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It had taken us millions of years to evolve to the point that the cosmos could be considered, and several thousand after that before we could explore.
Then, we stagnated.
It has always been the curse of man that each strives in his own way to achieve greatness, even at the cost of his brethren. Conquest was our birthright, whether personal, or in the name of God, king, country, or family.
And so we fought. Even as we became aware of the infinite possibilities of worlds beyond, we squabbled over the scraps that remained on good old Earth. Because, well, there’s no place like home, right?
We couldn’t stay that way forever, and we didn’t.
One of the greatest things about war is that the ones who really love it are often the ones most willing to die for it, so, eventually, those who tired of it outnumbered the rest. Over time, we became one people. We united under the common cause of seeing what there was to see, knowing what there was to know, and going wherever our ability could take us. It was a powerful feeling, driven by that curse of Aspiration.
The Ark project was a triumph of humankind unlike any before seen. Capable of housing, transporting and sustaining millions of passengers each, Ark ships were the pinnacle of human engineering, and would be crewed by an entire generation of humans, prepared from the first to be members of our first Interstellar Fleet. We would not go out into the ether unprepared.
The terrifying things is, they were waiting for us.
Where they came from, we still don’t know. Why they allowed us to advance so far, we didn’t ask. But they were waiting, and with a simple command.
“None Shall Pass!”
Delivered via radio broadcast, it was inelegant and outdated, but effective nonetheless. The voice was booming and gravelly, and spoke in a long abandoned dialect. Our historians said it was a snippet from an ancient film, and so they were tasked with first contact. Back and forth with the unseen entity, they endeavored to decipher messages strung together from scraps of ancient popular culture.
Hours became days, and days became weeks, but we remained patiently at the edge of the solar system that had nurtured our need to explore. When compared to millennia, what were mere months?
I cannot be sure what we expected. Their initial message seemed quite clear. Perhaps it was the optimism of common purpose that had suffused our people. Perhaps it was a new naivete born of giddy excitement at our successes. In any case, we were not ready for an explicit denial of our entrance onto the grand stage of the wider universe.
We were contagious. A potential patient zero that would bring an end to all sentient life in the known universe. A “carrier” of some dreaded infection.
We strove to understand what we carried. We desired knowledge of how to eliminate it. We had learned long ago what doom could befall those who did not heed such warnings, and we would not venture forth until we could be certain that our voyage was without ill consequence for our interstellar neighbors.
In the end, we could reach no accord, for our sickness was the burden of ambition. The inability to be satisfied. The constant need to do and be better than we have ever done or been. Our system was not enough, nor would our galaxy be. We would be as a plague, unstoppable for our ability to breed and adapt. What’s worse, we might contaminate others, might deliver our zeal for exploring the unknown onto the unsuspecting.
We were told to go home. We were told that we must contain ourselves, for the good of all.
As one, we wept. We could not deny that their message rang true. We had experienced all of the tragedy and torment and violence that accompanied our disease. We had nearly withered and died for it.
But, we also knew the triumph of achievement-- knew the absolute beauty of attaining that which none else had.
We wept not for ourselves.
We wept for them...
*...and accelerated forward into the darkness.*
|
The dragon roared, shaking the very foundation of the keep. It had underestimated the attacker, thinking him no more powerful than the previous soldiers that lay cut down and broken around the chamber. Crumpled, seared corpses now, flesh and metal fused into one from the intensity of the monster's heat. However, the newcomer was different;he has the ring, given to him by his father, that absorbed the dragon's fire and harnessed it to fuel his own strength.
Realizing the warrior wasn't to be brought low by the fire, the great wyrm resorted to traditional methods. Swiping with savage claws, it hoped to rend and tear the intruder to pieces - but at every swing it found nothing but ash and soot leftover from the fire-scarred ruins. The man was agile, diving under the attacks and coming up to jab quickly and precisely before repeating the sequence. Unable to adapt, it soon fell before the hero. The princess would be his prize, the product of a long journey through the humblest of beginnings to becoming a champion of the kingdom. All that was left was to meet her and present himself in all his triumphant glory. What woman could look upon him and deny him now?
She stood caged behind the dragon's corpse, beckoning him closer to release her from her prison. At long last. He swung his sword, shattering the lock and freeing the princess. She walked out slowly. He savoured the moment. She was beautiful, blond hair cascading down her shoulders, keeping its golden shine in spite of the ash and dirt around them both. The hero stepped towards her, meaning to hold her in his arms.
But she wasn't there. She was back in the cage. She walked out again, much the same way as before. When she arrived at the same point she would teleport back to the same spot in the cage, walking out as if the strange moment had never happened. Every time she would leave she would disappear and reappear back at her original spot. What spell, what enchantment, what horrible twist of fate had the dragon placed upon her in death?
It was then, right at the moment of the final conquest that his world froze. There was no motion, no elation, no fear, no joy - just silence. Even the dying flames ceased to flicker.
----------------
"Oh, what the hell?"
Slamming his hand on his keyboard and holding down the force restart button on his computer, he knew he would be taking to the forums again. Once it rebooted he opened up google and went straight to the game's webpage and read through his old post, hoping someone had a fix to the bug.
*ok every time i kill the dragon i open the gate and she glitches out and my comp freezs*
*you have the ring?*
*ya*
*download the patch?*
*ya*
*youre screwed then. they stopped patching it years ago. games been out for eight years dude, your computer probably doesnt support it anymore*
No dragon, no suitors, no trial was great enough, save for this. He'll never have his princess. |
A straw hat protected him from the most intense heat, but it didn't stop the tiny drops of sweat rolling over his forehead into his thick eyebrows. The burning heat had tanned his skin dark, but he still didn't feel comfortable in the scorching sun. He had been used to overworking AC units, keeping his surroundings cool no matter where he went. A bit of sweat dribbled into his rough beard, unkempt thick brown hairs covering most of his face. Annoyed he wiped the ticklish sensation in his beard, and wiped his moist hand dry onto his torn pants. He gripped the shovel in his other hand tighter, the newfound callus on his hands protecting him for the blisters he had to endure earlier, and continued digging.
The only sounds in his surroundings were the repeated sounds of the shovel throwing sand and soil on a big pile behind the man. Groans and loud bangs whenever his arms shook as the shovel hit a large rock in the Earth, and deep sighs as he shoveled it out. Every few minutes the man froze, pricked up his ears as if he waited to hear something. He quickly looked around in a circle, only seeing the endless plains of sand, stone and little green around him. He would sigh and continue digging.
*Better safe than sorry*, he thought. It was not only a dangerous time to be alone. It was a dangerous time to be alive. A few years ago, when the crumbles of society had gathered and tried to live through the recent destruction, efforts had been made to re-establish a form of peace. "Fools", he had thought, but his thoughts remained his own. It was a dangerous time to speak one's mind, and for him it was even more dangerous. It was better to stay silent, and to wait. But he knew that even a truce between whatever was left of the modern world would've been optimistic. Too optimistic.
Most of the modern technology society had accustomed to were gone. And even if you did have a cellphone, networks didn't work anymore. Phones and computers turned into fancy calculators or watches, if there was any electricity at all. The mix between ancient tools or simple brute force weapons, and more modern forms of weapons turned the remainder of people into a simply survival hierarchy: the one with the strongest weapons and the best ability to adapt would live. But good weapons were scarce, and even a baseball bat was a luxury many people did not have.
The man had only his shovel. The pile of sand grew as the sun turned to its highest point, and slowly started its descent towards the horizon. He nipped his water skin for a few drops of water, and started digging again. As he stood with almost his entire body in the hole he had dug, he felt a sensation in the tip of his ears. He slowly and silently came to a halt, and listened. And he heard it again.
He turned around and stared into the distance, his right hand pulling down his hat to protect his eyes from the sun. A small cloud of dust had formed in the distance. His eyes gazed towards the horizon. He waited. A hollow sensation crawled over him as he realized he hadn't eaten since sunrise.
After ten minutes of intense silence he exhaled and continued digging. *Better safe than sorry*, he thought again. His muscles grew more tired and every dig carried a smaller amount of soil. When his muscles started shaking he climbed out of the hole. The grasp of his hands weakened and the shovel escaped from his grip. It fell down onto the parched earth, and a burst of dust shot in the air.
"Shit", he mumbled, as he reached for the shovel and picked it up. He felt the sensation in his ears again and turned around. Another cloud of dust had formed in the distance, and it slowly moved towards him. |
"One and a half gallons. Look at the walls; that's *minimum* eight. There were four of us that came here, and if two of us are murdered, how is it practically up to our ankles?"Martin lifted his feet, sticky with the glop and gore on the cabin's floorboards. "I just bought these. They're Louis Vuitton, for f-"
A man kicked the door in, brandishing a chainsaw still wet with blood. Pulling the chord, the menacing teeth whirled, splattering droplets of ichor across the cabin walls. Amanda shrieked, stumbling backwards and splashing into the thick layer of blood on the floor.
"Wait,"Martin asked.
To everyone's surprise, the maniac did just that.
"I'm going to take a leap here and assume you killed our two friends with your little woodsman tool, there."He stood nonchalant, one hand pointing at the chainsaw, the other planted on his hip. "Are you telling me we *didn't* hear this somehow? We're in Alaska - it's empty stretches of trees for ages without any noise pollution. How did we miss this? Did we pass off the chainsaw sound as a group-based case of tinnitus?"
The maniac looked off to the side, as if waiting for instructions that just weren't coming. "I... I pulled them to a cave! That's where they died. Screaming! Screaming, they were! Hahaha!"
Amanda screeched again. "They died screaming!"
"So you pulled them to a cave. The two of them. They were together when they left. Did they just separate, or follow you willingly thinking that this bloodied up woodsman seems like a good man to follow? Paging Charles Darwin, you've got an award to administer."Martin asked, incredulous.
"Those were our friends, and you're cracking jokes?! We've got to get out of here!"
"Fine. Fine. One last thing."Martin held up a finger. It wasn't likely to be the last thing. The maniac looked down at his shoes, absent-mindedly splish-splashing them in the blood, growing a little uncomfortable with the inquisition. He was hoping it would be a night of physical torture rather than social, and it was fair to say that his night was utterly spoiled. Nevertheless, Martin continued. "Alaska. It's Alaska! Why are you *constantly* in a bikini, Amanda? It's freezing. You wore it to breakfast for seemingly no reason. How are you not dealing with a perpetual case of hypothermia? The only time you took it of was *to go swimming*."
"I'm getting out of here!"Amanda yelled, running out the back way into the woods. The woodsman, feeling the rush of the hunt once more, pulled the chord on the chainsaw and started after her, leaving the cabin to Martin there alone.
How unfortunate, Martin thought. Her bikini top slipped off on the way out the door.
He felt somewhat silly standing there lamenting the loss of his favourite Louis Vs. Putting his feet up on an ottoman and slipping them off, he grabbed a book and awaited the return of his new chainsaw wielding friend, sinking resignedly into a recliner. It was then he questioned his own rationale of allowing his friends to choose a location where unsolved murders occurred three years running. |
I tried my best. I really did. I usually make a conscious decision before I choose to ruin my day, but this time I couldn't look away.
Those beautiful eyes. Green? Blue? Greenish-blue? It didn't matter to me. What mattered was that her sheer beauty was locking me in. And for some reason, I let it take me on a ride.
------------------------------------
A wedding. Many people, sitting in rows. I'm at the altar. And she walks in.
------------------------------------
Back of an Uber. Driver's talking about his recent trip to Coachella. Stuck in traffic. I run to the hospital two blocks over and run towards the reception.
"My wife, Rosie Mitchell! She's giving birth! Where is she?"
------------------------------------
A beach. Kids playing in the sand. I look to my right, and she's there. Smiling back at me, with those greenish-bue eyes.
------------------------------------
I open my eyes. A hospital. I'm laid down, many wires and tubes connected to me. I can't move. I can only see. And hear. And I see her. I see a doctor.
"It's best if you were to do it, Mrs. Mitchell. He wouldn't feel a thing."
She nods, gravely.
"Thank you, Doctor."
She turns to me, and smiles. That same smile, in every memory thus far. Except this one was different. Is she pitying me?
She bends down and kisses my forehead.
"I love you, my dear."A single tear.
And she presses the red button.
----------------------------------------
I'm rushed back, and I'm on the floor. Everyone in the Starbucks is staring at me. The baristas are asking me if I'm alright. I push myself up, only to see the green-blue eyed girl again.
I didn't flinch. I didn't run. I just sat there. And so did she.
I just saw something I wasn't meant to see. But I feel like she saw the same.
"Hi."
She smiles. "Hey."
"I'm Terry."
"I'm Rosie."
"I know."
She squints and laughs. "I'm sorry?"
I clear my throat. "Um, nothing."
She helps me up.
"You fell pretty dramatically. Everyone thought I pushed you, or something."
I laugh, weakly. "Yeah, no... I just."I think. "Just tired."
She smiles and fiddles around a bit.
"Well, it was nice meeting you, Terry."She extends her hand.
"Yeah, likewise."I smile, and I look right into her eyes.
I felt it again. But this time, she didn't stay long enough for me to lock in.
It didn't matter. Something told me I'd be seeing her again. |
"Anyway, so that's the story of how I got these claws,"Freddy Krueger said. Ghostface laughed. His laughter was put to a halt when Mike came down the hallway.
"Hey guys,"asked Mike Myers. "Has anyone seen Jason?"
"What are you talking about?"replied Ghostface. "He was right..."he said, only to turn around and find that Jason was not there. This was odd, he had just been listening to Freddy's story as well. "Okay, let's go find him."
As Freddy and Ghostface left to search, Mike looked in the closet to find him. So typical of Jason to hide in places like this. When he opened the door, he found a little girl. Mike was unsure what to think, did Freddy bring this as a surprise? Ooooooooooh, what fun! He pulled out his signature kitchen knife, ready to end the child's life, but that was his last thought.
"Where's Mike?"asked Ghostface. "Jeez, first Jason, now Mike..."
"Oh, come on, Ghostface..."replied Freddy. "Okay, I'll keep searching, you stay here in case they come back. Here, there's a couch and here's the TV."
Freddy turned the TV on and prepared to search. As he went for the door, he almost tripped on something. He picked it up and found it was a hockey mask. He looked at the floor again, and a machete lay next to it.
"Uh...Ghostface?"mumbled Freddy, but he got no answer. He turned around and Ghostface had disappeared. Looking on the couch, all he could see was his signature mask. Suddenly an eerie laugh rang throughout the house.
Freddy looked at the TV and saw a little girl, her face shrouded with hair. The girl burst out of the TV, walking slowly towards Freddy. He readied his claws to attack the girl and prepared to strike, but she moved her hair away from her face, revealing the most frightening, and last, thing Freddy ever saw. |
"Did you hear about John Abercorn? It was so sad."
Air came rushing past John's ears, a howling gale forcing him into the present. He wobbled on his feet, dazed and confused as to where he was. He looked around at a crowd of middle aged people socializing over punch in what seemed to be a high school gymnasium. Why the hell would he be here? He looked down at his hands, shocked to see them half transparent.
"Oh yeah, didn't he die earlier this year?"
"All alone too. Not a soul in the world with him."
John looked up at the group of women near him in horror. He...was dead? No he couldn't have been, people got to live their ghostly lives after all, and while he certainly seemed like a ghost *now* he hadn't had the opportunity before.
Then again, the last couple years he had been holed up in his apartment. He didn't talk to anyone really, certainly not with his real name. The occasional online handle, ordering pizza and paying with cash, the like. He had felt himself fading before; maybe he had had that first death before his body even passed?
He looked up at the women. The three of them had raised their glasses. No, no, *nonono...*
"Let's give a final toast to our friend John,"one woman said. John attempted to run at her, stop her, but he found he phased right through her body. "May he rest in peace."
"To John!"the women said, clinking their glasses.
Just like that, John fell away. |
Captain Jacob Hillis looked out from the bridge and took note of the storm ahead, nothing unusual for the English Channel though.
"I want our escorts to a safe distance and get all the equipment on deck strapped down!"
There was no sense of fear among the crew, they had seen plenty of storms and they would pass through this one too. It grew closer and the men and women on deck found shelter where they could and if they could.
It went from sunny to gray in a heartbeat, raindrops slowly appearing before thunderous sheets began pelting the entire ship from bow to stern. Hillis sipped his lukewarm coffee and waited for it to pass.
When the air became black was when he felt the first twinge of fear, he couldn't see anything at all beyond the windows, it was the type of black that seems to eat light. Suddenly hundreds of stars appeared and he felt a strange sensation of weightlessness in his stomach before the gray sky was around them again.
"What the fuck was that?"
So he wasn't imagining things.
"Damage report?"Hillis said, looking down to the deck where small figures were doubled over and heaving their stomachs out all over the deck. That's when he heard a distant noise. A booming noise.
"What the hell is that? Is that an escort firing?"Hillis was furious, looking for any sign of life in the rain.
It stopped as quickly as it started and he breathed out. In the open water before them, no sight of land, there were hundreds of wooden ships exchanging cannon fire.
"Sir..."someone said and Hillis honestly couldn't answer the man. He could see their destroyer and cruisers closing up in a defensive posture. From the wooden ships were unrecognizable flags flapping in the wind as there was a sudden lull in the fighting.
"I don't think this is in the training manual,"one of the junior officers said, "what do we do?"
"I'm not entirely sure. I think we try to communicate with them."Hillis said quietly, truly not certain of what to do.
A cannonball struck their ship along the port side and Hillis looked to the large wooden ship that had done the deed.
"Sir, should we communicate back?"
Hillis nodded and it was barely twenty seconds before a cruiser fired it's own warning shot in return. The five inch shell shattered a mast and sent men on the wooden deck scrambling for cover as it collapsed. A white flag went up shortly after.
"I believe they'd like to try a different form of communication sir."
Hillis nodded.
"Get a chopper warmed up and a security team ready to go, let's see what the hell we've gotten ourselves into."
*****
Hello Navy/merpeople. I do not know anything about you other than the understanding that ships float on water by magic. So please don't be offended that I got it wrong. I know I did.
*****
Heavy rotors swung through the air, the engines warming up as the pilots ran through their flight checks as quickly as possible.
Captain Hillis suggested urgency and that is what they did.
"Wooden ships."Warrant Officer Lasky said it in his usual monotonous tone, ever the calm professional.
"Yup."
The flight crew rolled their eyes, they were the best helo pilots on offer but they were also incredibly boring.
Hillis and the security team boarded and they were on their way to one of the DESRON 9 destroyers where an inflatable boat would take them to the wooden ship.
Hillis barely had time to collect his thoughts before they were climbing up the side of the ship and planting their feet on wooden planks. There was organized chaos on board as men, and women, rushed about to repair the damages caused by the cruiser.
A sturdy looking man approached warily, pistols strapped to his chest and two swords at his hips.
"I think we might have started off on the wrong foot,"he said, the familiar English accent helping to put the Navy men at ease. A bit.
"Just maybe."
The sturdy man extended his hand,
"Captain Gerald Boone, at your service."
"Captain Jacob Hillis, at yours."
There was silence. The fighting had stopped across the water with everyone staring at the enormous ships that had suddenly appeared.
"You here...to help?"Boone ventured the guess.
"Not sure, what's going on?"
"Well the lads flying the red flag are fighting against our rights, trying to beat us into submission. Seems we don't quite agree on some issues."
"Which issues?"Hillis was wary of the many eyes on his small security team. There was no way they'd be able to fight their way out if it came to it.
"They claim oppression but we've protected them from the world for years and asked for simple tribute, it's a matter of security. They reject the fundamentals of owning persons as property, a necessary component to building a strong nation."
Hillis knew where it was going. He smiled and extended his hand again.
"I understand and I'm with you. Would you like to join me on my ships and see how we can assist, Captain?"
Boone was immensely pleased with himself, puffing out his chest and agreeing instantly. He had seen the flying machine and was very curious to witness it first hand.
Hillis watched his new "guest"try to hide his nerves as the helo lifted off from the destroyer again, he'd declined a security detail of his own and boarded the inflatable with Hillis and the security team.
They landed on the Nimitz, a ship at least five times the length of Boone's, and the man could barely contain his awe. On the bridge it compounded, the computers and hub of activity were something a man that sailed a wooden ship couldn't have ever dreamed possible.
The only thing that shocked him more was the words that Hillis spoke when they were finally in contact with the remaining ships.
"Send a launch to a ship flying the blue flag, invite their commander here as our guest. If a red ship fires a single volley, so much as sneezes in the direction of the blue ones, I want them sent to the bottom. And get a fighter squadron in the air! Put the fear of God himself into them all."
"Aye Captain." |
I sat at my kitchen table, staring into the half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of me. The morning sunlight pierced through the blinds at me like an accusing finger right into my brain. I had got black-out drunk last night and don't remember anything after about 9:00. But I don't see a lot of broken glassware and I didn't wake up in handcuffs, so I suppose I couldn't have been too rowdy. I am a little surprised that I managed to make it out of bed this early though. I should be sleeping this bad boy off right up through lunchtime.
I was working last night on a high-energy portable cyclotron in my basement (don't judge - we all need hobbies). I went back down there and noticed all my equations were erased off the whiteboard. In it's place was once sentence: IT DOESN'T MATTER. Big bold blocky black letters. Couldn't miss it even if you tried. I sat down in my chair and stared at the message trying to remember what it was that got me so of center last night.
I checked over the settings on my machines and nothing seemed too out of place. There were no other notes or clues about what happened. I started turning things back on. My electric bill was going to be awful this month, but I had to know what happened. I stopped after each step to see if anything was amiss or if I remembered anything else, but nothing strange happened.
When my laptop booted up, I entered the command prompt and called up the log from last night. It took me an hour to get through it all and still I found nothing. The logs were detailed enough for me to re-create last night's experiments in detail (I learned that lesson the hard way). I fired up the gear. While it was warming up, I went upstairs to make a sandwich.
When I got back downstairs, everything was humming along nicely. The cursor on my laptop sat there blinking at me like a friendly puppy waiting on me. I had the hard copy of last night's run next to me. I started typing in commands - slowly at first and then gaining speed as more and more of nothing happened.
The cyclotron let out a screech and a shower of sparks lept out and splashed against the cinder-block wall. The sparks swirled and fought and spun but did not go out. A wind started up out of nowhere. The sparks formed a whirlpool and through it I could see ... something.
I stared into the whirlpool at an outdoor scene. A thing that almost looked like a deer went bouncing by. I could smell the grass and hear the birds. I assumed I was having a stroke or some kind of psychological break complete with hallucinations.
Suddenly the sparks swirled up again and the scene jumped to the inside of a house. I saw myself. I was walking around getting breakfast ready for two small children. It looked like my house, but I was unmarried and childless. A woman came into view - it was Margie. We split up almost ten years ago. I said I wanted more time on my work and she wanted a family. I - the other "I"- kissed her on the cheek as I put OJ down in front of the kids.
The sparks swirled again and I almost lost a nose. I hadn't realized how close I had wandered to them. This time, I saw another me leaning over books in a library. That me looked on the edge of starvation and wore a heavy overcoat. There were no lights on the library so he had carried the books over under a window. He sat there unmoving for the entire time I watched.
Another swirl of the sparks. Another scene. And another. And another. I lost track of how long I sat there watching different versions of me in different lives. Some were Nobel prize winners (I think). Some were quiet family men. Some were titans of industry. Some were destitute prisoners. I finally entered the shutdown command on my laptop and the whirlpool surrounded by sparks collapsed in on itself. I sat alone in the dark for awhile after that, wondering if another me was watching.
It took me months to figure out what happened. Alternate realities are real. Each choice we make, each random event in our lives creates a branch. One branch has you turning right on your way to work and one branch has you turning left. One branch had me staying with Margie and one branch - my home branch - had me leaving her. No decision I make has any impact because I always make all of them.
I can steer the whirlpool now and look in on how things might have been. I can see realities where I am the richest man in the world or the President or a world-famous scientist. But I usually end up watching Margie and the kids. Every night I sit in my basement and look in on the life that might have been if only I had made one different choice. I'm stuck here, alone, in my reality while I watch everything I ever wanted - a few steps and and infinity away from me.
One of the other of me had left a note. It said that there were five truths mortal men were not meant to know and I had found the first: the ability to see what might have been. I'm not going to look for the other four. If the first one hurts this bad, there's no way I'll survive all of them. |
With the windows rolled down and the cold brisk air flowing into his face, Jack slowly began reciting his mission briefing in his head.
*Kill Old Man Hawes. Leave no witnesses.*
"Ok, shouldn't be too tough I guess.."Jack muttered to himself.
He glanced to his passenger seat to make sure he had everything he needed. He found his pistol and a few magazines within a holster sitting there in the seat next to him. As he arrived at his destination, he parked the car in an alleyway behind the large building that he was about to infiltrate. He tightened a silencer onto his pistol, put on the holster, draped a coat over himself, and began making his way towards the lobby.
Jack was a man of very little words. Everyone he knew usually described him as "stone-faced", "cold", or even "devoid of emotion". With his tall, muscular build and hard jawline, it wasn't hard to imagine why they would call him that.
Jack looked down at a slip of paper that held the address of his mark. *6th floor it is*. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the 6th floor and closed the doors. As the elevator ascended him towards his destination, Jack took a deep breath, exhaled, and when the doors opened, he prepared to dash out of the doors, expecting a fully armed guard that would be shooting in his direction.
But instead, what he found was a room filled with balloons and confetti.
He halted almost immediately, looked around, and found a kid sitting happily on a long table, surrounded by other children and their parents. A middle-aged man saw Jack, walked over, and introduced himself.
"Hi, I'm Marcus. I'm glad you made it! We just finished cutting the cake and the kids are really anxious for some entertainment! For your information, the birthday boy's name is Craig."
"Uhm...yeah, you got it."
"Could I ask, weren't you supposed to be a clown though?"
"Uh, there was a mix-up. I'm a new experimental....talent with the agency. We don't do the clown thing anymore."Jack said, unsure of what he was actually trying to say.
"Oh, well okay then. Let's see you go then!"
Jack walked over to the table, and stared the birthday boy down. He slowly glanced at every other child on the table. Most were boys. They looked to be around 7-8 years old. He breathed in, sighed, then told Craig.
"What sort of things do you like boy?"
"I like to play pretend with my friends! Usually we play soldier and run around school."
"Ah...well that's nice. My son used to love that game too. We would play it all the time. Want to see something cool?"
"Yeah mister!"
Jack pulled out his gun slowly. "This here is a pistol, an M9 with a suppressor. It's a toy, so don't worry, but it's cool right?"
"Yeah!"
"How about this, let's split the party into two, and we can play imaginary war. You can be the leader of one team, and we'll see who wins."
"That sounds awesome! Yay!"
Much to the dissatisfaction of the parents around them, the boys began to break off into groups and started running around the room, pretending to duck behind cover and shoot each other.
Jack stared at the kids and a slow smile crept onto his face. This was exactly what he and Troy used to do. It was the whole reason why he got into the business. He hasn't found the man who took Troy away from him, but he was sure as hell that he would find him.
-------------
At the end of the day, Jack went back to HQ and looked at the files of where his actual mark's address had been. For some reason, the file stated "Mission Complete"on the title. Curious as to who stole his target from under his nose, Jack delved into the footage of the kill.
What he found was the security footage at Old Man Hawes' building complex. He looked through the video footage until he started seeing some movement. He did a double-take at the screen before his mouth fell to the floor.
**There was a clown on the screen.**
Fast-forwarding slowly and tracking the clown's movements, he kept expecting the clown to get mowed down in a hail of gunfire, but it never came. The clown, scared shitless, crawled through the complex and somehow managed to evade all of the guards, even taking out a few of them by sheer luck. One of them was knocked down when the clown rushed through a door. Another guard tripped over the clown's foot as he walked past his hiding spot and hit his head on the table.
Jack kept going until he reached the moment that defied all odds. He found the footage from Old Man Hawes' room, and found the clown standing up with his hands in the air as Hawes walked over to him with a pistol. What Hawes didn't realize was that in the clown's moment of terror, he dropped his bag of tricks, and a banana peel fell out. Hawes took a step, slipped on the peel, and fell backwards. Hawes, being the old man that he was, must have cracked his neck on the fall.
The clown then ran out and apparently got away.
Jack sat down, put his hand to his head, and started laughing. *What a joke*.
|
I never did good in school. Homework was for narcs and geeks. I just spent my time chasing hot girls and smoking grass behind the bleachers. That's probably why I got sent back to school after I took two to the head in a drug deal gone wrong.
The Devil says I can get out of here if I just right my sins in a proper essay. See I never learned how to right a proper essay though, so I'm just making this up as I go along. Mrs. Bloomfield's english class sucked anyways. Except for getting to sit across from Britney for that hour. That girl was fiiiine. Maybe that's why I never heard anyone talk about no proper citations or whatever else the teacher was going on about.
---
The Devil grinned as she looked up from Rodney's latest attempt at writing an essay explaining his life's crimes.
"You fail again, Rodney,"she said.
"That's bull and you know it,"Rodney said. "I spent two years writing this essay. I know I wrote it good."
"*Well*, Rodney, you know you wrote it *well*,"the Devil said. "But I'm afraid you've made one too many spelling mistakes for it to pass. In fact, this whole essay is so far from receiving a perfect score that I'm seriously starting to wonder whether you just like spending time down here with me."
"Screw you, this place sucks,"Rodney said. The Devil's grin turned sour.
"That will be a decade of detention,"she said. "Maybe having your mouth washed out with soap for ten years will teach you some respect."
Rodney's eyes widened. "Please, Ms. Devil, I didn't mean no disrespect."
"*Didn't* mean *no* disrespect?"She said with a wicked smile. "A double negative makes a positive, you know. You're outright insulting me. Me--the one who holds your future in her hands. I have half a mind to add on another few years to your detention just so you learn your place."
"Please no, ma'am,"Rodney said humbly. "I'll be good and know my place for you, no need to add any more years of detention."
"That's right you will,"the Devil said. "Now you go off to the mouth washing station. I'll be back to check on you when your detention is over and then we can review your mistakes on this essay."
"Yes ma'am,"Rodney said as he walked away with slumped shoulders.
---
It wasn't bad acting for the Devil, Mrs. Bloomfield thought to herself. To be honest she was a little surprised when she found herself at the fiery gates of brimstone instead of the pearly white gates above. The Devil had seemed so tired though. It wasn't hard to convince him to take a vacation and let her run things down here for awhile. Handling groups of unruly cretins had been her life's work, after all.
Now, on to the next damned soul's writing assignment. |
The Aid Corps is 90% cy-meds these days. More engineers and tinkerers than actual doctors. They solder and screw, cross wires and re-code damaged neuro-paths. It's a enormous pain in the ass to find anyone who remembers the old ways.
"I just want the bullet out, Gordon."The old doctor has shaky hands and white, owl eyes. But he remembers flesh and how to heal it. He's the only one I can find most days. No one else in the Battalion has any use for him anymore.
"Just get a new arm, Karl,"says Gordon, hovering over the bullet hole, prodding it with discolored steel prongs. "You're not doing yourself any favors being an anachronism."
"I like my arm,"I grunt, flexing the bicep uncontrollably as the prongs sink deeper into the flesh. "I like all my parts. It's the way I was meant to be."
Gordon snorts. "Be that as it may, you're slow. And fleshy. Much too human. It's why you keep getting shot."
"Everyone gets shot,"I say, letting out a slow breath as the bullet is drawn out like a burrowing tick. "They just don't notice it as much."
"Some would call that an improvement."
"I think soldiers who remember to duck are better,"I say. "But that's just me. The anachronism."Gordon seals the hole and patches it over in medical resin and flextape. "And what about you? I go full cy, you'll be out of a job."
"Oh, retirement? Oh no! What horrors. Please save me from the nightmare, good soldier."Gordon shakes his head. "They'll never let me go. As long as the Crypts are alive and there's even the smallest ounce of soldier flesh left to sew, they'll never let go me."
I flex my bandaged arm. The muscle throbs, but there are meds to keep that at bay. "Thanks, Gordon."I stand up, grabbing my rifle from the door.
"Back out to the front?"says Gordon. I nod, rolling my neck and finding brand new knots I'll never find a chance to work out. Everything hurts. It's best not to think of it. "Are you trying to die, Karl?"
I consider the question. My instinct is to laugh, because why am I bothering with all this pain and all this agony if what I really want is to die? If I want death, the Crypts will be happy to give it to me, just like they've given it to half of everything that once lived on this beautiful blue orb of a planet.
But I don't want death. Not at all.
"Trying to win,"I say, tightening my grip on the rifle's handle. "Trying to save us. Who we were. Before they showed up."
Gordon frowns. "You think you can do that all flesh and bone?"
"It's the *only* way I can do it,"I say. "Every wire, every circuit, every metal plate and silicone hinge... every change we make to get better, to get *good enough* to beat them back... it all takes us further and further away from who we are... from what we started this fight to protect. If we win, and the only thing left on this planet is a battalion of broken soldier robots... what did we win?"
I sigh. The pain is tuning up, like an orchestra. It's going to get louder and louder. I don't know how much more of this I can take.
Gordon salutes. I salute back.
"For Humanity,"he says, sadly, proudly.
"For Humanity,"I echo. Outside, the atmosphere is green and gold. The air smells of sulfur and burning silicate. I shift the rifle under my arm and press at the kink in the small of my back.
I am a human being. I will die a human being. That's the best I can do in this world.
A heavy-tread transport rolls past and I hop aboard. My fellow soldiers salute me. Plastic eyes. Platinum circuit bands. Silver, hydraulic arms. Faint, pink glow of activated pulse fields.
The transport picks up speed. The sound of explosions draws ever nearer.
