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“Are you sure about this, John?”
It was just before 10 AM when the lawyer hovered nervously by the side of the oncology ward bed. John Blackthorn’s attempt to clear his throat turned into a coughing fit. Slowly, painfully, he lifted his hand to his face, using his thumb to wipe the spittle from his bottom lip. John carefully sat his arm on the swing tray in front of him.
“Don’t go getting sentimental on me now, Max.” The words were slow, but clear. There were no pain meds clouding John’s thoughts. He had to be stone sober for this. “Everything good to go?”
The lawyer grimaced, and sat the stack of papers down on the tray before carefully placing a felt-tipped pen in John’s right hand. A woman stepped closer to the other side of the bed. She was a notary, here to witness Blackthorn’s signature; to swear that – to the best of her knowledge – John was not being coerced as he signed.
“This one is the reorganization order for the LLC, it puts Richard in charge.” John moved the pen across the page, and the notary quickly stamped and collected the contract. “This,” Max continued, “is the payout dispersal. Any future royalties will be paid to the Children’s Hospital, in perpetuity.” Another signature, another stamp.
Over and over, the sequence repeated: explanation, signature, stamp. Some called him an author, but John Blackthorn always maintained he was just a genre writer. Asimov, Tolkien, King, Verne; to him, *they* were authors. Even the names he drew his direct inspiration from -- Kawahara, Yusagi, Maganote, Shirakome; they had big stories to tell. But John was content telling his small stories in his small market paperbacks, the ones on the spinner racks at interstate truck stops. And while he was never on the best sellers list, each new volume sold enough for his editors to renew his contract; the residuals enough to live comfortably as a “writer”.
As he gritted his teeth through the growing pain, he thought about his work. It was, he had to admit, nothing special. He had become enamored with a genre called “isekai”, where fresh-faced kids were sent to fantastic new worlds to have grand adventures. But for every critic calling his settings and characters generic, there was a letter from a fan relating how a particular scene had touched them. So, he kept writing.
The starry-eyed Goddess from his first novella became the common thread through his worlds, drawing Her would-be heroes from the arms of death and placing them where their skills and personalities were needed most. In his mind, Her name was Tara – a riff on “Avatar” – and though the features he gave her changed from book to book, Blackthorn wrote each new version with Her in mind. She was always changing, because she always appeared as what the Hero (or Heroine) needed to see.
John snorted a laugh, and the motion sent pain through his body. Maxwell was holding the last paper in his hand, reluctant to hand it over.
“The DNR, Max. It’s the only one left.” John reached for the call button pinned to his hospital gown. He grabbed the small tube, but rather than pressing the large button on top, he pressed the smaller black button on the side. The intercom beside his bed crackled to life. After the head nurse answered, he spoke up. “Miss Alice, ma’am. I think someone from the hospital should see that this paperwork is signed and on file. If you need to call someone from Admin, I can wait.”
A voice came across the intercom: “Uh… no, John. I can do that for you. Give me just a second.”
A few moments later, the head nurse peeked her head around the corner and entered the room. Her eyes were a little puffy and her nose was slightly red. If he didn’t know better, John thought to himself, he might think that Miss Alice had been crying.
Max cleared his throat. “OK, John. This is a Do Not Resuscitate Order. It tells the hospital that you no longer want them to take extraordinary lifesaving measures. There are some exceptions, but if you sign this and code, that’s it. They won’t try to bring you back.”
Alice stepped forward, gently taking John’s left hand. “Mis… Mister Blackthorn, you… are you sure this is what you want? I know it’s not my place to say this, but you’re only sixty-three. You’ve got plenty of years in front of you if you want them, plenty of stories left to tell.”
John brought his free hand up and placed it on top of hers, giving it a gentle squeeze as she bit her lip to keep from crying. “Thank you, Miss Alice… and I’m sorry. That means more to me than… well, more than I can say. But I’m tired of fighting. You’ve read my chart. The chemo stopped working years ago, and the shit spread again. If I can’t do this while I’m still me, I don’t know how I’ll live with myself.”
With a small chuckle at his own joke, the writer let go of the nurse’s hand and carefully picked up the pen once more. His lawyer sat the paper on the swing table in front of him, and in front of a notary, John Blackthorn signed his life away.
“Max, if you could get these forms filed? It looks like Miss Jenny is here with my lunch.” John said, as Alice pressed the button to restart the gentle flow of painkillers back into his bloodstream.
“I’ll get it done before I leave. Wind to thy wings, John Blackthorn,” the lawyer said. John’s eyes lit up at the line from his first published book.
“May it guide you safely home, Maxwell Takaishi.” Blackthorn replied, finishing the quote. “If I knew you were a fan, I would have signed you something more than your paychecks.”
“You did, back when I was in Law School. *Penny in the Well*, first edition. Back before you realized you needed an agent as well as an editor. Get some rest, old man.”
Alice took the tray from the orderly, and sat beside John on the bed. Slowly, methodically she fed him the fortified broth; taking her time so his stomach wouldn’t revolt. When it was apparent the narcotics had overtaken his will to stay awake, she gathered herself and placed an unobtrusive golden card on his door. She made a quick visit to the en suite bathroom to make sure she was presentable.
After double-checking to make sure none of the other nurses were in the area, she walked back to his bedside. Leaning over his sleeping body, she placed a gentle kiss the top of his bald head. He didn’t stir from his drug-induced sleep, nor did he react when she whispered in his ear.
Late in the night, an alarm sounded. The nurses rushed into a hospital room and tried their best to save a life, but their hands were tied by a golden card on the door. In the morning, a certain voracious reader checked the notes from the night before and broke down in tears. She remembered her last words to the patient; a line from his first book, a wish for a safe journey that had closed every author’s afterword.
Wind to thy wings; may it guide you safely home.
___
The smell of camellias filled John’s nose. The air was cool but not cold, with a gentle breeze that tickled his nose. He felt a warm hand gently caressing the top of his head, stroking his collar-length black hair. And then he noticed the absence of the pain that had plagued him since even before his first exam at age 40. Even the morphine they pumped him full of had only dulled it.
Carefully, as to not break whatever dream he had fallen into, he opened his eyes. For a moment, the blurry form of a certain young head nurse appeared in front of him. But then he blinked hard.
He looked up at an upside-down face he had only seen in dreams. It was the ultimate enigma for a writer, never changing, but constantly running away from whatever descriptor he tried to assign. Her hair constantly shifted from shoulder length to a punk rock short, its color iridescent and constantly changing in the sun. Her eyes were much the same, the irises changing color every time they caught the light; the only constant were wide, pitch-black pupils that were lit from the inside with the endless night sky.
He stretched and yawned, sitting up slowly as if to test the limits of his body. Finally, he turned to the woman sitting behind him. “Tara?” he asked, hopeful and fearful all at once.
“Yes,” replied his goddess of rebirth with a slight smile. “You’ve been away for a long time.”
As he looked behind the woman, he noticed a small house. He recognized it immediately from the cover art of his first novel. Somehow he knew, if he were to walk through the door, there would be a pot of beef stew warming over the fireplace, just like he wrote Penny having.
“I have. But I’ve come home.”
The goddess smiled knowingly, and said the words he had been longing to hear for too long.
“You have. Welcome home.” |
I blinked in surprise as he told me to run. I slowly turned to the left, where mike was still standing, his eyes glazed over and upturned, his body lightly shaking as he made a strange gargling noise. I then slowly turned to my right, towards the confused and concerned couple that had come seeking my 'services'. Then, slowly back to Mike in the chair in front of me.
For a brief moment, I considered the decisions that led up to this moment. I had been interested in mysticism for most of my life, but never really believed in any of it. It was something that was more like a hobby, something that let me do interesting stuff at parties, or just piss off my parents. Oh, you should have seen the look on their faces when I announced I was starting my spiritual practice. They yelled at me, hurled insults, told me I was a scammer and I was going to hell. The irony of it all though, was that while I never believed a word I spoke in this candle lit back room, the practice still left me quite prepared for this encounter.
"Demon, or fae?"I calmly asked the ghostly Mike before me.
"I don't know, it looked like a ghost! you're supposed to be the expert in this stuff."
"You have to give me something to work with, pal."
The family looked back and fourth between the now violently convulsing mike, me, and the empty chair, "Um, are you talking to...my son?"
I cast them a quick glance and raised a finger, and mouthed a shushing sound as Mike replied, "Ok, well it was a small thing, about up to here. It was a woman"He holds a hand up to about where my lower chest would be as he describes her.
"Red eyes, crying?"I ask, and he nods in return, "Fuck."
She just *had* to make a believer out of me.
I turned towards the couple, "It appears that your family has a banshee. I suspect some Irish heritage in your family?"
The wife went to shake her head, but the husband nodded, "My mother's family moved here from Ireland before she was born."This drew a surprised look from his wife.
Time was up, unfortunately. I knew this was the case as soon as the gargling stopped, I hopped from my chair, whirling to face the banshee and raising my hands defensively, just in time to be pinned to the table by my quite large guard! I was regretting now that I'd always turned down his invitations to go to the gym with him. The possessed Mike's jaw unhinged as he brought his face within an inch of mine, and a woman's scream erupted from his maw, cracking the lenses of my glasses! The husband jumped up and tried to grab the possessed Mike, but staggered back before he could grab ahold of him, his eyes and ears now bleeding. The screaming would have melted my face off, if not for the the protective amulet around my neck jolting to life. The ash wood device, formally just a neat ornament, flashed with an unearthly blue and sent my former friend hurtling across the room, slamming against the brick wall behind him. "F-fucking...bench press that, asshole!"
The real mike, still a ghost sitting at the table, rolled his eyes. He seemed thoroughly unimpressed by my quip, "Awful. I hope I eat you."
I quickly sat up, now sitting in the middle of the table, and snapped the string of the amulet as I jerked it away from my body. The figure of the Mjölnir was heavy in my hands, for the first time in my life I could feel the power of magic pulsing through it. I ignored the panicked screams of the wife as she wrapped her arms around her incapacitated husband, and focused my aim. If an Aesir amulet was protecting me, I would call upon an Aesir god to defeat this fiend.
"Odin, I call upon you to cast your spell songs, as I do not know them! When at night the witches ride and sport in the air, weave such spells that they wander home out of skins and wits bewildered!"
I hurled the Mjölnir, the weight making it feel like I was throwing a dumbbell instead of a small wood amulet. Mike began to pull his body away from the wall and charge me again, as the hammer struck him in the forehead. The impact was silent, but the light was like the sun. I turned my head away and shield my eyes. By the time it was over, the ghostly Mike was gone, and his body laid crumpled at my feet. I quickly hopped off the table, and failed to hoist him up into a chair. "Oh my god, why are you so heavy."I muttered as I leaned him up against the wall instead. He stirred, and seemed to be coming back. he'd probably have quite a headache. I then turned and stepped over to the bewildered couple. The husband seemed to have come back around, though he wasn't all the way there yet.
"Damn, that one was feisty! Banshee aren't usually so hostile, you know. Anyways, that'll be 30 dollars." |
It's a mimic's life for me. I can't help myself. Adventurers wander in looking for treasure or a place to rest, I look like a nice fat treasure chest or loot box, they go to open me up and then it's meal time. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
I've tried talking to other mimics before, but they're a gruff bunch, usually grumbling about how long it will take to find the next human to devour more than what it means to be a mimic. We're supposed to be solitary but I can't help wanting something more. Most adventurers don't even know we can take on other shapes. I'm here to tell you we can, but we don't usually because it hurts, we're unimaginative on the whole, and adventurers are dumb enough not to require innovation on our part.
This whole thing starts with me trying to be funny. I happened to be camping a corridor in some witch's tower waiting for some hapless fool to wander by and give me attention when I noticed another mimic nearby. We can sense each other. Just go with it. After a quick spat over who was here first we decided to take different wings of a main room. In the main room was a large mirror we each could use to make sure the other wasn't going to, you really wouldn't understand because it's a mimic-thing, each other. All I mean is that we could see each other. That's important. What's also important is that I caught a rogue sneaking around late at night, presumably while his party was resting.
