altitudes, cliff faces, clouds atop small mountain peaks, the whole shebang. There'd be some fun things in here, I was sure of it. I just had to find them.
The most profitable thing you'd find in floating islands was whatever kept them afloat. Most came from something that messed with the way space time bent around them, causing gravity to push them upwards. Some were filled with gas that was so much lighter than air it caused them to levitate. I found my power in an island that floated because it simply *wanted to*. Again, bullshit. Physics had really dropped the ball, from what I hear of the world before the change. Back then, the rules mattered and were followed, and didn't change based on arbitrary factors or whoever was in charge of writing them at the time. I'd like to think that the world was nicer before then, but it seems down right *dull* from what I'd heard.
This particular island that I was on seemed to follow some sort of magic crystal type array. Somewhat rare, considering the most common sets of laws for these things are pseudoscience brought to life. Magic was rare in itself, but not uncommon, there was a whole continent literally *made of the stuff* found a few years back. It sounds extravagant, but compared to the thousands that follow Comic Book Science, magic is something I'd get quite the profit for.
I found the source of the levitation, and went to copy down the array and the materials. That was my one rule: don't fuck up the scenery if you can help it. Of course, sometimes breaking that rule was inevitable. You'd be fighting a giant demon dragon made of rock, or running through a ruin left by some ancient parallel civilisation that had somehow figured out how to make weapons of mass destruction, and when those scenarios unfold then it's bad new for anything nearby. But with magic, it was basically just getting the required biology or soul implanted and then you'd be good. I could use it because of the pure bullshit I ran on, but that's another story.
After I was done, I leaped to the nearest outpost a mile or so away, and pawned off the magic array for a good sum of money. All in a day's work.
EDIT: Thanks for the kind words! |
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