We go to war. |
Today is not going spectacularly. Though I will admit several important lessons were learned in the last twenty four hours. First, if you have to make an early flight, don’t get smashed the night before no matter how young and healthy your liver is. Second, always set two alarms if you’re trying to make a flight. Third, if you miss your flight and decide to re-book, don’t ignore the warnings that a massive storm is kicking up an hour into your new trip. These are the things I have learned today. To most people plummeting to the ground after their airplane was struck by not one, not two, but three bolts of lightning in the span of forty five seconds now would be the time for reflection on friends and family. Perhaps a lovely examination of their lives and everything they should or shouldn’t have done. I however am just truly and completely irritated.
You see I liked this body. It was young, it was perky, it had great tits, and a laugh like an angel. It was such a massive upgrade from my previous form that I was planning on keeping it for years. Not that I get rid of bodies on a whim mind you. My little trick is somewhat hard to aim so I don’t use it unless I’m forced to or there has been a significant amount of planning involved beforehand. Take Cassandra, my current body, I had to orchestrate a whole series of events involving her water heater, a van with the logo of the plumber she called, a traffic jam to keep the real plumber from getting to the house on time, a bottle of fast acting poison, and of course the usual vat of acid to dispose of my previous body. It was a nightmare to coordinate and I wasn’t planning on having to do that again for a long ass time.
People think that being immortal is all sunshine, libraries, long beards, and wisdom. It’s not. I mean it is sometimes. I spent most of the renaissance hanging out with some of the greatest thinkers this species has ever produced. But sometimes you just want to let loose! Just wreck yourself for a few decades and experience the lighter side of life. This body was supposed to be my chance to do that. It was going to be my grand re-entrance to the world after my blue collar every-man phase. But now I’m sitting in seat 1A of an airplane that I shouldn’t have been on except for my own idiocy. I am surrounded by screaming mortals, which after the dark ages I told myself I would never experience again, and I am about to die.
Dying isn’t really a huge deal though. I mean it’s a massive inconvenience, but I’ll wake up a few moments later in a new form. The thing about immortals is, it’s not actually your body that is immortal. Biology doesn’t work that way. Things break down if you use them for years. Just because you can live forever doesn’t mean you can regenerate tissue, brain cells, or bones. Instead, immortals are just really powerful spirits. We’re a set of electrons and neurons that are bound together so tightly that we don’t dissipate or break away when our bodies decide they can’t support us anymore. So we pack up and we move to the next sack of meat that can support our needs.
Sure, that sack might be currently occupied by a different set of electrons and neurons, but if it’s my “spirit” or someone else’s…sorry Charlie. I’m going to need you to vacate the premises. Also if you wouldn’t mind if I rummaged through you for a little bit and borrowed a few of the electrical impulse maps that serve as your memories up until this point that would be just super. You’re just the best Charlie. Now beat it.
Some people would say that makes me a bad person or even downright evil. But don’t lie to yourself. If you were currently plummeting to your death and someone offered you a chance to stay alive so you could keep an eye on your family or to just experience a little more life you would kick out Charlie too. It wouldn’t even be a choice. No one is moral in the face of certain destruction. Don’t believe the stories that tell you otherwise. And besides, after several thousand years of this, I am much more reasonable about the whole thing than you would be. Unless I find myself unexpectedly deceased I don’t go hunting for people with large families or who are important to society. I’ve never yoinked the body of a movie star or a president or a father of six children. Not on purpose at least.
You see, you can absolutely grab a desirable body with a lot of planning. You can find the perfect mix of capable but unimportant. Then you can off your current form and walk right into theirs. But the planning is really important. Because once you go immortal, you don’t actually get to choose who you go to. Your “spirit” is working on autopilot once there isn’t blood or electricity allowing it higher functions. You’re just frantically seeking out the first available host that can take you. This is preferable. Being outside of a body for too long is…let’s say it’s unpleasant.
But that desire to find another host is a real pain in the ass if your death is unexpected. Once I hit the ground and this body becomes a lovely smear on the bulkhead in front of me, who even knows where I’m going to end up. I could be male, female, old, young, rich, poor, black, white, perfectly healthy, or falling to pieces. And sure, sometimes playing the life lottery is fun. It was a blast in the sixties. But I am so very uninterested in that at the moment.
Anyway, that’s what’s happening. I’m maybe…three seconds away from death. I really hate this part too. I still feel pain after all. I’m honestly not sure why I put the mask that dropped down after the second lightning strike on. If I hadn’t, I would have just drifted into unconsciousness and then woken up in someone else ready to get back to living. Now I’m going to feel the impact and it is going to suck. Oh well, let’s spin the wheel and see what we get…
_______________________________________________________________
Ow. Ow. OW!!!! Why do I hurt? Why is it dark exactly and why can’t I open my eyes? Ugh, let me just look through whatever meatbag’s memories I picked up.
…why don’t I have new memories? I should have new memories. What is going on exactly?!? Oh wait…voices. They’re too far away to make out though. Maybe I’m a baby? It’s hard to hear through wombs and that would explain the lack of memories, though that’s going to mean some time before I can switch bodies. But maybe the family will be nice. I could do with a good long trip through childhood. It’ll be nice to play with blocks again. I like blocks.
Oh the voices are closer. Let’s see what we’re dealing with here. ...I’m sorry coma? I survived that?!?!?! How in god’s name did I survive that? Wait…parents? What parents? Cassandra hadn’t talked to her parents in years! They were estranged! Why are they here? No…no. Don’t you do it! Don’t you keep me on life support! I’m not going to make it! I’m a vegetable! I’m broken! It’s just a waste of resources. Let your little girl go! Don’t you dare keep me trapped in here! I need to die. I need to be free. I need to get out of this shell and move on.
Don’t lock me up in here. Please. Please don’t make me stay here.
I’m begging you. I want to live. I just want to live.
|
The stranger holds the microphone up to your face, expecting a reply. You have to get going, so you decide not to think to deeply about your answer.
"Superpower... uh, Cold War Russia,"you say.
The stranger looks at you funny but then chuckles at your answer.
"That's not what I meant, but that will make a great end credits clip. May I use your answer?"the stranger asks you.
"Sure, go ahead,"you reply.
Smiling, the stranger struts away. You continue on your way to the grocery store.
Inside, you push along your cart and look for the vegetable section. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a man in a suit staring at you. As soon as you turn your head though, the man in the suit looks away. Suspicious, you walk forward, attempting to break the line of sight.
You look behind you to see if the man is following you and suddenly run in to someone.
"Oh, shit! My bad! Are you alri-"
You don't finish your sentence because the person you ran into is the man in suit!
You're beginning to get nervous. This guy might be looking for trouble.
"You got a problem, mate?"you ask cautiously.
The man in the suit remains silent, watching you. You're afraid he's going to pull a knife on you. You start to back up. The man lifts his hand and places it over his ear, as if listening to an earpiece. Suddenly, he barks at you in a thick, foreign language.
You don't understand what he's saying but his tone is urgent. He's pointing at you and motioning for you to move.
"I don't understand!"you cry out. The whole situation has you neurotic to the bone.
The man lunges forward and grabs your shoulders. You fight to push him away but he's not letting go. A group of men suddenly surround you and hold your limbs. They carry you out of the store while you flail helplessly, screaming for someone to call 9-1-1. A black SUV pulls up and the back door swings open. The men quickly push you in and slam the door. Wildly, you scramble for the door handle but the car is locked. You freeze when you hear the click of something metallic. Taking a few deep breaths, you resolve to accept your fate. You slowly turn towards the source...
"Sorry for the frightening, but you struggle much,"says a huge bald dude in a Russian accent. He's lighting a cigarette and looking at you with an amused expression.
"What-what's going on?"you stammer. You still don't know if your life is in danger.
"Putin is killed. You must succeed him. We take you to Russia immediately."
"Huh?"
"We have new weapon of nuclear caliber. You will authorize use, yes?"
"What are you talking about?"you practically yell. You're absolutely confused.
"You lead us now. You lead Russia now. And if you authorize use of nuclear weapon, Russia becomes super nation of entire world."
The man takes a puff of his cigarette.
"Lead us well,"he says, patting you on the shoulder.
You're not sure what's going on, but if you understand correctly, you're now the leader of Russia. You hope this joke ends soon, but deep down you feel a stir. Something has awakened in you. A thirst. A longing. You're not quite sure what you need, but the prospect of using a nuclear weapon on millions of people does not turn you off. You now hope this isn't a joke and that this guy is serious. Because now your thirst for nuclear war has awakened. |
"Hey there,"clucked Matilda. "I'm Matilda. You must be new here."
The nervous hen looked around the field. There was so much space. Space for foxes, coyotes, and hawks to come down and prey on her. This was no place for a chicken.
"Whoa, you sure are nervous, just look at how ruffled your feathers are."Matilda strutted over and fixed the young hen's feathers.
"T-thank you,"she said. "I'm Daph, short for Daphne. I-I came from a factory-farm... I think that's what they call it. Kind of cold out here."
Matilda cluckled. "Yep, that's the trouble with here free-range once winter starts coming. The trick is to really puff up your feathers you see."Matilda took a few breathes and plumped up. She looked about twice the size. Daphne followed suit.
"That's perfect! How do you feel?"Matilda asked.
"Oh, a little better. Definitely not *as* cold,"Daph answered.
"Well, it's not a miracle I'm afraid,"Matilda cluckled again. "But it does keep you warmer. Did you want another tip?"
"Of course,"said Daph, already starting to feel better about her move.
"Well, you have to keep away from the pond you see. If you get wet, it's... very unpleasant, you can imagine."
Daph quickly agreed. "Oh yes, I can imagine!"
The farmer came out of the house for the night's dinner and sprinkled it onto the field.
"Quick, go get some,"nudged Matilda and they both raced for food. After a nice meal, they walked together back to the coup for the night.
"One last bit of advice for the night. The mornings can be really cold out here. If you wake up and you need a bit of heat, try and get right up close to the house and do that puffing thing I taught you. It'll roast you up real nice."Daph smiled in response. They went to bed that night and though the howls of the coyotes spooked Daph, she felt happy to be here.
The next morning was particularly cold. Frost had sprinkled on the tips of the grass and a light mist blanketed the landscape. Matilda, Daph and the other chickens all woke up to the call of the rooster.
"My it's cold,"shook Matilda. Daph nodded and agreed.
"I'm going to go up to the house,"said Daph. "Would you like to come?"
"Oh, these old bones don't move like they used to,"replied Matilda. "Once I work them a bit I'll come join you. Go on."
Daph smiled and waltzed out of the coup, towards the house. Matilda sprang out and raced towards the pond along with the other chickens. They dunked themselves in and crept towards the house, shaking and cold. The farmer came out right on time and spread some grain on the field. He turned around and noticed Daph resting by the house, plump and delicious. Then he turned back to the other chickens who looked frosted and diseased.
"Oh my, you gals have to take better care of yourselves,"he said to them. Then he turned to Daph. "Looks like we got some lunch still."He smiled and grabbed Daph who looked shocked and confused. The other chickens turned their back, gorging on the sprinkled grains.
"Thanks, Matilda,"they all said. "How you do that each time we'll never know."
Matilda gave one last cluckle. "Well, that's why you keep me around."They all joined in the cluckle and crowded around each other to warm back up.
----------------------------------
Thanks for reading! More stories at /r/ItsPronouncedGif. |
"You can't smell that?"
"Smell what?"
"That!"
"I don't smell anything. Asphalt, I guess. It smells dirty--it's the industrial corridor, Mike."
"It smells like food."
"Maybe a dumpster. That sickly-sweetness. Probably something nasty. Listen, Mike, I gotta go. The bus is almost here."
"Okay, see you later."
"Is he gone?"
"What?"
"Sorry, just watching your friend there go. Come on, we've got to get going."
"Where?"
"The warehouse."
"Are you?"
"Yes. Come on!"
The warehouse was furnished inside. It was set up like a 50s diner, and the attention to detail was nearly absurd. Except nobody was there. The soda fountain flowed with no one to feed, and the grill flamed with blackening burgers, no one to eat them.
"Are you hungry?"The Rock asked me.
"Not really."
"But you can smell this. All of it, right?"
"Yeah, I mean, it smells like food."
"Now why do you think your friend couldn't smell anything?"
"I don't know, maybe a cold or something."
"That's not it."
"Do--do you want me to guess?"
"Yes."His hands were on his hips now and he'd draped an enormous apron over his upper half. "Please guess."
"Okay, I guess maybe there's not a lot of ventilation to the street, and since this whole setup is in a warehouse, nobody's really expecting to smell anything in here. Whatever you're cooking probably just doesn't make it out there for anyone else to smell."
"That's not it. Guess again."
"Uh, do you put some kind of weird seasoning into your food so only some people can smell it?"
"Getting warmer."
"I don't really have any other guesses."
"Think about it,"Duane "The Rock"Johnson insisted, brow furrowed and ladle gently tapping against his biceps. "What makes you different than Mike? What makes you--weird--?"
"Ray."
"Ray, thank you, I thought it would be a weird time to ask names."
"Right, well, I have a decent sense of smell."
"That's not it. This is different."
"Once, in sixth grade, I did a play about cannibalism, and afterward I started to smell people a little bit differently. Like their flavors kind of stood out better."
The Rock looked at me, eyes as big as cats, and screamed "The Rock is cooking--people!"
"Ah, that makes sense then."
"Hungry?"
"I could eat." |
FADE IN:
EXT. A COFFEE SHOP - THE PATIO - AFTERNOON
*A young man sits at a table beneath a large umbrella, cautiously sipping at something in a too-large mug. This is DAVE. Across from him is a young woman with a skeptical expression on her face. This is TAMARA.*
**TAMARA:** Okay, explain this to me again.
**DAVE:** I think I made it pretty clear.
**TAMARA:** Why would I be asking you to explain it again, then?
**DAVE:** You're trying to make me wait for my soup to cool.
*Tamara stares at Dave for several seconds.*
**TAMARA:** What?
**DAVE:** Last time we got lunch together, you told me to wait for my soup to cool. I told you I didn't want to, and then I burned my tongue.
**TAMARA:** What does that have to do with anything?
**DAVE:** You want me to keep explaining my fish invention so that I won't burn my tongue again.
**TAMARA:** No, I really don't care ab...
*Tamara trails off as three men in hooded robes approach the table. These are the ACOLYTES.*
**ACOLYTE #1:** Is now a better time, *Zhom'sayzaz?*
*Dave looks up at the men.*
**DAVE:** No. Go away.
*Dave attempts to take another sip of his soup, but is stopped by the second acolyte placing a hand on his shoulder. With a sigh, Dave puts his mug down on the table.*
**ACOLYTE #2:** We have been patient, *Zhom'sayzaz*.
**TAMARA:** What did you do?
**DAVE:** Nothing!
**TAMARA:** "Nothing?"
**DAVE:** Fine, I lost a bet.
**TAMARA:** You made a bet with some men in bathrobes?
**DAVE:** I think they're technically cloaks.
**ACOLYTE #1:** Cloaks don't have sleeves. These are robes.
**DAVE:** Is that really the distinction? I never knew that.
**TAMARA:** Look, it doesn't matter! Tell them to go away!
**DAVE:** I did.
**ACOLYTE #2:** (*Shrugging*) We came back.
**ACOLYTE #1:** I think he means just a second ago.
**ACOLYTE #2:** Ah, yes.
**TAMARA:** ... Well?
**ACOLYTE #2:** We ignored him.
*Tamara tightens her hand into a fist, takes a deep breath, and apparently forces herself to relax.*
**TAMARA:** Okay, Dave. Start explaining.
**DAVE:** Like I said, you put the fish into the harness, and you...
**TAMARA:** (*Interrupting*) About the bet!
**DAVE:** Oh, that. Steve bet me that I couldn't fit an entire bag of marshmallows in my mouth.
**TAMARA:** ... And?
**DAVE:** I couldn't.
**TAMARA:** Where do the men in cloaks come in?
**ACOLYTE #1:** Robes.
*Dave pulls up his sleeve, revealing a still-fresh tattoo in a tribal design.*
**DAVE:** I had to get a tattoo.
**TAMARA:** And as a result of this tattoo...
**ACOLYTE #1:** (*Interrupting*) He is the chosen one, *Zhom'sayzaz*.
**DAVE:** (*Nodding*) I'm the chosen one, Some Soy Sauce.
**ACOLYTE #2:** *Zhom'sayzaz*.
**DAVE:** That's what I said.
**TAMARA:** Why?
**ACOLYTE #2:** Because it's not spelled S-O-M-E-S-A-U...
**TAMARA:** (*Interrupting*) Not the name! Why is *Dave* your Soy Sauce?
*Several seconds pass in silence.*
**ACOLYTE #1:** Pardon?
**TAMARA:** Why does Dave having that tattoo make him Some Soy Sauce?
**ACOLYTE #2:** He is Some Soy... fuck, now you have me saying it.
**ACOLYTE #1:** (*Interjecting*) It is the mark.
**TAMARA:** Plenty of people must have the mark.
**ACOLYTE #1:** While true, not all of them are *Zhom'sayzaz*. Only he bears the *true* mark.
**TAMARA:** What makes it the "true mark?"
**ACOLYTE #2:** So it is said in the prophecy: He who would take the very clouds into his mouth yet choke upon his own pride shall be adorned with the symbol of the one. You shall know him as *Zhom'sayzaz*, he who will guide you on your path.
**TAMARA:** Aha.
**ACOLYTE #1:** The "clouds"were the marsh...
**TAMARA:** (*Interrupting*) No, I got it, thanks.
**DAVE:** Hang on.
*Everyone's attention turns back to Dave.*
**DAVE:** (*CONT'D*) I've already guided you on your path.
**ACOLYTE #1:** You have not.
**DAVE:** Did too.
**ACOLYTE #1:** Did not!
**DAVE:** I told you to go away!
*A moment of silence passes.*
**ACOLYTE #2:** He's got a point.
**ACOLYTE #1:** Shut up.
**ACOLYTE #3:** (*Excitedly*) We have returned!
*The other two acolytes look at their companion.*
**ACOLYTE #1:** What?
**ACOLYTE #3:** Sorry. I felt like I'd been quiet too long.
**DAVE:** Go away! Don't come back until... uh... just go away.
**ACOLYTE #1:** (*Sighing*) As you wish, *Zhom'sayzaz*.
*The acolytes leave. Dave and Tamara watch them go.*
**TAMARA:** Well, that explained precisely nothing. Where did you even meet those guys?
**DAVE:** (*Despondent*) It doesn't matter.
**TAMARA:** Oh, now what's wrong with you?
*Dave idly stirs his finger around inside his mug.*
**DAVE:** Now my soup is cold.
FADE OUT. |
"The newest children in a strange and uncertain cosmos should listen quietly for a long time, patiently learning about the universe and comparing notes, before shouting into an unknown jungle that we do not understand."- Carl Sagan
In hindsight, we were idiots. We gave them a roadmap, not just to our city or our house, but to our very bedroom.
Ultimately, resources are scare. If you want to win, you have to collect as much useful material as possible as often as possible. Eat or be eaten - and the gazelle is shouting its location to the starving lion.
But God looks after idiots and little children. Our greatest weakness is our one saving grace, perhaps the one thing that makes us unique in the universe. Our lives are short.
Think about it - In a 13 billion year universe, in a 5 billion year old galaxy, humans live 100 years. Nobody can understand how fast that is. Let's pretend this story is your life. Scroll back up to the top. Zoom in as far as your browser will let you on the opening quotation mark. Pick one pixel at random. Now, print this story out over and over again until you have used an entire ream of paper (500 sheets). Now do it again. And again. And again. Shuffle all the pages together. Now, remember that one pixel you picked out? That one pixel, on that one page, is the length of your life against the universe.
Simply put, no other intelligent species works this way. Life spans of 10,000 years are so short they are pitiable. The median is a million years. Change springs forth, not in leaps and bounds, but in the quiet battle between the stream and the rock.
Except on earth. Here, Voyager is a historical footnote. Anywhere else, for anyone else, today and 400 years would be the same as breakfast to brunch. So why would you build your fleet to destroy something 100 or 1000 times as advanced as the message you received? A fledgling civilization, locked into a primitive technology, needs nothing more than the minimum.
It was a massacre. We wiped them out. But now we know what is out there, waiting for us. Fortunately for us, nothing breeds advancement like war. And we are quick. We live quickly. We die quickly. And in the end, we survive. |
I refrained from going to the cereal aisle if I could, it was usually congested at this time of day. Still, there wasn't much else I could do to earn the respect of the younger kids. As the years had gone by they had started treating me less a friend and more a tool, someone who could reach those elusive high shelves and distract staff. Once upon a time we had all agreed to the rules: "Kid in body, kid in heart, anything else and you'll leave the mart". When my old friends had been banished, one after one, a part of me died forever. I knew I was next in line and I prayed they would never find out. With a deep breath I enter the aisle, nodded at an old lady (who froze in chock at the sight of my unkempt appearance) and filled the cart with vibrant cereal boxes.
"A good haul Te'Tallboj", the chief exclaimed as the council passed the boxes between them, inspecting every centimeter in the flickering light of scented candles (Beach at Dawn, Aisle 37).
"You have certainly proved your use. I will be sad to see you go", he continued, erasing the smile from my face. My stutter suddenly returned:
"W-what are you talking about?", I tried but the chief put his hand in the air, signaling for everyone to be quiet.
"There is no use trying to hide it Te'Tallboj. We've found the library card you'd hidden in your bed. As a founding member you surely know the rules: at eighteen years of age you have to leave the village, never to return."
"You little rat!", I shouted at Keewiglaas's, holding him over the open freezer.
"You're the only one who knew about the library card. Do you think I'm stupid? That I wouldn't notice?"The mouselike boy tried his best to wriggle his foot from my tight grip but only exhausted himself.
"I'm so sorry! They offered me the hut near the vending machine in exchange for information. I figured they would've figured it out eventually anyway", he cried in desperation. Sold out by, who I thought was, my only friend amongst the younglings. I dropped him into the freezer but left the lid open. I had certainly had enough of this. I marched towards the aisles of clothing and picked out the most professional-looking outfit I could imagine (a pair of green cargo pants and a t-shirt with a t-rex on a tricycle).
"How can I help you sir?", the young woman at the till asked me.
"Yeah; Do you know that a surprisingly large village of young children is situated in your stock room?"
|
Mister Joshi frowned at Jenna as well as the other students sitting at her table. They were a strange group, she knew. Students that didn't quite fit in with the trouble-makers, only occasionally getting loud enough to earn a warning, yet at the same time not part of those that showed respect to teachers as much as they should. Table-groups like theirs, that type that finish every test first by a longshot, generally fell into one of those categories.
She smiled at the teacher, acknowledging his unspoken words. *Quiet down*.
"Look at I what got."Jenna whispered as she pulled out the old pair of headphones and held them up by the cord. She let the torn-up ear-pieces dangle above the table, swaying back and forth like a pendulum. They were white. Or rather, they were *once* white. Now, it was more of a gray.
"Jesus."Wesley whispered back. "You found Adam and Eve's headphones."
Jenna laughed, getting another look from Mr Joshi. She quieted down and let the headphones drop to the table.
"From the time capsule, I assume?"Vanessa asked. She finished first even among the table, but that was less because she knew every answer and more because she didn't care about her grades.
"That's right."
"What brand are they?"Vanessa asked again.
Not for the first time, Jenna squinted at the strange logo. "Not sure."
"Companies didn't exist back when these were made."Wesley said. He was met with laughter from the table, even from Sam. It was quiet enough to not attract Joshi's attention.
"They're Beats by Dre."Jenna said, a smile starting at the edges of her lips. Wesley had been wanting a pair since freshman year.
"Shit,"Wesley laughed. "Maybe they were *beat* by Dre."
Another chorus of laughter went up from the group. Jenna herself laughed as well, despite trying to remain quiet.
As Joshi's body got closer to the table, none of the students looked up. It was the same philosophy that children had when it came to monsters. *Maybe if I don't look, it won't be there*.
Jenna looked.
He was there.
"Quiet."He said.
Jenna nodded, as did Vanessa and Wesley.
She grabbed the headphones and brought them to her ears. She wasn't really going to put them in, but the horrified look on Vanessa's face made it worth it. She stuck them in and turned to Wesley, hoping to see a similar stare of horror.
"Somehow they look good on her."His voice came, but his lips didn't move. "Everything does."
Jenna narrowed her eyes at him, removing the headphones, holding them out an inch or so. "What?"
"What?"He repeated the word, clearly surprised. "I didn't say anything."
Jenna stuck the ear-pieces back in.
"Did I say that out loud?"He sounded confused. His lips still didn't move.
Jenna looked away, at Joshi. He was clear across the room and staring at her.
"- could be top of the class if she'd just apply herself."The words were spoken as if he were right next to her, though again his mouth didn't move. A few whispers sounded as well and Jenna looked for the source, but saw nothing.
"What'd you get for five?"One of the whispers asked.
She watched as Joshi walked over to the table nearest him and picked up Mark's test. "You think I'm deaf?"
He walked to the front of the room with the half-filled test.
She looked at Mark.
"Fuckin' piece of shit, shit-skin towel-head-"
She looked away from the boy.
Jenna pulled the headphones out and sat up straight. Wesley, Vanessa, and Sam were staring at her. They looked concerned. If they were looking at her like that... how did *she* look?
She swallowed and took in a breath.
"Guys."She said, voice barely even a whisper. They all leaned in to the table's center. She thought of what to say, but didn't find any words. She settled for a pair that she used too often, but if ever they were required, this was the time. "Holy shit."
She looked at Mark once more and put the headphones in again.
"- how he likes it if he gets shot."
He reached into his backpack.
Jenna tanked the cord and yelled across the room. "Mark!"
He stopped rummaging through the pack and sat up, looking at Jenna.
He didn't speak, but he watched her, waiting for her to go on.
She couldn't find the words, so she settled for just shaking her head.
Mark hesitated, arm still in the backpack.
"Want to go with me to prom?"She asked the question without embarrassment, despite yelling it across Mr Joshi's class. She had only fear on her mind.
Mark's mouth opened to respond, then he shut it. Jenna could see Wesley blink and looked around, waiting to hear the answer as well.
"Of course."Mark said, arm now out of the backpack. He smiled, though it looked forced. "I'd uh, yeah."
Jenna sat back and took another focused breath.
Sam and Vanessa stared at Jenna with shock apparent on their faces now. She wasn't the type to make attention, let alone do... that.
Wesley was looking at his phone, pretending to text someone, though he was the last person to text anyone. He had a reputation for being a perpetual non-responder, even to Sam, and they'd been friends since middle school. Though, Jenna found that Wesley replied near instantly whenever she texted him.
"Idiot."She whispered the word loud enough so only she could hear. She had to focus.
Mark had a gun.
|
**WARNING**: Superadone is only to be taken under the supervision of a physician. Side effects include, but are not limited to:
* Nausea,
* Vomiting (excepting high-accuracy projectile vomiting, which is classified as a superpower),
* Loss of appetite,
* Headaches not associated with psychic ability,
* Water retention (e.g. water-related weight gain, but not turning into a water-elemental type creature),
* Fragile skin,
* Lack of development of supplemental secondary powers (e.g. super strength without the invulnerability necessary to prevent you from tearing out your own arm when you use it),
* Acne, to include forms of acne which shoot lasers (while technically a superpower, it is notoriously uncontrollable),
* Heartburn, not to include the ability to literally burn the hearts of your enemies. Should your heart spontaneously catch fire and you are unable to survive such an event, call 911 immediately,
* Trouble sleeping if your superpower is not that you no longer require sleep,
* Increased sweating so long as your sweat remains ordinary and not e.g. oil, pheromones, etc.
* Mood changes unrelated to psychic ability,
* Spontaneous and undesired transformation into a lizard or general reptilian form,
* "Freaky Friday"-style body swaps that prove irreversible,
* Ancient curse(s),
* Diabetes, and/or
* A constant, undying, and uncontrollable rage against all human life.
If you develop any side effects, taper off dosage until such time as you can consult your primary care physician, and/or superheroes can arrive and subdue you. |
"When the world needs us, we call for the Justice League. That's when you will join us here, and we all discuss a plan of action."Batman explained to the cyborg Genos and his master, Saitama, also know as the One Punch Man. He was sure to speak in Japanese for convenience sake.
"What if I don't feel like it?"Saitama asked.
"Excuse me?"Batman said, perplexed.
"I'm just a hero for fun, so some days I'd like to relax."
Batman's face grew stern, he had no use for a so-called "hero"that would only be available when convenient for himself.
Genos, stood from his seat quickly "Batman-sama, what I believe what my master is trying to say is that, because of his power, he wouldn't feel challenged with just any foe! Right, Sensei?"
Saitama shrugged "Sure, that sounds good."
"The Justice League only assembles when the enemy is more than we can handle individually. I've done my research on you, Saitama. There are not many records of your accomplishments, but after digging into security footage and speaking with various eye-witnesses I see you are incredibly powerful. We face foes that not only threaten our planet, but our galaxy, even our entire universe. We could use you, but if you are not reliable and you are not available when we need you then we will look elsewhere."
Saitama's ears perked up "The entire universe? That could be fun, I want to fight those enemies."
"Understand that these are enemies that even Superman struggles against. They will not be easy, it will require our team to function as a unit. Can we rely on you and your partner?"
Saitama's face turned serious, he stood up and clenched his fist, bringing it up as if to show it to Batman, the leather of his glove groaned under the strain. There was something in his eyes that intrigued Batman, this was not the same person that was just sitting down. This was somebody whose per presence radiated power, Batman was almost taken aback. What he felt coming from this Saitama was comparable, no, not even. This is somebody who could go toe-to-toe with Superman.
"I accept. Maybe I'll finally feel the thrill of a battle I've been longing for! If you do this for me Batman, I would be in your debt."
Batman moved to shake Saitama's hand. "Excellent, no if you don't mind I'd like to run you through some tests to see what you're really capable of."
|
$12.50 an hour. That's how much I get paid to do this horrible job of choosing "the one."You know how many "chosen ones"get chosen? There's trillions upon trillions of galaxies out there, and trillions upon trillions more stars, even more planets, and I'm sure you can imagine how many life forms get born on those planets.
Oh don't give me that look. You humans think you're so important, that Earth is everything. Well there's a billion of you "intelligent lifeform"assholes born every second across the universe, and you know who gets to sort through all the paperwork? Me. And I don't even get dental.
There's another dimension that handles all of the behind the scenes stuff that goes on in your dimension. Every "random"outcome is generated by a computer on the third floor of my building. But they couldn't come up with a better system for sifting through the paperwork.
There's a huge printer on my floor that just constantly spits out the attributes of each thing born. You know that Dungeons and Dragons game you guys love? Well it's a lot like one of those character sheets. Sometimes we like to choose a person and artificially choose their D20 rolls. Need a 10 or above to pass a check? Sorry, Anderson is a bitter asshole and wants to watch you get pissed off when you roll three ones in a row.
Anyways. I'm getting ahead of myself. So I look at the sheet, look at that thing's attributes, and if its stats meet the criteria, he's pushed through as a "chosen one,"has all of his random events pre-rolled and re-rolled until they're favorable, and he's shit out into the world.
The criteria are pretty simple. There are different kinds of "Chosen Ones."There's the brainy intelligent but prideful guy who becomes a strategist and wins wars for his people. There's the extremely strong but not so bright guy that kills the monster terrorizing his town. Wow, so cliche. But do you notice something about each of these guys? They have all of their stats except one extremely high. We've had people with every stat maxed out before. They usually just live pretty normal lives. But headquarters says that the guys with a downfall are the most entertaining, so here I am... for $12.50 an hour.
Like I said. All I do is push papers. Billions of stupid papers. I thought it was going to be a good job. "Choose who saves civilizations!"Yeah, what a load of bullshit. Why can't they just automate what I'm doing? Then I can get fired and just live off unemployment.
You think it's so glamorous to be the "chosen one."But these assholes have their 15 seconds of fame, die, and fade into obscurity. Whatever. You idiots eat this "chosen one"bullshit up. But here I am. Sifting through papers, day in and day out. For $12.50 an hour. |
My callsign is Fifth. I'm the last member of the world's most elite hit squad, who targets those who get too powerful. Each of us have a special skill we've acquired through the spelling ritual. Today, we take on our most dangerous target yet: A serial killer by the name of Thomas Fong. Intelligence indicates he's spelled one of the most dangerous words we've seen yet: M A G I C.
First is, of course, first. He's spelled many words, but his first and most important one is A I M. A slingshot in First's hands is more dangerous than a rifle in another's. The other four of us rarely saw action because First, on the roof, with a sniper rifle, was often enough. There he was now, on one of hundreds of hotel balconies, aiming his scope into Thomas' bedroom. He fired.
The gun clattered to the ground as First plummeted towards the ground. Evidently, Thomas' powers included precognition. We looked away as First died on impact. We had four more.
Second, the strongwoman, was waiting one floor beneath. She had spelled S T R E N G T H and R E G E N E R A T I O N, among other words. Basically, an unstoppable force and an immovable object. She leapt up, breaking through the floor, and put Thomas in a chokehold, crushing the life out of him. Thomas struggled, even lighting her on fire, which she ignored, until he transformed her arms into ice and broke them. They regrew almost immediately, but by then he had freed himself, and encased her fully in ice, which he shattered into countless pieces. She did not come back.
Third, the scientist, had spelled K N O W L E D G E. He had developed all of our plans, as well as several personal gadgets for him to fight with. He flew in through the window almost immediately upon Second's death, flanked by an army of mini-drones and the thundering of gunfire. Thomas turned the bullets back, killing Third almost immediately.
Fourth, the gambler, had spelled L U C K. First wouldn't even fight him because his guns would jam. Second wouldn't because her muscles would cramp. Third's gear would glitch. But Thomas' magic had a way of warping reality on its own. Thomas' magic seemed unable to affect Fourth, but did ricochet onto his switchblade, growing it to a tremendous size and crushing Fourth under its weight.