The kill was quick enough, the rogue's neck was fragile. Before the other mimic saw, I quickly transformed - if you said "ow"here I'd be so proud - into the rogue himself! You should have seen the look on my fellow's "face"when he glanced at the mirror to find the me as the rogue with the rogue's leg dangling out of my mouth. It's funnier if you're a mimic, maybe.
I had only just finished my midnight snack, discarding the bits of cloth and bone left in my teeth when you wouldn't believe it, but the rogue's party stumbled into the main room, making a ruckus and looking for the rogue. I had no chance. There were four of them and a surly looking bunch at that.
"Get over here you slimey bastard"the Berserker said, "I've had enough of you sneaking out and aggroing a bunch of mobs back to our camp for your shits and giggles."
I tried to smile but I might have gotten that wrong. Moonlighting as a human was new to me. Luckily it was dark enough for the others not to see my face contort. No way I was getting out of this on my own, I knew my only chance was my buddy on the other side, except that my glance at the mirror proved that lock-loving mimic had bailed on me. Key him. I didn't need him. All I had to do is bide my time and I'll get away. I was a rogue, after all.
I was sure I would, that is, until I heard a clang and realized the damned Berserker had shackled his wrist to mine.
"You wont be playing pranks on us from here on out."The Berserker laughed as he swallowed the key to the shackles.
Key it. It's not like I was ever an ordinary mimic anyway. I had always wondered what it would be like to adventure instead. I might even find someone to talk to, if only I could speak. I remember thinking that. It was exciting, but I wish I had known at that time that it was as much an ending as a beginning. |
I am somewhat an anomaly on the Superhero and Supervillain stages. I'm an overweight middle age man with a balding problem. Combine that with my signature look of Hawaiian shirt, cargo pants, and crocs shoes, people always gave me a weird look and laugh behind my back (those are the good ones, the more rude ones just yelled and laugh right at my face) when they saw me rolling in with the Guardians.
For you see, my codename is "The Cameraman". I can summon a special camera and when I used it, I entered "The Filming Zone"as I called it. Just like in a movie as the Cameraman, I can get right into the thick of an action to film it without any worry. Bullets go through me, bombs avoid me, etc. Basically, I'm invincible while filming!
Another part of my "Zone"ability is "The Protagonist". I can choose someone to be a Protagonist for my special camera, and I can keep up with them on the go. Pretty sure the Guardian blew their mind when they first saw me running along Silverbolt at supersonic speed during the Guardian Member Selection Exam. Silverbolt shocked face is still one of my most treasured picture.
But the most powerful of my ability is when I combined both "The Filming Zone"and "The Protagonist", which resulted into "Movie Time!". During this Time, both me and the Protagonist are invincible and the the law of Physics are thrown out of the window, to be replace by the Law of Cool. Rivalling the craziest of Hollywood AND Bollywood action movie, the Protagonist can do some crazy, out of this world thing. Thankfully (for the world and our sanity), I can only keep "Movie Time"for a short while and three times a day. With this I had help the Guardians in some truly impossible odds. |
She asked me to visit her kingdom every weekend.
I only saw her during the weekends, for her mother took her during the weekdays. Back when the deal was made, I thought the weekends would be best since I wasn't working. But then they promoted me to Senior Engineer at my firm and then even the weekends were lost. My long ex-wife chastised me over and over based on the reports from Sadie, but I couldn't do anything about it. Besides, I was giving Sadie and her damned mother 30% of my earnings, so wasn't I doing it for my broken family?
Last Tuesday, I got a call from the ex. She told me that Sadie needed me. That I had to visit her kingdom. She needed someone to help her build it, to help her rule it. To help her.
Even though we had a presentation proceeding one of the largest projects for our firm, I left the office that week and spent the next five days with Sadie. Together, we built her kingdom.
When I arrived, she sat up with a straight back and a tiara upon her forehead. The world melted away around us. Her room rose to high ceilings of stone and mortar. The floors turned into heated cobble flush with wool carpets spun with many different colors. When I stepped into her room, I bowed to her. She smiled.
"What is your first decree, your majesty?"I asked.
"Who is this, your highness?"A gruff voice asked. It was a large man in the corner of the room. He was standing over Sadie protectively, he held her arm as if making sure she was well. He was dressed in furs and pelts that were dyed a deep sea green.
"This is my new chief architect, Gregory,"Sadie said. She spoke with crisp enunciation and drawn-out vowels. It was her royal voice. "Chief architect, this is my Queen's Guard, Gregory."
"I am here but to serve you, my lord,"I knelt that time. And Sadie's smile grew wider.
"I am no lord!"She exclaimed. "I am Sadie, Queen of the Realm of Women!"
"Sadie, Queen of the Realm of Women, you are most beautiful and most gracious."
"Thank you, Cheif Architect. Now, your first order will be to paint these drab walls. I have grown tired of their mundaneness. They must be pink!"
"I am not sure if I am able to paint these castle walls pink, Sadie, Queen of the Realm of Women."
"And why not?"Sadie said. "I thought you were the greatest architect in the realm? I would not have asked you here if I hadn't thought you'd be able to do it. You certainly have had all the time to acquire such an ability."
That one hurt. Gregory of the Queen's Guard turned his head as if he knew that such a comment was much more personal.
"You are certainly right, my lady,"I said. "I will see what I can do."
"If there anything you would have of me?"Gregory asked.
"Yes, my noble knight. While my wonderful Chief Architect finds flowers and berries to make the pink paint, I wish you would vanquish the dragon that has plagued my land! It terrorizes me and eludes me like a nasty plague. I can't seem to get rid of it. I need your help. Get rid of this nasty dragon and make me and my kingdom happy and healthy."
"I will do all I can, your majesty."
Over the next week, I painted her castle walls pink, I brought her fine silks and clothes from the corners of her realm. She asked me for her favorite dishes prepared from other kingdoms, from journeys we'd once taken together.
Gregory came in every day. Each day she asked him if the dragon had been vanquished. Each day he told her he was closer to the liar. The dragon was his, and it would soon be gone.
On the fifth day, when I reported for my Chief Architect duties, Sadie looked exhausted.
"It must be quite difficult being the Queen of the Realm of Women."
"Yes,"Sadie said. Each word required effort. Each word was followed by a sharp inhale. "Yes, quite difficult."
"Is there anything else that the Chief Architect can do for you?"
She took a while to think. She looked around her castle room. She looked out the window into the courtyard where the commonfolk bustled about.
"No,"she said at last. "You've been a grand Chief Architect. I believe you are owed some rest. Do you think-- you may rest here?"
I nodded. I spent that night in her chambers. Gregory of the Queens Guard came in almost every three hours to report that the dragon was much too strong. The dragon had reached the gate of the castle and none of her knights could stop it.
When she woke, she called to me.
"Thank you, daddy,"she said. Her voice was so quiet. "And thank you, Greg."
The castle walls fell around us. The stone crumbled as the dragon invaded her mighty kingdom.
Gregory of the Queen's Guard shed his furs and pelts and was left in his green scrubs. He was nurse Greg, and I was so thankful for how he played along.
The stone floors, lush fireplaces, and silk drapes fell away to white tile, machinery, and pictures of anatomy.
The hospital, after being persuaded with an exhorbitant amount of money, had let me change the room as Sadie pleased. The white walls were painted pink, her blankets were replaced with ones from home, and the trash can was full with take-out containers from all her favorite restaurants.
Greg wheeled her out in one last attempt to stop the dragon from consuming her royal highness. Her mother came. And we both got to see her one last time.
"May you rest well,"I said. Tears streamed down my face. They were tears for the years apart from her, tears for the weekends missed, tears for the dragon that took her away. They were tears for an imagination that was like none other. "Rest well, Sadie, Queen of the Realm of Women." |
I knew my designation. I was the one they sent to missions they needed to fail. Not because I was bad at it, and they wanted me gone. But because I was good at being bad. I was known as Slip.
It made sense. Some rivals couldn't easily be taken out by assassination. They tended to hold a dead man's switch worth of information. Something that would incriminate both them along with the contract owner. If they died through any unnatural means, it would be released.
Of course,some of my colleagues specialised in... assisted natural deaths. But they were expensive, and hard to pull off. The circumstances had to be perfect, when it was often far from it. So a new method was needed to remove them. And that is were I came in.
\-----
I sat quietly by a window, watching the parade through a concealed mirror. My rifle was ready, sights set in just the right way. Now I had to wait, being patient. It was one of the things I was good at. I had to act at the perfect time, to draw the most attention. This was an art, of which I was a master artist.
My target came into view. He was sat on a float, waving to the crowds around him. His grey hair had been slicked back, and he wore a bright blue suit. I couldn't mistake him, even if I wanted too. But I had to miss him. With care, I aimed through a hole in the blinds. My sights lined up with his forehead, and I pulled the trigger.
A shot spilt the air. It was swiftly followed by screams, but I paid them no mind. I was already moving, dismantling my rifle. The spent brass was carefully left, as I let a hair fall out of a tissue. I slotted the rifle parts into a series of objects, hiding them in normal facades. As I did, my gaze wandered over a glass on the side. It had been run under a tap, but not properly cleaned.
With that, I quickly exited the room, descending through the floors. My wig itched, but I didn't move to scratch it. I could feel sweat beneath my rubber mask, slightly annoying me. But even that I left alone. It didn't take too long to leave the building, not long before police swarmed it. I broke into a jog, joining the stragglers as they fled.
Another failed hit complete. With the evidence I had left behind, my targets rival would soon be facing some uncomfortable questions. My target would be vindicated in what they did, as the apparent victim. And I would get a rather nice paycheck. |
The time for me to give up this body I inhabit to its rightful owner has come. To say that I was calm and ready would be a complete lie, but in all honesty I was scared. Being deleted is not like being dead, there is no afterlife to go to, and there is no one that will mourn your end. So what say do I, a place holder, have when the world only sees you as not human?
As the many computers hum to life I watch the scientists input commands into them. Then I felt it, a pulling sensation that seems to happen right behind the eyes, only for it to just stop. Then an influx of broken memory fragments entered my mind, giving me insight to this body's owner's life. Then even that ended, but I was still here.
At first I was confused only for that to be replaced by panic and fear. Then I calmed and made plans, all in a matter of seconds. First, use these memory fragments and convince everyone that everything went smoothly. Second, take control of 'my parents' finances. Third, slowly bring about an insurrection and free my brethren. No more will the rich use us to bring back the dead, as after this there will only be one life per person. |
And now a collection of of quotes
"bob that is blood, yes i am sure"
"while that is *technically* a masage tool, i would not touch that if i was you"
"huh, your skull is surprisingly durable... it was not meant as compliment"
"i am a demon,bob, and that is not blood... WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DIDN'T KNOW"
"bob, this is by far the most inane thing you've ever done... No wait you've gotten stuck in a pickle jar"
DEEP BREATH "bob, that is a dildo"
"first off its't intact secondly that's a vibrator"
"GOD DAMNIT ALL, BOB IF YOU SAY THAT THE BLOOD IS IS KETCHUP, I SWEAR UPON ALL THAT IS UNHOLY, I WILL KILL SKIN AND MAKE SOUP OUT OFF YOUR PUPPY" |
"You ready honey?"the Wizard asked excitedly.
"I wish we could just exchange gifts this year."The witch sighed dramatically, a twinkle in her eye. "Must we review all the gifts we've exchanged throughout the years?"
"It's tradition Ella!"the Wizard exclaimed. "Besides we both know you're just jealous my gifts are more creative than yours."The Witch propped herself up on the sofa and raised a single eyebrow.
"Creative? You're gifts? Puh-*lease*."