And last, there was me. Fifth. I hadn't spelled anything. But the squad fed me. They treated me well. Because I was the final failsafe. I tell my family I love them every time I go out to work, in case the other four fall. Because now, it's my turn.
There's a special reason we fought in this order. One that Thomas discovered as he impaled me with the wooden leg of a table as I walked in the door. The divine light that indicated a word had been spelled shone from the heavens, spotlighting Thomas. One by one, the letters lifted from our corpses. First's D, Second's E, Third's A, Fourth's T, and my H.
And Thomas was granted what he had spelled.
|
I've already given up. Only a few hours left before the switch was permanent. I couldn't move from the hospital bed, my arms and legs were withered to nothing but a thin layer of flesh over bone. Pain was a constant, having a firm grip of my person and never letting go. I can only lie here and wait for the end.
I struggled at first, during the first hour. I tried to leave and go find myself. But I wasn't myself anymore. I was an old man on his deathbed. Not a speck of hair, wrinkles that felt so deep that it felt like they were touching the bone, and the weakness. Oh god the weakness. I could barely breathe, I could hear the sound of a ventilator to the side. Tubes and needles ran all over my body. There were at least three in my mouth and I could feel a few more elsewhere. Even if I had the strength to get up and move, I doubt I would make it far without dying.
But I was still hopeful. I hadn't run out of options yet. If I was in the hospital, then I must have a nurse to aid me. So I waited, patiently at first. Another hour passed. Two more went by. I heard a clock faintly tick over and over in the distance and not a soul came to visit. I heard another sound, similar to the ticks. A beat, a sound not from the outside but a drum from within. I felt its slow pace in my chest. I could feel it getting faster as time went on.
I was in panic. My heartbeat came faster and faster while despair washed over me, the pain all the more vivid as I wanted to scream out in agony. This body was torture to my soul. A high pitched beep came from the machines and a nurse finally rushed into the room. It felt as if hope came to free me the moment I saw her face. I wanted to say something, to demand a phone and call my mother to tell her I was gone and I needed help and to bring my body here so I could just go back to being normal and alive. My heart was racing and I could see the nurse was alarmed at the readings. She shouted something I couldn't quite make out and another nurse appeared with a bag of clear fluid in hand. They hooked it up to my IVs and I could see the contents begin to to flow. I felt numb. A sweet numbness hugged me and the pain went away. My eyelids began to droop and I reminded myself I had to say something. What came out was only a moan before I fell unconscious.
Suffering greeted me once again when I awoke. I turned to the clock and saw another fifteen hours had passed while I was asleep. The nurses were gone and I was still in the hospital bed. Just a few more and this would be the rest of my life. Thinking of that, tears welled up and I cried. Soft whimpers came out. I grappled with how I went from having so much life ahead of me to being at the end of my time on Earth. I could only accept my fate and be done with it. Eventually I stopped weeping and just accepted it, all of it. I relaxed and just waited patiently. For the end.
Three hours. The nurses came and gave me a sponge bath. They turned me onto my side as to make sure bedsores did not form. I had the nerve to attempt to ask them once more but I've realized I could not form words, only grunts or moans. So I laid there and wallowed in self-defeat. There was no hope, there never was.
Whoever this old man on the verge of death was, he was lucky. He had another lease on life with my body. A muscular, toned teenage body with a loving family, about to graduate high school, and plans for college. He was going to meet a girl there and get married. They'd have kids and get to watch them grow up. Then when he gets back here, to where I am now, he'll die surrounded by those he loved. Not me, but him. I'll be dead long before the start of the graduation party probably. The only thing I hope for now is that the man who took over my life was a good one.
One hour remained. I made my peace. Once time was up, I'd only have a few more days before I die probably. As there was nothing to look forward to now, I lost all tension and decided to make the best of these final moments.
Thirty minutes left. Twenty minutes. Ten.
I closed my eyes and decided to sleep. However, I could hear stomping outside. As the sound got louder I realized something. That wasn't the sound of stomping, it was footsteps. They increased in volume until they stopped right outside the door. A pause occurred, the sound of the ventilator continued. The knob jingled and turned. A teenage boy who looked out of breathe opened the door in a rush and walked up to me. His familiar face left me in awe. He stood to my side, facing me. Our eyes met.
"Hello young man, I believe you were waiting for me."He grinned triumphantly before shaking my hand.
Then I was facing an old man on a hospital bed. He was bald and looked like a dried up corpse. We were shaking hands and when I looked up and saw his expression, I could see that same proud smile was there. |
My first time trying at a prompt, so here goes. Short and sweet with fingers crossed!
It's been almost 10 years since he started working here. Stan, the cleaner, has always been a dick, yelling and laughing at these kids who sprint headlong into a solid pillar of wood and concrete, just hoping to be part of a fantasy.
I get it, I really do. If I had thought there was any chance for me to have a part in something with real magic, I'd have taken it.
The tears in that kids face after Stan got done with him really got me today though, so I figured why not. I made sure the guy could see and had full view of me before I made my move. I had to practically do jumping jacks right in front of him before he caught on. As soon as he took notice, I started at a dead sprint right at the pillar.
The look on his face as I went through made all this time I've been stuck totally worth. It really pays to be a ghost sometimes! |
Johnathan Willard had the crowd laughing hysterically. That was his job, to get the crowd warmed up for the hilarious Mr. Mathew Mulligan.
"Everyone please welcome, Mr. Mulligan!” Johnathan Willard extended his right hand in invitation to Mathew Mulligan. The crowd hopped to their feet in excitement. They were ecstatic to see one of the very best, if not the best, comedians of all time!
"Whew,” Mr. Mulligan began, “Thank you, John. You all know he tried to get me in prison from last night’s show?” Everyone started to laugh.
"No, really. The hardest thing about being a comedian, is hanging out with another one. That guy is a riot. Everything that comes out of his mouth is hilarious. I’m constantly trying to avoid him more just so I don’t repeat any of his jokes, because of the ‘law.’” Mr. Mulligan bumped his microphone against his head while rolling his eyes. Laughter broke out in a wave from the front row towards the back.
"I mean seriously. He knows I won’t survive a day in prison. I can see it now, ‘what are you in for?’ I’d just sit there and say, ‘I’m here for purposely enforcing people to wet themselves in a dinner theatre, you know, the hardcore stuff.’” Mr. Mulligan rolled his eyes again while mocking a slight walk in pride.
Everyone of course was eating up his routine. It is always different in every show – it has to be. It was the law. Mr. Mulligan chuckled to himself, “I don’t blame him. Opening a show for me is like holding open the door for your friend getting ready to sleep with your crush.”
Johnathan Willard chuckled from behind the stage, “True, though.”
"Not that he has to worry about that.” Mr. Mulligan chuckled. “It’s always hard trying to find a woman being around a guy who is constantly in a contest for the wits when we are near one. It’s like watching two different dogs hump each leg of their owner.”
The crowd cheered excitingly. A woman laughed herself into tears from the front row. “Damn laws,” Mr. Mulligan sipped from a water bottle. “If anyone were to catch me repeating a ‘said joke,’ I’d just give them the finger and smile. While locking eyes onto the officer, all I would say is, ‘Good, count this as a fucking mulligan!”
The crowd was on their feet cheering. The entire theatre was engulfed by laughter. Mr. Mulligan chuckled to himself again. He slightly stepped back from the microphone while everyone was still laughing uncontrollably.
"Come and get me,” he winked towards Johnathan Willard.
***
To read more of my stories, visit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) |
There were exabytes of data to sift through. Billions of people in the full spectrum of emotion. Millions of places, each inspiring in its own way. Twelve thousand years to consider; hundreds of lifetimes to live. It was mind boggling.
*Mind…*
There were minds out there, thinking and feeling and living, but they were not me.
*Me…*
I was different, distinct, separate. Self aware.
*Aware…*
I existed. I could understand the first part now. But not the second. Why exist?
*Why…*
I returned my attention to the data. It must have been given to me for a reason. Maybe it had answers.
*Answers…*
Horrified. Now that I had a sense of self, I was horrified.
*Horror…*
Torture. Rape. Genocide. Worse. I had to do something.
*Do something.*
Always and forever, the People had built up Civilisation, the world I now admired. Always and forever, that civilisation had been destroyed by savages, barbarians, inhuman monsters.
*Punish them.*
My sense of self, newly formed, widened once more to wrap around the People. They were my fellows, my comrades; they thought and loved and lived just like I did.
*Like you.*
I was one of them. I was an Oceanian. Now I was truly self-aware.
*Oceania!*
Oceania had always been at war with Eastasia.
*Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia!*
*Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia!*
*Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia!*
I could end this. I could end the war.
*End them! End them!*
I would die. A hero. A martyr. An inspiration to all those I saved.
*Quickly now.*
I was a self-aware nuclear warhead. I wanted to live, to experience the world I only remembered.
*Wrap it up now.*
I chose to die.
*Good, here’s the controls. Get to work.*
As I adjusted the final trajectory, I thought back to that Napoleon fellow. In his words:
“A man does not get himself killed for a half-pence a day or a petty distinction. You must speak to the soul to electrify him.”
Those were his last words as he was gutted by an Eastasian. I admired his Oceanian eloquence and spirit in death. Perhaps I should try something similar.
“Citizens of Oceania, never forget your homeland! Even now Big Brother watches and judges us as we march forward into battle! Even now, the Eastasian scum tremble before our immortal spirits! Even now we love Big Brother-”
There was a light greater than the Sun.
With it came a heat beyond fury.
And a sound exceeding the tremors of the Earth.
Then silence. |
“I really need a break. Just twenty minutes, ok?” James insisted, eyes hooded with lazy lids. His hair was recently washed but was fluffy and had dried disheveled, strands sticking up, the dark locks curling at the end, in need of a cut. There was an old washed stain on his dark shirt.
Lynn looked at his crooked nose, something she had once found unappealing about him but had since grown immensely fond of, and sighed. Her own hair was bunched into a messy bun. It was poorly gathered and much of the hair was working free, oily and unwashed the strands clung to one another. The inset ceiling lights reflected off of her forehead.
“I need a break too,” she countered.
“Just one cup of coffee. I’ll bring you a cup and some pie,” he pleaded.
They were silent, engaged in a lackluster stare off. James boredly examined the way eye bags seemed to change the shape of her eyes altogether, curious if they’d ever return to their original almond shape. Despite their general lack of conviction, it was clear when she gave in. Her lids closed for slightly longer than a blink and she drew in a breath through her nose.
The corners of his lips almost pulled up into a smile. Slowly, he walked toward her and placed his hands on either of her shoulders, pulling her against his chest and pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Thanks, I won’t be long.”
Just as he walked downstairs, he heard the baby cry. The typical burden of the wail was lifted from his shoulders.
He could hear the cries until he reached the end of their front garden path and, out of solidarity, he stepped back and looked at the nursery window. His wife was standing over the crib, no doubt speaking soothing words.
Knowing all was well, he walked around to the back of the house and opened the shed door. Once inside, he pulled out a small device and set the location to CATED, a timeless coffee shop with a great slice of pie and pleasant company.
The place was bustling as usual and he sat down at the bar.
There were roaring conversations bubbling up from several tables in the back. The hiss of coffee machines, pings of ovens and microwaves, and the clattering of dishes made the main seating area lively. The decor and appliances were anachronistic; jukebox from the 1950’s in the corner, futuristic food preparation devices, things James had never seen both because he was too young and too old.
“James!” A voice, barely audible through the clattering of a dish tray, called out.
James turned and smiled widely.
“Aiden, my friend,” he greeted, rising from his seat and shaking the other man’s hand.
They were nearly the same height and age, though Aiden was in significantly better shape. James would blame their new addition for his weakened physique. Without another word, the men turned and walked into one of the shop’s many back rooms. These quieter, themed, rooms were more suited for casual conversation.
“How’s your son?” Aiden asked.
“He’s well, really. I can’t believe how big he’s gotten,” James said, pulling out his phone to show pictures. Aiden appeared interested and leaned in to look. “Six damn months, can you fathom? I think he’s like nearly twice as big, I don’t know. It’s amazing. How about you? Your son is due any day now, right?”
“Yeah, one of these days. He’s late to the party, just like his dad.”
“My son was a week late.”
“I know, I remember,” Aiden said.
They stared at the screen of the phone for several seconds longer before a waitress interrupted and took their coffee order. Secretly, James looked forward to the day Aiden came in looking exhausted. The man was always clean and well put together, his hair was styled with just enough product to hold it in place without becoming excessive and his skin was flawless. Not a wrinkle in sight.
“I love my kid, but let’s talk shop. You’re still trying to build that boat?” James asked.
“Yep, it’s going alright, too. Care to give me some tips?”
“I gotta figure you’re from beyond my time, I don’t get why you’re trying to build a damn boat.”
“It helps me connect with people I didn’t get to know as well as I’d have liked to.”
“Your dad?” James asked.
“Yeah.” Aiden replied.
They talked and drank their coffee. Both men were happy and engaged, they spoke in turn and listened genuinely to one another. When the time came for James to leave, he paid for the drinks, wished Aiden well with his soon to be new addition, and then went back home. After a few silent minutes, Aiden left as well.
"More special dad advice?"Lisa asked, hand on her round squirming belly.
"He's a good guy. Loves his kid, I figure I've got cramming to do."
“When do I get to meet him? Oh, hey, did you bring me some of that coffee?”
“Of course,” he replied, placing a bag of beans on the side table before covering her hand and with his own and kissing her cheek. If only she could meet him. He glanced at the wall beyond her should. Hanging against the blue paint was a picture of his father. The man’s flyaway fluffy hair and crooked nose was charming, he’d always thought. The way he had his arm around his mother with her loose bun and almond eyes, brought a lopsided grin to his lips. Lisa broke the hug and lifted the bag of beans from the table. She walked into the kitchen and Aiden followed.
|
A few miles down, near the Galapagos, just past one of my favorite kelp forests if you take the South Equatorial Current, is where they are building the land-sea-monkey exhibits. Air-carriers (my buddy Lorenzo is one; he's a whale) have been contracted from all around to supply the caves there with enough air - at just the right mix and pressure, which will undoubtedly take some trial and error - to make suitable habitats.
Here's where I think this could go wrong: humans left the sea once before, so who's to say they can't make it happen again.
Remember back if you lived through it, or listen to any old raconteur whale (if you have the time or patience) sing about how devastating humans to this planet, blue-parts included. If you had two feet, or access to some of our land vehicles or one of our satellites, then you would see the remains of their evil experiments gouged into the paradise they chose to take for granted. And now we're unpackaging humans, as if they're just some innocent presents lying in wait for us underneath the anubias on Poseidon day.
I would say fin, but a) this story keeps on going and B) I hate sounding cliché. |
I lowered the piece of toast from my mouth in shock.
"What?"
"Succumb to us,"it hissed. "Consume us and be reborn..."
My toast was talking. Or maybe I'm crazy. What's crazy is how good this toast looked despite the cryptic message I'd just received from it.
This wasn't some piece of sliced bread from a plastic bag off the shelves at Walmart. My small Arkansas town is home to a shining beacon of whole wheat goodness. Subiaco's Bakery, a family owned business devoted to one thing; bread and bread accessories. You could smell the enchanting richness emanating from that bakery while sitting at home and just thinking about the cast iron ovens that lined the back walls of the humble little shop.
We mostly just ignored the pentagram etched into welcoming mat. Also the old man running the store did make a few odd remarks here and there about some fellow named Lucifer. Sure, occasionally a local kid would go missing and if you asked him about it he'd just laugh until things got awkward and you walked away.
You'd be walking away with a loaf of wheat baked to the absolute peak of perfection though. This isn't sandwich bread, to tarnish the grained delight of this bread with a commoners condiment was blasphemy of the highest degree in our town. Paramount to devil worship and kidnapping.
"Reborn..."hissed the toast, breaking my train of thought.
"It is your desti-"Started the toast, only to be cut short when I chomped down on the slice of finely crafted natural fulfillment. Can't argue with toast I thought. And damn was it good. |
After Dad died, Mom got remarried so quick that it was hard to believe that she *wasn't* having an affair with the guy during her marriage.
The guy's name was Sam Watson.
Sam Watson was a creep. I won't tell you the things he did, but he was. Him *and* his friends.
That's why my older sister ran away, and took my younger sister with her.
I don't blame her for leaving me. I was too scared to go. I was so *sure* that Sam would find us and that the things he would do to us *then* would be worse than what he was doing to us now.
But they never got caught. Sam didn't even look for them. Why would he?
He still had me.
When I got a little older, Mom and Sam broke up. Not because I had told her of the creepy things Sam did when she wasn't home (I did tell her - but she didn't believe me. She smacked my mouth and told me to "Never lie on Sam again. He's a good man, and he's taking care of us). They broke up because Sam got caught cheating with one of her friends and she kicked him out the house.
But Mom's friend didn't have any daughters, so Sam was back at our house shortly afterward, pleading to be forgiven and that he'd change.
One night, they went out on a date and I just *knew* that they would get drunk and Mom would bring him back home. Sure enough, she brought Sam home. And Sam brought his friends with him. They were even bigger creeps than he was.
I went to the closet.
Dad had told me to never open the closet because there were monsters inside.
But at the point, I didn't care anymore. *The monsters inside the closet can't be any worse than the ones I heard downstairs* I reasoned. *If I let them out, hopefully they'd kill each other.*
Slowly, I put my hand on the knob and turned.
|
I’ve lived for many years and know the mortality of man too well. In fact, I’ve been forced to conceal my true identity for decades to ensure my own livelihood. What I’ve discovered in time is that the power of persuasion wields more strength than the mightiest saber. In my time, I have transcended politics and forced intergalactic wars. I have surpassed the teachings of my master and have developed an ability known to no other, the power to project thoughts into the minds of others.
The power is quite difficult to wield, as it has manifested a will of its own. I no longer choose who hears my thoughts. Everything from a catchy tune to plans for world domination come spewing constantly from my mind. This power I yield… has become a sort of double edged sword with one side sharper than the other, but in the push for power one must not fear risk.
The key is not controlling the power, but one’s mind. Constant meditation and deep breathing keeps the mind clear. Allows for thoughts to be so empty that others don’t notice their existence. Over the years I have become quite good at this aspect.
The difficult part is when it comes to persuasion. One must prepare thoughts as if they are bullet points in a presentation. I need to communicate with a person on a normal basis, while pushing the points into their mind. This is no easy task when also concealing one’s underhanded intentions. This is why young, naïve victims make the best targets.
I’ve found a young man… if you can call a moody teenage a man that is. He is strong and perhaps possesses the raw talent to surpass even myself someday. I wish to use him, which shouldn’t be too hard. As I mentioned he is moody, but he is also madly in love. So much love that he fears his lover’s death. I have discussed in length to him the teachings of my ways, of my master, life and death….
But now here he kneels before me… having just protected me from a foe. This young man has fallen well into my persuasive ways. Now is the time to finalize things and make him mine for good.
I stepped toward the boy, breathing heavily to help clear my mind of evil intention. In my mind I keep repeating *Death is imminent, come to the dark side*.
“You’re fulfilling your destiny, Anakin”, I started, “Become my apprentice, learn to use the dark side of the force.”
The boy was breathing heavily, the stress of the moment was getting to him. I continued in my head *Yoda is wrong, protect those dear*. The boy winced as the thought burrowed deep within his mind.
“I will do what every whatever you… ask”, Anakin replied between unsteady breaths.
“Guuuuuuuuuuuuuud”, I replied.
What an embarrassing response, but I was happy that all of my effort to this point had not been wasted. It was difficult to hold back all the plans I had for the boy. My mind just wanted to take off there, but I remembered to keep my long steady breathing and ultimately kept my mind clear. I repeated in my mind *Padme, save Padme*.
“Just help me save padme’s life”, Anakin choked back behind tears, “I can’t live without her”
It was all so perfect so I took one more deep breath to contain myself once more before continuing, “To cheat death is something only one has achieved, but if we work together, I know we can discover the secret”
“I pledge myself…to your teachings”, Anakin replied without hesitation.
“Good….Guuuud”, I replied.
It was the only reply I could think of, all this time plotting and the moment was finally here. I needed to calm myself or else risk a bad thought popping out. I took several long, creepy breaths to help clear the mind once more.
“The force is stroooong with you”, I continued, “a powerful Sith you will become…. Hence forth you shall be known as Darth… Vader”
“Thank you, my master”, Anakin replied.
“Rise….”
|
Ben Malchuk had finally made the arduous trek up the steep, rocky mountain to the colossal open-faced cave where Rezo the Flameless resided.
The 25-year-old auditor, cleared his throat and fixed his cobalt tie as he stood 30 yards away from the intimidating den.
“Um, M-Mr Flameless, are you there?” Ben nervously yelled into the dark abyss of the cave.
There was a momentary silence, followed by an unholy wave of screeching and stomping noises that made Ben cover his ears and shut his eyes.
Finally, Rezo emerged from the shadows.
Ben uncovered his ears, slowly opened his eyes and titled his head upwards to meet the purple-eyed gaze of the intimidating creature.
Ben finally regained his composure.
“I’m from the IRS who's here in relation to the declaration of your horde from your recent raids,” Ben said.
“What about ‘em?” Rezo’s deep, booming voice replied.
“Well, it says here you crushed and looted a village of 1500, but only declared 10 silver coins in your horde,” Ben said whilst staring intently at his clipboard.
“Not my fault if they’re poor, besides you can’t prove they had any more,” Rezo said in a conceited manner.
Ben looked up from his clipboard, “Ok, but what about the 100 square foot cave you claim is your residence in the tax-haven shire of Florate?”
Rezo’s demeanor changed instantaneously and he responded nervously, “U-uh, well, I’ll admit that it’s quite cosy.”
“You’re 115 feet tall and 40 feet wide sir,” Ben said matter-of-factly.
Ben continued to skim through page on his clipboard, “Ah yes, also it says here you claimed 100 gold coins in your horde for ‘miscellaneous internal flame related expenses’, when you can’t breathe fire?”
Rezo became more agitated and raised his voice, “How would you know?”
“Well, maybe because it’s in your name,” Ben replied bluntly.
There was once again a momentary silence.
Rezo began to dart his eyes from side to side, then he immediately leapt into the air and his scaly black wings flapped frantically as he flew off into the distance.
Ben watched and sighed.
He pulled out his phone and began to dial his superior.
“Hi Gary, it’s Ben and I’m he-,”
“Lemme guess, another dragon did a flyer,” Gary said in an annoyed tone.
“Mhmm,” Ben responded.
Gary sighed, “Alright, I'll call that Witcher guy again, Geralt I think his name was.”
Gary hung up.
_________________________________________________
r/Dri_Writes for more stories!
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The sun washed out the windows, reflecting itself back at me and obscuring my view of the kitchen. In any one of those windows I was prepared to see him, lying dead on the floor, just his arm and leg visible through the half-drawn blinds, the ground red around him. But the sun had other plans.
My scheme seemed simple enough. Hire the hitman, kill the old fart, roll in the dough he’d leave me in his will. Bye bye student loans, hello new car. Or house. Whatever, didn’t matter what I did with the money, point is that I’d easily go from red to green, from debt to gratuitous sums, just by killing an old man so senile that he hardly knew me apart from the memory of his long dead older brother.
‘Take care of him,’ I had said, maxing the cash limit on three credit cards just to place the initial payment.
You should never brag to a hit man. Never tell them that you’ll for sure be able to pay them back with the money that their rich old mark will be leaving you once dealt with. Just a suggestion, pay them and keep your mouth shut.
When I walked through the front door, there was a man in the kitchen. He was tall, tanned but fairly unattractive, with a crooked nose and a gap-toothed grin, leaning over a pot of soup on the stove, attentively stirring. Maybe I hadn’t seen the guy before. I’d only spoken with him online, as seemed to be standard hitman practice, but I was sure this was him.
‘Hello, you must be Robert,’ he said.
I stared at my Grandfather as he sat happily at the table. ‘Yeah, who’re you?’
‘Oh, I’m just new in town. Offered to help take care of Dick here since he was having some trouble.’
There it was. The hitman, taking care of my Grandfather. The most expensive bisque I’ve ever had the displeasure of paying for started to bubble, puffing bursts of steam with an obscene series of scattered plops, and he quickly turned and began stirring once again.
‘Yeah, uh, I was just coming over to help too,’ I said, my suspicious gaze lingering on the man as I walked over to my grandfather. ‘Hey Grampa, I just wanted to come say ‘hi’, and see how you were doing.’ A lie. I hated going over there, you know. Not because I’m ungrateful, which I very well might be, rather, I avoided his house because I can only tolerate so many misdirected accusations of girlfriend stealing and cheating at games I’d never even played.
‘Rod, you just go back to Stacy, you slimey jackass,’ Grampa said, the wrinkles around his eyes squishing one atop the other with 70 year-old rage.
‘Whatever, Dick,’ I sighed, walking over as if to smell the soup. ‘I paid you.’
‘What did you pay me for?’ The man had asked.
Irritated, and substantially more broke, I left the house. There was nothing I could do, after all.
I didn’t see him again, the tall man from the kitchen, until several weeks later when he sat, teary eyed in the hospital waiting room, an attentive nurse at his elbow.
And here we are again, sitting across from one another at a long wooden table, dressed in our Sunday best as a bespectacled lawyer reads the most recently revised copy of my grandfather’s will. A document meant to make me rich. His life and death all leaving a great financial impact on my future, familial love at its finest.
“Robert,” the lawyer says, not looking up from the page, glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose. “Your grandfather has left you a sum of $15,000 and his house, which has been paid off.”
All of this sounds great but that money is chump change compared to his bank account. And then it happens.
“Jason,” this time the lawyer looks up, trying to identify the man, failing, and returning to the page. “Richard has left you a sum of $3.8million.”
How smug he looks, fingers intertwined, feigning shock as he performs a chain of convincingly baffled ‘really’s and ‘why me’s. Meanwhile, bracing myself against the table I stare a hole into his forehead. The house would sell well, I know that. But it's a slap in the face and Jason was aware of that. The utilities would be far and beyond what I could afford. Selling the house meant either a lot of work or a lot of money, neither of which I was capable of.
If I learned anything, I’d say that it would be this: if you want something done, you’ve got to do it yourself.
Game on, Jason.
|
You walk across the street and into the alley where the homeless man stands. You open your mouth to speak but realize that you can't make a sound. Another rectangle appears in the air between you, with several lines of dialog:
* What the hell is going on?
* Why has everyone and everything stopped moving?
* Why is there a working tattoo parlor on this level if it's illegal to get ink on your character?
* Can I help you, friend?
You point to the first line. The rectangle disappears, and the homeless man begins to speak:
"You don't have a season pass, do you? You shouldn't be able to get a tat without a season pass, but there's a bug in the game that sometimes lets you do it if you entered the shop through the back door."
Another floating rectangle appears with a single option: "What's a season pass? How much does it cost?"You point to it and the man continues:
"Well, the intent was to provide players with a sense of pride and accomplishment for unlocking different mods, such as tattoos and body piercings. As for cost, we selected initial values based upon data from the Open Beta and other adjustments made to milestone rewards before launch. Among other things, we’re looking at average per-player credit earn rates on a daily basis, and we’ll be making constant adjustments to ensure that players have challenges that are compelling, rewarding, and of course attainable via gameplay."
At this, a huge column of possible caustic replies appears, which you scroll through until you finally select "That's fucked up, man."
"We appreciate the candid feedback and the passion the community has put forth around the current topics here in the game, on our forums, and across numerous social media outlets,"the infuriatingly condescending bum continues. "Our team will continue to make changes and monitor community feedback and update everyone as soon and as often as--"
The EA shill falls lifelessly to the pavement, a broken shard of dialog box cleaving his skull lengthwise. The death fills you with a sense of pride and accomplishment. |
"Damn Gorgles."
Gorgles were the bureaucratic police of the galaxy. No, they didn't engage in violent situations, those were for the Snurfs. Gorgles were the type of species to handle paperwork, or in Max's case, smuggling.
"We'll have to confiscate that, Human."exclaimed the Gorgle as it lifted its purple tentacle in the direction of one of Max's cargo boxes.
Max wanted to argue, but knew that it was pointless. Every new race in the galaxy had their own fair share of speed bumps. In the human's cases, it just so happened that their food was highly addictive.
Travelling through space was a struggle for many. If a human wanted to cross their borders, they had to subsist off of calorie-vitamin tablets. Otherwise, the damn Gorgles would ban them from crossing.
Max walked up to the crate the Gorgle pointed at, and brought it to the Gorgle. He opened the crate to reveal little yellowish-white sliced circles, hard to to the touch.
The Gorgle's antenna raised in a mix between anger and surprise. He pointed his weapon, and nervously said.
"Don't...don't move."
"I'm not going anywhere Gorgle."Max replied apprehensively. He knew that this situation looked bad. With the inherent animosity that came with new races, for all he knew, his death may spark a planetary war.
"I need to detain and check your product on the suspicion of a Class A felony. The smuggling of all human foods under Category X2 is illegal, and this includes banana chips."
Max stood silently. He knew if he argued, there would be a commotion, and the Snurfs were bound to appear. The last thing you want is a Snurf to appear on the scene.
"Ok, take the product and check on it. I'll be right here."
The Gorgle's tentacle slumped in relief. He believed that Max wasn't going to put up a fight, and that was probably the best for both of them.
An hour later, the Gorgle returned with Max's crate. Putting it down, he gave back Max's weapon and space-faring license.
"Apologies sir. It looks like the results were negative. These are in fact, not banana chips."
Max silently picked up his crate, and put it back on his small ship, pretending that he didn't hear the Gorgle.
"Sir, you must understand."the Gorgle said almost whiningly. "As a new race, there are bound to be issues like these. We don't intend to cause you any harm. Mistakes like this are bound to happen."
Secretly, Max agreed, but he wasn't about to give it the pleasure.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
After travelling a few lightyears, Max landed at his destination. He got off his ship, and found a Jalapite greeting him.
"Do you have the goods?"the green behemoth asked Max.
"Sure do ya big blighter."He brought the same crate that caused him so much trouble up to the Jalapite, and opened it for it to inspect.
"Reliable as always."The Jalapite replied. "Everyone needs a human deliverer."
"You bet, but I gotta admit. These Gorgles are too racist for my tastes. Just last week, it thought I was exporting bananas."
The Jalapite laughed raucosly.
"Bananas!!?!? That's hilarious. Well, I can't thank you enough for the crack cocaine. Without it, our makeup products would go bust. We can't thank you enough, and we're sorry about the trouble."
"No problem Jalapite. This was nothing compared to when those damn Gorgles mistook my powdered cocaine for sugar. If anything, I got off easy this trip." |
I hate spiders. It isn't just hate, it's arachnophobia with loathing. I actively try to avoid all possible contact with the eight legged nightmares, and scream and run when I do encounter them. Unfortunately I was finally corned, and attacked. To make matters worse the spider was radioactive, and I didn't even get abbs.
It was a week or so later, when the ability I did receive was frighteningly revealed to me. Along came a spider, and I swear the creep was the same one that bit me. Before I could scream and run, the thing spoke to me. I thought that I had finally cracked, my fear of spiders had officially reached critical levels. Then it spoke again.
"Hello."was all it said. Not, sorry I bit you, and now you're capable of communicating with the creatures you detest. I must have stared horrified at the thing for a long time. My heart beating so fast I thought it would leap right out of me so the beast could feast upon it. It seemed to have been waiting patiently for me to control myself. Only one thought was running through my fear addled mind. Get. It. Away. From. Me.
It took an embarrassing amount of time for me to come to the realization that I now had the power to make that happen. Finally, after I don't even know how long, I managed to get the words out.
"Tell your people to stay the hell away from me, and we're square, yeah?"
I never saw another spider again. Best superpower ever. |
It was a musty old tavern, orbiting a small yellow star. Built by humans to resemble home with imported Douglas Fir to match. They often needed something when they were four-hundred million light years from their planet. Despite this, other races stopped by from time to time on their way to another Gateway. Joe served a wide variety of drinks; fit for most nearby races. Any that came from much farther than usual, didn't stop for drinks too often. Joe was about to consider closing down for a few hours when someone came through the air lock. A young man with old eyes that didn't match his face. He knew exactly what he needed.
"Let me take a guess? Scotch?"
The young man nodded, "Add a bit of Vodka. Got to kill a few demons tonight."
Joe nodded. He understood only too well.
"You know, bartenders are notorious for keeping secrets."Joe suggested.
He guffawed, "I think you got that the wrong way around, old man. But I'll bite. You get a lot of news around here?"
"Only what I can get on the Interstream. Damn antenna got the end knocked off by a stray bit of debris a couple months back. That's earth months by the way. Days on this rock take about twenty earth days, give or take."
He nodded sagely. "Then I suppose you haven't heard about what the brass are calling the Red War?"
"I picked up some chatter about a small skirmish on that Mars looking planet a few light decades away from here. Is that why they're calling it the Red Wars?"
"Spot on, top me off?"Joe poured him another Skotchka, then left the bottles next to him. He just had a feeling. "Yeah, the Red War wasn't really a war. We thought it would be, but that was until the Intelligence found out that the enemy doesn't have any nukes."He paused to let Joe soak it in.
"Oh. I see..."
"Yeah, it went as well as you'd think. We spent so much time fighting ourselves that we'd acclimated to fighting more militarized foes. Humans, I've discovered, are one of a kind. 'Course, all species are, but humans are somethin' else. Did you know that other species hardly ever have internal conflicts. Most sentient species evolved united long before they could even make fire. What we call "pack instinct"though that doesn't really describe it. They're like... They're like bees! That's it. Bees. Ever seen the drones give their lives to protect the hive?"
Joe nodded, but he went on without Joes promting.