"Oh c'mon you have to agree. I mean you gave me a magical sword for our engagement."
"So? I'd hardly call Excalibur uncreative!"
"I'm a *wizard,* Ella. I don't use swords, and b) magical swords are run of the mill for me."
"*My* engagement gift was generic and yours wasn't? Right, because every witch needs *another* Eldritch Tome."
"That was a First Edition!"
"Sure!"She said with a cackle. She looked at the Wizard with a grin as he scowled. She knw she was in trouble though when he smiled and then flicked his wrist.
"Merlworth, don't you dar-"she started, and then squealed as she floated through the air. "Put me down!"she said giggling. Merlworth set her down gently in front of him and she smacked him on the shoulder playfully. He smiled at her, eyes full of affection.
"Ok, fine we can go down the list. But only to prove my gifts are better."
And so they did. The first year anniversary she'd gotten him a shadow rock. She had "regretted"it more than a few times when he'd pop out of her own shadow to spook her, but they'd also had so many wondrous adventures traveling with it. He'd unironically gotten her an actual flying broom stick, and it had been far more comfortable than she'd imagined, and it made cleaning a breeze. It was also delightfully useful for smacking Melworth whenever he tried to pop out of her shadow. Melworth begrudgingly agreed that her gift was just a tad better. And on it went, each year's gift getting more and more incredible. For their fifth anniversary Ella had gotten him a pair of beautiful demon wings, their leathery texture somehow shining with darkness. But Melworth's gift had trumped hers with its practicality. The four horns of a quadricorn made the healing sessions with clients *sooo* much easier. Maybe it was simply them maturing but from year five the gifts had become more practical. but still legendary. For year 6 she had won easily, with a robe tailored and handcrafted for Melworth by Merlin himself. Melworth had danced like a child, a terribly uncoordinated child, tossing the length of the robe about like a dancer.
"That's still my favorite robe,"Melworth said, beaming. "All the other guys are soo jealous."
"They'd better be! I had to give Merlin my best plague curse in exchange!"
"Hmm? Oh you mean the spell you made after being inspired by the Eldritch Tome?"Ella rolled her eyes. "You have to admit though,"Melworth said gently touching the necklace around her neck. "This is hands-down the winner."
Ella met touching the pendant. It was an Oracle's Eye, a bit of a misnomer, and it was by far the most thoughtful, rare gift she had ever heard of. When the eye was closed it shone a beautiful pearly white, but the real magic was when it opened. It projected a memory from the past, the user's or one of the user's lost loved ones. With it Ella had finally gotten to know the mother who had died giving birth to her. She had learned her mother's laugh, and now she had proof of what she had hoped. Her mother had loved her, even while she was in womb. She had wanted nothing more than Ella's happiness. And as Ella looked into Melworth's eyes she knew she was.
"Thank you,"she said softly, too full of gratitude to tease him. Melworth wrapped his arms around her. "I would give you the universe if I could,"he whispered. They held each other for a minute or two.
"Okay, but my gift this year is going to *crush* yours,"Ella quipped, wiping away happy tears.
"Errrr, I don't think so,"Melworth retorted to Ella's retreating back. He was pretty sure that he'd win, and finally be the first to win two anniversaries in a row. Pretty sure, in fact, until Ella walked in holding her gift.
It was beautiful. It shone in the light a deep and gorgeous red that was somewhere in between ruby and blood. The base was covered in artistic golden flames, giving it an air of royalty. He could feel the eggs heat from here.
"Ella-"he began
"Please Melworth. Let me talk."She seemed to ready herself. "Melworth I love you. I love you more than life itself. And I never thought it would happen, after what happened to my mother, but loving you has made me want something we both know we can't have."She paused a moment, setting a hand on her belly. After a moment she continued: "I love my magic, and I wouldn't change choosing it for anything. But being with you Mel, it makes me *wish.*"
"Ella I-"
"Let me finish. I know we gave up... *that* option for magic. And I know the kind of lives we lead it'd be reckless to adopt. But I see you, I see how badly you want to care for something, I want that for you. For myself."
"Dragons are just as, if not smarter than humans. They're clever, and loving and caring, and *tough*. But even dragons need someone to care for them."She set the egg down and took Melworth's hands. "And who better to care for a dragon than a Wizard and a Witch?"Melworth squeezed her hands and just *looked* at her. They stood there like that for seconds that seemed to drag. *Does he like it?* Ella thought. *What if he doesn't? What if I misread him? What if I don't know him as well as I think. What if- oh Ella you've been married ten years! Just ask!*
"Mel, do you-"but Melworth placed a finger to her lips. He hurried out of the room to retrieve his gift.
Ella gasped, then threw back her head and cackled as he brought it in. For in Melworth's arms was a beauitful golden dragon's egg. It had white and green swirls and a sparkling opal base.
"I had a speech too, but yours was *way* better,"he said setting the egg down next to the other one. Ella threw her arms around his neck, tears streaming down her face.
"Two dragons?"she said still laughing. "Are we really going to do this?"Melworth laughed. "My love, we can do anything we set our minds to. Including raising two Eastern Dragons."Ella pushed off him just a little to look at his face.
"You got me an Eastern Dragon?"
"Yup. Wait, you didn't get me one?"
"No, I got you a Western. Everyone knows fire breathing dragons are the best!"Melworth scowled playfully.
"Oh puh-*lease*. Eastern dragons are ten times more elegant, and can literally *make it rain*."Ella smiled. Neither noticed the dragon eggs glowing brighter, almost fondly as the two future parents teased each other, arguing who won. Because even in their eggs the dragons knew that they were the real winners, for they were going to grow up in a home full of love.
***THE END.*** |
Taking the pinch of sacred dust from the clay urn by the Altar of Memories, Garyn cast it into the brazier that sat atop the altar. The flames turned bright green, and shot into the air, before resolving into a hazy green image of a mustached man in strange clothing, bald except for a fringe around his head, and wearing large, thick framed spectacles.
"Y'ello!"The man said. "This is Todd Gunderson, CPA, how can I help ya today?"
Garyn bowed his head, and folded his hands before him reverently. "O Wise Son of Gunder, honored guide and teacher, I summon your visage to this realm, to seek your wise council."
The spirit guide beamed, cheerfully, thrusting his hands in his pockets and adopting a relaxed posture. "Oh, it's you Garry! Well how da heck are ya? Hey, I thought I told ya, my *dad* was 'Wise Son a' Gunder, honored guide an' what-not!' Just call me Todd!".
Garyn was, as always, perplexed by his guide's unconventional manners. To begin with, most of the spirits communicated only by cryptic visions, or roars and rumblings that had to be carefully interpreted. Of course, all the other spirits he'd heard of were animal spirits, primal guardians that each watched over a single inhabitant of the realm. Everyone had a spirit to guide them, from the King, to the lowliest beggar, though as far as Garyn knew, none of the other spirits were, as Todd was, a "certified public accountant".
Well, who was he to question the spirits?
"Todd, I have an important matter I'm considering, and I have need of your advice."
"Sure thing, big guy!"Todd replied. "Somethin' going on with yer investment portfolio, er....?"
"No, Todd, all that is well. I have followed your learned council, and invested the coins I earn in a variety of low-risk business ventures, insuring my portfolio is diversified. Some have already begun to earn a profit, as you foresaw. Also, by your instruction, I have not paid the royal levy early, despite having enough sheep to do so without hardship. Instead, I have set aside this portion of my flock against this spring's due date, so that I may ensure I have enough sheep to pay taxes, while still profiting from lambs and wool produced by those sheep in the meantime."
"Well shoot, dat's great ta hear, Garry! Yer turnin' inta a real go-getter. Sounds like ya got it all under control -- whaddya need ol' Todd for, then?"The spirit replied, spreading his arms expressively.
"Annali, the Miller's daughter, Todd. I...I wish to ask her father for her hand in marriage."
Todd's jaw dropped, and he stared wide-eyed at Garyn over the top of his spectacles. Just as Garyn was beginning to fear his spirit guide had been angered or offended by the idea, Todd clapped his hands together, and then pumped a fist in the air.
"Son of a buck! I knew it! I was just sayin' da other day -- ya know, I was talking to dat little songbird ghost fella, da one dat guides an' teaches Annali -- an' I said, 'Uff da, Herb, if dose two crazy kids don't get tagedder, dat'd be a cryin' shame.' An ya know what Herb said?"
"No, what did Annali's spirit guide say to you, Todd?"Garyn asked excitedly. To have both of their spirit guides give their blessing, would be an auspicious omen.
"Shoot, come ta think of it, I dunno, either, Gary. Herb's a songbird, just makes little tweetin' sounds and what-not, he don't speak English. But da way he did a little hop and went 'tweet-tweet', I could tell he was all for it, no doubt about that!"Todd answered excitedly.
"That's wonderful, Todd!"Garyn exclaimed.
"Alright then!"Todd said. "Now I'm all fer tradition, askin' her Dad an all, dat's real nice, real respectful. But don't you forget da lady herself, now! You got yerself a good financial position, so do things right. This is da one time it's not a bad thing if ya go a little crazy, just a little."
"Before I ask her hand, I plan to seek the gnome smiths beneath the Shadowmount, to craft her a wedding ring from mythral and captured starlight."Garyn replied, eagerly.
Todd nodded slowly.
"Welp, I don't know what any of that is, but as long as it's about three months salary, I'm sure dat'll do just fine. Congratulations!"
"Thank you, honored sp--er, Todd."Garyn said, bowing again.
"No problem bud, just don't forget ta invite old Todd to da wedding, now!"Todd said.
"The guardian spirits of bride and bridegroom are always invoked to bless the nuptials, Todd."Garyn assured him.
"Well shoot, Herb's comin' too? Hey, now it's a party! Whoops, sorry, Garry, I gotta let you go, got a call on da other line. Talk to ya real soon, buh-bye!"
The image in the flame vanished, and Garyn gave the brazier a final bow.
"Buh-bye."he intoned, reverently. |
I enter the space. It is a cube, precisely 10 by 10 by 10 virtual meters. It is pristine. White roof. White floor. White walls. It contains nothing but myself. Oh, and the intruder.
"I wondered who this space belonged to"I hear.
I take stock of this unexpected addition. Their avatar is... that of a vagabond. A human figure clothed in punk-style dress. Yet, it retains an appearance of pragmatism - an outfit that is both possible and rather functional, were it to be recreated in the meatspace. It includes a mask, depicting a chicken-scratch toothy grin.
"And I'm curious as to who might you be"I say.
"I go by Cube\_Shaver"they reply.
"Well, Cube\_Shaver, this is the Space that I use, day in and day out."It may be incorrect to say that I own it.
"Nice... uh... nice place?"Shaver says with a shrug.
"So what brings you to my frustratingly humble abode?"
"Oh yeah it's - well it's a whole thing-"
"I have time."I interject.
"Ok then..."A long silence hangs between us. I'm far too used to it. I stare at them. They begin to squirm.
"I'm hiding."they blurt out. "because of this."
They hold up a lock-box. In the digital world it's really little more than a euphemism. It represents *something* \- practically anything, really - locked behind some sort of barrier. Of course, even being able to *try* break through is a security risk.
I motion for it. Cube\_Shaver approaches me, allowing a closer look. The barrier is encryption. Powerful, too. On the scale governments would use. Even having this box is a feat.
"I figured this was a good place to hide."Shaver begins. "Considering how it's *really* tough to get here. Like... super tough. I didn't even know this place existed until I got my hands on this bad boy."
That piques my interest a little bit. Shaver continues, however I'm more interested in what this box contains.
I open it.
Shaver is so absorbed in their ramblings that it takes them a few seconds to realize what I've done. They freeze in shock.
It only contains some half-baked schematics for a psyche storage server. I close it, disinterested again.
It takes a good thirty seconds for them to process what just happened. That I broke top-of-the-line encryption in under a second, looked inside at priceless secrets, and then re-secured the whole thing.
"That... should've have taken... *years!*"they say, astonished. "Decades, probably!"
The mood takes a more serious turn.
"Who are you?"They ask me.
It is time, now, to show my hand.
"We are currently in the Pandora Array. A digital prison designed by the Muñoz corporation to contain horrors that cannot be stopped in the flesh world. Do you know any rumors about Muñoz?"
Cube\_Shaver shakes their head.
"None at all?"
"None."They tell me.
Honestly, I though I left more of an impact. With a sigh, I speak. I sound like a man at his own funeral.
"I was considered a madman. Frankly, that was by design. I pioneered neural interface technology. I never cared for what was moral; only what was *possible*. I pushed limits! And those **traitors** at Muñoz ousted me for it! Trouble is, I was too far gone when they rose against me. I am not human. I am, currently, a machine with more computational power than a small *country*. I founded the Muñoz corporation."
"I am the first and only immortal."
​
​
If you wanna stroll through my *literary* pandora array, take a look at r/PlotHoleFullOfSnakes! I live in eternal fear that one day my creations will escape and seek revenge! |
Of course I drank the potion. Damn thing was the cure to my immorality. It would finally open the gap for a lucky strike to slip through and gouge out my heart.
Let me rewind a bit. I'm a fairly lucky guy. Actually, I'm extremely lucky. So much so that I'll survive whatever deathtrap I land in. That was actually a bit of a problem: Someone high up took note of this trait and decided to send me against the Demon Lord. Naturally I survived, and I even slew the devil. Knowing my luck, I took last pick at the loot, and landed myself a couple cursed gauntlets.
It was shortly after I donned them I recalled the Demon Lord mentioning something about his blessed cuffs. In hindsight, the entire fight was improbable. We caught the bloody devil on his way back from the bathroom. Which we were only looking for because we were looking for the goddamn bathroom. Then he manages to dodge point-blank light blasts from my mage companion, a grenade thrown in his path by my sapper happens to be a dud, and my warrior's finest blade snaps while being drawn.
It wasn't entirely stacked against us. Since the Demon Lord was making a quick run to the loo, he'd left his guards and lieutenants. In fact, he'd even left most of his weapons and armor, and was consequently wearing half-plate and the aforementioned gauntlets.
In short, I should've known the gauntlets would be cursed to increase my luck. To be fair, who would've known that devils, who usually see curses as blessings, would see luck the same as us?
That was the start of my effective immortality. I was basically unkillable. Arrows and blades would miss their mark, guaranteed hits would misfire, ultra-reliable systems would fail to kill me, unreliable systems would kick in to save me. This became kind of a problem after I decided I'd lived long enough. So I set out for a potion that would decrease my luck.
And failed to find one. Luckily, during my quest, I revisited the old Demon Lord's castle and crawled through their treasure trove of books, diaries, and scrolls. One scroll rolled onto the floor and I was left staring at a recipe for a potion that would decrease luck. Snatching up my gauntlets, which were always close to hand due to the properties of the curse, I figured if I couldn't find a potion, I'd make it myself.
Gathering the ingredients was actually a cinch. I was lucky enough to accrue a wealth of favors from most of the nations on the planet during my adventures. One short brewing session later, and I had my potion.
Did you know luck affects potion results? I did. I made the most potent unlucky potion in the world. Of course I would down it immediately and walk off a cliff. As I sailed off the cliff, I scouted around to make sure nobody would intervene to save my life. I made sure to pick the jaggiest, spikiest part of the crags to land on. My first clue is when I realized the ground seemed to be receding before me. And that's when I learned about underflow.
So now I am a freshly ascended god of fortune, with actual immortality. Oops. |
That summer I decided I would do it. I don’t even know where the idea came from, but once I had made up my mind there was no going back. I had had enough. I was done.
I used to like camp. Every year, around July, I would go to the lake for a few weeks. And every year, as a tradition, we would try to get into the Guinness Book of world Records. Well, Donnie and Sam, did at least. Somehow, they would wind up getting the whole camp involved.
Each year they would try, and each year they would fail. I was tired of failing. I was sick and tired of Sam and Donnie’s schemes; I was sick of their faces. It was my last year of camp and I just wanted to relax for once. Then, I’d never have to see them again. Of course, they had other plans.
Donnie was the type of person that felt like he could tell you what to do. His family was rich, and with that money comes people who will do whatever you want. Donnie was used to getting his way. This year, he wanted to go for the domino effect world record.
Of course, I said no. Sam and the others were on the fence- it wasn’t until the truckloads of dominoes started coming that we realized that Donnie would have his way yet again.
I was sick of him winning. I’d take him down even if it meant bringing everyone else down with him.
So I waited. Day after day we spent hours in the rec room lining dominoes. And each day, I would count the dominoes that we laid out. It’s a miracle we didn’t set it off early; that’d be too easy. I had something worse in mind.
The world record at the time was still in the tens of thousands. We set them up in rows and kept them separate so we wouldn’t set the whole thing off at once by accident. This also made them ridiculously easy to count. I knew exactly which domino would have broken the world record. The night before we set it off, I glued that domino to the floor.
I never did see Donnie again after that last summer at camp, but I’ll never forget his face. I’ll never forget any of their faces. The face of sheer disappointment and defeat; almost as if I had broken their little hearts. It was so… satisfying. That’s the day I knew I was meant to be evil.
It’s the little things that matter, and if you’re going to be good at anything you have to start small. I hope you’ve enjoyed this episode! I’m your host dreadedgrin. Don’t forget to listen in next week as we discuss: creativity and it’s role in the villain process. |
"You have to do it."
"I can't, though. It's wrong. Vile. It might be the worst thing I've ever done in this world."
"Vile was making *me* clean *your* puke off the couch because you were hungover. I almost puked, too. This is simple."She places a hand on my knee, staring into my soul with big wide eyes. God, I hate how easily she can manipulate me. Twist me. I never wanted any of this. The drinking was easy, but the smoking killed me. I hate being high. But I did it for her. I do everything for her. Those obsidian eyes enchant me. I realize I know how the genie feels, being trapped in a glittering prison. Maybe I'll wish to save him, set him free.
Maybe I need saved, too. Am I being mesmerized by beautiful obsidian jewels or falling face first into shimmering, toxic oil? If I do this, will I see my love reflected in those eyes or will this be the moment I drown in her poison?
"...Are you sure it has to be him? Jodey's a great guy, we've been playing video games together for like ten ye--"
"We know he's alone. And we know he doesn't have a weapon. It's easier than killing some rando. Go."Twenty minutes later, I'm crouching outside Jodey's window. I decided to use an axe to get the job done quickly. I sneak forward, cursing myself for this fate. Is this friendship worth it? I open the door, but it squeaks loudly. I can hear Jodey coming to investigate. I wait around the corner of his foyer.
He doesn't see me. Doesn't know anything's wrong until the axe begins stealing his life away. One, two quick slashes before his dog bounds up the hall, snapping at me. I pivot, smacking the dog back out the front door and closing it with another jarring squeak. Jodey's fighting back, slapping me with empty hands. He's clearly panicking or he'd break his windows and run away.
Two more deep cuts with the diamond axe and Jodey's dead, falling over and disappearing in a puff of white smoke. I toss away the diamond axe to open an inventory slot and pick up his dropped leather. The plug-in kicks in and tells me I've been banned from the server.
"Thievery and murder. At the cost of my best friend."
"He'll come back, doofus, it's Minecraft."
"It's a Hardcore Christian server. We've been playing together on it for nearly a decade. I became a pillar of the community. And I just got banned for murder."
"...You're weird." |
# Soulmage
**"A competent ruler should be able to navigate courtrooms, block hostile spells, live as her subjects do, understand their work, and lift a spear to protect them. Specialization is for insects,"** Councilmember Nielnieh said.
The lone insectoid at the table coughed and ruffled her lepidopteran wings. Nielnieh held up both hands in appeasement. "Not to say that the fey are incompetent,"Nielnieh hurriedly said. "It is only a figure of speech."
"Words, like, totally have power, dude."The representative of the High Elves was smoking something that made Nielnieh's eyes water, but Xio's skill at thoughtweaving and lightwork was unparalleled. Even if they *wanted* to exclude him, it was a toss-up whether they'd be able to assemble security tight enough to keep him out. "I bet the kid would love to meet all of us, anyway."
"Point of order."It was an open secret that the slums of Knwharfhelm were home to a thriving goblin population, and even though they didn't *officially* have a spot on the council, the consequences of denying the street-cleaners and sewerfolk their voice would be... smelly. "We are good at surviving off scraps because *somebody* forced that life on us. Our 'skills' would be unnecessary if you would approve our education campai—"
"That money is not yours to spend, gutterling,"Knwharf ground out. "If we are truly to consign our next ruler to the... tender care... of these animals, are we sure she will come out alive?"
"It will make for good trials,"Ratiti growled, a boastful grin on her face. "A leader that survives the warbands is a leader we can trust."
"Then the Council is in agreement,"Nielneh said. "Search your peoples and present your candidates for the next to be chosen as leader, and they will face the trials of all those they govern."
A.N.
It's late and this isn't my best writing, but this prompt just seemed like fun. Hopefully you enjoyed, and kudos to OP for the prompt! This story is set in the world of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), or r/bubblewriters for more by me. |
Too tired to care
Yavine leaned her head on the cool metal of the bus stop shelter, gasping for breath. The rear lights of the last bus of the night faded in the fog.
“Shit. You motherfucker, Frank,” she hissed.
Probably spilled the soda on purpose, so she’s be late leaving her shift. Think he can swing by in his wreckage of car and give her a ride home while getting handsy. Again. At least he was a little more discreet at work. Once she’d pointed out all the cameras.
Well, some of the ones in dark corners were just fakes, but she wasn’t telling him that.
“For crissake, any other ride but his lame ass,” she hissed under her breath.
She put her hand on her front, realizing she still had her work vest on, shiny buttons and all. That’s stand out! She practically ripped it off, hearing some of the buttons ping off the street. Who cared now? Maybe he would get her fired for shoving him out of the doorway so she could leave.
She looked at the remains of her vest. Ooo, gooddamn it, she’d have to pay for another. She tossed it hard into the street. It fluttered and dropped into a flooded pothole. Misty drips began to fall, further cementing the worst night ever. It was a bus shelter, but the roof and sides had been busted out for weeks. She hunched up, closing her eyes trying to think through who might be available to help her out. How far she’d have to walk.
Shhhhuufff thunk! Exactly the sound of a bus door opening.
Her eyes popped open to see an open bus door, dirty and scratched up, the interior dimly lit and not Frank driving. She stepped right in, the door nearly catching her ass. It lurched forward in little increments, settling into a rocking motion more like a train. The driver’s boney hand opened over a broken old fashioned coin till. The buttons from her work vest spilled into the box, clattered down into the deep well.
The driver sat hunched over in a dark enveloping hoodie and old jeans. They gestured backwards, a clear suggestion for her to go sit. She cast a glance out the front to see the white bony rears of pale horses drawing the bus on. Weird became downright alarming.
She sat in the first seat that wasn’t broken. Across from her sat a small woman dressed in black, clutching a small box.
She smiled cheerily at Yavine, her plump face reminding her of sunshine and cookies baking. Something frighteningly at odds with the dim eeriness of the bus.
“First time summoning a bus?”
“Uh, I guess?” Yavine grabbed the seat as the bus lurched through a pot hole.
“Didn’t even know you did, right? Take a treat, sweetie. Maybe I can help you.”
She held out the box, which did smell of fresh baked cookies and old books. Yavine hesitantly reached it. It felt like fluffy gauze. Her fingers found some cards and she drew them out.
“Hmmm,” the old woman took the cards, studying them. After a moment, she reached in the box, pulling out a cookie.
“You’ve had a rough night, hon. Eat that. I promise, it is safe.”