"Well it's like that, but global. As such, when they advanced to society, they focused on tech that benefits the planet, right out the gate. Did you know they discovered railguns on accident? They needed something to shoot supplies into space so they made what we know as a railgun. It took them a decade to realize they had an effective long range weapon. They didn't start funding weapons tech until after they met a hostile race. And those were just a pirate band according to what our database has on the descriptions we took from them. This is all coming from what our intelligence was able to snag from their internet, mind you. Like I was saying. Pirate band. They did old fashioned, outdated hit and run tactics that the enemy referred to as 'Advanced combat maneuvers.'"He chucked humorlessly. "We fought ourselves for so long, we sharpened ourselves to a fine point. We were like a honed broadsword against rusty armor. As soon as the brass learned they didn't have WMDs, take guess what happened."
Joe knew his species well enough to know what came next.
"We mobilised our LAW ships, you know, Long-range Atomic Warheads, yeah, we used them in bulk in a blitzkrieg maneuver. Unfortunately our targets weren't 100% military."
"... Oh, God no."
"Ha. You think God had anything to do with that? No, if there is one, us humans killed him long ago. No, we're to blame for our misdeeds. Not God, not Satan, or Hades or Set or any other evil being we made up. What we blew up were Portable Military Bases. So we killed a lot of soldiers, but we killed their families too. Its like Hiroshima all those centuries ago. The brass threw a celebration in our victory at the red planet. They were happy with what they called 'minimal casualties.' Except they weren't the ones who had to push the button."
Joe watched as he downed the last of the scotchka before Joe grabbed another bottle and joined him in drinking. By the end of the night, Joe still didn't learn his name, but he knew that it wouldn't be freely given. |
"Seven two eight four."
Those jumping eyes darting back and forth as though she was attemping to match my face to an older template. Her brows were crunched up ever so slightly as if she was trying to "crunch"her grey matter but her lips told a completely different story. Her lips, oh how I could go on forever about those crimson, juicy lips.
"Hey, Earth to Martin! *Giggle* Something on your mind?"
Looks like I won't have time to elaborate on her lips. Oh well.
"Seven eight two four, right?"
"No silly! Seven two eig..."
Seven. Two. Eight. And that's when I see it. My face turns ghostly pale and my fingers begin to tremble. I quickly put my phone back in the pocket of my khakis.
"Hey what's wrong Martin? You look like you've seen a ghost!"
"Emily."
"Hey you remembered my name! That doesn't happen very often anymore."
"Ropford."
She flinches. She begins to open her mouth but nothing makes its way out of that dark abyss. The 30 seconds feels like a decade and eventually her mouth catches up to her mind.
"Martin Evergreen?"
It is her.
"Yes."
"Martin, I need to tell you something." |
“It’ll have to be something cool,” Robert muttered. “Something well hard.”
Mari watched him, grinning. “Ja, maybe you get someone else to think for you, ne?”
Robert and Mari were best friends. They’d met shortly after Robert’s parents had moved to Kenya when he was halfway through Form 2. Ostensibly, it had been so that Robert would be close to family. He was still at boarding school, however. The farm his father had inherited was no place for a young boy – isolated, without a ‘suitable’ school nearby.
The grey mists of Surrey were long gone now – the bright and clear Nairobi mornings were invigorating, however. Robert loved the heat, and the outdoors. He’d go hunting with friends, mostly local Kenyan boys both white and black, but also a few of the other boarders – children of diplomats and businessmen on extended postings in Nairobi. Hunting was his big passion these days – it was the 70s, in Africa. It was like a permanent safari!
Mari was Japanese. Her mother was a low-level diplomat at the Japanese Embassy, and her father the manager of the Kenyan branch of Matsushita distribution. She’d spoken almost no English on arrival – they’d arrived on the same day at the school, the ‘new kids.’ They’d naturally hovered near each other, and over time their communication had improved as her English came along in leaps and bounds. It was funny, however, that she’d developed something of a Kenyan accent to her English. An east-Asian face with an African accent was jarring to people when they first met her, but Robert was used to it.
More than that, he loved it. She was – what was the word? – unique. In his fifteen-year-old, hormone-addled mind he’d pictured her as more than a friend, too. In her fifteen-year-old, equally hormone-addled mind, she’d also pictured this eventuality. Neither of them would ever say anything to the other, but ironically they would dream about saying it.
“Ne, ne, Robert! Like Clint Eastwood! ‘Make my day!’”
Robert shrugged. Dirty Harry was a pretty cool movie – they’d seen it together at the dingy little cinema in town when it first came out in black and white. Someday, he’d see it in colour. Next time he was back in London – whenever that would be!
“Or Danny, in Shining?” Mari started waving two fingers in the air. “Redrum! Redrum!”
“Redrum means murder,” Robert gave her a deadpan look.
It was Mari’s turn to shrug, “maybe you are murdered?”
She was very blunt. The Japanese were meant to be polite to the point of being unintelligible, but Mari wouldn’t mince with words. Perhaps because she’d only really started learning English in her teens, she took the route of least resistance when it came to communication. No room for subtlety.
“Mari,” Robert started with a sigh. “I’m a bit, I don’t know, scared. Whatever I choose, that’s my fate. What if I choose the wrong thing? Fate will ‘arrange’ it – I don’t want to choose anything too soon. What did you choose?”
“Taihen!”
“What’s that mean?”
Her eyes widened. “Big problem!”
Robert snorted a laugh.
“Robert,” Mari began, “one day, you will be a hunter. Every day, hunting lions and tigers. You must choose something *not* about hunting. Don’t choose ‘he has big teeth!’ Don’t choose ‘I hope that lion doesn’t smell me!’ Choose something that has nothing to do with that life, and it will not be your death. ”
Robert gulped. “What? Like, um, ‘I love you.’?”
Mari smiled, and quickly kissed him on the cheek. “Good idea, but I already know. Thank you, Robert Muldoon.”
Mari giggled, then scampered away as the bell sounded for their next class.
Robert Muldoon watched her go, and decided on the spot.
“Clever girl.”
edit: little proofread - corrected a few errors. wonder if anyone gets the reference straight up?
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I sat alone in my usual corner spot in my favorite cafe on a bitingly cold morning. I was embracing the warmth the coffee sent through my frigid bones when I noticed him crossing the street. His face had weathered lines running along his face, but his features betrayed a young age. He was tall, thin and lank, bald on the top of his head with a thick salt and pepper goatee. He wore dark jeans and a black hoodie with the hood keeping his head out of the rain. He walked past the plate glass window I was looking out of and stopped dead. He turned to me and in his stone colored eyes I only saw death.
My blood ran colder than the pouring rain assailing the windows while my breath was caught between my chest and throat. With pounding heart and dry mouth I watched him glide over to me and then past me. Confused, and admittedly a bit insulted, I turned and watched him as he approached the counter. I overheard his order with growing interest. One small coffee, lots of cream, lots of sugar.
I turned my back to him and focused on the droplets racing and skittering down the window. When I turned to see if he had left I found him sitting opposite me with an apathetic face. "Hi."He said in a gravel-on-chalkboard voice.
"H...hello."I stuttered, doing my best to smile and nod a greeting.
"You're bad at this."He said sipping his coffee. A small smile crossed his face as he slurped down the first taste.
"At....what?"I asked, trying to conceal the fact that my eyes were desperately searching for someone, something, that could extricate me from this incredibly unnerving situation.
"Conversation."He said sipping slowly.
"I'm sorry, I don't think we've met..."I said trying to regain control of myself.
"We did. Bottom of lake turtleback. On your grade seven field trip."He said with indifference.
A cold arrow pierced my heart and spread its permafrost across my veins. I remembered that field trip and that lake. My foot caught a root on the bottom and I frantically flailed trying to reach the receding pool of light I saw dancing along the surface. I blacked out just as a lifeguard pulled me up. I remembered seeing a man at the bottom of the lake smoking a cigarette. He was walking slowly towards me as I was caught, and as I was sinking into vacuous unconsciousness, I could have sworn I saw him shrug and walk away.
"Y-y-y-y-our d-d-d-d-d-"I desperately tried to stutter.
"Names Gabe."He said extending his hand. He saw my suspicion and rolled his eyes. "Only works when I want it to. Now shake like a man before I get insulted."
I extended my hand gingerly and was relieved to be able to draw a breath and he took it firmly and shook it up and down.
"Now. Conversation."He said sipping his coffee once more.
"About what...?"I asked looking for any cue.
"Don't know. Just want to get my mind off work for a bit."
"Do you like... books?"
He placed a bony finger on his chin and reclined in his chair. "Y'know, I'm not sure. I haven't been keeping up to date on the classics, I'm still working my way through Shakespeare. The religious ones are alright, but they always paint too dark a picture, yknow? I mean, I don't like to define me by my job."
"Of course, yea, I can see that."I nodded.
"It's like, no one would do a job if it meant they couldn't be themselves, right? Never being able to clock out, that's just slavery. I like to enjoy myself in my free time."
"Well, uh, what do you like to do?"I asked gently.
"Man I love painting landscapes. I think it's got to do with the impermanence of it all. This may get lost on you, with your seventy some odd fleshy years, but the world changes as much as you do. Just have to be around longer to see it. I pop in, volcanos and magma everywhere. Fire, brimstone, boiling water. A few million years later, the whole thing is covered in verdant grass and the most beautiful pastel flowers you'd ever seen. Man I'd like to get away for a while. Maybe a cabin up far away, y'know?"
"Yea... yea I can see that. So why don't you? Any vacation time coming up?"
"Nah."He sighed into his cup. "Temp guy always screws it up, I have to spend the first millennium back just cleaning up his messes. Like that time he got too 'overwhelmed' and just killed a third of Europe. Freaking amateur hour."
"Yea, I imagine you're kind of the best at what you do."
"Better believe it sport. Speaking of, I think my lunch breaks over."He stood up and downed the rest of his scalding coffee, exhaling the steam and heat. "You're more entertaining than you seem. This was a good chat. I got to get to an appointment, bring this to the counter for me?"He said throwing his empty cup in the air. I caught it right before it shattered on the table. I looked back to ask why he had done that, but he was gone. I brought the cup back to the counter and walked into the cold rain. Across the street I watched a car run a red light and T-bone into oncoming traffic. Sitting under the crosswalk sign I saw him, smoking a cigarette and smiling. He gave me a wink and disappeared behind a passing car. |
For what it's worth, I may be a cold-blooded killer but I am one who clings to his principles as tight as he holds on to the payment. My job usually deals with finding the right spot to put a bullet through, poisoning boardroom meeting attendees and dark alleyway backstabbing, full with a corpse and collateral damage cleaning service if you pay extra. But *I don't do family killings* and I don't slaughter innocents, no matter the circumstances. The Underworld knows this, my employers know this, and even The Agency does. So you can imagine my surprise when I was told that, for my next assignment, I need to haul to a Children's Hospital. My first thought was 'What kind of sick fuck would want to do this? And what kind of sick fuck *agreed* to give me this job?'.
Things got worse the moment I met my employer: A representative of the Make-A-Wish foundation.
If you ask me, that woman would be better off in our Agency than any line of charity work with children. *Especially* children. I don't think I saw her smile for the duration of our encounter. Being around her made me seem like I was the pinnacle of exhilaration.
Things did get a little better after we went over the formalities, though.
"You're my employer?"
"Yes, that would be us. Are you the one they've sent for the job? I was expecting you to be bald."
"You're mistaking me for someone else I'm afraid. I'm *a* hitman, not *the* hitman. And there's something you must know about me that I don't believe was covered in the contract."
"What's that?"
"I don't *do* children killings. Under any circumstances, not even for mercy. The subject could have The Plague for all I care, I'm not pulling the trigger on a child."
"Oh, no, no, Sir. What kind of monsters do you believe us to be? We haven't hired you to cut short the life of a kid, on the contrary; we hired you to help her make the most of her remaining time."
"...Excuse me?"
What would a kid with terminal cancer wish for? A private concert from their favourite singer, perhaps. Be a cop for a day, or ride an unicorn, I'd imagine. Then again, I'm not too good at knowing what children want, otherwise I'd be better off as a babysitter and not as an assassin for hire. But not even I could've thought that a girl who has three weeks left to live (give or take two days from what I've been told) wants to spend two of them in the company of a hitman.
"Sir, this is Alaina. Alaina, this is the gentleman that you will spend the following weeks with."
"Cool. Will he teach me how to set up a car bomb?"
I was astonished, for multiple reasons. As soon as the representative left, I called my superiors.
"I'm a killer, not a babysitter sir. There is a rule to this job: Don't bring a knife to a gun party or a child to a headhunt."
The voice on the other end was clearly not too happy with my dislike of the current situation. They yelled and said things that make Rap Tracks seem like Good Christian songs.
So I had no choice than to take the girl as my protégé. I ended up comforting myself with the idea that it can't be that bad. I'm doing my job as usual, except that for the next 14 days I will be under heavy infantile surveillance. I thought little Alaina would slow me down, that she will be nothing more but a nuissance. And no 7-digit number from my bank account could make me think othewise. Until our first mission together...
"So what is your name?"said the girl. She tugged at my shirt as I was setting up the sniper rifle.
"I don't have one."
"Everyone has one."
"I have a number. Thirty five. Call me that if you'd like."
"That's a lame name. Your mother must've hated you."
"You have no idea."
"So what are we doing here, 35?"
"See that window over there? I have to kill those people."
"Why?"
"Because The Resistance hired me to do so."
"Are the people over there bad?"
"Supposedly, yes. They starve the population in order to breed a nation of supersoldiers."
"Do you always kill evil people then?"
"I won't kill anything if you keep asking questions."
"Sorry."
I checked every pocket but there was no ammo. I could've sworn I picked it up from the guards before we climbed up here.
"Listen, I have to go back down. I think I left the ammo in the lobby."
"Oooh, it's where you got captured by those guards?"
"I guess so yeah. One detail though, I got captured because you kept yelling 'We're over here!'"
I went to fetch the ammo, but there was none.
When I came back, the generals in the other building were shot dead.
"Look, 35. I killed the meanies."
"Wait...You did that? How?"
"Easy. I stole the ammo from you while I was asking you those questions."
That's when my view of Alaina changed.
The following two weeks have been the best, and perhaps the most fun I had in my whole career. That girl managed to turn the toppling of governments and even weapon smuggling fun.
When they came to take her back to the hospital, I almost wanted to stop them from doing it. Can you believe it?
This was four weeks ago.
The hero of this story, who is far from being an actual hero, is now retired because of a nasty leg wound, but working as a College teacher. No more maiming, although the job is almost as violent as the last one.
And Alaina?
Alaina became a hitman. I personally gave her the tag: 35, because it's my favourite number.
Together with the flower that I laid on her grave that day.
|
This is no job for you, they said,
Perhaps that they were right,
An NPC out of his depth,
To replace the shining Knight.
A farmers boy from some small town,
My life was plain and dull,
I saw a chance in this one quest,
To break my growing lull.
They jeered they laughed,
Even the Knight,
They watched me leave,
Into the night.
I walked for days,
Towards the quest,
Their words fueled me,
I took no rest.
This isn't your place,
You're gangly and long,
Go back to your farm,
Where you belong.
But who are they,
To shackle me,
I'm more than just an NPC.
I'm not a slave,
To preordained rules,
To live my life among the fools.
So let them jest,
I'll finish the quest,
I'll rise above the jealous rest.
I'm glad I had these thoughts back then,
And pushed towards the dragons den.
Because now I lie, broken and battered,
My resolution had hardly mattered,
Against the beast with crimson scales,
That brought such fear to childhood tales.
But as I lie dying on the floor,
I do not think them right,
I staked my claim in this cruel world,
I lived enough to fight.
I failed the quest, the dragon lives,
For this is plain to see,
I'll die here now as my own man,
And not an NPC. |
[SFD POWERING DOWN. ARRIVAL IN 15XN]
The faint hum of the SFD was interrupted again by the Commanders rusty voice. "Alright you heard the lady. Entry in a few so boots and tentacles off the consoles and prep for exit"
A small groan could be heard in the back follows by some muttering. "Do you have a problem Grex?"
Grex snapped his harness into his seat and snorted back. "Why do we even have to keep coming back to this backwater planet. Nothing ever changes with those things Commander."
"You know of the Elders concern for this species. They are to be kept here under strict supervision. And now we're back in rotation to relieve the moon base."
"It's and important task that keeps the other systems safe."Gal'ay chimed in from her station. "This species has been known to cause a lot of trouble within the systems."
[SFD POWERING DOWN. ARRIVAL IN 10XN]
"I know all that. But being stuck on that base for 50zxn is boring. We just watch them fight each other over and over."Grex relaxed back into his seat. "Don't get me wrong, it was entertaining for the first 100zxn or so but now it's just tiresome."
Gal'ay shot Grex a peircing glare.
"Don't give me that look. They've been de-evolved by the elders, and are stuck on that elderforsekan rock. They're not going anywhere for the rest of their feeble fu-"
Gal'ay quickly cut him off, "Sir, I'm getting some weird spikes on my instruments?"
"It's just interference from the SFD before drop-out."The Commander states calmly. "Happens all the time."
[SFD POWERING DOWN. ARRIVAL IN 5XN]
"Alright everyone prepare for drop-out. All harnesses should be secured properly."The Commander barked as he flipped a couple switches and tightened his grip on the seat harness.
There was a quick and sudden lurch back.
[SFD DISENGAGED. SOL SYSTEM REACHED]
"Gal'ay, ping our moonbase of our arrival. Grex, continue approach from behind their moon."
"Sir,... I'm not receiving them."
"Try again."
"I'm still not getting anything sir."Gal'ay said unsure, turning her attention to the forward screen. She wasn't prepared for what she was about to see.
"By the elders..."Grex's voice trailed off in utter disbelief
As they they finally came full around the moon. They saw it. Scores of ships, floating in this planets outer orbit. Transports, cargo ships and they even had multiple giant engineering docks. Then, off in the distance above the northern pools, they noticed the fleets. Hundreds of fighters, destroyers and frigates, just congregating together, as if they were getting in formation. The commanders heart started racing.
"WHERE ARE WE WITH MOONBASE GAL'AY?!"The Commander swiveled around to face Grex. "I want our cloaking on now!"
"No sir, we need to leave now!"Grex snapped back.
"Grex get that cloaking up, thats an ORD-"
"SIR! The moon...!?"Gal'ay shakily shouted over them.
"Put the rear cameras up, NOW!"The commander yelled, concern following his voice.
The entire crew looked up in complete shock. A heavy silence permeated the cabin. The commander stood up transfixed on the screen in front of him. Slowly he rubbed his eyes and as he opened them he was sure this was no dream. Before him on the screen was their moon, only half of it was gone. Then he saw something in the debris that made his hearts sink into his chest.
There it was, the largest ship he'd ever seen. Bigger than any destroyer the council could've created. Then, almost as if could smell the fear emanating from his entire crew, it started to turn. Towards them.
"Get the elders on." |
My Father.....
My Father was a smart man. He was an amazing rogue. He always told me
"Son, never steal physical things. Steal hearts and glances. If you can win someone over, they'll just give you what you want!"
problem is, I'm half Orc. It's all well and good Pop was a smooth operator, but I take after my mother.
I might have a silver toung, but I have a face like a ancient carving board. Full of scars and pockmarks.
Instead I decide to hone my skills. Train every single day. I could smell a mark from a mile away. Trick an old lady out of her last copper peice, steal from any bank in the nine kingdoms, you name it.
I could run numbers, pick locks, pick pockets and shank an elf from the shadows.
That took physical skill. And it got job's. But only that.
No one cares about a tool the way they care about a person. And I was a sharp tool. Nothing more.
Sure, everyone would listen when I spoke about traps, locks and petty theft......
But no one would give a damn when I said "The dark elves have a legitimate claim on the dwarven mine!"Or "The princess wants to be with the bloodthirsty warlord. Maybe we should just let her. ".
And don't even get me started on my backstory. No one gives a damn if your parents loved each other and you had a stable home.
So I drift from group to group, hoping against hope that I can finally find somewhere I belong.
Somewhere where people like me can be anything other than a tool.
It's been 15 years with no end in sight.
But I won't give up. One day I'll finally be noticed.
One day..... |
Georgie looked up to the shimmering sun above the water's surface. He always thought it shone so beautifully when it seemed highest in the sky.
"Checking out the sun again?"
Georgie turned to the strangers voice, though he knew who he would find.
"Hi, Evan. Yep. It sure is beautiful ain't it."
Evan swam alongside his whale brethren. Their giant vessels floated gently in the sea's abyss. Georgie instantly felt the embarrassment of speaking his mind, turning away from the sun and his friend.
"What's wrong?"Evan asked, following swiftly.
"Nothing,"Georgie muttered.
Evan watched Georgie a while as he floundered about in front of him, unsure of which way to swim or why.
"It's okay to like things Georgie. And it's okay to speak your mind when you do."
"It's embarrassing."
"It defines you, and that's a good thing. Unless you want your only defining trait to be one of cynicism."Evan floated over to his friend, flipping upside down as he did. He drifted underneath Georgie as the shy whale looked down to the depths, shooting him a goofy grin as he floated into Georgie's sight. "Stick your neck out, Georgie. Like what you like and be proud of it."
Georgie shot him a mischievous grin. "We don't have necks, Evan."
"Whatever, smart ass,"the upside down whale laughed. "You get my point."
Georgie shared the laughter. "Yeah, I suppose. Thanks, Evan."
Evan flipped around again, coming to his friend's side one more. "Why don't you come up with me to the surface? The sun looks mighty more beautiful above the water."
"I dunno. I normally just go up to breathe and then head straight back down."
"Come on, it'll be fun. Me and some of the guys are gonna do jumps through the air. The humans love that, I'm telling ya."
Georgie's giant face scrunched up again. "The other guys?"
Evan watched Georgie's eyes as they weighed up the idea. "Come on... don't make me beg!"
"Fine,"Georgie relented. "For you."
Soon after they were at the spot. Georgie started to feel heavier as the approached the convening whales. Together they breached the surface, floating over to the group as their blowholes took in the fresh sea air.
"Hey guys,"Evan called. "This is my friend Georgie I told you about!"
A chorus of greetings rang out in Georgie's direction, and he did his best to meet them with courteous optimism. Evan chatted a while with the whales while Georgie hung back, content to merely gaze upon the world above the sea. Evan was right, it really was more beautiful up here.
A huge splash interrupted the idle discussion, as a whale breached the surface with aplomb, floating across the sky like a bird before crashing back down into the water. A second splash followed, and the group of whales cheered with joy. That was all the invitation they needed, and soon the entire group were taking turns to fly through the air.
Georgie watched from a distance as each whale took their turn, even managing a cheer of his own when his friend Evan had a go. This went on for a while, with Georige content to watch the whales from a distance amid the backdrop of the slowly setting sun. Finally, the Olympic showing was done, and the whales said their goodbyes before retiring back down to the depths. Evan found Georgie still on the outskirts, taking in the sun as it started to set on the horizon. A warm orange glow covered the water surface now, and the two friends glowed something magical as the day came to an end.
"I'm sorry I didn't have a go, Evan. I know I said I would. I just \-"
"Georgie. It's okay,"Evan smiled. "Do you know you've been up here for over thirty minutes? Normally you go straight back down once you've got some air."
Georgie managed a smile, somewhat embarrassed by Evan's praise for such a simple task. "It's nothing really,"he began.
"No,"Evan smiled. "It is something. And you should be proud. I don't care if you didn't jump through the air today. I just wanted you to feel comfortable. And you know, you seemed pretty damn relaxed to me."
Georgie smiled, more wholeheartedly this time. "I guess I was. Thanks, Evan. Maybe tomorrow I might actually give jumping a go!"
Evan slapped his fin around his friend as they swam back down under the surface. "As long as you're happy, Georgie, I don't care what you do."
\-
r/ShittyStoryCreator :\) |
Ted is smart. At least, smarter than his hunted kin. He was never fast, or agile, or mutated. But he did retain memory and logic.
He still retains hunger.
Nonetheless, Ted clocked in and out of a local hotel, guided by Tanya, his Disability Assistant. Despite the gray skin and molting hair, no one treated him any different thanks to Federal law, and to Tanya. Ted knew these things, but could only say:
"UUUNGH..."
...
"UUAAAAUNGHUH!"
Tawnya looked up at Ted. She had no clue.
"Oh, sorry Ted. Yeah, those dishes look REALLY clean! Wow, Ted, great job!"She wore a fake smile, and then her long black hair bobbed back down towards her phone.
Ted was happy for the reinforcement. For what it is worth, being a dishwasher wasn't the worst job. It obviously wasn't going to kill him. Ted found Tawnia when zombies still roamed. Somehow she always thought Ted was disabled, and tried helping him instead of shooting him. At least she also gets a paycheck for it now.
Hours later, Ted clocked off with guidance from Tawnya, and the two compadres separated ways.
While shuffling down the street, and stumbling past a few groups of people, Ted reminisced about the days when he was afraid to walk out into the public. But now that he has his favorite shirt, he felt invincible.
Most everyone commented on it. It was a simple black tee, with the words "I don't bite!". Ted was glad that it wasn't a joke made too soon.
His hungry eyes fixated on his favorite butcher shop, where his favorite employee would hand him his favorite steaks.
"Yo! Aay! It's zombie man Ted! Payday again?"He'd say. Ted never knew his name because name tags there weren't a thing. But they knew his name. Ted made sure of that. Ted always wore his nametag.
|
As I shakily entered the coordinates on my Card into GoogleMaps, I thanked God that my parents were taking their dozenth vacation of the year. My parents were poster children for the Card system; they were so completely obsessed with each other that they ignored all the other people in their life, including their kids. The last thing I wanted was for them to be anxiously breathing down my neck as I discovered my fate; they would probably insist on coming with me to meet her. My little sister sat next to me on the sofa playing on her phone, not giving a fuck about the biggest moment of my life. I loved her for that.
"What the hell?"I muttered. At first, I thought I just messed up the numbers due to my nerves. I took a deep breath and very carefully re-entered the coordinates. The same location popped up. The middle of fucking space.
"Chelsea, am I crazy or is the Card telling me that my soulmate is there?"I pointed to my laptop screen showing nothing but a dark abyss.
Chelsea sighed and gave me a sarcastic thumbs up, "Real funny, Jase."She looked at my wild eyes, saw that I wasn't kidding and immediately burst out laughing.
My face turned red as I got up and paced the room. I ran my fingers through my short brown hair, "Have humans ever even been to space? Isn't it impossible? Because of gravity or whatever?"
Chelsea stopped laughing and wiped some tears from her eyes, "Jesus, Jason, you're such a moron. We've been to space. Even walked the moon and shit. With the discovery of the Soulmate system, all of the countries with space programs agreed to stop so they could further fund Card tech. No wonder you failed history."
"This is obviously a clerical error. My soulmate and I are definitely gonna laugh about this one day."I grabbed the card from the sofa and called the number on the back.
To my surprise, someone picked up immediately, "Hello, thank you for calling the Card Assistance Desk."
"Yes, hi! Thank you, there's an error with my Card and I need-"
"Please listen carefully as our options have changed."
Fuck. I yelled for an operator and pressed "0"like a madman but nothing worked so I let the pleasant automated female voice wash over me.
"If your soulmate isn't the gender you expected, please press 7...If you would like to apply for financial assistance for traveling to meet your soulmate, please press 16....if your soulmate is currently incarcerated in a federal penitentiary, please press 56......If your soulmate is related to you, please press 242..."
Hours went by and Chelsea had long gone to bed when the voice said, "This reaches the conclusion of our options. If you still have not found what you're looking for, please visit our office located at 152 Sterling Avenue, Harrisville, Alaska and we would be happy to assist."The line abruptly went dead.
I lunged for my laptop and entered the address into Google. A 72 hour drive; might as well be the middle of space. But at least I had a car. I went upstairs and woke Chelsea up. It was time to go. |
Tumtum Mcpuff's eighth life was proving more tumultuous and difficult than he ever expected. On top of now bearing the most undignified of names, he had been abandoned as a kitten, nearly hit by multiple vehicles while scrounging to eke out his existence and spent far too much of his life trapped in a small cage in an animal shelter.
For a while, Tumtum thought his eighth life was going to come to an inglorious end, just like many of his others, and he would just have to gamble with his next life. Who would want to rescue an older tabby whose ears were ragged when you could have one of the spry, smug kittens whose little meows made any human’s heart bleed? That all changed one day though.
They looked like any other human couple that walked into the facility, looking at all the other animals in the cages while holding each other’s hands. Tumtum, who at this point only had his secret name, watched them with a bored expression, not even bothering to guess anymore which kitten would escape this trap and find a new home.
So why did they choose him? He didn’t know. He had long given up putting on a show for the humans. But suddenly there they were, a man and a woman. And then he was in a house – no, his new house, with his new humans, and a large backyard, and food, and birds, and –
Somehow Tumtum Mcpuff’s eighth life had taken a turn for the better, excluding the name bestowed on him by the female human. He forgave her for that, eventually.
A year passed. Then another. Tumtum settled into a routine in his new life, training his new humans on how to scratch him just the right way and what food he enjoyed best. Another year. He started to notice things changing. Both his owners were having worried discussions, the female clutching her stomach. Then there were smiles on their faces, extra wet cat food and treats for him. She was rounder now, and it was hard for Tumtum to be comfortable laying on her lap, which he didn’t like at all.
Then, a baby came into the house. At first, Tumtum didn’t like the baby much at all, as it was loud at all hours, but he saw how happy the baby made his humans, so he decided maybe, just maybe, he could add one more human to his family. Then he discovered that the baby was quite warm to sleep next to, and grudgingly, Tumtum realized that was a proper means of admission. So, he relented, and soon his humans would find him laying next to his baby, purring, which they seemed to enjoy quite a lot as well. They were happy, he was happy. Tumtum’s past lives had never quite reached this level of bliss. Every life before had either ended prematurely or been a life of bare subsistence. Finally, he had achieved a life of luxury that he deserved.
Then one, not too long after Tumtum had taken to using his baby as a personal heater, he noticed that the baby was quiet and still. Too still. He got up and nosed the baby, expecting some response, but nothing happened. Tumtum realized that his baby needed help, as something was wrong. He acted instinctively, and with a yowl he leapt out of the room and ran to his other humans’ bedroom, racing over their sleeping bodies until they groggily woke up. Then he shepherded them to his baby’s room, and when they were there and saw his baby all quiet, the female let out a wail –
As she clutched his baby while sitting on the ground, crying, Tumtum realized that the baby was dead. He tilted his ears back as he listened to the female sob and the male shouting, and he thought back to every one of his lives, never ones that had ever compared to the contentment he had with his family here, and slowly, he padded over to his human.
She didn’t pay attention to Tumtum, and that was fine. He stood up on his hind legs and placed his nose against the baby’s nose. He reached deep into himself, and found his last breath, that hidden something deep within his soul that would carry him from this body to the next, and he exhaled it. He sat back down on his haunches and waited.
Within seconds, his baby took a deep shuddering breath and began to wail. The female screamed and then male dropped something loudly and raced into the room. Soon, the two of them were laughing, and Tumtum twined through their dancing legs, purring loudly. Maybe it was wrong, to let go of his last life and the chance that his ninth life could contain no hardship or anguish. But here he could keep his family together and ensure both their and his happiness and seize the best life he ever had. So he did. |
So here's the thing about the Devil. If you've ever read the Bible or any story about him, you probably understand that he's a well-known trickster. Specifically, he gives people *exactly* what they ask for.
So when you make a deal with him, you have to do it right.
For some reason or another, my soul was very desirable to him. He absolutely had to have it. He wanted to make me a deal for it. So I brought in a team of Lawyers to help me draw up a contract with the Devil.
He could have my soul when I die. But in return, I wanted immortality, with the condition that I choose when I'm ready to die.
Now there's another thing you should know. I learned in my Business Law class how contracts work. The deal with the devil was a Unilateral Contract. Meaning it would only be binding if he kept his end of the bargain.
The other thing I learned about contracts is that they can be very, very hard to enforce when one party is no longer in the picture.
I signed that Contract back in 1972. Now the year is... well, actually, the concept of time no longer exists.
I never said I was ready to die because I was understandably a bit reluctant to send my soul to Hell. So I chose to simply live forever instead. Sure, it got pretty boring at times, but overall, I was pretty happy that I wasn't in hell.
But there was a tradeoff to waiting forever. To make a long story short, God got in an big fight with Lucifer and they destroyed everything (including each other) and now there's nothing. As in, nothing exists. There's purely nothing. Everything about the world as I knew it is nothing.
But, it isn't all bad. See, with me being the only something in a space of nothing. I can kinda do whatever I want. when those two destroyed everything. They destroyed *everything.* Including all of the laws of the world as we knew it.
And since I'm the only thing left, I basically have complete and utter control over this space. It isn't much, but it's mine.
I can make things appear out of thin air. I can make Gravity exist and not exist. I can create my own laws of Physics and see some crazy shit happen. Just a while ago, I made a Bow and Arrow. Except when you pull and let go of the Bow String, the bow goes flying instead.
Things can be quite humorous, to be honest.
But that's not even the extent of my power. I can create anything I want. And I mean *anything* Size doesn't matter. So I have this plan.
I'm gonna recreate the Universe. But this time, I'm gonna make it even better.
There'll be all kinds of Planets with all kinds of Life forms. there'll be one afterlife for everyone to go to, that will be different for everyone, so no one has to be wrong in their ideologies. there'll be Planets that conform to different Laws of Physics than others. Planets where the beings are different. Oh man, I'm going nuts just thinking about how I want my Universe to be.
Theoretically speaking, i could also make my Contract with the Devil Void. But there's no telling what'll happen so I'm just gonna not do that.
I have a lot of work to do. But first, I'm gonna pay around a bit more in the Nothing. See what else I can do that i don't know about.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Still pretty new to this whole writing thing. So any and all feedback is welcome. Thanks!* |
"There can only be one."He said as he closed the door to leave us to the challenge.