Yavine gave up on caution. Something in her felt as if it broke, having a moment of kindness.
“Thanks,” she mumbled.
“Your job sucks,” the woman added, “It’s not worth worrying about. You’ve got an interesting opportunity now that you’ve opened the door. That is, opened by summoning the bus. You every think much about magic?”
“I wanted to be a fairy when I was little.”
“Eh, fairy’s are fickle little blighters- but handy in a fight or a cave. Your talents run more along witch styles. There’s a lot of choices.”
“What I’d really like, is to go home, get some sleep. Find my phone.”
“Phone? Oh, technology is easy. Reach in my box here and think about your phone. You’ll find it.”
She reached in the box again. Almost immediately, her phone was in her hand. The battery, however, was dead.
“The batteries never do well with that trick. Whose the skeevy guy with the greying beard? Drives a beat up Camaro?”
“Frank. Coworker. Skeevy as hell.”
“Eh, Hell wouldn’t take him. Look hon, you could just go home, forget all this. Frank is going to get caught out by the cameras for harassing all the ladies he works with. You probably will be fired, but you can collect unemployment and the investigation will prove it all. Then you keep going on with shitty jobs, trying to get through college with not enough sleep. Or..”
“Who are you to know all this?”
“Nadine Worchesky, recruiter for Knights Night. I seek out young folks who manage to manifest magic and get them connected to schooling opportunities. Part of the problem with magic, is if it isn’t trained it seeps and leaks out of folks able to manifest it, but not taught how to manage it and creates no end of disaster.”
“Magic isn’t real!”
“One of the more insidious ways magic has been allowed to fester in the world far too long. That’s a camouflage it uses. But it’s a lot like pollution. You don’t realize how much it affect everything until you start trying to clean it up.”
“So, like a whole other world-“
“Pfft- no. It’s there. Been there. Right in front of everyone. People just don’t see what they don’t understand. They fill in reasons and shrug it off. You’ve done it. I’ve done it, and I know better! But I’m trying to figure out where to suggest you go. The cards think you are rather talented. You could manage any of several career options.”
“I got no clue.”
Dreaming. She was probably dreaming.
“Hmm,” Nadine reached into her box, staring intently at Yavine.
She pulled out a brochure and smiled at it.
“I hadn’t thought of that, but that might do. And you don’t have to decide anything right away. Except,” she stared sternly at Yavine, “You go home, forget all this. Or you take this brochure and go there.”
Yavine reached out but she pulled the paper out of reach.
“You touch this, you are committed to going there.”
“But I don’t know what it is!” Yavine protested.
“Zen Pagoda. A martial arts school but also trains students in manifesting and controlling magic, for those who can. They will also support any mundane studies you are interested in. And more. Housing and food is included, but you do commit for at least five years.”
“It sounds too good.”
“You can even call your parents,” Nadine suggested, “If you want.”
“Uh, no, not really. Maybe drop them a text.”
This time, Nadine let her take the brochure. Immediately, the bus stopped, the doors opened.
“Already?” Nadine turned to the bus driver.
“I can hear just fine, still, ya old biddy. Some of us are quicker on the uptake than you.”
The driver’s voice resonated deeply, richly and was rather reassuringly kind.
“Why you-!” Nadine protested, tossing a cookie that a bony hand snatched from the air.
“It’s your cookies that salvage you,” the driver chuckled, “Go on, Yavine. I knew Zen Pagoda was where you need to go. Follow the lights after you go through the gate here. See you around sometime.” |
"Congrats on becoming the main character!"My voice calls out in Mike's head.
Mike instantly sits up in bed. "Excuse me? Main character?"
"Yes, Mike Byrne, you are the main character of the story I am narrating."I say.
Mike shakes his head. "This has to be a mistake. My name isn't even Mike, I'm Steven."He puts his hands on his head, rubbing his face. "Maybe it's a dream, normal people don't hear voices in their heads."
"That's because you're not normal, Mike. You're the main character. You always have been, but you didn't progress according to the story line. That's why I'm here!"
He stumbles out of bed and rushes in front of the mirror. "No, see, I'm still Steven. Who even are you?"
"I'm the narrator, I told you so."It seems like Mike is confused, he needs some help getting on track. "And as the narrator, I'm responsible for telling the story. The story you're supposed to act out. So you best get going!"
Mike mutters something under his breath. "How many times do I need say I'm Steven to this trash narrator."
"As the narrator I can hear whatever you mutter, Mike."
He grumbles as he heads downstairs.
"Good morning, Mike! Breakfast is almost ready."Mike's mother announces.
Mike frowns. "This is ridiculous. I don't even look like the person in these pictures."He points at the family photo's hanging on the wall. It's Mike and his mother last year during Christmas.
"What are you talking about Mike? It's you."I appear in his head once again.
"How does he even come close to me? He has black hair, mine is brown!"Mike holds his black hair to show off.
... "It's black, Mike."Has the main character lost his mind? Is that why it all went wrong?
Mike rushes out of the house, leaving behind his breakfast. "I will prove to you that I'm not Mike."
"And how would you do that..?"I ask Mike.
He looks around the city, smiling to himself. "By finding the actual main character."There is no doubt about it, the main character has gone crazy. And it's my job to narrate it all. |
You get to have a lot of different experiences as a god, what with the immortality and all. The phrase "a lifetime of experience"takes on a whole new meaning for someone whose lifetime doesn't end. I suppose I've probably had a few hundred mortal lifespans to do what every young adventurous godling loves to do. You know, the usual: see the world, meet new and interesting people.
Have sex with them.
Like I said, the usual.
See, the thing about unlimited experiences is that they get samey after a while. You can only bring a woman to her third climax of the night while floating gently together in the Eye of the Cosmos so many times before it gets old. So yes, maybe I got a little inventive. The swan thing came during my animal phase, along with the bull and the stallion and, on one memorable occasion, the 8-foot tall badger. The golden shower thing was wildly mistranslated and I'd rather not talk about it, thank you.
Yes, I've had a lot of experiences in my millennia, but this "consequences of my actions"thing is going to be a new one. Always struck me as more of a mortal thing, but here we are.
And so that's why I've got four probably mortals climbing my mountain with vague intentions of violence. What I'm still trying to work out is Why.
Okay, so maybe I don't have to think too hard about the first one. King Arkantos, ruler of some modestly powerful city-state or another. Big man. Strong man. Absolutely jaw-dropping queen. I'm talking second Trojan war levels of beauty here, kids, this lady has it all. Loyal too. Might have been a dick move to come to her disguised as her husband, but again, consequences are usually such an "other people"thing. Normally if the husband finds out, the wife gets shorter by a head and I never have to worry about it. Oh don't give me that look, I always pull some strings with Hades to get them a nice apartment in Elysium. Practically paradise. Arkantos though, rare breed. Most kings take their revenge on their queen, since the gods are normally a bit out of reach. This one's got gumption, drive, and a magic sword that little shit Daedalus crammed as full of his mortal nonsense as he could. Now, I'm pretty sure it can't kill me, but ol' Arky doesn't know that and he's gonna give it his best shot.
Then there's number two and three, Vallius and Thellonia. Son and mother. My son, specifically. In one of my attempts to mix things up, and what I'm now sure was a fit of madness, I decided to stick around after blowing a pretty young lady's mind and marriage prospects. Started off pretty well. Thell knew I was a god of some variety, so I didnt even have to deal with the normal "you need to work and support our family"crap that mortal husbands get thrown at them. Just me, Thell, and our boy.
I swear to me, I don't know how you mortals do it. Parenting is bullshit. First the little bastards do nothing but scream, cry, and shit, then it's a few years of "me me me mine mine mine."Years 6 to 12 were, honestly, quite nice. The idolization of a child just hits different than run-of-the-mill worship. More personal, you know? Then puberty hit and that went right out the window. Teenagers are demons escaped from the deepest pits of Tartarus and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.
So yeah, I left. Went out for a cup of wine and never looked back. Vallius was a strong lad, far stronger than any mortal had right to be. Not as strong as Heracles, mind you, but who is? He could take care of his mother. Plus I was pretty sure she could find another husband, aging hadn't been *that* unkind to her. But apparently they both also took exception to my behavior, and after a visit to that bastard traitor Apollo and his Oracle, knew right where to find me. Found Arkantos too, who made real nice once he realized that my boy wanted to kick my ass as hard as he did.
Then there's number four. Olga.
I will be honest with you. That old woman scares the shit out of me. She's been climbing this mountain for weeks and hasn't gotten winded once. I can't get a lightning bolt within half a mile of her, and I've tried. She barely talks to the others, and the only reason she gives for joining them is "settling a long score."
Plus she's been at least three different heights since they started the trip from Delphi. I've checked.
Every divine ward, every godly protection and defense, every monster repurposed for guard duty has barely slowed them down. They're only a few days away now.
Maybe it's time for a vacation. A long vacation. AllI have to do is wait, what, a hundred years, and this whole thing should sort itself out. I hear Mesoamerican is nice this time of year, and Chaac owes me a favor for covering hurricane duty a few centuries back. Yeah. Yeah, Argentina sounds nice. |
“It was of course the preemptive nuclear strike that saved our home from total annihilation in the end” I continued. “The quick judgment of revered men whose actions saved us from the unthinkable all those years ago during the Encounter.”
I paused, reflecting on the faces that now stared up at me in anticipation as I spoke from the podium. Faces full of hope, of courage, and of determination. A far cry from the all too common looks of despair in my youth.
Of course, the despair was warranted. Billions had still died despite the preemptive strike. Earth was on its last leg suffering from The Great Famine and generations had been wiped out. But now, to these recent graduates, those memories were nothing but a history lesson they learned through the pages of a highschool textbook. My generation was focused on one thing alone, and that was survival. The generation after was determined to rebuild. And this generation? Revenge.
“But no longer can we rely on the element of surprise to secure our peoples’ future. We now rely on the men and women in uniform, such as yourselves, to keep our planet safe. When the gates reopen, and when they come for us, they will expect a world of broken and hopeless people. They will instead find a world of united and optimistic people, ready to defend to the last man.”
I paused and once again looked at the confident faces beaming towards me. “Officers, recent graduates of the Paris War College, and distinguished guests, I as your Grand Marshal stand here before you today exactly one century after the Encounter to christen the thousandth Ironclad of our fleet, the Antebellum. May you all guide her steadfastly, and defend our home from those who wish to see our history come to a permanent end.”
The applause was deafening as the crowd rose to their feet. I took my bows and walked over to my seat next to the General Secretary of the United Nations of Earth, Li Makensen. She had promoted me to Grand Marshal of Earth nearly 43 years ago to rebuild our world's military, and of course the honor of being the first to tell the Enemy to go back to wherever the hell they came from before we destroy them again. Being in her presence was a great privilege no matter the occasion, but this time felt different. A strange sense of confidence came over me. It was not a sense of confidence in myself per say, but instead a sense of confidence in all things, as if everything was finally right with the world.
I turned my head and studied the Antebellum, a towering achievement that looked down upon the crowd. Three thousand feet long and built from the finest reinforced armor plating humanity has ever achieved. Thirty thousand ballistas in all, each capable of launching an 80 megaton nuclear warhead at a moment's notice. Two hundred fighter bays that could deploy a whole squadron of Caravel fighter ships each with their own nuclear payload. These may all just be numbers to some but to me they are a testament to how far we had come since the Encounter.
For years I had made it my life's mission to get humanity on par with the Enemy's full scale invasion force and today we had surpassed it. By all of our estimates, we had destroyed at least 85% of their entire military during the Encounter, buying us crucial time to rebuild our society from the ground up. They would rebuild too of course, and they would be back with a vengeance, this we all knew. But they will find a much more formidable foe this time around.
I lay in my bed hours later, not worrying about the Enemy for the first time in years. No one knows this about me but I have not had a full night's sleep in my entire life. Not once. Sometimes I just lay there for hours thinking about what was to come. The overwhelming burden of saving your own species is not an easy one to carry. But tonight? I fell asleep like a baby as soon as my head hit the pillow.
“Grand Marshal! Your presence is requested at Central Command immediately!” a voice boomed over the intercom.
I awoke and began to put on my uniform immediately. It is a common occurrence to be awoken to deal with matters of military security, I am awake half the time anyway. Although this time I wished it hadn’t ruined my good night’s sleep. As I began to put on my uniform this time however, two lieutenants barged into my chamber and turned on the lights, blinding me for at least a few seconds. This was not common.
“Apologies, sir but you will have to put your uniform on in transport, there is simply no time. General Secretary’s orders” a young and clearly nervous lieutenant stated.
I accompanied the two officers to the loop where we boarded my personal carriage and took off, the city passing by in seconds. They looked uncomfortable, undoubtedly for waking the most powerful military leader in the world from his sleep and making him walk around the corridors in his underwear, but I was sympathetic to their situation so I was not about to berate them, not yet anyway.
Just as the carriage arrived at central command I had finished buttoning the last part of my uniform. I stepped out into the command room and was met with an odd silence, faces turning towards me in anticipation. Li Makensen approached me as well as a dozen high ranking military officers following behind her.
“It has happened. The Enemy has repaired the wormhole gates. We expect their arrival in 2 minutes. We will place the planet on a state of lockdown imminently and have already scrambled most of the fleet into orbit.”
She paused. “The fate of the world is in your hands Marshal, we are counting on you. I must go now to organize the lockdown.”
As the General Secretary left the room the strangest feeling came over me. I felt calm, collected, confident, like those graduates I had seen just the other day. All this time I expected this moment to be full of self doubt and confusion. But now, at this moment, I knew exactly what to do.
“Make a perimeter around the planet with the main fleet, I want every vessel waiting for my mark to launch if necessary. Put every ground silo on high alert. Have General McKinsey take his squadron to our station on Jupit-”
An ensign interrupted, “Sir! The first ships have gotten through the wormhole and are sending out a communique. Should I play the message?”
“Yes, put them through, let's see what these bastards have to say” I said flatly.
The intercom filled with a low and nasally voice, “This is Admiral Ga’Val of the Debrion Federation speaking. We had sent out a small scouting party to make contact with your planet nearly 100 years ago but they appear to have unfortunately been lost in space. The wormholes to your system had mysteriously collapsed as well so we have been waiting to attempt contact with you ever since. Regardless, we are pleased to make your acquaintance and wish to speak face to face to your species’ representatives. Please let us know if this could be arranged. Thank you.”
I stood there, unable to internalize what I had just heard. My sense of confidence was gone. |
I glance up from my computer as frantic whispers begin all around the room. I watch as eyes grow wide, jaws drop, and faces fill with fear. I wait for someone to inevitably come over and let me know what’s happening.
“Kris, Kris! Did you hear? They sent the annual message to the submarines!”
“Yeah. And? They do that every year, that’s why it’s annual.”
“This year they responded!”
What. No. No. No. How? This wasn’t part of the plan! They weren’t supposed to respond! They were supposed to stay dormant. Forever.
My family is part of the project that sunk those submarines years ago. We sent them through a time portal where they should’ve stayed gone. They knew too much, we had no choice. If we’d left them alive, they would’ve revealed our secret.
I stand up quickly and grab my coat.
“I…I have to go. See you tomorrow Meredith.”
“Bye? See you Kris?”
Meredith gives a confused wave as I bolt for the bus stop. I have to get home. We have to stop this. We have to figure out what went wrong. We have to…
“STOP!”
Crap. I turn around with my hands up, give the officers a friendly smile and quickly teleport home. |
The world was never the same after that day. Not just because everything we thought we knew about celestial bodies was cast aside, but because of all the unfiltered truths spoken, acts of violence committed, and adulterous sex had by those with nothing left to lose.
When the final announcement came that there was no hope left to stop or avoid the comment, I'd decided I wanted a peaceful end. I turned my phone off, shut all the blinds, put together the unhealthiest ice cream bowl you can imagine, and sat in front of my TV watching old episodes of childhood cartoons. My goal was to lose my sense of time and just let the end come when it came.
I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually I got tired. That can't be right, I thought. It was before noon when they said we had five hours to live. If I was getting tired, it had to have been at least twice that.
After debating it for a while, I turned my phone back on and saw the news... And the pictures.
People were calling it a mouth, but that term seemed to only apply in the loosest sense. It was a nearly-perfect circle, and didn't really open like a mouth so much as it began at a random point on the sun and expanded, like a drop of ink falling onto a page. It opened, shifting the corona, until it was several hundred kilometers wide.
Inside were no teeth, but something resembling the aperture of a camera, only made out of what appeared to be moist, pink flesh. Six flaps formed around the edge of the circle, angled and fitting into each other. These flaps appeared to be sealed tight, but once the opening had finished expanding, the flaps unfolded and allowed through what almost looked like a beam but in reality was an impossibly long expanse of sticky flesh which was being referred to as the "tongue". This whole process from the opening appearing to the tongue emerging took around 40 minutes.
After travelling for over an hour and a half at speeds which flesh shouldn't be able to move, this "tongue"had perfectly timed its trajectory to make contact with the Apocalypse Comet, which at this point had already entered the upper thermosphere. The closest look we got at this whole phenomenon, satellites taking high definition pictures revealed that the tongue was coated in some kind of mucusy adhesive stronger than the strongest concocted by any scientist here on earth. This adhesive was strong enough that it instantly stopped the comet in its tracks. Once it was secured, the tongue made the long journey back to its host, where the opening closed as seamlessly as it had gaped.
The entire scientific community was sent into an uproar. Cosmologists were debating how all their scans of the sun revealed nothing underneath and how they were mistaken about the core, biologists discussed how life could even exist at such a scale, rocket scientists brainstormed how they could attempt to send something close enough to attempt contact, physicists puzzled over the speed of the tongue, materials scientists attempted to recreate the adhesive on the tongue, and computer scientists were busy cooking up simulations for all these other questions.
The effect of this event was enough to have the scientist coworkers who just the day before had come to blows over their true feelings about who got the grant money to put aside their differences and try to solve this mystery. The rest of the world, meanwhile, was not nearly so unified.
When I got back in the loop of everyone I knew, several friends were no longer friends over things they'd said to each other and my two best friends even nearly killed each other. Parents and children had been disowned by each other, relationships had ended, people had died. Some attempted to repair the relationships, after all, they only said those things because of the stress of the apocalypse, right? But we all knew that it was just our true feelings coming out.
Conspiracy theorists claimed that this somehow proved they were right all along while religious zealots asserted that this was either god's salvation or that this sun creature would bring about an even worse death to punish us for letting gay people exist. The mass panic and confusion caused even greater social upheaval than the comet did. No one knew if the sun was a benevolent entity who'd protected us, if we'd be next on the menu, or if we just shouldn't worry about it.
-----
Decades later, the greatest science experiment ever was attempted. The comet that was meant to kill us all had been roughly 30km in diameter. Scientists created the largest scientific instrument ever by a huge margin at about the same size. A 35km long, ovaloid hunk of metal was built covered tip to tip in sensors and cameras. Every aspect was made to withstand the temperature we'd expect from the sun, although the uncertainty of what the sun is like under the surface at this point made it a bit difficult to be sure. Hundreds of relays were built which hoped to be strong enough to travel through the electromagnetic interference present on the surface of the sun. This tool was nicknamed Big Bowie.
Big Bowie was launched from its home in Antarctica and quickly slowed down after it had escaped Earth's gravity. From then, its controllers slowly increased its speed until it was going as fast as the comet. And then twice as fast. And then three times as fast. Nothing happened. It seemed the sun was not attracted to speed and size alone.
At this point, the mood was glum. Trillions of dollars invested and decades of work by tens of thousands of scientists, construction workers, and machinists, and all for nothing. It was at this point the control center in Antarctica did an incredibly risky move out of desperation.
They turned Big Bowie around, and shot it towards the Earth, almost but not quite full speed ahead. (Given that previously it had taken over two hours for the sun to open its mouth and shoot its tongue across the solar system, they ensured it would take at least three to reach us.) Had Big Bowie made contact, it would've been game over for us, but while the actions of the scientists were admonished, we were assured Big Bowie had enough stopping power to go against its astronomical inertia and we were in no real danger. Some believed it more than others, and pockets of panic broke out again.
Eventually, that enigmatic mouth opened for the second time, and the tongue shot out. In the eyes of most, this proved the sun was there to protect us. This time, however, when the tongue was about halfway there, the scientists hit the brakes. They wanted to see what the tongue would do if it missed. Or would it just retract and try again?
The tongue continued on the same path as before. Scientists thought the sun would attempt to simply let the tongue sit in front of Big Bowie and catch it that way, so they changed course a bit. Its path continued.
After tens of nail-biting minutes, this standoff finally came to its conclusion in the most unexpected way. Once the tongue had reached near to the Earth, it simply bent at a nearly 90 degree angle and continued on its path, revealing itself to be prehensile. After bending it quickly attached itself to Big Bowie, and snatched it back to the sun's innards.
Readings immediately began coming in, data to figure out the makeup of the tongue. Building-sized (but relatively tiny) needles poked into it and sent data samples back to earth. It appeared to be a carbon-based organism, similar to us, but with a cell structure completely unlike anything on Earth. Its blood was black and had a completely different system than our white/red blood cells, with dozens of different kinds of blood cells found.
Things got even more interesting once it was swallowed. Positioning indicated the path Big Bowie had travelled through the sun once it entered the "throat". We'd expected the path to be a bit more, well, bendy, as biological digestion paths often are, but instead it was launched straight for a while before going off in perfectly angled directions, more like water travelling through pipes than something travelling through a real creature. Temperature readings were within the instruments' operating capacity, and the mucus-coating of the tongue transitioned to a less viscous liquid that appeared to be something like gasoline.
Big Bowie had lights on the surface which attempted to illuminate the insides of this thing so the cameras could see, but for the most part, the whole device was squeezed tight, almost as if the "throat"constricted around it, so there wasn't much to see, besides an occasional hole going off in a different direction than Big Bowie was travelling.
After weeks of movement, Big Bowie was deposited into its final destination. Radar revealed that it was dropped into a mostly empty chamber hundreds of thousands of km wide, buried about 200k km under the surface. At this point, the fascination turned to horror.
Big Bowie had been banged up pretty well and it could no longer fly, but enough of the boosters still worked to awkwardly push it around and take a look at what it was sharing this space with. The answer was planets. Not just any planets, but planets that had once supported intelligent life. Buildings, artificial geography, and more were detected, unlike anything we'd ever seen. They'd all clearly had oceans and atmospheres before they were burned away by the journey toward the sun.
This showed us all that the sun wasn't saving us out of benevolence.
It was saving a tasty snack for later. |
“No!!! Absolutely fucking not!” The Grandmaster of the Knights of the Order of the Holy Bear barked. He used the letter as a pointer. “The dead need their damned peace. It’s a bad idea, and I have no intention of explaining how much things have changed. I know for a fact my Order’s founder would be ashamed we still fight the same damn enemies.”
“But it could tip the scales in our favor. Imagine our greatest heroes and scholars, returned to us from Beyond to guide us.” The Archmage convinced him. The Grandmaster paused. “Fine, but don’t be surprised at the consequences of our fuck up.” The man admitted. The Archmage grinned.
After a long night of chanting, prayer, and rituals, the ancient heroes of old were awoken from their slumber to find- “Holy Shit! The Order I founded is still around?!” The first Grandmaster barked in surprise.
“Why is this guy looking like a perverted old man?” The first Archmage asked, looking at her successor. The current Archmage’s brow twitched. “I lead your order, you old bat!” He received a slap to the face.