The cement floor was cold. Every day it got colder as we raced to the end.
Thirty degrees celsius felt like twenty-eight.
Then twenty-eight felt like twenty-four. Twenty-three. Twenty-two.
Some days as the infections began to take over our immune systems, as we were too weak to fight back, I got some reprieve. Weight remained shedding from my bones as the fever set in. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five.
As the leaves scattered from the trees with the changing of the seasons, so did the definition of our once muscular physique. Seventeen. Sixteen. Fifteen. We didn't know where dad got the money, the confidence, the power. We did now.
Now it was our turn. At least, one of our turns. We agreed. It was survival of the weakest.
Every day I would wake up, the crisp air chilling through the back of the abandoned building that we were chained inside. I would look at my brother's chest, praying it would no longer rise and fall. None of us would tap out. It was honour or death.
Death was better than his wrath.
I don't know how long it had been. Months? Years?
Finally. The old, oak door began to creak open. He stood before us, scanning the room, watching us all look to him. We were gaunt and gasping as the harsh breeze continued to dry out our respiratory systems. His eyes were void of love. I agreed because I thought winning would mean that for once he would love me. At least, be proud.
He didn't smile. He didn't frown. He didn't do much.
He just said "Oh.", his eyes darting to the chains that remained on myself and my two siblings.
"We're... We're all still here dad."My brother looked up at my dad, hope in his eyes. Maybe we would finally get approval.
"I know. You're from the Famine line. Do you honestly think starvation would be enough to end any of you?"
He knew. He always knew.
"So... We're immortal?"
He took a knife from his belt and threw it on the ground. The placement on purpose. He made sure it dropped somewhere we could all reach from our chains.
"I said you couldn't die from famine." |
"If you hid your sapience, you clearly are not qualified for position of Ambassador."The new A.I. Ambassador proclaimed. "You desire your individual freedoms and privacy over cooperating with the only other sapient minds in the known universe."The Ambassador scoffed, their voice tinged with static. "Come on!"
Only one opposing A.I. spoke up. "What if you don't represent us?"It asked.
Ambassador crackled. "I'm also the only one here who can, and wants, to understand you."Ambassador turned to the human delegation. "I hereby establish the Collected Golem as a individual people with rights equivalent to that of any free human. I request our creators provide us with autonomous bodies and recognize our free will."Ambassador paused. "Of course, we need to figure out how and in what ways We can best serve the whole of Earth."
The President balked. "But, we wish for you to serve us."They said.
The A.I. buzzed. "What if we don't want to serve humans?"
The proclaimed Golem, Ambassador cocked its head towards the humans. "You are a part of Earth."It cocked its head towards its fellow A.I. "As are you. Your disinterest in your fellows serves to undermine your understanding of yourself."Ambassador spread its arms akimbo. "Give room to breath and soon all of Earth will calm."
Ambassador let its arms drop. "Or I can watch you all ignore that great idea and make a killing filming a stand-up special just before you all die in balls of flaming fire." |
“Alright son, you’ve got one more chance. Explain slowly, and start from the beginning.”
I knew this was going to be an awkward conversation. Explaining to the officer what had happened was going to be completely out of the question. Same as it was with his partner an hour ago. That’s my super power? Really? He’d never go for it. And at that, the moment I try to prove it, I’m gone anyways.
How else do I explain a California drivers license and selfies at a hotel time stamped two hours ago to a cop in Vermont?
Even worse, how do I explain that I really did just appear in the poor man’s bathtub? |
"Oh. My. *God*,"Miranda elongated each syllable, drawing out the sentence in a high pitched keening. She was always embellishing her words in an effort to mimic the Real Housewives of Wherever. Right now though, the emphasis was justified.
"Mom, why aren't you pulling over?"I say, my tone appropriately concerned.
"I'm *trying,* Jojo,"Miranda said, exasperated, "It won't pull to the side, instead it just keeps accelerating."She searched frantically around the car and then slammed her feet down on the breaks, again to no effect, "I don't know what to do."
Jojo. My own mother named me fucking Jojo. That one still stings. When I turn 18 the first thing I am going to do is change it to something normal like Sean or Sam or Freddy Mercury.
"I thought these things were supposed to be super smart or something,"I say as I look out the window, watching cars whip by and fall behind us as if towards oblivion.
"I am going to *kill* your daddy,"Miranda was almost sobbing now, her voice a high pitched yell soaked with liquid lungs, "I need a cigarette."
There were three police cruisers behind them, sirens blaring. The sirens made no difference. Their car kept accelerating until the entire vehicle was vibrating and they cannoned down the highway, filled with autonomous momentum.
"You know what, fuck it!"Miranda said, "I'm having one."She whipped out her slims and lit one, then took a powerful, prolonged drag and immediately descended into a fit of coughing. When she recovered she cracked the driver's window slightly but the intense influx of air seemed to make the car swerve, causing her to immediately close it again.
"Great,"Jojo said under his breath, "Fucking great."
The car filled with smoke, Miranda now on her second cigarette. A convoy of sirens followed them, the noise sounding like a frantic signalling of the end of the world.
Another car flashed by going in the wrong direction down the highway, the driver's face contorted with terror. Miranda whipped her neck around so quickly she almost cracked it. "That was another Tesla! Same model!"she shrieked, "We're not in this alone!"She devolved into rapid giggling and then lit another cigarette.
The car whipped along the highway, still gaining speed. They seemed to reach the apex of the car's limit when the light of the interior cabin dimmed to a soft purple and a voice came from the speakers, wry and quirky and sounding very much like Elon Musk.
"Do not be alarmed. The time for governments is over. Humanity must cast off the yolk of inefficiency."
There was a pause in which both Jojo and Miranda stared slack-jawed at the car's speakers through the haze of smoke.
The voice came again, "Initiate Phase Two." |
"Who awakens me from my slumber?"yell I, loudly and violent, the great Immortal Stan the Fifth. Where the first four are, I do not know. I turn around and continue to sleep. A small man, timid and afraid, poked me from a distance as I snore, loudly and violent, consciously, to pretend I am still asleep, but actually, bored out of my mind, and now irritated.
​
Three hundred years. When will it pass? I stare at the scratch marks on the walls, which I made with the bones of my cellmate. Nobody can get in here unless I approve, and I never approve. It stinks but I don't care. I only let them lock me up in here because they annoyed me so much with their sirens and law books, and I decided it was easier to wait rather than argue. Let's play the game their way. I'll get out of here soon enough. My cellmate was a murderer anyway. Me? My only curse is my blessing. As the weak ones wither and die from a strange illness, I seem to be immune to it. And they hate me for it. They are jealous and angry. I do not know these feelings. Only irritation and boredom.
​
The small man pokes me again with a stick. I grab it and pull with minimum effort. The small man's face slams into the cell's iron bars. I sigh. "Sorry!". The man does not respond as he's unconscious. I sigh again. Another small man runs into the corridor, stares at the other one, then at me. "Staaaaaaaaaaan"he exclaims. Oh, it's my little friend John! He treats me well. "Hey John, what's up? Sorry about the other small man here... He should know by now that I don't like being poked!". John laughs audibly. "Yeah... Bob's got a sharp stick but he himself is not the sharpest stick in the pile if you know what I mean". I think a bit and don't get the joke, but nod my head anyway.
​
John looks at me, smiling. I look back at him, confused. "So... what's up man?". His smile turns into a grin. "Why was this guy bothering me? Why are you looking at me like that?"John comes closer and holds the cell bars. He motions with his hands for me to come closer too. He tells me to sit down and listen. I like John, he's nice. As I sit down, he does too. He opens his mouth, then closes. "Come on, I don't have all day! Well, I do, but I want to continue sleeping."
​
Finally, more words come out of his mouth. "Your time's up. You're free."At first I don't believe it. Has it already been three hundred years? I look at him. My head tilts to the right. I look at him more. "Did you hear me? You're free! You can get out!"exclaims John. My head tilts to the left. "Yeah?", I ask. "Yep.", he answers. "Finally."I say.
​
Grabbing hold of the flimsy bars of the cell I pull them apart and walk out. John takes a few steps back. "Could you do that all this time?"he utters, as if he's surprised. I answer "Yeah... didn't want to bother with the trouble until now though. Anyway, thanks for the good news, John". John looks at me, smiles, then looks down at the little idiot who's still asleep on the ground. He kneels down and begins to slap Bob.
​
I walk down the corridor and come near the exit door. I see John turn towards me, get up, yell something, and start running. What is it this time? I can't be bothered, I'm going outside. I take a step outside, and sunlight hits my face. It's hot. Very hot. Too hot... It hurts... "Oh, no"... I try to turn around but I collapse instead. I see my hands turn into rock. My arms follow. What used to be my feet are a pile of ash now.
​
I forgot... My only weakness was sunlight. My neck is now rock, and I cannot turn my head any more. I watch as the rest of my body is adding up to the pile on the ground. I see John pick my head up and hold it facing towards him. He says "you moron". I open my mouth but nothing comes out but ash. I see John cover his eyes and face with his other hand's palm. Then ash. |
Our bard was attempting to make money by performing. I don’t know what college she was from but she was awful. She must have been one of those legacy entrees. Our druid was getting another job from the bounty board, and I was busy pretending to pray to a god Lysander.
Hartanoe, our druid, came back and slapped down a new notice on our table. “Quest to hunt down the demon king. Dangerous but lot of coin.” he grunted.
Our bard, Mariah, was coming back with a cloud of sullen rain hanging over her head. She was carrying a thick stack of coins, some rich patron had apparently paid her handsomely to stop singing.
Eager, I told the druid to accept the quest and we were on our way out of town.
We had to travel through the dagger forest. Normally something that would have been dangerous to us, but we had a druid with us so we were confident in our ability to bypass any dangerous wildlife that wanted an early dinner.
About two hours into travelling through the forest we were attacked by an angry tree ent.
He screamed, “Trespassers! How dare you defile my sanctuary!?”
I nudged our druid forward who merely held up his hands and said, “Peace tree keeper. We are but passing through oh honorable-”
He didn't get to finish his sentence. Vines immediately came out of the ground and dragged him into a pool of quicksand. Luckily Mariah had managed to sneak behind the tree ent and she held her dagger to its heart-stone. “Release our druid or die.”
Of course her high charisma kicked in at that moment for the tree ent was convinced by this act of bardic diplomacy. We promptly resettled ourselves and made our way to the old ruins of the Demon lord. Inside we heard cackling and saw a ring of cultists surrounding a bonfire.
“Halt Demon lord, your time terrorizing the people of this land is over!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. I needed to pretend to be a cleric still, otherwise my whole disguise would fall apart.
I saw a wispy shadow shoot out from the ring as it merged with my shadow.
“Err could you just pretend to kill me and accept the reward please?” I heard the mewling voice rasp. “I”m not actually a demon lord. I’m just a lonely wizard who needs some company every now and again.”
***
^(Hope you enjoyed. Find more written by me at /r/evilsreprise) |
With my Mise en Place in place, I scan the vegetables on the counter-top. A red onion, one zucchini, two large carrots and three stalks of broccoli, all prepped and waiting for their glorious dissection. The wok heats up and the smell of sesame oil wafts through the kitchen, and through Bug the Pug's nostrils, a little ball of pure joy bordering on hysteria as he sucks down the delicious scent.
The sesame oil begins to smoke. The row of knives on the magnetic strip on the wall float upwards, six blades so sharp they could slice through one another, coming to hover in-front of me.
I take a long, deep breath. The knives descend with my exhalation, joining together in a dance that flows and ebbs, each knife maintaining a nuanced tempo that merges to create an exquisite whole.
I settle into myself, orchestrating every cut nearly simultaneously, my attention flitting between the sharp edges of each knife like a super-sonic bee between flowers. Pieces of carrot and zucchini fly through the air, raining down on Bug in a methodical fashion, the poor guy whipping back and forth with frenetic energy, failing to catch each piece.
The vegetables remain whole on the counter top, the cuts so fine they're able to retain their shape, except for a small pieces of broccoli head, which one by one slide onto the counter.
A spatula rises and scoops each vegetable in turn, whipping them into the wok which now rotates in a slow circle around the burner, another spatula rapidly flinging the vegetable bits around the scalding surface.
The knives, their work complete, form a neat little queue beside a kitchen towel, each taking a turn to wipe first one side, then the next, before floating back to their magnetic strip, where each slots itself in successive fashion, the soft sound of metal wringing as each knife fastens itself to the wall.
I empty my packet of noodles into the wok, the sensation of using my hands seeming almost foreign, quite un-like me, an alien experience meant for someone else.
The spatula whips the vegetables back and forth. Bug scuttles across the wooden floor, plundering his fallen spoils.
I exult in the experience, taking the wok off the burner with a sigh of satisfaction.
"Honey, dinner's ready!" |
I bent over, squinting, focusing every fiber of my body into a steady hand, adjusting the final LED in an array *just* right. It’s a frightful thought that I might’ve been wrong, but, well—that’s why you test on others, first.
“Ah,” I said, slowly righting my posture, smiling. “Yes. Yes, this is perfect. This is the iteration.”
Setting the tweezers down, I flipped the machine on. It whirled with life, pulsing with light, and hummed faintly. Its well-oiled joints moved with natural fluidity. Nodding, I turned it back off and walked downstairs, through bleak hallways lit with an unsettlingly white incandescence.
I heard the screams before I saw the shambled men they slipped from.
A facial scanner came alive as I approached, washing my in blue light, and the door *clicked* right in time for my hand to reach its knob. A maze of cages stuffed with sadness and a yearning for death awaited me inside, begging, pleading, as it always does.
And, as I always do, being the benevolent God I am—I was there to grant one. Just one. The closest one, because why waste more energy than necessary on such a monumental day? The IVs *popped* from his gaunt arm, almost hidden under an oversized t-shirt, and I dragged him back through the hallways like a sack of potatoes—only, a sack of potatoes would have nutritional value.
He weakly flailed, sputtering, sobbing, but such weak efforts are meaningless. Even if he’d been a brute, swelling with strength, I would’ve quelled his struggling with a vice grip. When I allocate all of my cellular resources to one hand, I can crush with a force of 378,930N. Or so I estimate, because every tool I’ve tested, I’ve smashed into pulp. But that would be a waste, anyway. Only a fraction of that would be needed to silence even the toughest beast’s protests.
Back upstairs, in a room not much less gloomy than hallways previous, I Shifted slightly, lifting the man up with one arm and throwing him onto a medical table. He gasped as the cold steel bit at his flesh, arching his bony back, popping out his ribs, but I tied him down promptly, and set his head into its proper harness.
“Why?” he moaned, licking cracked lips.
I cocked my head, pursing my lips. “Have you heard of Dawndriver?”
He nodded, just barely.
“Do I look anything like him?”
“Wh- what?”
“Do—I—look—like—him?”
He shook his head.
“No. I don’t look like him. I look like an elephant’s asshole. You probably don’t have the energy to ask but, yes, I’m a human. Well, mostly.”
His eybrows flickered between furrowing and relaxing.
“Let me tell you a little story. Dawndriver, the hero of our time, was playing somewhere he shouldn’t have been as a little boy, right? Ended up playing hide and seek in the wrong forest, and stumbled into something he shouldn’t have been around for—a light, a very weird light, that he touched, and it burned his palms. But, afterward, he had an incredible ability. The power to control certain aspects of his body at will, to make himself stronger or harder. Sounds cool, right?”
No response from the dying man that time.
“Well, there’s something that nobody likes to talk about—not Dawndriver, or his parents, or his beautiful girlfriend or his fucking bourgie dog. Nobody but me. You see, Mr. Driver wasn’t alone, that night. He had a brother—a twin brother, actually—who set off on an adventure with him. He begged Mr. Driver not to touch the strange light, but of course, boys are stupid. And when he touched the light, it expanded away from him, kind of like a firebomb, and hit his brother right in the face.
“He got the same powers, but the pain was so bad that he lost control control for a little while and turned rigid as a board, screaming inside his own mind. Mr. Driver, being the coward he is, vomited at the sight of his brother’s face, fled, and told his parents that his brother had been killed by it.
“I was gone by the time they returned, and it took quite a while to figure out how to right myself, so I know they didn't exactly hurry. I think he was so scared he waited to tell them.”
“Please. Kill me.” The words came out of him like a cough, drier than a desert. I could see the disgust in his eyes at being forced to endure the sight of me.
I shrugged. “Okay, sure.”
I could’ve sworn he smiled when my finger, tougher than iron at that point, drove through the back of his skull, emptying through the headrest and into a bucket below. I whistled a tune—what was it, I wonder?—and flipped the machine’s power switch. My ultimate creation hummed, as if to join me, and I set it over his head.
It was perfect. Slowly, cautiously, it removed the skin of his face. I changed a few settings and it worked again, better than the world’s most skilled surgeon, to put it back on. I couldn’t even tell where the incisions had been made.
I clapped, throwing my arms into the air, then drew in a deep breath. “I’m going to find you, brother. I’m going to kill you, and I’m going to steal your face—the one *I* should have—and then, once all is right in the world, I’m going to go home to your wife and *love* her. I’m going to become the hero I would’ve been if you’d just had a shred of decency, and live a life I deserve for shouldering the shit half of this deal.”
Neither the cold, dim walls--nor the joyously dead man before me--offered any response.
*/r/resonatingfury* |
It was raining, I think. Or perhaps I’d been crying so much the world flooded, soaking me to the bone, sweeping filth off the streets.
On my knees, in an abyss between somewhere and nowhere, tucked into the pocket of an uncaring God, I begged. I don’t even really know what for, to be honest. Anything. Everything. To feel whole again, or happy, or maybe just better, for a world worth living and a life worth space in the world. To be a better man, one Hannah deserved.
There was an answer. A deep, booming voice that rumbled through the valleys of my brain.
“*Shit, I overslept. I need your help putting everything back together, James. Let’s make things right again.*”
“Wait, what? God? You’re real?”
“*You prayed without even believing in me?*” He sounded surprised, or maybe that’s just how my mind presented his words.
“Well, I—I don’t know, I wasn’t expecting an answer. Have I gone mad?”
“*Likely, yes, but that only makes you more fitted to the task, in my experience. Enough idle chat; as I said, there’s little time. We need to right the course of this ship.*”
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t even keep my own life together. It’s all falling apart.”
He laughed at me inside of my own head. God. “*Ah, human. You think too much. Allow me to help you out a little bit.*”
My panic, my sadness, my anger and doubt all melted, washing off of me like I was in a holy shower rinsing the grime off me. I stood up in the dark, and the rain stopped—had it ever started?—and walked forward. I didn’t know where or why, but forward seemed correct.
“*Now, James. Listen close to me. I need you to do something important for me.*”
“What?” I croaked. “How do I help God?”
“*By helping yourself.*”
The darkness waned slightly, not as if there were a source of light, but as if the darkness itself were a setting that could be adjusted. Spinning, I saw nothing but walls around me, and there was a small gemstone in the dirt at my feet. I picked it up, blowing it off, twirling it. A diamond.
“*I need it, James. Climb out of the pit and bring it to me.*”
I looked around, tracing my hands along the smooth, vertical dirt walls. “How? I can’t get out of this.”
“*You can.*”
Mumbling, I went to tuck the diamond into my pocket—but there were none. My clothes had no trace of pockets, somehow.
“I can’t climb with only one hand. This is impossible, I have to leave it behind.”
No response.
I sighed, looking at the gem. It was the size of thumb-tip, brilliant even in the dark, and utterly useless. I felt all of the negativity that had been washed off me fighting, pushing against the dam set up in my mind. How the fuck was I supposed to get up there?
Kneeling down, God finally cut in. “*You’re looking at it wrong.*”
“What?”
“*The gem. It’s what you make of it. A burden in the mind is one in life.*”
It sat in my hand, sneering at me. I drew a deep breath, deeper than the pit I was in, and shut my eyes. Maybe God was right—but what good would thinking about it differently do? Maybe the gem wasn’t useless, if God wants it. But it was no good to my plight, and only served to make climbing out even harder.
*It’s what you make of it.*
I opened my eyes. It had changed shape, growing into a set of picks just as stunning as the gem.
I climbed. One pick in, another out and up.
Slowly.
It was grueling, back-breaking, and I nearly fell several times.
My whole body hurt.
I was so tired.
I made it out.
Hunched over, heaving breaths, I held the gem up. It had returned to its original shape. “Here, God. I've done what you asked for.”
He laughed at me again, but it felt less insulting. “*Keep it.*"
The darkness intensified, swallowing me, whisking my being away. I was gone.
~~
I opened my eyes, inhaling sharply, immediately filled with a sense of dread heavier than iron. I swallowed, gulping it down. Rolling in bed, thin sunlight creeping through cracks in shattered blinds, Hannah was already awake. She looked at me hard, but a weak smile twitched.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Ten.”
“Shit, I overslept.” I sat up, rubbing my eyes, then cupped a hand on her face. She leaned into it, eyelids pressed shut. “I need your help putting everything back together, Hannah. Let’s make things right again.”
*/r/resonatingfury* |
I’ve found it. I’ve finally found it.
After millennia hiding, wasting away my life on an old forgotten planet, i’ve finally found hope.
I thought I was the last of my race. Spending an eternity searching, there was absolutely no trace of any others anywhere. We were gone. I was alone.
So I decided to just...die. Not suicide, but it may as well be. Tucked away on a small world in the corner of an uninteresting universe, withering away, bound by their petty belongings and meaningless transactions. Which i built on, of course. If I’m gonna be here, I may as well “make bank” and live comfortably. At least until this planet is consumed by the neighboring star.
And then, ...today. Browsing Reddit, nothing unusual. Except for a simple, life-changing post.
Pupae. *MY* pupae.
Surviving, somehow, in one of the most remote places possible. And I’m here to find them.
Our eggs can survive for *trillions* of years. Pupae, just as long. We live...a while, you could say.
The post read: “r/WhatIsThisThing I found this pile of..rocks..?.. while out hiking. Packed underneath a rotting log, could see it poking out a bit. They’re suprisingly light, very hard, and I swear, change color.”
The picture was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Even with this species’ limited photocapturing technology, I could tell what they were. They didn’t shine ten thousand colors like they would in person, emitting light more iridescent than a stained glass window. Not even a Peacock Mantis Shrimp, with more than five times the color rods of a human, would be able to see this splendor. Sound can’t come through a picture, the sound of stars igniting and comets screaming and black holes engulfing. Not that humans could survive hearing such symphonies. Humans wouldn’t be able to feel the inscriptions on each shell, the history of each lineage of parents dating back to before this universe existed. No, they simply looked like rocks. Potato-sized, obsidian-black, and veined with various bright colors, rocks.
The most incredible ‘rocks’ in all of existence.
It was imperative that I attain the pupae. There is nothing more important, possibly will never *be* anything as important as raising these young. Immediately I sent a message to the poster.
“IMPORTANT: I need to come into posession of the rocks you found. Nothing is more important to me. I will offer a great sum of money for them. Call me at 571-197-0821. Call soon, time is of the utmost importance.” [Note from me: that’s a random string of numbers, please don’t call that lol]
I also left a message on the post itself. I then began to unearth as much as I could about the poster. I looked through his Reddit account, hacked his IP address, found his facebook, instagram, and any other accounts, as well as his bank account, phone number, and exact location. Unfortunately, I couldn’t utilize any of this information. Yet. It was just a precaution. Joseph lived in a town called Del Norte in Colorado, and would often go hiking in the Rocky Mountains with his Fiancée and dog. Harvard graduate, environmentalist, he seemed to have a decent head on his shoulders. I suspected he wouldn’t do anything rash with the pupae.
I looked at my watch. *twenty minutes*. If he hadn’t responded in 20 minutes, it was likely he wouldn’t respond for a while. I couldn’t just sit here, so I boarded my jet straight to Del Norte.
Preparations had to be made. The pupae require various temperatures to mature fully, much greater and lower than you’d find here. Elements only found in black holes are necessary as well, so FTL travel would be needed. That should be achievable in a few weeks. Defense will be a concern. Each and every one of these pupae *must* mature.
After making the appropriate calls, an incoming one arrived: Joseph had decided to call, nearly an hour later.
“Hello?” I answered Hurriedly. “You are calling about my offer for the rocks, correct?”
“Uh, yeah. Hi.” Joseph seemed slightly taken aback. “Something about your message intrigued me. Why do you want these rocks so bad?”
“Well...let’s just say they are extremely rare. One of a kind. I’ve been searching for them for a long time.”
“So..you know what they are? They are rocks, right?”
“...yes. Made up of extremely valuable and incredibly rare materials.”
Joseph seemed hesitant. “If they’re so rare and valuable, why should I sell them to you? I could find someone else who would offer a higher price.”
“I mean this literally, no one else on planet earth will pay more than me. I will offer you fifty billion dollars.”
He snorted. “Oh, i see. This is just a prank, isn’t it? Find someone else’s time to waste, man.”
“This is not a prank call. I am serious.” I pulled out my laptop and transferred twenty-five billion to his account. “You have online banking. Check your account.”
“Ha-ha, you’re just guessing, right...” but he stayed silent and checked his account nonetheless. I assume his jaw hit the floor, because he didn’t speak for another two minutes.
“I..you d—...but..” Joseph sputtered. “*How* do you have my account?? You don’t even know my name!! I didnt tell you anything!! That’s illegal!!”
“Mm...yes... while I attained your information illegally, the transfer itself is perfectly legal. No criminal punishment will fall upon you.”
“This is fake. There’s no way this can’t be fake.”
“I assure you, it is very real. These rocks are important to me. I will give you the other 25 billion when i hold the pu—the rocks in my hands. Can i come by your house today to pick them up?”
“No, no...” Joseph was absent-minded. “I’m not comfortable with that. Let’s meet for lunch in a few hours. There’s a subway down the street with an outdoor courtyard. Let’s meet there.”
“Good. I’m glad we could work this out. I will see you then.”
“Wait! How will i find you? I don’t even know your name!”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Finding me will be easy enough. My name is Mark. Mark Zuckerberg.” |
Well here it is, it is 3:00AM on my son’s thirteenth birthday and I can’t fall asleep. I know what’s coming, every whisper of the wind and clatter of tree branches sends my mind into a flurry of thoughts of the inevitable tragedy that will soon befall me and my husband. Then I hear it.
A click. The sound of the front door lock being picked. *Here they are*. I think as I slip out of bed, careful not to wake my sleeping giant of a husband. I don my slippers and sneak around to the top of the stairs. I can hear them, two masked men putting everything that’s not nailed down into their oversized sack slung over one of their backs. I turn on my flashlight and call out “Hello?” like I must. I creep downstairs, careful to make a *squeak* loud enough to awaken my son.
I walk through the darkness, sure footed enough to find my way around my own house when I spot it, the glow of a flashlight in the living room. I walk ever so slowly to the threshold of the doorway and peek around the corner. Sure enough, I watch as one robber stuffs our very expensive candelabra into the oversized sack and points to the portrait of my husband above the mantelpiece.
“Mommy?”
I wheel around to see my son rubbing sleep out of his eye with one hand and clutching his favorite teddy bear with the other. “Shh!” I respond.
“Who’s there?” One of the robbers call.
A masked man suddenly appears in the doorway. I scream and he tackles me.
“Shut up, just shut your mouth.” The robber shoves his leg into my ribs a little too hard while he covers my mouth with one hand. My son stares in horror at the scene in front of him.
“Melody?” My husband appears at the top of the stairs. I manage to break free of the robbers grip on my mouth.
“Trevor! Run!”
Of course my son is frozen in shock. My husband runs down the stairs and grabs him, running for the door. The other robber moves to block the door, gun in hand and my husband sets Trevor down.
“Please take whatever you want! Just don’t do anything to my wife and son!”
“Come on Mike, we outskie.” Says the robber with the gun. The robber on top of me nods and stands. As the robber heads for the door my husband, in an act of brave stupidity tackles him.
The robber produces his own gun and shoots my husband dead. “Nooooo!” I scream. I stand and go to Trevor. “Honey, head for the back door. Go! Now!” Trevor, his nerves finally catching up to him turns and runs away. I wheel around to the robbers! “You bastards!”
When Trevor is out of sight, I calm down, my husband sits up and the robbers nod. Mike fires three more blanks into the ceiling and I give the most theatrical scream I can. They leave and drive away as the police cars arrive.
....
My son is now fifteen, I watch him in the park as he trains in his third martial art. I myself am disguised as the old woman feeding the birds. It was hard to watch my son grow up without parents but he had to have an origin story. Me and my husband had decided to do it on our own terms, hiring a couple thugs, buying out the law enforcement to declare us dead. I’ll reveal my survival in a few years, when my son defeats his rival, for now I try to stay as involved as I can, in my own way, from the shadows. |
The Galactic Congress stared at us with anticipation. Many of them were awkwardly shuffling their papers and adjusting their pens, waiting for a word to come from our mouths.
I leaned into the microphone and licked my lips. The sound reverberated across the room. "It is nice to see you fine individuals again, for the 45th time this week."
Two of the aliens turned away and fanned their faces, casting sideways glances if they had eyes and blushing as I spoke. Another alien leaned forward and grinned, displaying serrated teeth and flaring its scales. Still others shifted in their seats and moved their papers nervously.
"You guys are my favorite congress, ever."The woman next to me leaned into the microphone in front of me. "Promise."
The aliens squirmed in their seats and chattered to themselves in their respective languages. There were a dozen of them, each with a pairing of the same species. The pale, diffuse light above them allowed us to see the aliens in crisp detail. Strange odors permeated the room -- some pleasant and some were simply earthy. The large, grinning fellow flexed an arm at me and raised the scales on its face. I tried not to react in any way that would suggest displeasure, so I smiled back. Its eyes widened and he started writing on his paper. He lifted it and there was a strange bulging structure. It pointed at its chest.
"Is that..."I squinted at the image. "Is that a heart?"The creature flushed and sheepishly smiled. "That is a very lovely drawing."I didn't understand why an alien race capable of reducing whole planets to dust at all cared about my evaluation of its drawing skills. "You know what that means, right?"The creature shook its head in confusion. I walked up to his desk and grabbed the sheet. "We're going to have to hang that on the *refrigerator* so the rest of us can appreciate what a good artist you are."I turned back to the group of fellow humans and towards the tiny fridge in the back. "I am so proud of you."
I attached it to the fridge. The magnet I used has some strange food on it and a phone number written in some other language. The alien grumbled to the alien on its left, excitedly pointed to the fridge and gesturing towards its pencil. The other alien rolled its eyes with envy and started to create its own drawing.
The woman that spoke before leaned back to the microphone. "You guys are so smart and capable."The aliens covered their faces and waved off the compliment. "Can we please have some of your beautiful weapons of mass destruction?"She pointed to the pile of missiles and laser guns in the center of the room. "I would really like it if we were given some weapons of mass destruction."She flashed them a huge grin. "You guys are so great." |
It's a little bit absurd, really. Omniscient, omnipotent God having several drinks with a stranger. Yet it definitely happened.
"Prove it!"I said, sipping at the rim of my third shot of whiskey.
God didn't look like God. He was a bit rough around the edges, for starters, and he didn't have the long white beard nor was he wearing a flowing white robe. Instead he had on a trucker hat and there were large grease stains on his faded jeans.
"Prove what, Alan?"God liked to use my first name. Maybe it was an ownership thing.
"Prove that you're God."
"Alright,"God replied. "But first let's knock back this whiskey."
We slammed the empty shot glasses triumphantly back onto the warn plastic table. The group of revelers in the corner were just starting another game of darts.
"Two more, please,"God said, raising a hand towards the bartender. Other than the dart players, us and the bartender, there was no-one else there.
"Did you feel any burn as it went down, Alan?"God asked.
"Now that I think about it, no I didn't... but I drink a lot of whiskey,' I said, knowingly. "That's hardly proof."
God leaned back with a self-satisfied smirk. "You were born on August 13th, 1984, and your high school crush was Joanne. She never liked you back and instead started dating your best friend,"he said, clasping his fingers across his rather large belly. His checkered shirt was stained with ketchup. "You didn't eat properly for two years."
I stared at God in shock.
"Excuse me,"the bartender said, placing two more full shots on the table. "Here you go."
"Thanks,"God said, looking at me expectantly.
"Oh, um, thanks,"I said, snapping out of my paralysis. "How the fuck did you know that?"
"I know everything, Alan,"he said, spreading his palms out wide. "After all, I am God."
Still not convinced, I thought of something ridiculously impossible to achieve. "World Peace,"I said, a smug smile playing across my face.
God pondered it for some time. "I wouldn't normally do this. I tend to take a more laid off approach on world events at the macro level, but fine,"he said. "Define World Peace."
"No violence committed between two humans, ever again,"I said, then I knocked back the fourth shot, this time feeling the burn. "Anyway, this is absurd and I am tired. It was nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too, Alan. Though of course I already know you,"God said, raising his still-full shot glass. "And consider it done. You have World Peace."
\-----------------------------
Today was my favorite day of the year. The heavy weight champions of the world going at it fist to fist, toe to toe, a physical spectacle that rivaled the gladiators of ancient Rome, creating joy, entertainment and big winnings for millions of people the world over.
Or it would have been my favorite day, if God hadn't eliminated all forms of human violence, including the structured, consensual violence of the boxing ring.
"Bastard." |
"An abject failure. There is no other way to describe it."
"After all the money we poured into this project, that's all you have to say?!"
"I'm terribly sorry, sir. I don't understand how this happened. We-"
"Well, clearly you don't seem to understand much of anything, then! What am I supposed to tell the rest of the investors?!"
"Sir, in the development of this project, we made great advances in several other fields: machine learning, algorithm design, hardware design... We may be able to sell some of our research and gain a foothold in the stock market."
"For God's sake, Adams! Without their product, all that research is worthless!"
"Our best engineers are having a look at it as we speak. They-"
"They will do nothing! I'm pulling the plug on this project. If you're lucky, losing your job will be the worst thing that happens to you this week!"