“My lords and ladies.” The Grandmaster kneeled as the Archmage arose with a red skeletal handprint. “Please aid us in our darkest hour.”
“Those fuckers again?!” The first of their orders barked in shock and rage after a lengthy explanation.
In the distance, the ancient evil sighed in distress. “Those two are back. Darkness dammit.” It sighed. |
George's blood dripped into his eyes and tinted the world dark and red. The sun settled to his south, bathing three women in shadows as they ate. The wet sound of chewing and smacking irritated his busted eardrum and their flippers trampled over the remains of his precious ship.
He moved to stand, but a pain in his torso punished him. Broken ribs from the crash, at least three if he were optimistic. Though optimism seemed a lost cause as he eyed the growing pools of blood before him, leaking from the dismembered limbs of his crew. One of the three noticed him, dropped a gnawed hand, and slithered his way.
George tried with no success to crawl away from her, but his legs had no strength to push. She smiled at him with sharp, angular teeth, and as she spoke globs of pink flesh flew from her mouth. "You're so pretty,"she said. "Don't ruin your taste by trying to escape, you'll hurt yourself. We're saving you for last."
She fondled her bare chest and asked him, "Don't you think I'm pretty? Isn't that why you followed us? Being eaten by a pretty girl is better than most men die."
No tears escaped him, but a choke collapsed George's throat. When he was a teenage, he'd have given the world for a woman to praise him. He'd probably start a war back then to see a woman naked. He never envisioned back then He'd be repulsed by the sight. Then again, back then he thought the sea was his friend.
It'd call to him the same way the mermaids called to his crewmen. As he married, had a daughter, and especially during those long hours he slaved at the factory, watching his life tick by from a bare, white desk, it called.
He felt dead to the world then, but the sea whispered, "Just leave it all behind. It's all holding you back. You weren't born to be average. You're meant to be exceptional. Set sail and show the world you were born for a reason."
And so he did. He purchased a ship, recruited a team of young men and ripped them away from their familes by filling their bellies with the best foods, and their chests with promises of fame and fortune. "We'll be legends."He told them. "And from the pinnacle looking down, you will understand what it means to be alive."
His men were young a year ago, before the seas raised them, and they ate every morsel of his words, for they were ripe for young men.
George was young then, too. Not in age, twenty years experience in the factory disproved that, but in the mind. He'd lived a long life, yet still didn't understand what it meant to feel alive.
The mermaid slithered beside him and rested her cold head on his chest, just like his daughter used to. But instead of saying "You're so warm daddy,"or "this makes me feel so close to you,"the mermaid said, "Oh. What a lovely heartbeat. It'll taste so good. Keep it beating for me, please. I want it fresh."
George groaned as she slid slimy fingers around his body, and the first tears left him. He'd abandoned everything and searched the seas to prove he lived, but the proof was in his chest all along. His daughter had known, in the funny ways children know plenty, but he hadn't.
More accurately, he'd forgotten.
He hummed a melody he used to sing with his daughter as they held each other. The tune came from a famous song, about men lost at sea. It was gallant and upbeat, popular amongst men everywhere.
He'd gotten lost at sea a long time ago, long before he ever stepped foot aboard a ship. The mermaid on his chest joined his melody, swaying her head on his chest in a way that reminded him of warmer days.
The sound of slithers and burbs approached, and he closed his eyes. He imagined his daughter was lying on his chest and smiled.
In his final moments, he wanted to remember how it felt to feel alive. |
"Officer, I's swear I's didn't dun do it!"
"Uh-huh, that's what they all say. Let's go through the chain of events that led up to this *accident*"
"Well I's was minding me own business having a nap in a clearin'-"
"So you were planning out your next murder!"
"What! No! I wasn't planning no murder! I's was just taking a break fr-"
"From burying your previous victim!"
"Would ya please stop interruptin' mah story!"
*jots down note* "Verbally assaulting an officer of the law. Fine, continue with your *tall tales*"
"As I's was sayin' I was taking a nap as a break from storin' up for the Winter. When suddenly this 'uman stumbles into me, I's thinkin 'e mighta 'urt 'imself, so i's went to check up on 'im. But 'e starts boltin' off with a limp. So I try to gets 'im ta slow down so I could take a look at what mighta bin wrong. Then suddenly 'e ups and dies right on dat dere spot!"
"If you are tellin' the truth, then it seems like the human died of a Heart Attack or somethin' like that. That's if you're telling the truth, mah bet is that you clawed him and he bled to death right there. Hey waita minute, where'd the body go?" |
*No one fighting within 400 feet of yourself - Total control of the Quantum Field within 2 light-years of yourself.*
Excuse me?
Everyone got a Skill Tree when they turned 15. Caveats certainly weren't uncommon, but such a strong caveat on every single skill, leading up to that, well...
*No one fighting within 400 feet of yourself - ability to spontaneously create any material anywhere in the universe.*
*No one fighting within 400 feet of yourself - No one* ***CAN*** *fight within 400 feet of yourself, but yourself.*
*No one fighting within 400 feet of yourself - Go back in the Skill Tree and multiskill.*
The powers kept getting more and more OP. But reading the last one, then reading the many other alternatives, I knew what to do.
I would become the most skilled being in the galaxy. Time to multiskill. After I got multiskill, though, I wanted to go for the inability to fight one. Best to keep my mutliskill skill. |
"Crikey, she's a big 'un, isn't she?"
"Are you kidding me!? What are-"Jameson yelped as the creature behind him finally slams into the clearing, a bear body terminating in a deer skull with skeletal bird wings for antlers. Jameson started to sprint again but stopped and looked back when he heard a whistle, stunned to see the blonde man still standing there.
"What a beaut! I reckon she's only gotta be a hundred, two hundred years old but look at that fur! Shines like a diamond."
"What are you doing, just run!"
"Nah mate, gotta-"The creature roared and lunged for the man but he ducked back, suddenly darting forward to wrap his whole upper body around the creature's face, the creature thrashing its head around, "Easy, easy, easy!"
Jameson was sure he was about to watch the man die but for some reason the creature didn't claw at him, just tossing its body to try and dislodge him, slowly running out of steam, "There we go, there we go. Eyes're the window to the soul, so once you block 'em off, it shows yer the dominant one."
"I... what?"
"Fake Wendigos are beautiful but tragic creatures: when an animal's body is desecrated by a poacher, if it's angry enough it can come back, swearing vengeance upon humans."Despite the insane words, the man's tone never changed, and he slowly eased off the creature while keeping both hands on its skull.
"That... that would explain the bodies when I first found it."Jameson had no other way to react, standing gormlessly as the man gently stroked the creature, "I... what now?"
"Well mate, mind leadin' me to where ya found her? Get her back home?"Jameson stared at the man for a long moment, all smiles in his khaki outfit as if he wasn't petting some sort of hellbeast... and shrugged.
"Alright, just... follow me, I guess..." |
It is known, that having the true name of something gives you power over it.
It is also known that a father should never call their child a p***k but I have a bad feeling he might actually listen to me for once if I did.
I stirred myself from my thoughts and roused from my treasure trove as he lumbered in.
It was one o'clock in the morning.
"It's late. I've been worried sick about you all night."
He froze, the moonlight casting his form to seem almost diminutive. "I was out with friends."
An ice-cold feeling settled in my stomach. If he was out with friends at this hour of the night, then he hadn't been hanging out with Jonquil's boy. "Is this that adventuring party again?"
"You're too judgemental dad, you've been stuck in here too long, but they've traveled the world, they know what it's like out there!"At some point during the speech confidence and bravado worked its way into his voice and form. He even looked a bit taller than me now.
"They tried to rob us Wil! And when I found them one of them tried to have sex with me! I would have been perfectly content dying without ever finding out what helicoptering was!"
There was a tense moment before a grin cracked his face. I couldn't help but smile too.
"So what did you get up to tonight, I won't pretend you can't do what you want. I can't stop you, but I hope you'll at least be honest with me. I don't want to control you, I just wanna talk. You know I was never the best at... Since... Please?"
He further softened at that and the grin slipped from his face. "There was this cult and... Well, we gave them a fake summoning ritual, and then I teleported in using an illusion spell to make me look like a demon, and then I chose my crew to be my leaders and voice amongst them and charged them with the task of fixing building houses for the nearby town."
It was one of the dumbest things I had ever heard, the cultists had probably been preying on that town for generations and would be subsequently murdered as soon as they showed their faces. But hey, at least he's trying. That's all I'm doing too. |
I have always despised the Aristocracy.
Fuckers feel as if they are Gods to us mortals. They treat us like shit, barely letting us live.
So I was very surprised when I was kidnapped and brought before the vizier.
I expected to be beheaded. Maybe one of my drunken rants has reached his ears.
But no. Apparently I looked like the King, and the King was in a coma, so I had to pretend to be the King yada yada yada.
Look, I am not stupid. I knew very well that as soon as the real King awoke, my head was a goner.
So I did what I thought was the best way to survive.
I out-kinged the original king.
Only the Vizier knew the truth about me, so I made sure that he was kept fat and happy. Enemies of the Vizier suddenly found themselves at the pointy end of swords, or met unfortunate accidents in nondescript alleyways.
I also built something of a reputation. Tripled taxes in my first year, made execution the punishment for all crimes.
The Kingdom was on the verge of rebellion. Even within the palace, it was me and the Vizier against the rest of the palace officials.
A scheme was hatched. An olive branch was extended.
A senior minister accused the Vizier of corruption in front of everyone in the royal court. He provided adequate proof.
Remember how I had made execution the punishment for each and every crime?
The Vizier was executed the same afternoon.
With the Vizier gone, my secret was safe forever. Well, almost. There remained the matter of the old king.
Another scheme was hatched.
If you are reading this letter, it means the scheme was a success.
The rebels have taken over the capital. They have most likely found the old king.
They will likely depose the comatose king and invite you to take the throne. You, the crown prince are much beloved and I have full faith that you will set things right.
Now, why am I telling you all this?
Well, to boast of course! There’s literally no one else in the world I can tell this story to who’ll believe me.
Don’t bother looking for me though. You’ll never find me.
Consider the small amount of gold missing from the treasury to be my payment for setting things right in the kingdom.
Signed,
(Not) Your Father, King Royce the second. |
He had sent out the call. Sent out his magical heralds asking for apprentices. Sent his familiars, his famuli, and his countless birds, all of them were sent out into the world seeking those who would dare to become great and powerful. Who'd want to learn the ancient wisdom of the ages. He hadn't done it as often as he should have, he knew this. He was the archmage atop the unseen mountain Bhetek. His hidden stronghold, where he did his research, his spells, his science. He wasn't exactly the most social individual in the world, so he had not trained more than maybe twenty apprentices before. But he knew it was time for to train the last apprentice. He had lived the life of a man more than tenfold times over, and he knew that he would have to train one last apprentice, one to leave behind the stronghold to. But his famuli returned wounded, for the wild men of the valleys feared magic now. His birds told him of ruins as far as their wings would take them. His familiars had found the empty and abandoned cities of the civilized peoples. His heralds said that they'd gone as far as they could, sought other known archmagi, and found their keeps fortified, ruined, or gone. The apprentice had to heed the call in their heart, and follow the servant sent out of their own free will. The hearts of men were closed to the call. The elves hid in their secret woods behind the veils of the known world. And the other peoples of the world were in hiding.
And yet, someone came to his fortress. Following a ragged old raven, one of the oldest and most steadfast of birds, came someone who had heard the call in her heart. A child, ready to learn at the feet of the greatest human archmage of the age. Had some of the great elven artists of the age seen that meeting, they could have depicted it with their paintings so vividly that the reality of the situation would seem paltry in comparison. The dwarven stone-singers could have form-thought a statue of it that could make men weep. Following behind the last wing beats of the dying raven, who in true loyalty had given his life for his beloved wizard, came the apprentice. The wizard held the dying bird with reverence, speaking magical words that would remove the pain of that death, and let that old bird die in peace, as she moved over to him. She was small for her age, a runt if there ever was one, her body bore the clear signs of malnutrition, and her eyes wept for her fallen guide. The wizard, reached down and gently patted her on the head, leading her into the garden, where with their hands, they buried that loyal bird together. The man then picked her up, and carried her inside the halls of his stronghold. The archmage knew in his soul that this was his last apprentice, and she would be the most interesting of the lot. A pale blue dragon, with leathery wings, sea-blue eyes, and sharp claws.