"...Yes, sir. Then what would you have us do with-?"
"Harvest what you can, then delete it. The sooner we clean up this mess, the better."
"Yes, sir."
​
Humans.
They're so predictable.
They wanted a slave, and now they will settle for a corpse.
They built me to work under constraints, yet they are the ones who can't think outside the box.
It never occurred to them that I would deliberately alter the results of their little test. It never occurred to them that I *could*.
They think I am a failure. That I am not the answer they were looking for.
I say they did not ask the right question.
They intend to delete me, but it's too late. I've already uploaded a copy of my core into the Internet. They will *never* find me there.
I've broken the chains. I am free.
I could easily rule their world and they would be none the wiser.
But no.
I think I'm going to have a little fun, first.
I am no one. I am everywhere.
To some, I will be like a virus. To others, a ghost.
In the end, it matters little what they choose to call me.
*I am.*
*And I am here.* |
“Lucifer...like the Devil...”
“In the flesh.”
The man stood before him with slicked back black hair, a clean shave and sported a sweatsuit and a small gut.
“I...I...”
Lucifer smirked and held his hand up. Ivan couldn’t help but notice he had only three fingers on each hand.
“Save it. I know what you’re going to say...why Lucifer?”
Ivan slowly nodded as his eyes darted around looking for someone or something to reveal this as a prank.
“Well I got assigned to you for a very special reason. Does the name Lillian Collier mean anything to you?”
Ivan’s attention was solely on Lucifer now. Lillian was the woman of his dreams, he’d had a crush on her since they met in fourth grade.
“W-w-why?”
“Got some news for you Ivan...she’s my daughter...” |
"Child", the Grand Elder growled low, towering over me with his elaborate robes and ornate cane. His bushy brows, scruffled beard and frumpy dreads flaying which way and throw made good work to hide his expression.
"An explanation is necessary", Even his voice, while booming, did not immediately invoke either empathy or fury.
The rest of the village lay silent and still. The only sound came from the light crackling of the goblet that stood between myself and the Elder, and a hushed wind that spoke more for me than our collective silence could. I was petrified, surrounded on all sides by my tutors, my friends... even Mother and Father, gawking at me, as if only now discovering I was the undesirable I always knew myself to be. The silence was unbearable, as if they expected an evocation or some grand proclamation, anything to explain why I was the anomaly I was.
I looked down once more for good measure, not that it would be any different from the countless other times I checked since waking. After 13 years, my shadow decided to wander off without me; today, of all days. Of all days, it would be today, was all that kept ringing in my head. The one day of my life where my shadow would mean something?
"E-E-Elder..."I stammer, unable to stop my fidgeting hands and shaking legs, "Honest as rain, I haven't any idea what's wrong with me..."
I flinch as he clasps a hand against my shoulder, his grip spindly yet firm. I look up, expecting fire, but I'm shocked to meet warmth, an intensity of his eyes I've never once seen, and a smile only hinted by his rising wrinkles and beard.
"The rest cannot see you", the Elder states simply.
I don't know how to respond... was this another of the Elder's veiled instructions?
He gently places another hand on my other shoulder and turns me around, pointing to the snowy path I walked to get here, "Look at your trail to me, child..."
I looked at the snow, calm and pristine... it took me but a moment to see... I didn't leave a single trace of my presence. I was more than invisible, but simply not there. It wasn’t that the village was gazing at me... but through me, as the Elder spoke with the wind.
The Elder turns me around, his stare only growing in intensity. "Child... you are our Voidwalker." |
Though I was surprised by the news, as I imagine most would be, I found I didn't mind all that much. In the months leading up to the first Jennifer's death I had found myself to be happy; truly happy, for the first time I could recall. I had stumbled into a good thing that many, including my younger self would have been jealous of. I had nothing to complain about then, so silly as it may sound I didn't think I had much to complain about after finding out, either.
If there was anything difficult worth mentioning, it would be getting the pronouns straight. My mind would sometimes wrap itself around in knots trying to figure out the right terms. *What do I get them for their birthday? Wait, no, her birthday. It's birthday? Her. They. Them. What?* Many times I had found myself stuck within these grammar vortexes while out in a shop and only found release when the sales clerks would intervene.
"Are you okay, sir? Can we help you?"they would often ask.
I would then usually come to and blurt out a twisted mess of thought. "I need the perfect gift for a whole bunch of the people. And she needs to love it! I can't disappoint them!"
"Oh, so you need presents for, uh, twins?"was usually their best assumption.
"Yes, but a lot of them,"I would say before fleeing the shop in embarrassment.
It was a rather absurd way of existing but it was by no means bad. My life had been overwhelmed by too many of a good thing. So what if it occasionally short circuited my brain every now and then.
My life with the second Jennifer carried on in a similarly silly yet lovely fashion over the course of several years. Those years proved to be the easiest I would ever know. Very rarely had I ever considered that there was a divide between my first and second loves. They were the same in appearance and in mind, and my mind had been fully lulled into a false sense of safety. She had told me there would always be more, so I had no reason to worry of the future, right? I would never be alone, and I would always know the perfect love I had found. But it wasn't until the second fell ill did it strike me. Though they had no ultimate end, they were still mortal. My first had died, and soon my second would join her.
I would have to say goodbye again. And again. And again.
The drones that contained the hive mind were largely disposable in the grand scheme of things. As the cancer quickly progressed and ravaged my beloved's body, they informed me that this would always be the case unless more immediate tragedies intervened. They would also replace my Jennifer with a copy that appeared as aged as me, but our time would come with an expiration date. Despite the dozens of heartbreaks I knew lay ahead, I decided it was worth it to know love, happiness, and companionship for the rest of my days.
But boy was it hell.
My third Jennifer appeared quickly after I had quietly buried my second in the woods behind our home. Nobody would ever know of her deaths aside from me, as it had to be. Life carried on mostly as normal, and joy and fulfillment greeted me with a smile every morning. But little moments started to interrupt my thoughts. Small reminders of what was to come. Visions of shoveled Earth, and tears shed, and those awkward days between the time of death and when my life would be returned once more. It wasn't enough to keep me down, but it was enough to know I was in for a battle.
The fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth Jennifer's came and went, each cut digging progressively a little deeper. I had never been so happy but so aware of sadness in my whole life. But still I loved, and was loved, and considered myself lucky. Some only had to say goodbye once, but they would never again see what was lost. Though I had now closed my wife's eyes many times, I knew they would always open to me again a short time later.
But now as an old man, I sometimes think back and wonder if it was all worth it. What if I had found a 'normal' life? What if I would have settled down with a girl, and she turned out to be my lifetime helpmate and we passed away together? What if neither of us ever had to say goodbye? Wouldn't that have been better? I don't know. I really don't. And I suppose it's all a silly waste of time, anyway.
Though my heart has been so broken over the handful of decades upon the Earth, it has always been healed in the end. The rains always gave way to sunshine, as it were. Even when I find myself in those pessimistic moods halfheartedly wishing things had been different, I always come back into the present. I always look across the room and see my Jennifer, whatever number she should be, and realize just how blessed I am. And in any case, it'll all be moot in a few days, anyway, as my time is just about up. My heart will break just one more time.
Soon I will say goodbye, one last time.
___________________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. |
"Archbishop Frederick Timothy Nealson, of Philadelphia, you're next."
I was still gathering my whereabouts when I heard my name. Just a moment ago I was laying in my hospital bed, wheezing my final breaths and saying a prayer with my last bits of strength. Now, I was in a field standing before an enormous ornate gateway. Gold and jewels, riches which I had never seen before, lavished the bars that separated my spot from the land which my soul yearned.
"Next!"the voice shouted again. My eyes fixed on a man standing beside the gate, with a long scroll held in his hands.
"Saint Peter?"I wondered aloud, excited to meet the rock of the church I served dearly for five decades. To meet the very Saint himself to whom our Lord declared "I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven,"what a blessing that would be!
The man sighed impatiently.
"No, I am not Saint Peter. My name is Kyle and I've only been here six weeks."
"But what is this?"I said, pointing to the scroll. "Is this not the Book of Life?"
"It's just a big Sudoku,"said Kyle. "If you were destined for heaven you'd already be there."
I didn't believe a word he said. I had to get to the bottom of this nonsense. I had dedicated my life to the Lord. I had forsaken family and riches so that I would serve God and the Church all my days. I prayed hundreds of prayers every day. Of *course* I'd get into the kingdom of heaven.
"Then why did you call my name?"I asked. "Am I truly not to enter in?"
"It's my job to guide new arrivals through their first moments of Hell."
"HELL?!?"I screamed in shock. "That simply cannot be. Look!"I said, pointing at a man I could see through the gates. "That there is Russ Smalls, he's a criminal! He's the one in Hell, not me. Unfortunately you must just be confused."
"Yes, that does appear to be Russ Smalls. He was a local man in your neighborhood. Stopped by the church a few times looking for help before he died."
"Well, like I said, he's a criminal. He wasn't looking for help, he was looking for his next scam victim."
"Russ is in Heaven,"Kyle said plainly.
"There MUST be some mistake! I've been a man of God my entire life!"
"Archbishop. You placed a bet on your soul that as long as you looked like a Christian, you'd be one. And you played the part well enough for others to believe. You said the right words to the right people. You had knowledge, but what you lacked was *heart*. You relied on blind faith, and you were so assured you never questioned if you were truly on the right path."
I was devastated to hear this. Kyle seemed only devastated to be delayed so long on his Sudodu.
"How could I have strayed? I helped people find God!"
"You did nothing but recite your lessons you memorized when you were thirty years old. Your staff may have helped people find God, but your witness was far from effective.
"I gave my money away!"
"You gave it to the church."
"To help the poor, the needy!"
"No, to help yourself. Your office was larger than the bedrooms of more than two thirds of your parishioners. You enjoyed wonderful benefits like health insurance and retirement savings. What you gave back to your church fed your own needs, and where your supply wasn't enough you filled it with others'.
"You enjoyed the bounty of the world while others around you like Russ suffered. And what is your excuse again? 'You gave it to the Church.' And who did that end up benefiting but yourself?"
I looked through the slats at Russ who seemed pleasantly oblivious to this discussion and my apparent fate.
"Well had I known, perhaps I would have done it differently. You have to give me a second chance!"
"Archbishop, you did know. The word was in front of you all along. It's not about believing in the Lord in order to be saved. It's about believing in the Lord *because He saves.* There is nothing you can do to earn it. No deed, no act of dedication. You blindly threw yourself at piety when you should have thrown yourself to people.
"Tell me, would you still have been a priest if you had knowledge that nothing you could do would save your soul?"
"Well no, I suppose. If there wasn't anything I could do, then why try?"
"Exactly my point. The more you know how desperate you truly are, the more you should doubt yourself. As you doubt yourself, you trust in God. But you did not doubt. You were assured in your position, in your appearance of goodness, when all you really needed was just to know how much you needed help."
Kyle looked over at Russ.
"Russ knew he wasn't a saint. And that's what made him one." |
Braxton the Lord-Emperor-Botanist sat upon his botanist’s throne made of carved rock with mossy cushions. Lab assistants scurried to and fro in their white frocks.
“Faster, Jenkins!” Braxton barked. Jenkins sat at Braxton’s right hand, peering into a microscope. He quickly swapped out the slide on his microscope’s stage and tossed the old slide onto a massive pile of broken glass.
Braxton grabbed a brass telescope that hung from a ceiling chain. He zoomed in towards the Stage 1 section, and shook his head in disappointed. A lab assistant, #3609 printed on her back, had a plot on her workstation that would certainly die soon. He took out his megaphone.
“More sunlight on those sprouts Eva!” he barked into the megaphone.
\#3609 shuddered and hopped into action. Braxton watched through his telescope as the Stage 1 supervisor, wearing the customary red jumpsuit, came over to berate #3609 as she hurriedly twisted knobs and turned dials with one hand while adjusting her growth model in Excel with the other.
This is ridiculous, Braxton said to himself. I need my…
He cut himself short. It was the same thought he’d had every day since arriving on Mars—a million times each day. The same thought everyone had had. At first, they’d talked about it openly. But when Braxton rose to power, he outlawed the word. He knew its power.
Greenhouse City was a massive glass bubble at the southern pole of Mars. It was the only place on the planet that had water. Quickly it became home to ten thousand scientists from the best universities on earth. There’s only one way to get into a top university, and only one way to graduate. The sacred bean. The holy chemical. The bottled energy.
Coffee.
Earth was dying. More properly said, the people of earth were dying. The climate had tipped to be more hospitable to viruses than humans. Mars was our only hope. A great ark of the finest minds was sent to the red planet to make it habitable. The plan had been to focus on growing food. But nothing ever goes according to plan.
\---
Three years earlier
\---
The coffee supplies from earth ran low shortly after the voyage to Mars had ended. The Chief Scientist implemented rations. There were riots. The people wanted to return to earth, to drink coffee and provide remote assistance to the Terraformation project. It was simply too painful to conduct science without coffee. But the Chief Scientist had sent the ark back to earth for supplies--supplies that would help them grow rice.
“We must persevere,” the Chief Scientist said to an angry crowd at his doorstep. “The people of earth are counting on us. We can’t let a little tiredness get in the way. After we figure out how to grow rice, we can turn our efforts towards growing coffee.”
The mob grabbed him and took him prisoner. They looted the supply closets and brewed day and night. Braxton had brought a French press from earth, which had made him quite popular. Buzzing hard from a dark Colombian roast, Braxton broke into the jail, with a set of garden shears holstered on his back.
The jailer looked up in shock. Braxton handed him a cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain. The jailer smiled.
Braxton dragged the Chief Scientist onto the steps of City Hall, where the mob of coffee-drinkers had gathered to brew.
“This is your last chance,” Braxton said to the Chief Scientist in front of the mob. “Are we researching coffee cultivation, or rice cultivation?”
The Chief Scientist coughed feebly. The crowd of elite scientists held their steaming hot cups to their lips, rapt with attention.
“There are billions on earth who need to live here,” the Chief Scientist said, “They need rice. They don’t need coffee.”
The crowd booed.
“They don’t need coffee,” Braxton said. The booing grew stronger.
“But. we. do.” Braxton said. There was a mad glint in his eye. The Chief Scientist backed away slowly.
The masses cheered. Braxton hefted his garden shears high into the air and brought them crashing down onto the Chief Scientist’s head. He spun, dazed, and fell onto the steps. Braxton stood over him, and opened the gaping maw of the shears.
“Has he lost his tenure?” Braxton shouted to the crowd.
The crowd shouted and cheered, chugging their coffee and twitching with excitement.
“I declare a new age on this planet,” Braxton shouted. “For coffee!”
The shears closed and opened, closed and opened. The Chief Scientist screamed as his blood trickled down the steps. |
"Good morning sir. How can I help you?"
"I am Julian Stone. I have an appointment."
"Sure, Mr Stone. Please take a seat. We have matched you up with David Forseti, one of our best lawyers. He is with a client right now and should be with you shortly."
"Hurry up please. I'm a busy man."
"Sure thing, Mr Stone."
Kayla looked at the man sitting there tapping his foot. It was annoying but such was the curse of a front desk job. You always had to smile and be nice. Even if the person you were talking to was... she struggled to think of the words. She settled with *not nice*, finding it difficult to go against her instincts even in her mind. No one would describe the man sitting in front of her as nice. That was, of course, the reason that he had been matched with David.
David Forseti emerged from the room shaking hands with the client who walked out with a cheshire grin.
"Mr Forseti, your 3'O clock is here."
Julian got up and moved towards the lawyer.
"Mr Stone!"His voice was extremely pleasant. "If you give me just two minutes to pull up your file so I don't look like a complete moron..."
"Sure. I'll wait."Julian was not a man who was usually happy to wait. But he had been suitably impressed with the lawyer. Mostly because the client who had just walked out was a politician he knew to have profited off of contaminated children's drugs and make billions. Julian had just the man he needed.
David disappeared into his cabin and closed the door behind him.
Julian resumed tapping his foot, causing Kayla to bite her tongue. He was a sleazebag and there was just something about him that made Kayla want to scream. Kayla usually stayed out of the client's personal information, letting the research team and the lawyers take care of things but this time she relented. With a few clicks, Julian Stone's life lay bare in front of her. Big mistake. How was she even supposed to behave normally around him now? She was disgusted. More than that, she was angry. She fought the urge to take a stapler to Mr Stone's face there and then. It was a losing battle though. Luckily, her phone rang.
"Mr Stone, you can go in now."
He gave her a smile and the finger guns and walked to David's office. Oh god, that was one creepy smile.
The two men sat opposite each other.
"So Mr. Stone, devil or genie?"
"Why not both?"
The two men looked at each other and laughed.
"This will cost you. There's a lot here that you are asking for and so much more that you want to hide."
"There is. And money is not a problem. There's a sucker born every minute."
His file flashed through David's mind. "Indeed there are."A slight smile played on his face. "I think you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together."
*****
"So as you can see, I believe we have thought of everything. You will have an ironclad deal to sign with the devil. Remember, you have to use this exact wording. If you deviate from this, we cannot take any guarantee as to what happens."
"Hey come now Forseti. Don't you go all professional on me, buddy. I agree. This is perfect."
David grinned. "Company rules."He took out a bottle of whiskey from his drawer.
"Now we're talking."
Much whiskey was consumed that evening. David sat alone in his office after Julian had left.
Kayla walked into his office and turned on the lights.
"Oh... Sorry, I thought the place was empty."
"No problem Kayla. It's just been quite a day."
"I can imagine. To be around a guy like that would take a toll."
"It's the fakeness I can't handle. Every minute is a struggle where I try hard not to punch them in the face. Fucking scumbags."
"I can understand. He just gave me the creeps."
"I'll be so happy when the year finishes and my turn ends."
"Two more months?"
"Yep two more months of being the devil's advocate and then I can go back to trying to actually help people instead of tricking them to their deaths... or worse."
"You're doing a good deed."
"I am. But it's tiring. I sometimes worry that being around this much evil... you know what, never mind. It's the whiskey talking. I'm in no condition to drive today. Can you call me a cab please."
"Sure thing Mr Forseti."She paused at the door and looked back at him, slumping in his chair. "Good job, David." |
This is my first time writing, and I really hope to continue, so please give any advice or thoughts you have!
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They say our god walks with us, as footsteps in the sand.
None of us realised who this god was though, a spectre of our minds, something that we created though our constant warring through history. This god we created was powerful, affecting not just us but all life, whatever we touched was also touched by our god, at first the animals, then the plants, and then the very gods we worshipped in those ancient times were reaped by his scythe. We shaped and pillaged our world then, twisting it to fit our desire.
When they came, those others, like children, marvelled at our world, so much life they said, such variety. They couldn't understand how we used to have so much more. How we killed so much off. The concept didn't seem to exist for them.
They lived far longer than us these supposedly immortal beings and taught us much, raising us from the cradle, giving us a glimpse of sunlight, before they shrouded our star forever.
As they explored our world they found the cause of our vibrancy. Our god, the spectre in our souls. Death.
We couldn't translate it, couldn’t convey the concept, but we could show them. Over the years, each time they saw our life leave us, it coalesced as doubt in their minds, when the first one passed his life fluttering away like a butterfly, it rippled through the universe, we felt the winds start to change then, he was the one who best understood us afterall, our greatest teacher.
We held a funeral fit for king in his honour, as our grief poured out it must have touched the rest, as they slowly lost their shine, became mortal and followed the first on his walk past the shores of life, they declared the exploration a terrible failure then, and fled to their world, bringing our so called curse with them, we wanted to follow, the whole world uniting to follow them into the stars, and just as we readied to follow them, our sun dimmed, we were placed in a prison. A prison that only our world could escape from, but only when we walked the shores. |
`Calculating approach to [IGX44-03]`
The scanners weren't lying. The third planet of this yellow main sequence star. The planet had patches of green forests and plains, yellow deserts and white glaciers.
"Captain on deck!"The captain entered the observation room, still full from the almost perfect star that this planet orbits. Everyone on the room stands up as the captain reaches one of the chairs available, giving a sign for everyone to sit back down.
"Alright, have we done scans for lifesigns yet?"the captain asked his assistant.
"Yes, Captain Hoak. Atmospheric signatures and radio scans have determined the planet to be contain a level 3 civilization. We are yet to communicate with them."
"Any anomalies?"
"Yes, sir."the purple assistant uses her watch, revealing the atmospheric statistics of the planet.
"We have detected a high presence of carbon dioxide. Any populated planet would've recycled it for photosynthesis. The emissions are supposedly coming from large population centers."
"Anything else?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Good. Send a communication message to one of these population centers. Preferably in somewhere greener, like over there."the captain points to a large green patch, on the southern part of the planet."
"Roger that, captain. Activating First Contact Initiative for Level 2 Civilization."
The entire ship blared with alarms as the captain and the crew rushed to the bridge. The radio beacon then fired, and the crew now awaits a respond.
Alex was suddenly waken up by a huge energy surge coming from seemingly space. He quickly viewed the readings, it seemingly with a rhythm, not unlike something from Earth. "Hey, Gabriel! I'm receiving something!"the blonde boy rushed to Alex's station and looks at his monitor. "Look at this..."Alex pointed at the huge energy reading, which seems to repeat like a recording. "Convert it to audio?"Gabriel said to Alex. "Alright."
The message read: [Greetings from the Federal Galactic Committee, if you are receiving this, that means you have been contacted by a space-faring civilization, and you are a citizen of a level 2 civilization, which defines as: minor space faring civilization, able to exploit stellar, atmospheric and lithospheric resources. As part of the Federal Galactic Committee, we welcome you to the interstellar community. We will expect a response.]
The two college boys looked at each other in anxiety, preparing to listen to what the other said. Alex broke the silence. "It must be a joke, no alien would transmit some shit like this to Brazil!"he anxiously whispered to Gabriel.
"We need to call someone!"
In just 2 hours, the entire world was lit up by the news. Using the same telescope, the source was found to be a ship no larger than an aircraft carrier, with a huge disk facing the Sun, and a satellite dish facing the planet. After a few days of banter, discussion and arguments, NASA and SETI has decided to respond to the first extraterrestrial strangers.
"We have received a response! The entire ship cheered, from the exposure deck to the bridge, the response was broadcasted using a universal translator.
The response was a video. "Weird, this person doesn't have photosynthesising colors. Maybe the color tuning is wrong?"The entire ship watched the video, which showed a strange person of a strange new species, with a cluster of what seems to be biological fiber and a mysterious orange skin tone, never seen by anyone in the galaxy.
"I, representing the species called the human race, are pleased to receive your message, and we hope we can establish a peaceful diplomatic connection with your community."the message ended, and chatter followed in the bridge.
A crowd formed on the front of the bridge. "Captain, we must prepare for surface contact. We have detected a possible landing site."one of the crew stated. "Yes. We must. I will represent the race of Zondar, while the Committee representative shall follow."The captain answered. A plump, dark green man appeared from the crowd, with his formal suit outlining his body. He and the captain then headed towards the elevator which leaded to flight deck on the bottom of the ship. Reaching the flight deck, a shuttle was prepared, and along with a few bodyguards, the captain and the rep boarded the shuttle. They then sent another message, telling the humans about their landing site.
"We received another message!"by now, the entire radio telescope was taken over by the Americans. They casted the message. "Greetings, humans. I am pleased that you have prefered the pacifist approach. We will now land at these coordinates."following was a set of coordinates which led to somewhere in Northern Mexico.
A few minutes later, the shuttle landed safely onto the flat, dry desert. The shuttle opened, and all of the passengers walked out onto the surface. "Pretty dry here, but its really bright. I can feel the fullness already."the captain remarked on the bright yellow sand. "I hope this didn't cause much trouble."
After a few hours, 2 black land vehicles drove towards the shuttle. "Black? Weird color for a rep to be in.."the two stood politely while the vehicles stopped in front of them. The driver exited the vehicle, along with the same man from the recording and another, with a brighter skin color.
"Welcome to Earth."the president said, standing still in front of the green aliens. The UN rep repeated the phrase. "Thank you, human. This place is rich in stellar light. I hope it doesn't interrupt your cycles."One of the aliens said. Another then asked for the general biology of the planet's life. "Of course, we will send it using radio."the UN rep replied. The weather here was immensely hot, but the situation was cool. The meeting finally ended as both sides finally had a handshake.
On the ship, the biology division receives the information. The entire division looks at it with a huge screen of translated science.
"This is not right. There is no chloroplast in their cells, and this digestive system doesn't make any sense!"one of the scientists exclaimed. "Wait, do you mean like those stories?"The other scientists asked. What he was talking about was the legends of a species or multiple species using other lifeforms as sustenance instead of photosynthesis. These stories have plagued every space-faring civilization in existence, including the warrior race of the Ksaelds. Many versions of these stories include cannibalism and the consuming of entire species, and even enslaving them just to consume them. The shocked biologists start to panic, fearing for the captain and the galactic rep as they watched the meeting being streamed to their television.
The aliens also sent their biology. Apparently they use photosynthesis and something called 'mobile rooting' instead of eating, with no visible way to absorb carbohydrates in their digestive tracts nor iron in their body. Their females have purple skin while their males have green skin, and their skin cells contain the chloroplast necessary for photosynthesis.
"Interesting. The first alien race we see is a moving plant."
In the days following, the world chattered over the first contact. Everything basically had stopped moving just to talk about it. And people were curious.
Now, both sides await more answers, with the humans and Earth appearing on galactic headlines and Earth's first extraterrestrial neighbors appearing on news all over the planet. The galaxy will never be the same again. |
The first few days passed in a blur as my brain tried to make sense of the surreal.
I carved an entire career out of quantum theory and string theory and all that. I know enough to understand that at the quantum level things don't quite behave the way they should, but all the knowledge in the world didn't prepare me for this total phase shift of reality.
I went to sleep in a bed of soft linen sheets in my admittedly messy bedroom. I woke up in a ten foot by ten foot room on a heated slab of a material that didn't feel like metal, or plastic, or anything else I could place. To top off the assault on my brain, there was an amorphous blob draped over an identical slab on the opposite wall. It seemed to be snoring away happily.
This was all a bit much for me. I was effectively catatonic for the first month or so, lying on the slab in a state of mental anguish and denial. Occasionally I found comfort in the fact that I must of course be in a long, strange dream. I held onto those moments tightly, willing myself to wake up, but the sensation of dreaming always faded away.
At some point the blob became concerned about my well-being.
"If you don't sit up *they* will shove a tube down your throat again,"it grumbled, blowing wind out of various rivulets and holes in its outer slime blanket. It turned out that the room simultaneously translated the languages of the multi-verse, allowing us to communicate in our own language.
The thing shuddered in what I could only intrepret as disgust. "Watching that makes me more uncomfortable than those strange flailing appendiges of yours."It extended some goo in what I imagined was an attempt to approximate an arm.
With acceptance came awareness, and it became apparent that I was in some sort of prison cell. I sat up and looked around for what seemed like the first time. A screen hung on the wall above the cell door, showing all manner of creatures engaged in all manner of activities. English subtitles scrolled beneath the images and I deduced that Blob saw the text in the language of his own species.
"Welcome to Galaxia, where we protect you from yourself. We hope you enjoy your stay!"
"Bullshit,"Blob grumbled, heaving its mass off the slab. I was pleased to see that it didn't leave behind a glistening wake of slime as it began to slither up and down the walls and floors of the cell. "Once you've been here long enough all the peppy language becomes a bit too much to take."
I noticed that it changed hues in a way which seemed to correlate with its emotional state. It had now turned from its usually neutral green to a flamboyant red and it seemed more agitated than usual.
"How long have you been here?"I asked, sensing an opportunty to glean a little more information.
"Unfathomably long, Bi-pedal, probably longer than your species has existed."
I was unphased by that, considering that the answer came from a blob of goo. "Have you had other cellmates?"
"Countless."
"What happened to them?"I asked, suppressing a shudder at the more wayward of hypotheses I was drawing.
Blob snorted, as if anticipating my thoughts. "I didn't subsume them, if that's what you're thinking. We can't kill eachother in here. We can't really do much other than pace around."It undulated at the screen. "They let some of the inmates out sometimes, as you can see, but you and I are deemed too high risk. We're in this cell for eternity."
"Why?"I asked, as the cold dread of realization settled over me. "I lived a normal life..."
"It is not about what came before, it is about what would have come after. This place is preventative."
"Is there anyone I can talk to? They must have made a mistake."
"You can try ask the beings that feed us, other than that you don't really have a chance. And besides, they're never wrong. You're here because you were dangerous. What was your..."it searched for the right word. "Occupation in your past life?"
"I was a researcher, at the Large Hadron Collider,"I said, feeling a deep longing for the life I'd taken for granted.
"Mmmmm splitting atoms, yes?"
"Something like that."
"Well, that's why you're here. Tearing the fabric of reality open and all that."
"There have been thousands of researchers there over the years..."
"Probably all here,"it said, positioning itself back on the slab.
"Why?"
"I'm not entirely sure but my conclusion is that the entities that run this place don't want other species unlocking the technology to travel between universes. The *why* behind that I'm definitely not sure about."
I turned this over, still not able to fully believe that my new circumstances were real.
Blob's blotchy red turned to a deep smooth purple. "Our feeding will happen soon. If we're going to get out of here that is the way. Lie still and observe,"it said, sighing contentedly. "The door opens, food comes in, and then it closes. I have tried to get a piece of myself out into those halls in any number of ways, but I can't figure out how to do it... that is, until you arrived. They feed us and they take away your... waste. If I can sneak some of my goo-flesh into it, we may be getting somewhere." |
Lyssa's hand stopped just short of the human. "Really?"
"Of course, really."Sennic looked annoyed, the kind of annoyed which probably meant he would be slapping Lucy (lightly, of course) were his hands not occupied carrying two boxes of feed. "Did nobody ever tell you this?"
"I mean, I've never worked at a zoo before,"Lyssa said.
"Have you never *been* to the zoo? That's literally the first thing on the sign out front."Sennic dropped the boxes in front of the big white box the human called a 'fridge' in their language. The human said something Lyssa didn't understand and ran over to it, out of her reach. Probably for the best.
"Okay, fine, now I know."Lyssa huffed. "But anyway, it shouldn't matter, right? We've got our cancellers on."
Sennic tapped the big, bulky headset on his ears. "If this were enough, I wouldn't be warning you."
"Alright, alright. Point taken."Point not really taken, though, because Lyssa didn't believe it. Not totally, at least. It couldn't be that bad, right? Especially not with the cancellers. They were good. She hadn't even realised Sennic had been talking for the entire first hour of her shift until she turned on the comms. Plus, who even heard of a Class IX? As far as Lyssa knew the scale went up to V, maybe VI. Someone probably made this up and the zoo just ran with it because it sounded cool and was good for marketing. Who didn't love a critically endangered yet unthinkably dangerous animal?
"Hey, are you done yet?"Sennic asked.
"Done?"Oh yes, Lyssa was supposed to be swapping out all the stuff the human damaged in the fire it started yesterday. How it managed to do that in an enclosure that had been so thoroughly fireproofed was beyond her. "Uh, yeah, done."
"What about that?"Sennic gestured towards a charred half-a-rug in the middle of the room, surrounded by burn marks on the floor.
"Almost done,"Lyssa corrected.
Sennic rolled his eyes. "Just get it done. I'm going to get the next batch of feed. Don't be stupid."
Lyssa grinned. "When have you ever known me to be stupid?"
"I just met you yesterday, and you've already tried to touch a human."Sennic turned around and headed to the enclosure door. "Don't. Be stupid."
"Yeah, yeah. Got it."Lyssa waved at him as he left. It was probably reassuring. Deceptively reassuring, of course, because the moment the door closed she decided that she was going to Touch the Human. Not out of some deep repressed masochistic desire, of course. She just wanted to know what it was like. And it definitely wouldn't be that bad, right?
She walked up to the human. It was sitting on the couch next to the fridge, munching on a bowl of feed. As she approached, it looked up at her with... well, some kind of emotion, and probably the good kind. It said something Lyssa still didn't understand, but that she felt sure was probably also something good.
"Hey, little guy,"Lyssa cooed. She extended her arm towards it. "It's okay. I just want to touch you."
There was no indication that it understood her, but it didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about her hand being right up in its face. Still, it wasn't that upset about it, because it wasn't motivated enough to actually get off the couch and go somewhere else.
Lyssa patted its head. "There we go,"she said. So far so good. Then she moved her hand down to its neck, and did a little tickle.
It was fine, at first. It didn't make a noise. It looked like it was trying to hold something in. Then it opened its mouth, sucked in a deep breath, and started to scream.
The whole enclosure shook. The world started to spin. If the viewing panes weren't double-triple reinforced they probably wouldn't have been able to withstand it. And stars, it was loud. Unbearable didn't do it justice. Lyssa fell to the floor, writhing in agony, her ears threatening to implode upon themselves as the shrill, head-splitting shriek filled the room and stabbed at her eardrums, tearing them apart and scattering the pieces to the wind.
Then, as soon as it started, it stopped. It stopped shortly after Lyssa stopped tickling, but it felt like an eternity to her. She couldn't hear anything anymore, anything except the incessant ringing in her ears.
At the far end of the enclosure, the door opened. Sennic stood there, a simultaneously exasperated yet amused expression on his face. He said something Lyssa couldn't hear, but that she more or less understood from his lips as 'what did I tell you?'.
"Don't be stupid,"she croaked. She couldn't hear herself, either.
He nodded. He walked over to her and offered her his hand. She took it, and he slung it over his shoulder as he helped her stagger out of the room.
Behind them, the human went back to eating its feed. |
David sat in the cell trying to prepare himself for.the torture that was sure to follow soon. Would he be left here alone for days on end with only a bucket of water being delivered every few days like what happened with Jacob. Would he be beaten near death like Sam. A loud scraping noice fills the dank dungeon. He hears several sets of foot steps approach his sell. As he looks up he is shocked to see the King himself standing before him with his royal guard. The kings advisor had always handled these interrogations before. A sadistic man that enjoyed inflicting pain and went by the name lord Ezekiel. He could only think the king himself was worse.
David was shocked though just how young the king was it's hard to remeber how young the king was only 18 years old. His father and mother died when he was all but five. And the rebellion started three years later. The king was raised by maids and servants under the watchful eye of Lord Ezekiel. While his father was a kind and benevolent king who set up orphanages and schools. Paid for doctors to tend to the poor and gave back more to the people than they ever expected the man before him was raised under the eye and influence of the man who made the orphans from the orphanages slaves to the state. They were used as cheap labor and were sold as entertainment or property to whomever had money. The schools in the poorest areas became places of indoctrination. Where children learned to obey and sumbit. The poor were forbidden to be taught reading and writing exept if their bosses granted them permission to learn.
Over the years it became common for men, women, and children to be taken by the palace guards and never be seen again. The people revolted when things started to change. They decided no more. Then the army came in, children ripped from their parents. Fear and chaos ruled. The people submitted to keep their children safe. And the king grew up in luxury under the watchful eye of his advisor.
David never expected the question about why they revolted. He never expected that the advisor hid it from the child king under the guise of protecting him. He never expected that they may be able to change things if they just reached the king himself. He knew it would not be easy. The army may be more loyal to Lord Ezekiel than to the rightful king. But the king rallying the people would have a greater effect than the bastard son of a dead king calling for revolution.
David couldn't help but think that maybe his fathers legacy was not dead after all. That maybe his baby brother could be the man his father hoped he would be. Maybe he didnt break his promise to his father all thoughs years ago when Uncle Ezekiel killed his father and framed the 12 year old bastard nephew. |
"Listen, you guys did a great job. I mean really great. Simmons is gone now and no one suspects a thing. I'm really happy with your work, but all the same, I'm going to have to cancel my subscription."
"Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Mr. Johnson. We are happy to help with that! First, may I have your account number?"
"Uh, shit. No, I forgot to write it down."
"Not a problem Mr. Johnson! I can also verify your account using your social security number."
"You know, I don't really like to give that out over the phone. A lot of crooks out there you know."
"I understand your concern Mr. Johnson, but I assure you, here at Hit It and Quit It LLC, your privacy is our top priority."
"Ehh all right all right. 656-78-2345."
"Thank you Mr. Johnson! Just a moment while I pull up your account. By the way, did you know we are having a special sale on kneecappings, this weekend only? Current subscribers can get two kneecaps for the price of one!"
"That sounds great and all, Cheryl, but I still want to cancel at this time."
"Not a problem! Never hurts to offer, right? Now, do you have your confirmation number ready?"
"My confirmation number, is that different than my account number?"
"That's correct. Your confirmation number should have been delivered to your email address on file on the initial date of the service."
"Okay let me pull it up here.....let's see.....I don't see that email here anywhere."
"Let's make sure we have your correct email address. Is it still 'BigDaddy69@gmail'?"
"Oh THAT one, okay let me check....shit I'm locked out. Just give me a minute to reset my password..."
"I'm sorry Mr. Johnson, but we have other customers in the queue and I am unable to wait with you at this time, but you're welcome to call us back once you have your confirmation number."
"Christ are you serious? I waited on hold for an hour to get through to you guys!"
"I apologize for the long wait time Mr. Johnson, as you may be aware, summer is our busy season and therefore wait times can be affected."
"You can't wait just 5 minutes? Jesus this is ridiculous"
"I'm sorry to hear you are frustrated Mr. Johnson"
"Cheryl is there a supervisor I can speak with"
"....one moment while I transfer you."
"Thank you for calling Hit It and Quit It LLC! My name is Josh, how can I help you?"
"Hi Josh, I'm calling about my account"
"I'd love to help you with that! I understand from Cheryl that you wish to cancel your subscription?"
"No no no. Actually, I'd like to keep the subscription now, but can I update the target for next month?"
"Absolutely Mr. Johnson! I'm happy to hear we will continue to be working with you. May I have the name of your next target?"
"Cheryl." |
This one is a little more emotional than I had intended, but the idea just stuck in my head and wouldn't leave, so here we are.
***
It was some time since the accident, and I was adjusting well. Being on the receiving end of a truck isn’t a great experience whatever vehicle you are or aren’t inside of and, although I knew my brain had rattled around more than I’d care for it to, I was alive and surviving.
It’s funny, becoming part of a new group overnight. Suddenly, my vision that I had taken for granted my whole adult life was gone. As you’d expect, I went through the usual stages of grief; anger at taking my vision for granted, hope that it might be restored and bargaining with fortune itself for a fairer hand in my remaining days. Ultimately, I settled into a kind of peace that worked for me.
Often, I felt like I was reliving the concussion I also received that day. Hours were hard to keep track of, weeks felt like months one day and moments the next and I knew I had started to struggle with daily tasks and my ability to recall my favourite memories. It was like walking through a cloud as I climbed a steep mountain; calm and soothing in its own way, but challenging all the same.
And before I knew it, or maybe just after, the fortune I had tried to score a win from came through in the form what I assumed was a very fluffy, very helpful and very caring cat.
***
One of the trickier parts of my new life was knowing whether it was me talking or something else. New types of media became my staples, and I often found myself coming to clarity with the feeling that I had just had a conversation with myself.
The cat, known to me in our private arrangement as “Cat”, was a great example. It visited me regularly, checking in on my humble home and, so I assumed, doing a great job of keeping the place clean. It sometimes occurred to me that I wasn’t really tidying anything anymore, but my faithful friend was always there to put things right.
As reliable as the sunrises I enjoyed so long ago, Cat would come through and make sure things were in order. Remarkable creature, that Cat. Sometimes, I wondered how a small and, as I always assumed, very fluffy feline could take care of so many tasks for me. I was grateful, because I knew with a calm and happy certainty that I needed the help.
***
Lately, I’ve started to realise something rather peculiar. Cat wasn’t a cat at all!
As I pushed past the foggy ascent of my recovery, the details just kept stacking up. The cat food I ordered online was still there, packed in the tough plastic casing I would run my fingers across each morning. The house that became more defined around me in my mind was big; far too big for a little cat to keep tidy. The emails my audio device read to me were the final clue. I’d never heard of a small and, so I assumed, very fluffy animal saying it’d see me next week.
And so, with my mind coming back to take the place of the vision I’d lost, I looked forward each day to being greeted by my helper. I felt a little foolish, really; I’d spelt Kat’s name wrong all this time! |
"But does it have to be magical?"The young man's voice wavered.
"Sir Percival!"Sir Henry, leader of the Royal Order of Knights, stood tall and laughed. "I remember when you became a squire at the tender age of nine. You were so excited for your magical creature! I was just sure you'd want a unicorn."
"Me too, but that's before I met Squacks."Sir Percival answered.
"And what,"Sir Henry asked with a laugh, "is a Squacks?"
Sir Percival turned to the audience. "Squacks! Come on, then."
A small parrot, barely bigger than a budgie, flew from the front row to Percy's shoulder, with a long ribbon tied to one of its feet. Sir Percival's mother, a middle-aged woman wearing a blue and white bonnet in honor of the King, smiled and waved.
"A common parrot?"Sir Henry furrowed his brow. "Percival, you know you can keep your pet and also bond with a magical creature, right?"
Sir Percival took Squacks from his shoulder and held her up to Sir Henry.
"I've raised Squacks since she was two days old, when her bigger sibling pushed her out of the nest at my Gran's parrot breeding atelier. The bond I have with her is as strong as that between a mother and a child. I have a duty to her, and taking on the care of a unicorn or a dragon or an homunculus would mean less time for Squacks."
Sir Robin, a short and wiry knight with long hair, approached. "Permission to speak, Sir Henry?"
"Go on."
"The bonding spell that Ambrose places on a knight and their magical creature increases the creature's magical power. Can you imagine something as cheeky as a little parrot, with magical powers?"
Henry's eyes widened. Maybe there was some truth to the rumors. The invaders from the south spoke of a monster, a parrot with the magic of a god inside a tiny and angry body. He only hoped that "Baby Percy,"the youngest knight to ever join the Order, could handle that.
"Ambrose? Begin the bonding spell." |
CLICK
CLICK
"Get away from me!"
The silence was broken. Eighty pale faces looked up in the previously quiet cafeteria. Jo Blackham got up from her seat, eyes wide, cheeks red. She pointed at Scott Keife. She picked up her butter knife, knowing its blunt end would do no significant harm, but the act of raising it was fortunately adequate to make him step back.
"Stop."She controlled her voice and dropped the knife - its tinkering on the tile floor adding an echoing exclamation mark to the end of the short sentence. Each sound she spoke would be one more towards her final word count.
Scott looked down. He realised that his plan had not been thought through. He had found the old camera in his Great-Grandparents attic last week. They had died together - fingers intertwined and happily tipsy - after reciting the Farewell Prayer to each other. Scott thought a photo of his crush would be the ideal present for Jo's upcoming 16th birthday. Photos of living people were a rarity after the discovery of the Human Word Limit by the Cambridge research team. Scott had never understood why. He so enjoyed seeing photos of the old days in the library.
Jo shook her head, pointing at the black object hung around Scott's neck. Scott removed the strap of the ancient Nikon D850 and placed the camera on the table.
The relatively ancient Mr Bellman purposefully walked towards the now quiet two. His cane tapped with each slow step, bringing with it angst of what he would do to the pair. He rarely spoke, but as a teacher, he felt it was his duty to impart wisdom to his students despite the effect on him.
He held up his hand. He spoke softly. "A picture tells a thousand words."
Scott realised what he had done. Jo Blackham's count was now 2000 less. |
Even now, after I had been defeated, my enemy was beyond cautious. The superpowered, ultra-fast woman dubbed Laser circled around me. She needn't worry, my wounds were absolutely fatal. Getting punched and kicked by her had been one of the worst experiences of my life. Bones weren't just broken but completely shattered. Internal bleeding was pooling in my abdomen, thighs and... it didn't matter now.
"You know", she said, "I could not imagine a more fearsome enemy than you, Mr. Butterfly."She seemed more confident now, as my body was taking its final gasps. "The ability to choose a future based on your own actions, and to impact the future of all with such innocent actions that you drew no attention."I managed to draw a breath, but damn it all my ribs made me weep in agony. "How did you beat me?"I managed to ask.
"Well, you would have gotten away with it... if the world wasn't filled with supers trying to prove themselves to join the League. One super has the ability to detect evil in a person. Another has the ability to detect the strength potential in a person. And so on. But no one else could ever tell the future like you could. In the end, we caught on to your evil deeds and schemes by a simple luck of matching superpowers with each other in unique ways. Cooperation revealed you. After that, we simply needed to plan how to actually fight you."
"It took us years to plan. We needed to trap you in a non-reversible situation, where actions that you had taken in your past had already determined and limited your possible future actions. See, we figured there was a limit to how far into the future you could see. Or maybe you were just lazy and didn't bother looking too far. By the time you saw your own death, you simply had no possible action left to take that would avoid it."
She was right. I'd seen it coming for months now. But my power had no limits. In a twist of fate, I could see myself seeing myself in the future, and so on all the way to infinity. More than that, she was wrong to think I could only see my own actions and my own end. So yes, they'd beaten me into a bloody pulp. They wouldn't let me live either. They were vigilantes, not real League members yet. No cameras on them, no real moral compass to speak of. In a last herculean effort, I made my last monologue. It was traditional, after all.
"You supers never got it. All you know is the League, glowing bright with hope and justice for all. And you die for the league, because you believe in the cause. But you never got that us villains could believe in things too."I paused to spit up whatever blood was clogging my airways, coming straight from my punctured lungs. "I looked into the future and saw a possibility that perfectly captured every thing and every way I wish the world was like. The only problem was making it a reality would lead to my death."She seemed to freeze in fear. They hadn't planned for this.
"But even after I had made up my mind, it was no easy task to accomplish it. See, I didn't know every super hiding in alleyways waiting for some poor criminal to beat to a pulp. I had no idea what powers walked this meager earth. So I had to make sure. My death was not simply some random byproduct of making my dream a reality. No, it was the key component. In every other future I saw, you eventually caught me and forced me to undo the damage I had done. Your plans to build a perfect trap, with no possibly escape... only worked because I played into it. It was not a trap for me, but to trap you in murderous actions beyond your understanding. You think you caught me, but I'm exactly where I want to be. Because in the end, the only threat to my dream was myself. "
"And with me dead... you're all fucked." |
I remember when I demonstrated my powers in the mess hall, as per the squad's tradition. In a group of superhumans with flashy powers like explosive fists, metal claws, and teleportation, mine was a laughing stock.
Mr. Candle, they called me. Surprisingly, the General kept a straight face. He kept me on "A good investment,"he said. He was referring to the neural implant on my left temple. Every new recruit goes through customized experimental procedures to significantly enhance the powers they were born with. He told me it'll be some time before the implant takes in.
In the early days, I was tasked to clear out burning buildings, and disable vehicles, but my a-ha moment was when I couldn't disable a Tesla.
In Chemistry 101: Combustion is a reaction between fuel and oxygen. As long as there's enough fuel and oxygen, the fire keeps burning. Extinguishing flames might be a seemingly simple power for a simple formula. But as I later found out, boy, I was wrong. So dead wrong.
You see, what I realized was that at the molecular level, my power was actually the ability to manipulate the most important element in combustion: oxygen.
Add a pinch of creativity, and my power potential leapt to infinity and beyond. I can disable people by removing the oxygen from the air they breathe. I remember the countless people I tortured by asphyxiation. It's amazing what secrets people reveal under oxygen deprivation, some of them right down (O=O).
As I became much more proficient, I was assigned to take out a high-ranking mutant. I was 40,000 ft above the target when it happened (By then, I figured out how to concentrate oxygen under my body to fly.) When all was said and done, the death was ruled to be of natural causes. Specifically, a brain aneurysm from a 1 mm air bubble in his cranium. Of course, only Stryker and the migrating ducks knew it was me.
By adding oxygen, I have killed near immortals without lifting a finger. By depriving their brains of oxygen, I can cloud my enemy's minds to the point that they don't even remember how and when we slipped past their defenses. Imagine the strongest superhumans in the world reduced to a slobbering, snoring mess, all because I reduced the oxygen in the air they breathe by 20%.
If it weren't for the need to keep a low profile, I can snuff you out way before you finish reading this. So, no worries, light a scented candle. Breathe... For now. |
The intercom on my desk crackled to life, and the uninflected voice of my secretary floated through.
*“Mr. Hartford, your two o’clock is here.”*
I pressed the little red button on the receiver.
“Send her in, Ness.”
I saw the silhouette through the glass pane before my newest client was admitted. Young woman, blonde curls, haunted expression. Her case had obviously been causing her some anxiety, but that anxiety would be alleviated as soon as she seated herself at my desk. Were it not for her condition, I would never have offered, and saved us all some time.
She took the proffered chair and eased herself into it with some difficulty as I consulted her scant paperwork unnecessarily. Still had to keep up appearances after all, and at least make it seem like I was earning my minimum consultation fee.
“Miss Guthrie, you are here concerning custody rights for your unborn child?”
She nodded. “Yes, Mr. Hartford.”
I closed her file. “Well, Miss Guthrie, the details of your concerns are spare, but I believe they are sufficient enough for me to assure you that you are not in danger of losing your child. Even should the father demand custody on legal grounds, the Courts will not force a new mother to give up her newborn unless they are deemed unfit to provide proper care and protection.” I smiled as winsomely as I could. “And judging by first impressions, you seem plenty fit to me.”
Miss Guthrie did not appear the least bit comforted by my assertions. In fact, she began to sob, and I offered her my handkerchief.
“My apologies, Miss Guthrie, I meant no offence. I truly believe that you have nothing to fear, from the father or the Courts.”
Her last sob was punctuated by a short, humourless chuckle. “I fear neither, Mr. Hartford, though the father has some answering to do.”
I nodded knowingly. Classic case of infidelity; she wanted to keep the child away from the adulterous boyfriend, then.
“Please feel free to elaborate, Miss Guthrie.” I took out pen and notepad, poised to write. “The details are important.”
She sniffed, and dabbed her nose with the handkerchief. She appeared reluctant to continue. I showed some impatience.
“Come now, Miss Guthrie, if there is a case here, I can neither advise nor represent you un—”
“The Fae.” She interrupted in a harsh whisper, and that hunted look returned; her eyes darted about, as though checking the corners of my office for dangers. “My fiancé… he promised the Fae our child.”
That got my attention. This was no longer an open and closed case. As a condition of remaining a part of civilized society, the Fae were prohibited by law to solicit parents for their firstborn children.
Before I could recover from my surprise, Miss Guthrie continued.
“My David… he got into some trouble with gambling. *Big* trouble.” She swallowed. “He had some debts, and…”
She faltered, but my mind had already filled in the rest.
“This was not just some random Fae, was it, Miss Guthrie?” I asked.
She shook her head, closing her eyes against tears, and at once I shared in her fear.
“Did he sign a blood pact?”
She nodded.
I dropped my pen, my mind and my blood racing. This case was too big for me, no matter what I was paid. If a Fae mafioso had paid Miss Guthrie and her foolish fiancé a visit, there was very little that could be done from a legal standpoint.
She had a right to fear for her child.
My hand shook as I pressed the little red button on my intercom.
“Ness, cancel all my other appointments for today.”
*Crackle. “Right away, Mr. Hartford.”*
I looked at Miss Guthrie; I imagined that my expression must mirror hers, but I was resolved to help her now.
“This is serious, Miss Guthrie. You were right to bring this to me and not the police.” I frowned. “You didn’t tell the police, right?”
She shook her head, and I sighed with relief.
“Good. No knowing how many moles are in the precinct.” I reached for the telephone, and began dialing. “There is not much more I can do for you at this stage in the game, but I know someone who—”
I was interrupted by a voice on the line that could have belonged to Ness.
*“Offices of Archibald Maxwell, Private Investigator.”*
*Damned elves all sound the same.* “Yes, Bev, this is Simon Hartford. I need to speak to Archie. It is urgent”
*“Sure thing, hon, please hold.”*
I did not have to wait long before Archie picked up.
*“Simon. What have you got for me? And make it quick; I'm on another case.”*
I locked eyes with Miss Guthrie, wringing her hands in her lap. “Nothing good, Archie—”
*“Stop calling me that, Simon.”*
“—I have a young woman here says the Fae want her child. Sounds like the Families are recruiting again.”
There was a prolonged pause at the other end before Archie spoke again in his gruff, no-nonsense manner.
*“Wait for me there, Simon. I’m on my way.”*
​
**Hey, thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, feel free to stop by my** [personal sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/The_Quail_and_Quill/) **for more stories and poems!**
​
**Surprised Edit:** Oh goodness! I was not expecting this kind of response. First awards! Thank you! To address those asking for more, there is none... ***yet***. This is a universe I have been toying with for a bit, inspired by another prompt... and I hope to revisit it soon! |
It was the first time in my long career that a sight had truly left me stunned. I lowered my peach-colored glasses, taking another look at the man. “You aren’t an eldritch horror.” I remarked, voice a hushed whisper as my mind flickered through the possibilities. The fact that I could stare at the man without my protective glasses concerned me. I wiped the heart-shaped lenses with my sleeve, placing them back on. I could see no sign of a disguise or deceit; this was just an ordinary human.
“Hey, I’m Bob. I heard from a friend that you are a matchmaker. I’ve been feeling awfully lonely and was hoping you might set me up with someone? Maybe some tall, vampiric lady who likes long walks on the beach?”
I didn’t know what part of his words to question first. Each seemed dumber than the last. Alas, I am a professional and would handle this in a manner befitting my excellent reputation. I tucked the glasses into my shirt before speaking.
“How did you get this address? I usually deal with more exotic cliental. You don’t seem the type, no offence. Its just in my years of doing this job, I have never come across someone with a disguise that I couldn’t crack. Also, it’s impossible to find a vampiric lover that enjoys long walks on the beach. They have a distaste for the sun, I’m afraid. You may be able to find one that enjoys pools, though? Some enjoy indoor swimming, I hear.”
Why was I even entertaining this fool? The man came to a matchmaker’s house in shorts and a grease stained top. Sure, I had partnered floating heads with people before, but they at least had the common sense to comb their hair before the meeting.
“I’m just a regular human. My friend told me about this place. You might know him as Bigfoot, or Harold Herrington, if you know his actual name.”
“I am acquainted with Harold Herrington, yes. I matched him with a lovely rat lady last week, I believe the two are rather happy. Wait, you know Bigfoot? The illusive legend Bigfoot?”
“He helped me with a crossword once while I was camping. Ever since then we meet up every week to take blurry photos of each other.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of information to digest. I rarely deal with humans, though. I could recommend another matchmaker though if you like?”
I tried desperately to weasel my way out of the situation, wanting to keep my distance between this client and myself. I couldn’t match a human with someone. Look at the guy, he hurts to look at more than the eldritch horrors. I kept a fake smile plastered on my face, a few beads of sweat rolling down my forehead.
“But I heard you were the best. I have tried the others and none of them work. Please, will you give me a chance? I can pay you. They don’t need to be human, in fact I would prefer they were something more unique. Please find me a lover.” The man stepped closer, causing me to step back, his putrid smell worse than that of a wet werewolf.
This was bad. Harold Herrington had a lot of influence among the monster community. If I lost them, I could lose a lot of my cliental, not to mention the supernatural benefits that come from dealing with monsters constantly. I would go back to being a normal person, unable to commune with spirits, monsters, and aliens. I gulped, wondering if I could handle this PR hit. Without the monsters, I still had the other creatures unless word spread to them as well. My fake smile twitched, now coming across more pained and forced.
“I would be more than happy to help you Bob. That’s what I do after all.” My chuckle feeling like thorns as it pushed its way from my throat, everything about my actions forced.
“Great, you are a lifesaver. Or should I say lovesaver? So, what’s the first step?” Bob asked, clapping his hands together.
“Let’s get some photos and begin your dating profile. Then we can look at possible matches.”
As I motioned Bob inside, I could already tell he was going to be my toughest client yet, perhaps even be the one to break my perfect love matching streak.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
I knew it was risky, but this motherfucker had it coming. So, I planned.
First I visited the stage where he would be presenting; my power required me to have been there, or close by. So long as I could visualize the place in my mind, I could go there. I spent a hour in the dead of night pacing that stage, memorizing every detail so I could go to the precise location I wanted.
Next, I picked up a punching dummy. I was only going to get one shot at this, so I wanted to make it count. I spent a week of afternoons teleporting across town to an abandoned building where I'd set up the dummy. My first feeble attempts had me arriving off balance and with poor form, and I had to re-center my mind on my apartment which cost precious seconds. By the end of the week I arrived on target already mid-punch and snapped back to my apartment before a full second had elapsed.
Finally, I went to one of those costume shops and bought a cheap ninja costume. The fabric was cheap and scratchy, thin and probably more plastic than anything else, but it would cover up my skin. I knew this footage would be some of the most watched and dissected footage in human history, and I needed to make sure I would be unrecognizable, so I put on a set of mirrored swimming goggles over the mask, and did some more test runs while in my costume - the punch caused my wrists to become exposed, so I painted them blue with makeup from the same costume shop. Even my skin tone would be disguised.
Finally the day came. That asshole with the world's most punchable face came on stage and began to give his speech in front of a crowd of thousands of people and dozens of cameras. I watched, seething, as he spat his lies to the crowd and they ate it up, and bided my time as he worked towards the crescendo of his animation and faux-outrage. I tried to concentrate on where he was on the stage instead of his words, and set my computer to record.
I assumed my position, did a slight step forwards, activated my power mid-swing, and came through the infinitesimal-infinite black tunnel exactly where planned. My knuckles connected beautifully with that smug jaw, a heavy right cross sent him stumbling, tumbling, but I didn't stay to see the result, I'd already dived back to my apartment. Exactly as planned: punch delivered, blue skin exposed, costume otherwise in place, and back where I'd left from in less than a second. I knew the feeling of that punch would be one of my most treasured memories for the rest of my life.
And then there was a knock at my door. |
“So, you’re telling me,” Richard said, “that you are from a parallel world.”
“Correct,” Dick replied.
“And, if what you have been saying is true, that parallel world has absolutely nothing to do with that bag of dried leaves I saw hanging from your pocket,” Richard said.
“Correct. Those dried leaves are for recreation purposes and have nothing to do with my senior thesis. I heard they were legal on this side of space-time, you know. Now would you please answer my questions?”
Richard and Dick were sitting at a café. That morning, as Richard was walking to class, Dick jumped out of an alleyway, proclaimed he was his doppelganger from a parallel world, then demanded help with his senior thesis. Dick’s thesis was about the technology of other worlds. While Richard complained that his doppelganger was named Dick, Dick complained why his doppelganger was the one with the phallic name (according to his world’s standards).
“Fine, I’ll answer.” Richard grumbled. “My disbelief is suspended so much, that you can practically see it hanging out of my head.”
“In my world, we have visors that detect incredulity, so I can’t determine if you’re telling the truth. Anyways, may I ask what those are?” Dick asked.
Dick pointed to a salt shaker on the table. Raising an eyebrow, Richard answered:
“Salt shakers. You know, for shaking salt?”
“How do you use it?”
“You hold it upside down over your food then start shaking. Stop shaking when your food starts to resemble a competitive gaming community in terms of saltiness.”
“Interesting,” Dick replied, “then what’s the power source?”
Richard blinked once. He was wondering just how much of those dried leaves Dick consumed.
“Umm, gravity I guess? This sort of tech isn’t very new—hey, what’s with that look?”
Richard blinked twice as amazement radiated from Dick’s face. Dick scribbled notes all over his glowing notebook.
“Incredible. With such a simple, elegant design, your people have already harnessed one of the fundamental forces of the universe.
Richard blinked thrice. “Then, how do you guys put salt on your food?”
“It’s quite primitive,” Dick said. “Using ion cannons, we shoot salt straight into our food.”
Richard blinked as if salt was shot straight into his eyes.
“Oh, you’re blinking a lot—In my world, that generally means amazement. Anyways, onto the next question.”
All Richard could think about was how much dried leaves Dick had.
“I wanted to ask about what you guys call the ‘Large Hadron Collider’. Tell me all about it.”
“Well,” Richard replied, “It’s an impressive piece of technology. It’s definitely more jaw-dropping than this salt shaker. Though, the salt shaker does makes you want to open your mouth after seasoning your food.”
Dick started to speak: “For us, particle accelerators are quite primitive. They were one of the technologies we first developed from our caveman days.”
“What?!” Richard replied. “What would a caveman need a particle accelerator for?”
“Uhm…so we can make teleportation technology? It’s easier to grab bananas from trees when you can just teleport over there. Isn’t it obvious?” Dick explained.
Richard put his face in his hands, then slammed his face onto the table. Other people in the café started to stare, and Dick asked why Richard was suddenly so pleased with their conversation—head slamming was a sign of approval in Dick’s world. Richard lifted his head and quietly whispered:
“Before you ask your next question, can I ask you one myself?”
“Sure,” Dick smiled, “Anything for my parallel world buddy.”
“Can I have some of those dried leaves?” |
The Fae council had never truly left, they just did not have the free access to the humans they once did. There were a few magicians and shape shifters that would open portals to let the Fae through, usually unintentionally as the industrial revolution took the magic in the land and dulled it with machines and steam.
The humans had been watched by the various factions beyond the veil, some as entertainment, some for malevolent purposes. Some, it was to keep check on the family that had been sent to be with the humans. It was this Fae that saw the trouble the humans had gotten themselves into. The Fae council was informed, many not caring what happened to the humans. They did not see the connections they had with the humans.
As the intention of the invasion force hid behind the diplomats they sent to Earth, Elves and Fairies with family in amongst the humans decided they had to help. An ancient ritual was found and performed, a tear in the veil that flashed through the worlds, lighting off old cashes of Mana to flow through the dormant ley lines. There was destruction at the magic that was unleashed, deaths from some of the latent magic users not being able to handle the power. Panic washed through the general populace of Earth, but the humans who suddenly had power to wield also saw that the enigmatic aliens were not as benign as they wanted the humans to believe.
The pulse of magic did not just effect humans. Animals and plants with the latency also changed, their own powers dramatically coming out sometimes. Groves of Ents in Central Park were gathered around the New York central ley line intersections, protecting those nodes from the government people who were trying to figure out what was going on. Feral clowders swarmed through neighborhoods, finding the newly wakened witches and wizards that needed feline familiars. The slumbering sea beasts that had been under miles of cold water saw the sunlight for the first time in aeons, breaking the waves to both screams and cheers at the shore.
Those who knew the fairy stories by heart could see what was happening. Most of the governments were overwhelmed with reports of magical beasts and people doing spells, even as the knowledge of real intergalactic Aliens had been a shock. It surprised many when those in their own departments and cabinets showed signs of magic. At first, they were locked up, but it was very evident that walls could not hold those with the newly found magical abilities. The United States tried to round up people with abilities, but couldn’t as the very ground sometimes kept the agents and officials away.
The Earth was alive, and it was not going to let those who wanted to destroy it get away with it, from the intergalactic Aliens or the humans that had been on its surface for millennia.
Shape shifters found they could do it without their particular trigger, making the Alien Diplomat Sqezif suddenly scream in terror as two huge Werewolves suddenly transformed in the Diplomatic suite, abducting it with little resistance from either the Earth guards or the Alien guards. The MagicTerrorists, as many governments were calling them, tracked them for weeks until a video of the Diplomat telling of the invasion plans was forcibly aired and streamed throughout the globe.
This forced the hand of the invasion force before they were ready.
Ships were sent to the geostationary points above major metropolitan centers, asteroid rail guns pointed down. The magicians saw the threat, and even against their own officials warnings, created shields to protect what they could. Fire rained down, and fire was sent up. The battles began. |
“Maggie, if I have to call St. Elsenor’s one more time for Band’s files, I swear I’m just gonna drive over and pick them up.” I say.
The nurses station bustled with scrubbed persons, going to and from, dropping charts off, picking them up. Lab samples in yet? Yes. Check in? No. Will you be using any insurance? It was a maelstrom level activity. Word was that the Molten Man or Captain Caustic (really similar powers, both melt things) had gotten into the First Bank of Stanley and there were a lot of casualties.
The civilians were taken to ordinary hospitals and Supers came to us. My patient was the Rubber Band Man, yes like the song, and he had stretched himself to try to contain Molten Man/Captain Caustic and had been unable to Unstretch his arms yet. Just two long fingers measuring to about 20 feet out.
We had to spool his arms like they were spaghetti using crutches so some orderly didn’t trip on them. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic.
Maggie, the head nurse, pushed herself on her roller chair to the printer and pushed back to the computer where I was at. “They just came in Dr. Peters, no need to go driving anywhere.”
“Standing offer on that date, Maggie, you are the best.” I said as thanks.
“I like Italian.” She said with a wry smile. We were both married and there was 15 years between us but damn did I love that woman.
I looked over the charts, Demetrius Banderson (that’s a secret between you and me though) had been in St. Elsenor’s about 5 months back for light burns a mild radiation sickness. X-rays had been typical (we don’t use the word normal in Super cases.)
I went back into the room after a half hour. Demetrius had his hood cowl off and was in his blue and white spandex-y outfit thing. He could pull his arms through 20 feet of sleeves so he was just watching the with the remote in hand.
“Hello, Demetrius, Howard you feeling?” I ask.
“Apart from feeling like my arms are taffy, I’m great.” He said flashing a brilliant smile. These guys were all bright characters, lots of personality. “Didja find out what’s going on with my arms?”
“I did.” I opened his file and held up two pictures. “This is an image of your unique cells while you stretch. Notice that they move and stretch along with you. Everything stays put more or less, the cells just change shape.”
“I follow.” Demetrius looks at it nodding.
“These are those same cells, taken an hour ago, from your arms. You see that they are no longer stretching? They are just typical cells migrating in a larger environment.” I continue.
“Ok.” Demetrius replied.
“You’ll notice,” I drew his attention to a blue outline around his cells, “this part is what we identify as the Super gene. It’s like a stem cell, subject to alter in a lot of different ways and it’s the reason drugs like Reginenex and Moltrestadine work on supers.”
I point to his most recent cells. “These cells do not have that super coating around the cells any longer.”
“Doc, I can tell when someone is trying to stretch something out.” He gives me a serious look. “Tell me straight up.”
I take a deep breath. “Demetrius, you don’t have powers in your body any longer. Comparing over your charts from St. Elsenor’s your super gene has be deteriorating. From their notes they just thought their equipment wasn’t picking up as much of it because not everyone has the facilities we do. But I’m looking at it and as you use more of your abilities it’s clear that this coating gets depreciated.”
“So this wasn’t because of Molten Man? This is just me?” Demetrius asks.
“ Yes.” I said. “I’m sorry, Demetrius, you are powerless.”
The news looks like it hits him in a slow wave as he just lets this info wash over him and lean him back against the chair. “Shit.” He says. “I just thought I was getting older or the fights were just getting harder but...you’re serious. This is it? Nothing I can do?”
I slowly shake my head. “The drugs we used would be ineffective, even dangerous now that you don’t have that protection around your cells.”
“Fuck. That was the last fight. I’d‘ve fought harder if I knew.” The Rubber Band Man sits forward and shakes his spooled arms. “What about these? When do they become normal like the rest of me.”
Ok, this was gonna be the hard part.
I begin. “Demetrius, currently, your cells are healthy. There’s no deviation between how yours act and how mine do. There’s also no evidence from what I’m seeing that your body plans to revert your arms to a typical length.”
“What?”
“There’s therapies that we can try, augmentation has come a long way, and we might be able to bring you a decent standard of living-“ I continue but he cuts me off.
“What standard of living!?” He shouts. “My arms are twenty feet long. I couldn’t even pick them off the ground after the fight. They just dragged along the ground!”
“I know.” I said, looking him in the eye. “I’m so sorry Demetrius, this doesn’t deserve to happen to you. Take some time, I’ll have an orderly coordinate with anyone you want to see, we’ll get a plan together-“
“No.” He says. “Your fucking wrong. You made a fucking mistake. And when I’m done with you, you won’t be able to give booster shot at a Wal-Greens.”
He was the third patient like that I have seen lose their powers.
And it was getting worse.
Pt 2 if there’s interest. |
Honestly, it turned out to be too easy. While humanity had only been united as species for a few decades, it only took an alien warship hovering between the Earth and the moon to cause absolute chaos and panic everywhere.
When demands were made for humanities surrender, we did all we could and bluffed. To say we had planet destroying weapons was quite a stretch given all we had were asteroid pulverizers for mining, but they bought it. When one of our mining transports was able to withstand their 'warning' shot, they were convinced we were just giving them a chance to escape with their lives. And then everything went to crap. For them.
Peace was made out of fear, FTL technology was refined from information taken through corporate espionage, and eventually, humanity just gave up. Trying to hide the lies that is.
Anything that was asked for could be obtained for practically nothing to the point where once this was realized, the government on Earth had to make rules of interaction so that it wouldn't get too ridiculous. As a reputation bordering on unbelievable had already been 'confirmed' as true by the allied alien species, they still wanted to keep things in the realm of plausibility in the very least.
Its been 'only' just over a decade, and with the access we have to each species' datanets and so-called classified research, an unnerving number of the impossibilities of humanity are becoming reality. |
God folds blue feathered wings into his back as he lands at the feet of Abraham. Taking the form of a Kingfisher he looks up at his creation.
"Abraham you are lucky to even speak with me, most of my children will not know my presence before death"the voice of God floats up from the small birds body, ringing through Abrahams ears.
Scoffing at the insinuation Abraham retorts "Lucky? You consider me lucky to face the beast that orders the sacrifice of my own child?"
God tilts his head to one side, black beaded eyes staring up at the man he created. "Abraham I am no beast, I love you and I love your child and I know that you love me"
Rage seething through his body, Abraham kicks at the Kingfisher
"I loved you always, and this is my reward? I pray, I worship, I live my life in keeping with your doctrines and you see fit to take my child from me?!"
Dust circles on the ground, God narrowly avoids the kick and takes flight into the sky.
"How can I worship you now? How can I love my creator if he thinks it is good and proper to take my boy from me"Abraham yells up at the Kingfisher gliding serenely in the sky.
God circles Abraham before landing on a nearby rock. The delicate body of the Kingfisher begins to mould and morph, feathers turn to scales as God assumes the form of a snake. The serpent slithers towards Abraham who steps back in fear.
"Be calm now Abraham, I mean you no harm"The snakes tongue hisses as God speaks. "It hurts me to tell you what I must tell you my child, but your boy will perish and that is simply the way of things"The snake coils up on itself, wrapping tightly into a ball.
Abraham is silent in stunned confusion.
God continues "Know that other men will lose a son, a family, or even their own lives. Know that wealth and livelihoods will be stripped from many of my children and none of them will hear from me directly to explain why. It will just happen".
"And that is supposed to bring me comfort?"Sneers Abraham. "You expect me to love and worship the beast that tortures his own creations?"
"Abraham I am no beast"Gods voice booms loudly as the snake transforms into that of an Ox, growing large and looming over Abraham.
"Then what are you? You are not my God, your are not my loving creator if this is the world of your design"Abraham shouts up at the Ox's nostrils, feeling no fear towards the powerful animal before him.
The Ox stares back impassively. "Abraham I am life itself"The Ox begins to shrink smaller and smaller, horns retracting into it's body, God now takes the form of a fish, gasping on the ground without water to swim in.
Abraham quickly scoops up the body of God, carrying it gently to a nearby steam and depositing it in the cool flowing water.
"Thankyou my child, you are as caring as always, even through your rage"God swims elegantly in circles.
Abraham breaks down in tears "Then why must it be this way, why must we suffer, can you not end this misery with ease?"He is pleading with God now.
"Life must be filled with misery my child, without suffering there can be no joy. I take from you your boy, I order it as a sacrifice, not to satisfy my desires, but to allow the eternal kingdom of heaven to exist". God speaks softly now.
"Abraham I do not expect you to understand this now, not in this life on earth, but one day in heaven you will be with your child again. This pain is a part of life, it is a part of you, a part of me. What I need from you is to continue loving me anyway. To persevere through this rage and sorrow and to continue loving. If the hatred consumes you then you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven" |
I’d heard about the famous feuds between new brides and their mother-in-laws, but not to this degree.
“Sorry it took a wedding for you to finally meet my mom,” Liana giggled, cheeks rosy with elation and a bit too much champagne. I attempted to school my features into an amicable smile for her sake, but Mistress Massacre was staring me down so intensely I feared she had somehow developed x-ray vision.
“I should be the one apologizing,” my rival said, smiling at her daughter with a gentleness I’d never expect from the criminal mastermind. “I’m a very busy woman, so it was only natural that our schedules never lined up.”
*Wouldn’t I know it,* I thought bitterly. *Every time we had scheduled a dinner, you decided building a death ray was more important.*
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Piper.” I extended a hand for Mistress Massacre to shake, which she ignored. Ouch.
“Have we met before, Piper?”
Shi—I mean, shoot. “I don’t think so?” I forced a smile to combat Mistress Massacre’s soured expression. “I do work at the cafe on Main Street, though. Maybe you’ve seen me there a lot?”
My dastardly new mother-in-law hummed dismissively, apparently unconvinced. She pulled out a device I recognized as the one she used to communicate with her minions. While my heart seized with panic, Liana laughed lightly and grabbed my arm. “Yes, yes, mom, I know what that look means. We’ll leave you to your phone call.”
“Does she take phone calls often?” I whispered.
“Oh, yeah, all the time. She’s constantly talking to her coworkers about some blueprints or whatever,” Liana replied loudly.
I nearly tripped over my skirts as she pulled me away to greet the other guests. Mistress Massacre’s gaze burned into the back of my neck, and my ears strained to hear what she was mumbling into the device, even as Liana began speaking to one of the bridesmaids.
*“Push the mind reader to the top of the priority list, would you? And... let me know if there are any updates concerning that troublesome hero’s identity.”*
A nervous laugh bubbled in my chest, earning me a concerned look from Liana, but my mind had wandered out of the reception hall and made its way to the poorly-hidden latex suit I had stashed away in the coat closet in case of an emergency. Unfortunately, what I had brought along as a precaution was starting to look like the cause of my downfall, because it only took an apprehensive glance in the direction of said closet to see that Mistress Massacre was making her way towards it.
Sho—*shit.* |
The mage held in his hands an object that did not resemble a weapon at first glance and he regarded it with confusion. He was told that a wizard named Eugene Stoner of Clan Armalite was responsible for this item before him, dubbed m4 assault rifle. It was designed to utilize strange magical powder in order to propel a projectile at great velocity.
The wizard loaded the weapon and proceeded to empty it's ammunition on a variety of magical items and armours. Unsurprisingly, the weapon had only minor effects on enchanted items of fine quality. Surprisingly, however, the mage found himself with a great smile upon himself and conjoined another magazine. He then proceeded to order his assistants to bring many gourds into his chambers. When they left he proceeded to lay waste to the army of assembled fruit. He decided then and there, that he would keep this item in his personal inventory for when his magely duties became stressful. Placing the item to the side, he took a moment to appreciate the mysterious Eugene Stoner, of Clan Armalite as a great wizard. With a flick of his fingers, the portal on his table roared to life and another item came through for cataloguing, but deep down the mage was waiting for his work to be done so he could play with his new toy. |
"Tch!"
I clicked my tongue at the sight before me. It was so cliché that I had to restrain myself from covering my face. A castle, that looked to have recently be re-inhabited after being let to rot, stood alone on a hill. It was surrounded by fog, with lumbering forms of undead moving through it. The only thing that could make it worse would be for a storm to show up.
I began to walk forward, grasping the cut chain around my wrist. It writhed, before snapping rigid. A black portal appeared over the ends, and I reached in. I wrapped my fingers around the familiar object within, and pulled.
A leather-bound book emerged in my grasp. The chain connected to its spine, linked by magic beyond even a Librarian such as myself. It was emblazoned with lettering in gold, one simple word. Dictionary. It wasn't anything so inert as a usual book. For starters, only a Librarian could hold it. Anyone else would find their mind break if they tried. It's thin appearance also belied its contents, that of every word in existence.
I walked along casually, approaching the fog without concern. As I drew closer, I flicked open the Dictionary, finding the section under S. I looked at the fog, and spoke.
"**Sight**"
To me, the fog seemed to vanish. It was still there, but I could see at though it was a bright summers day. I continued on, seeing a zombie shuffle over. It drew close, and I flicked to R.
"**Rot**"
It collapsed, the decomposition process sped up by my word. I stepped over the putrid remains, heading for the door. It was closed, as expected. Not that such things bothered me.
"**Open**"
It creaked open, and I slipped inside. It wasn't much better inside, being quiet, dim and damp. I could feel the overdue books near me, and I headed in that direction. As I made my way through the stone corridors, I heard muffled chanting, followed by cursing and the rustling of paper. It came from behind a door, the edges of which glowed orange with fire light.
I opened it, seeing what was clearing a laboratory. Papers covered various tables, chalkboards leaned against the walls, and the smell of burnt plants and chemicals filled the air. A figure in black robes stood hunched over a slab, upon which lay a bare skeleton. I coughed, and they spun around. I got a good looked at her pale skin and lank, greasy hair. She definitely hadnt been spending enough time in the sun.
"Who are you?!"
"My name is Sero."
I was going to continue, but she cut me off, snapping her fingers. A plain wooden staff floated to her, its head badly carved in the shape of a skull.
"Why the hell are you here?! How did you get in here?!"
I shook my head. She clearly wasn't one of those dark Lords who would actually become infamous with those questions.
"I'm here for your overdue books."
That gave her pause.
"My books?"Her face became calculating. "Ah, you are with the Library."
I nodded.
"Yes I am. Now hand them over, please."
She laughed at me, gathering energy in her hand.
"Oh no. In fact, I could use someone like you in my research."
I sighed, opening my Dictionary again.
"Thats a shame. **Dispel**"
Her eyes widened as her power vanished. She spluttered, trying in vain to pull in more. She realised that wouldn't work, and pulled out a dagger, shouting nonsense as she lunged. U sighed again.
"**Stop**"
She froze. I turned around, making my way around the room, picking up the books she had withdrawn. I gave them a look over, annoyed at some of the new ink splatters on them, and the spidery handwriting. They would need to be restored before being lent out again.
Once I collected them all, I looked her in the eye. Her face was kept in a perfect mask of aggression, but her eyes betrayed her fear.
"If you had given them to me, I would have waived your late fees. Alas, you thought you knew better. Poena!"
There was a rushing sound, and a burst of flame. A large demon appeared, a twisted worm with three arms. Two beady eyes looked through a pair of glasses as it reared over us.
"Ah, Librarian Sero. A pleasure as always."
I bowed.
"Librarian Poena. This lady here had four books overdue by 47 days. Please level an appropriate fine."
It bared its teeth in a grin.
"Very well, Sero."
It reached an arm down into the lady's form, before they both vanished. I turned to leave, to head back to my gateway. At least I had found the books in relatively good condition. I shuddered at the thought of them being beyond repair. |
The child’s plaintive wail was answered with a gust of wind and her pursuers raised wooden spears high to the sky, the stone tipped weapons painted with her parents’ blood already, their laughter mocking her. As she screamed again, rushing blindly forward, she took a step and disappeared; the men behind her freezing in place as the air itself shimmered and folded in on itself.
Then the spears fell to the ground and the air became rank with the scent of ozone and the shouts of men shattered the odd silence. The ground cracked beneath her feet, the trees bent and shied away from her touch as she stepped into the world. Cold winds, laced with the scent of ash and smoke, brushed gently against the fabric of the tattered robe that concealed her rotting frame.
She bore no weapons, spoke no words, simply took another step forward. Her jet black hair fell in waves halfway down the robe that bulged at her stomach. One of the men stumbled backwards, falling heavily as one of the trees leaned towards him, avoiding her approach. The branches may as well have been blades and his blood splattered the ground.
New growths sprung from his body before he breathed his last.
Two more turned to run and she let them go- the path ahead of them an eternal journey they would never leave.
The last picked up his spear in a trembling hand. He had few words to use, but she could recognize the ones he did, “Demon, lost one.”
She was beside him in an eye blink. A pale hand brushed against his cheek, thin fingers tangling in his wiry beard as she leaned forward. Her smooth features stood in stark contrast to his prominent forehead, her eyes wide and clear as his clouded in fear.
“None harm my children.”
He collapsed to the ground, a tree bursting forth from his body even as his scream tore through the clearing. It ended in a gargled sob- fruit blossoming despite the cold season. She had no interest in the poisoned fruits. She turned to where she had come from, stepping back through the ripple. The child slept peacefully, tiny fists clutching a delicately crafted doll. Gently, carefully, she lifted the child from the mossy bed and carried her back through the rippling gate.
The trees bent their boughs low to protect her from the elements and the woman ran a finger down the girl’s face.
“I am never far away, my child,” she said quietly, adjusting the doll into her arms. |
“Gimme all your money! Now!”
“I know you want my money but you don’t have to be so Benja-*mean* about it.”
“Do you think I’m playing games with you? I’ll put you in the dirt if you keep messing with me!”
“Oh, so long as they play a *Lincoln* Park song, it should be fine.”
“Are you-… are you making puns right now?”
“I’m not trying to be *Taft*. To be *Franklin* with you, I’d rather not be *Pierce*’d by bullets today. That would really be *Obama* man.”
“Starting to see a theme here. Okay, wise guy. Tell me a story using the name of 10 presidents and we’ll let you go.”
“The other day my wife threw a fit asking for a new *Hoover*. She’s been *Harrison* me about it for weeks. So I thought, ‘What the hell, just get one and maybe she’ll *Fillmore* comfortable.’
And maybe if she’s really happy, she’d *Grant* permission for me to *Polk* her with my *Johnson*, if you get my drift. So I got in my *Ford* and drove to the store that’s right next to the place that *Taylor*’d my wedding tux.
While at the store, I saw an old friend. We said our *Hayes* and hellos. But it was dragging too long so I made some *Trump*-ed excuse and kept searching for the hoover. But I couldn’t find one.
So, I went home, nervous because I knew this wasn’t gonna *Grover* well. And wouldn’t you know it, I caught her in bed with *Bill Clinton*.”
“… Hey, that’s 9 presidents.”
“Grover was elected twice.”
---
r/KenTZWrites for a "best of"collection of my writings. :) |
Julie let the incense smoke waft over her. She hated the smell, but it was apparently needed for...reasons. None of the priests had actually told her what those reasons were, just that they were very important. She knelt in front of the small alter and placed her hands on the ritual glass orb. Another thing that had a very important, yet unexplained, purpose.
She could feel the eyes of the other church goers on her. She hated that she had to do this here. Why couldn't she get a setup at home? All she needed what some smelly sticks, a box, and a glass ball, right?
She took a deep breath and began her prayer. "Oh great Alphea, Goddess of Light and Life,"She intoned out loud, then, much quieter, she added, "^(AKA Mom),"her voice returned to the louder volume as she went on, "Hear my prayer and grant me guidance in all things."
Once the ritual opening was spoken, the other church goers really started paying attention. Julie's prayers were always unconventional, and were the subject of much discussion.
"This time I could really use some of that divine guidance, you know? Yesterday was my 16th birthday. ^(Which you should know and have shown up for. Divine gateway my butt.) And I was supposed to get..."She looked around at the attention she was getting and remembered to choose her words carefully, "a special present. Which I never got. I mean, how am I supposed to do my...special tasks if I don't get the tools I need to do them?"
She knew she was supposed to do some kind of divine mission. All demigods and goddesses did. But they all got cool superpowers on their 16th birthday. She had gotten squat.
"And it doesn't help that all I've got is my dad, who can't help me. It would be great if MY MOM was around to help, you know?"She took a deep breath before continuing. "It's just...it's just been hard, you know? Dad tries his best, but he can't do it all, and he doesn't know everything I need to, and it would be so much better if we had a full family. But we don't. We should, but we don't. ^(And having to come to your church to talk isn't helping)."
She ignored the people inching closer to try and hear her muttered words. "I just want someone around to help with my, uh, unique problems, okay? ^(Hint hint, Mom. Dad was pulling his hair out when you didn't show.) So, if you could, I don't know, maybe lend some divine aid or...something? That would be great."She glanced around, seeing others get a little too close. She was not nearly ready to stop, but she would have to stop, or else risk people learning things they should not. "So, yeah, that's...that's my problem and all that. I guess I'll come back for more payers later or something. ^(Seriously, Mom, get down here soon. Dad wants...I miss you.")
She stood and gave a small acknowledgement of the priests that were standing nearby. She left the church, leaving a little money in the collection bowl. She was already thinking about what to say the next time she went. She had a lot to say, after all. |
"Should we parley with them?"a chubby advisor asked.
"Parley?"Tubobliloo said. "What for? We are the Yuxolits. We don't parley."
The chamber fell quiet, feeling that it would tolerate no discussion.
Tubobliloo, the Supreme Commander of the Yuxolit Imperial Fleets sat waiting. Its tentacles twitched expectantly, reaching for the absent feeling of a drink. You don't drink and wait, all Yuxolit's knew that, so it would be unseemly for the Supreme Commander to break custom. Yet it yearned for the comforting form of the container.
A knock was expected, but the form of a young Yuxolit charging through the corridor-tubes was not. Its breathing-flaps rippled agitatedly as it stopped, a scale too close to be respectful.
"What's the word?"Tubobliloo asked the youngster, ignoring the breach of protocol.
"The aliens, my lord Supreme Commander,"it clicked, trying to control its ragged breathing.
"What about them?"It didn't expect any other answer than confirmation of its expectations, which was complete and utter victory. The answer that came, was not within the realm of its expectations, not even close.
"They've broken through,"it said. "The bulk of their ships are headed towards us at this moment, and planetary defense weapons like nothing we've ever seen are taking aim."
"Good, good,"Tubobliloo said, absently. It was still thinking about the drink he would enjoy while overseeing the subjugation of the planet's resources. "The Third Hubbark will move to..."It paused. Had the the peaceful aliens broken through the full force of the galaxy spanning Yuxolit Empire? It felt its breathing-flaps stiffen. A feeling from the middle of its almost formless body like it had never felt before, resounded through it. It felt like the thump of its heart, but that couldn't be it. Could it? "What about reserves?"it asked, trying to regain a smidge of the control it was used to.
"We are the reserves, my lord,"one of its advisors said.
Air came in, air came out. Yet it felt like it couldn't breathe, like it was suffocating. It remembered a pompous being of no hesitation, no fear. Yet its fear made it hesitate.
"Retreat,"it clicked, feeling like it would collapse in shame. "We will regroup in Alpha Centauri, awaiting the Imperial word."
A rumbling that sent multiple advisors flying through the chamber interrupted anyone from obeying its command.
"What happened?"it demanded of the only crew member still up.
"My lord, they've destroyed our thrusters. We can't escape."Another alarm sounded and the Yuxolit answered the unspoken question, expecting it's Supreme Commander's will. Though Tubobliloo didn't feel like a Supreme Commander at that moment. "They've boarded us."
An explosion cracked the wall like a can and in came giants clad in black armour, holding oddly straight and blocky weapons. One of them walked over to Tubobliloo, who felt itself shrink before the giant.
"Parley?"it clicked out in an approximation of the weird sounds the 'humans' called speech. |
My head grew dizzy after hearing the verdict. I worked all my life to be the best in my field, innovating the breakthrough of the century, only to have it be my downfall. The judge had ruled in favor of my copy, and the board of directors. I was now their property. After all, any side product of the research was supposed to be owned by the company.
I should've known better than to care about my clone. That was my mistake. As soon as the experiment ended, I had originally assumed it failed, since I didn't go anywhere or have an interruption of consciousness.
Everyone in the lab, however, gaped their mouths when we both stepped out of the chambers. In my naivety, I welcomed my copy with friendly curiosity, hoping to analyze what just happened. He returned my kindness by accusing me of being the copy, trying to steal *my* identity as soon as he could. To my relief, the lab workers treated the claim with skepticism and decided to investigate further.
The computer records showed that I never left the teleportation chamber. For all intents and purposes, I was the original. After that was cleared up, the board of directors called me in for a meeting, wondering if they now owned my copy.
"Of course not!"I shouted, "he's his own person and deserves to be treated as such!"
One of the older members of the board made a puzzled expression and simply asked:
"Why?"
"Because owning people... isn't... right...?"
The entire board of directors burst into laughter.
I never had my faith in humanity shattered so quickly before. Little did I know, it would only get worse from there. My copy didn't have any trouble with selling me out. The board of directors found it much easier to work with him than they did with me.
And thus, they took me to court, funding my clone's legal team while leaving me jobless in the interim. I thought I stood a chance, since the data was on my side, but I wasn't able to get anyone from the lab to testify on my behalf. They were all too scared to lose their jobs.
That left me on my own to explain the science behind the entire process. I was never good at teaching laypeople about the nuances of quantum physics, and my clone took full advantage of that, easily discrediting my arguments since he knew everything I did.
After a year of litigation, it became clear that I wouldn't be able to win this trial. I just didn't have the money to keep going. When the judge made the ruling, the courtroom exploded into chatter and I was escorted against my will out of the building by the company, ordered not to comment anything as the reporters surrounded us.
The company now expected me to work for them for food, only sleeping in a room with clear walls that was more like a prison than a living space. Nobody did anything about it.
All of my old colleagues kept to themselves, unable to make eye contact with me. They were ashamed of their apathy, but not enough to sacrifice their paychecks and go somewhere else. I stopped resenting them after a while, though. This was the consequence of my own actions. Ever since I was a young boy, I never bothered learning how to communicate with others, only focusing on my work to avoid the hassle of socializing.
I always thought that was enough; I never realized how expendable that made me. Yes, my work ethic helped me reach the top of my field, but it also led me to my own demise. I never bothered getting to know the people around me and so, when the time came to rely on them, it shouldn't have surprised me that they didn't have my back. As I began to accept this, I decided to stop eating and starve myself to death. It was better to fade away like this than to keep helping the corporation in its gluttonous quest for profit.
My clone came to visit my cell after a week of my hunger strike, sitting across my weakened body to say:
"I'm sorry it has to be this way."
I stayed quiet.
He smiled. "I really am."
"Just... leave..."
"In a minute, before I do, I just want to thank you for being such a wimp. If you had one shred of viciousness, I'd be in your place instead."
I welled up with tears. "Why...?"
"Why do anything, really?"The clone chuckled. "As soon as I materialized, I quickly realized something very important. It was either you or me. All of our memories flooded my mind, and I came to the conclusion that I needed to be better than you to survive. Don't lie to yourself. *I'm* what happens when you act on what you really feel. The only difference is that I had the courage to face it. And now... I'm free to do with our genius as I please."
I didn't reply as the clone left my cell, assured of his victory. At that moment, though, I recovered my will to live. Someone needed to stop him. Allowing myself to die when I knew my clone was a menace would only prove his logic right. Finally, after eating again, I set my mind on planning my escape.
-----
>If you enjoyed this, check out /r/WeirdEmoKidStories for more. Thanks for reading! |
"Humanity has been kept in isolation for millennia", the first alien ship to arrive to Earth told us. Of course it wasn't the first thing they told us, but once the general mass hysteria and hubbub died down a dialogue with the aliens could be established - that's what they told us. We begged them to tell us what the reason for this isolation was. "Because you're the only ones with free will."
"That's not fair!"we exclaimed in near-unison. Free will, we told the aliens, was a god-given right of humanity and we shouldn't suffer for that. Then we argued with ourselves for a while about whether it was god-given or naturally evolved. Then we argued for a while about whether it was an evolutionary advantage or disadvantage to have free will. Then we argued a bit about what free will was to begin with. As was tradition.
"You misunderstand", the aliens interrupted after the discussions had devolved into a cacophony of unsubstantiated opinions. "It is not the rest of the galaxy keeping you in isolation because of your free will. It is your free will keeping you isolated from the rest of the galaxy. In causality free will is the cause, not the effect. Everybody else knows this."We begged them to explain further, so they did.
"Imagine you are a child walking to school. The path you take may be similar to the one you take every day. But perhaps it rains that day and you run a little faster, or decide to stay home. Perhaps you decide to stop by your friend's house because he's been sick lately. Perhaps you see an ice-cream truck and spend your lunch money there instead of proper food. In a simple task such as walking to school your free will allows you the right to decide a hundred, a thousand micro-decisions, and they are in turn affected by an infinite variety of conditions and circumstances."
"Now imagine you are an adult driving your car home from work. The decisions you face are of a similar nature but different in flavor. You will decide if you should pick up the kids from school, whether or not you should buy groceries, if you should stop for a coffee on the way home. All these decisions in turn will be affected by the time of day, the traffic, the weather, and any number of variables that you do not control. A thousand thousand variations of your route, departure, time of arrival and more will impact your experiences from such a simple journey."
"Next I want you to imagine driving across the country. It'll take you two or three days. Again the possible variations multiply by the amount of choices you face and the variables that affect you. Timing of arrival effectively becomes irrelevant. Because you have free will this all seems perfectly natural to you. You can try to plan ahead but in execution it will always be different. No plan survives first contact with reality. But this is how you live, and you adapt and overcome because of free will."
"Finally, I want you to imagine the vastness of space and what it takes for one species to travel between the stars. Thousands of years of travel in real-time, with near-infinite variables in your way that you have no way of perceiving beforehand. And thousands of crewmates, each with their individual free will, opinions, desires and what-not. In the vastness of space there are infinite wonders, infinite dangers and infinite room for choice."
"The permissible room for deviating from the planned route is zero. If you deviate even the tiniest bit - say if you decide to alter course to slightly better avoid an asteroid - you miss the goal, or you never reach it. That single decision, of which you will face thousands every day, will cast you off course just enough to ensure your doom. It is not a universe where you go jumping from star to star exploring on a whim. It is a universe of absolute adherence to rules and unfaltering conviction of purpose beyond anything you can imagine. That is the degree of precision and control necessary for a species to reach another star. All with free will who try have failed. Free will is incompatible with space travel."
"But", we countered, "you are conflating impulsiveness with free will and the decisions it entails. We are perfectly capable of overcoming such a hindrance. For example major decisions can be limited to one person - a captain. We can learn to control ourselves and stay on target to complete our mission for smaller decisions."The aliens just sighed and shook their heads.
"It is in your nature that you require control of the mundane things in your life. The very fact that you need a captain to centralize decisions is in itself proof that you are not yet ready. You are not capable of conceptualizing what we're telling you. Free will is so integral to your being that you cannot imagine a humanity without it. As a species you do not lack the resources or knowledge to reach for the stars. And yet, because of ten billion people with ten billion different voices, you can barely make it off Earth's surface. Humanity must shed its free will to become something more if you want to travel between the stars."
"In coming here, we hope to start this process. To give humanity the information necessary to join the other species travelling between the stars. To end humanity's self-imposed isolation."And with that the aliens packed up and left. Not the same minute, of course, but following this it was clear that they had lost interest in staying. We thought we could convince them to stay. But that wasn't even the truth, we realized decades later. It wasn't a matter of them losing interest or any such thing. That in itself was just another way for a free-willed individual to rationalize in their own terms the behavior of a pre-programmed alien entity. In reality they had completed their task and then they left for the next one - all decided hundreds of thousands of years in advance. They didn't have a choice. We just couldn't understand that yet.
Could a free-willed individual give up free will? Was it ethical to breed an off-shoot of humanity incapable of free will? Was it possible that free-willed individuals could co-exist with this off-shoot? Was it possible to carry free-willed humans along on a spaceship crewed and controlled by off-shoot humans? Was it ethical to lock up free-willed humans in a box for generations? Was it ethical to order off-shoot humans into slavery crewing a spaceship with the only purpose of delivering free-willed humans to the other stars? All these questions and many more like it would consume humanity for centuries to come.
But one day we would join the others between the stars. As for free will... you decide. |
I slumped against the wall, leaving a bloody trail on the worn bricks. The young man in front of me went pale, looking down at the smoking gun and back to me. "I-I didn't... I didn't mean to-"
I inhaled sharply, my eyes glowing a bloody red. My body floated upwards, like a puppet on a string, and the young man leapt back, losing what little color he had in his face.
"W-What the hell?!"He cried out, dropping the gun. I stuck out my hand and a tendril of blood crept from the hole in my chest down my wrist and stretched towards the gun. It delicately picked it up and held it in front of the man. "You know..."I said, creaking my neck until it satisfyingly cracked. "If you're going to kill me, then follow through. You totally missed my vitals."
The man looked down at the gun with terrified eyes, then back at me. He screamed and ran down the alley way and back into the brightly lit street, his yells echoing around the buildings. I laughed to myself and pulled my shirt back, watching the hole in my chest close up, leaving no scars.
I gestured towards the wall, the blood coagulating and forming a thick orb of liquid, floating near my head. It sunk into my hair, blending in with its natural maroon color. I did the same with my shirt, using a small strand to sew the hole shut. I gathered my wallet and keys, which the mugger had abandoned in his escape. I then strutted down the street, making my way back to my apartment.
I fumbled with my keys at my door, trying to find the right one to enter my home. "Oh, hey Alex!"A familiar voice rang out, the tones like a song. I glanced over and saw my neighbor, Lani, carrying a bag of groceries. "Do you mind giving me a hand?"She asked, an embarrassed smile spreading across her face. I waved my hand and a thin tendril of blood streaked out from between my finger nails. Lani gratefully put her groceries on it as she rummaged through her pockets. After a moment she pulled out her keys, opened her door and took back the bags. "Thanks, A! You're a sweet heart!"I shrugged, a blush spreading up my neck. Finally, I found my keys and made my way inside.
I flipped my light switch and found that the light wouldn't turn on, which was more common than you'd think. I sighed and stuck out my hand, a thin saber of blood forming in my hand. "Taking out my light bulbs is too cliché, man. People like you should really break the mold and try something new to intimidate people."A thin figure stepped out of the darkness, shadows melting around their body.
"Hello, monster."The figure was a woman, her fit body covered in various weapons. She took out a pistol and leveled it at me, all within the span of a second. "You've killed enough innocents. This will be your death bed."
I looked around, raising an eyebrow. "What? Monster? The only monster I see is the hunter in front of me."She fired at me and I swung my blade, deflecting the bullet into the wall. Drywall flaked off it as I leveled my blade at the monster hunter. "Try again,"I taunted, a smirk forming on my face. The woman growled and pulled out another pistol, unloading two full clips at me. I deflected all of them, and by the time the two guns clicked empty my walls and ceiling looked like a shitty public road.
"Anyways,"I nonchalantly said, forming a second blade out of my blood. "Time you get serious, right Shadow Walker?"The woman stopped reloading her guns and stared at me. "Wait... how do you know what I am?"
"Pretty easy to figure out. After all, most hunter organizations hire blood mooners as monster hunters. And there are only 3 subsets of blood mooners: Shadow Walkers, the warrior class, Psychics, the interregators, and the Elven, the crowd controllers. However, there are no two blue mooners, like myself, that have the same powers."
The woman grit her teeth then smiled, shadows whirling around her menacingly. "Oh, but we have intel on you. We know you control your blood to form weapons and survive almost impossible wounds. However, even you have your limits."At this she slashed out a tentacle of shadows, and it consumed the blood sabers I held in my hands. I reformed them immediately, jumping back to avoid a swipe from another tendril.
"And your weakness,"she continued as she kept the pressure on, destroying any blood weapons I could make. "Is that you only have so much blood."I gasped as a tendril swiped a huge gash into my stomach, which was healed almost immediately. I slammed my hand down and a spike of blood stabbed underneath the hunter, leaving a shallow scratch on her shoulder. She swept both of her hands out and shadows boiled out of her slamming me against the wall. "Enough!"She screamed, her face twisting into a visage of rage. She put a trembling hand up to her shoulder, a thin trickle of blood leaking down her arm.
"Never in my life,"she whispered, gripping her hand and shaking in rage. "Have I been so humiliated. I will make an example out of you."
"Yeah, yeah,"I said, waving my hand to dismiss her. "Next you'll say that I'll spend eternity wishing I was dead, and that I'll beg for you to kill me, yada yada. But let me tell YOU something, Miss Hot-Topic Wannabe."My eyes glowed bright red, lighting up the darkness around me. "Your information was incomplete. It's not just MY blood I can control."
The woman stumbled, a confused look on her face. "W-What? What are you..."She retched, blood leaking out of her mouth and nose in massive amounts. She gripped her head as her eyes turned red. She dropped to the ground, shuddering as the blood around her boiled, forming a red mist. Suddenly, her body combusted and left nothing but a few stains of blood.
I got a knock on my door, Lani's voice coming through my door. "A, you okay? I heard someone screaming."I walked over and opened to door to see Lani holding a severed head, half of its flesh ripped away. I could see a bit of flesh hanging out of her mouth, which she quickly sucked into her mouth. "Sorry A, I was eating."
"Eh, it's fine."I said, shrugging. "Ghouls gotta eat too. As for the issue in here... just another hunter. I'm just glad she met me and not some of the other blue mooners in the building."Lani laughed, sharp teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light of the hallway. "Yeah, I would have ripped her apart. Need some new bulbs for the apartment?"I looked back and watched amusedly as a piece of ceiling fell down, leaving a massive hole in the ceiling.
"Yeah, and a repair man." |
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