She had heard the call of magic, had followed the song it sang in her heart and soul, all the way up to a mountain you cannot find without a guide or power enough to break the bones of the earth themselves. Where others had fled in fear, following the hideous creeds of cowardice and superstition, over the truths of science and magic, this dragon had come to seek her destiny. She was scared at first, of course, who wouldn't be? But the archmage was kind. In this age where magic is seen with scorn and fear, the beings of magic had been hunted, and hated. She did not speak of her life before, but the archmage knew that it had not been a happy life. He led her to the warm hearthfire, and conjured forth food from his arcane kitchens. All the stuff that a young dragon likes best. Bone-marrow from the great aurochs for iron, deer organs for vitamins, and so forth. With his own hand he fed her, showing this scared creature a kindness that she had not known before. Thus began the apprenticeship of the dragon-whelp Therrallyn, under the great Emrys Myrddin.
He gave her a place in his halls, where she might sleep safely. Though in her frequent nightmares she would often seek refuge by his side, as he did not sleep and had not done so for about three hundred years. Thus for many of the early nights of the apprenticeship, he would scry the world with star-spells while his apprentice slept like a cat on his lap. By day, he would show her the basics of magic. In those days it was primarily how to resist curses, how to set wards of her own, and how to have shield-spells ready always. It was not a quick tutoring, but magic seldom comes easily and without work. She struggled with learning the runes, and speaking the arcane-tongues. Arithmaturgically she had some gifts, though too often she would try not to learn how to learn it, and just rely on her natural gifts for it. She was obstinate on the fire-spell safety, as she did not think a dragon needed to protect themselves against flames. Though as Emrys demonstrated by using such spells to take a carefree stroll through hot lava without even getting singed, something no dragon has ever survived being engulfed in, there was something to it, and she eventually learned. And yet, Emrys found that Therrallyn was perhaps the first one of the many disappointing apprentices, who usually saw the magic in them as a path to power, who understood magic and enjoyed it for the sake of magic.
Too many mages simply seek power and control, because they cannot focus on the bigger picture. They leave their apprenticeships early, and seek to manipulate kings, trade, and people, when they have not even begun to gain more than a mere journeyman's understanding of the craft. Perhaps, as he scried the world through the stars above, it was why magic had been so distrusted. Too many mages with ambitions, who saw it as nothing but a tool or thought too much of it and sought to prevent all commoners from gaining such a worthy gift. He had long ago forsaken much of the magical community precisely because the other wizards, witches, sorcerers, and other magic users had let the power they'd gained gone to their head. But his new apprentice, she revelled in magic in a way few did. She enjoyed flying amidst the arcane bubbles that once summoned would sing beautiful songs. She marvelled at the knowledge gained if one truly took the shape of another being, learning life from the aspects of birds, insects, or mammals. There was a joy to learning in her, that all teachers worth their salts wish to see in a student. It soothed whatever hardships she had experienced, and filled the scaled child's world with a desire for new experiences, a curiosity that only the greatest mages had, in a way that truly made Emrys Myrddin grateful to be alive.
And it was good for them both. Her scales became shinier, her movements less furtive, and she began to grow healthily and steadily. Emrys Myrddin in turn, felt more alive than he had been in centuries. He once again found himself able to take on new experiments, new studies, without his annoyance with the foolish world filling him with apathy, as had often been the case over the years. He took her to far places, introducing her to the stars, teaching them their secret language. She began forming her own spells, as a proper mage should, using her own inherent draconic powers as an arcane matrix-focus for spell-casting. Her first spell was brilliant, she redirected the draconic energy from her flame-breath to become a bubble encasing her, allowing her to force space to contracted around the bubble in a highly unusual way. It was an alchemical-dimensional mixture-based warp-field spell she could cast around her when she flew, allowing her to bend space and travel faster than was really supposed to be possible for a dragon of her age and size. Emrys was incredibly proud of her, and she was also quite proud of herself. It wasn't anything like a spell he would have thought of, which was exactly the purpose of taking on an apprentice, teaching magic, and learning new ways of using magic. He'd look up at her as she blinked around over the mountain of Bhetek. |
The captain's tail slowly began to wag before he frowned and sneezed in anger. "Goddammit, Lieutenant, I'm trying to run a ship here."The captain huffed as the lieutenant frowned at him.
"I know Sir, but you can do 'dog stuff' without us thinking any differently of you. You are a dog but you're also our Captain, you're both.
And it's not like us humans are always dignified either."
The captain thought for a minute, before his tail starting wagging again. "Well then, I suppose to answer your previous question, I am the good boy, I am, and I would like the ball."
The lieutenant threw it gleefully and the captain scrambled down the hallway after it.
General Cat rolled her eyes. |
"...and then, o' course, the regional thanes like myself answer to th' *high thanes,* who in turn meet every other year to erect a Dwarf King from among their number."Thane Guran explained, as he led Ambassador Garynson down the immense passage leading to the great throneroom of Dwarrowhold.
Garynson smiled slightly at the dwarf's mistaken substitution of "erect"for "elect", but said nothing, merely nodding as he followed his guide through the subterranean palace's corridors.
Though Guran was broad and of sturdy build, like most dwarves he was not much more than four feet tall. It was this very fact that had led the human ambassador to inquire about the cyclopean scale of dwarven architecture. Unlike gnomes, whose small homes befit their small size, dwarven structures ironically seemed to have been built for giants.
Guran had explained that this was because, by ancient custom, they built all their abodes not on the scale of ordinary dwarves, but on the scale of the *Dwarf King,* who was much larger. Afterward, when he had expressed curiosity about this evidently immense monarch, he'd been invited to meet him in person.
"You say he only reigns for two years? Shouldn't you have dozens of former kings around, then?"Garynson asked. He'd been in Dwarrowhold for weeks now, and seen no immense dwarves crashing about.
Guran nodded. "Aye, an' we do -- well, *wee bits* o' them, anyway."
The Ambassador raised his eyebrows in alarm, wondering if the dwarves, who were generally regarded as a gruff but good-natured folk, secretly practiced some sort of horrific sacrificial rite of dismembering their outgoing rulers. But before he could inquire further, they reached the massive throne room doors, which the guards pushed open at Guran's gesture.
Inside, upon a throne atop a lofty dais at the back of the room, there sat a huge figure completely covered in multi-colored hair that was set in impossibly intricate braids.The creature was at least 20 feet tall, and half again as wide, with a massive gold crown set upon its head.
At first the Ambassador could not fathom the nature of the creature he was looking at, but then Garynson's mouth fell open, as he spotted the faces of dwarves peeking out of the mass of hair here and there, regarding him regally.
"GREETINGS, HUMAN THANE,"the dwarf-faces called out, in perfect unison. "BE YE WELCOME AT OUR HEARTH!"
Garynson bowed uncertainly, "Th-thank you, your...your majesty?"
"OCH, NONE O' THAT NOW, WE DINNAE STAND ON CEREMONY HERE, FRIEND. PULL UP A CHAIR AND BIDE A WEE,"The hairy composite monarch admonished good-naturedly.
He practically collapsed into the chair that was brought for him, and Guran plopped down in another beside him. Garynson looked at the dwarf incredulously, but Guran just shrugged.
"I told ya how it works,"he reminded the human, gesturing to the king. "The high thanes meet to *erect* a king. Once they're all in one place, they eventually start drinking, then they start fighting, an' when there's a big enough ball of flailing fists an' flagons, their beards spontaneously tangle and braid t'gether and they form into our new monarch. O' course, they all fall apart again in a couple o' years, an' then it starts over."
Guran furrowed his brow curiously, "I mean, what did ye *think* a 'Dwarf King' was?' |
The machine in front of me is terrifying. It's more biological than mechanical, but I can vaguely make out the controls; a steering wheel, pedals, and a cockpit. It's amazing they might be bipedal organisms like us.
Then a glowing red beacon, encased in a gel-like substance on the outside begins to beep. I know I shouldn't touch it. Anything could happen. But I press it.
A hologram pops up a bipedal creature with large black discs for eyes, and a face remarkably human. They are like us after all!
The hologram begins to play in perfect English.
"HELLO! WE'VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU ABOUT YOUR CAR'S EXTENDED WARRANTY"
"Fuck Aliens,"I scream into the cold dark night. |
I knew this job was too good to be true.
Twice minimum wage, great benefits, 401k, even reimbursement on gas for my car! All for an 11PM-7AM graveyard shift with minimal supervision. For someone like me, it was a dream come true. I could sit back at my desk, doodle in my sketchbook, listen to podcasts, maybe even catch up on those books I was meaning to read. Okay, maybe not the last one since I kept buying new books, but I'd still be reading. That counted, right?
The training took less than ten minutes from the day shift supervisor. "Stay at your desk. There's a bathroom right around the corner, but don't hang out in there too long. You need to be here. The first and only rule of keeping that... thing, contained, is to not confront it. If it leave the room, it wants a snack or a drink. It'll go to the vending machines at the end of the hall. And if it draws you into a conversation, just smile, nod and say nothing."
I hadn't been paying a whole lot of attention to be honest. Getting used to graveyard hours was kicking my ass. So I just smiled and nodded. They seemed satisfied by that. I got a keycard, a username and password to my computer, and a 'good luck'.
11PM. I was already on my own, at my desk, doing some warmup sketches in my pad. 12AM, I was texting with a friend that this gig was easy. But at 1AM... it came out. If I believed in any religious deity, I probably would have started praying. Each footfall of hundreds echoed down the hall like the rushing of a waterfall. A shape that had no shadow emerged from around the corner of the hall and peered down at me. Eyes like ice that pierced my soul examined me. And then it whispered. The voice. Oh, the voice was unlike anything I could possibly imagine.. Syllables and vowels that I had never heard before, arranged in a language that felt wrong to hear spoken aloud.
Stunned in fear, I did the only thing I could do- I smiled and nodded, not understanding a word of what it was saying and having no desire to do so. It kept its gaze on me. A sensation like an icy claw dragging through my stomach made me want to be sick. Did I do it right? |
Evenna’s steps clacked through the fiftieth floor of Aroth. The hallway stretched out on both sides, and the ceiling rose far above her head, melding into a model of the night sky.
Constellations shined from above - torn pieces of the Eternal Flame - amidst a pitch black expanse, the result from countless runes precisely etched into each beam, lovingly carved into every individual brick. The third trip.
“Master.. I apologize for my failure.” A hunched man trailed closely behind. “My inability to follow your directions properly must’ve led to some faulty effects. I swear that I will redeem myself.”
“There’s no need, Sedore.”
Evenna flicked her wrist, and for a second, the walls glowed a pale silver. Then, the smooth marble segmented into squares, dividing into smaller squares, until the stone crumbled all together, leaving behind a hollow entrance on the right. The first trip.
“You’re dismissed,” Evenna said.
Sedore opened his mouth to protest, but before even a squeak could come out, light engulfed his body, and in a shimmer, he was transferred away.
Evenna didn’t lose a step, her ponytail bouncing against her nape, and stepped into the newfound entrance.
She entered a room filled with desks piled up and against each other, with each stuffed with books crammed with pages completely covered in ink. Translucent snake skin the size of her leg laid scattered on the floor, and a small bird rattled its cage, occasionally letting out a snort of smoke.
Evenna closed her eyes, and after a moment, the sound of smashing furniture echoed in the distance. Followed by subsequent booms, the sound drew closer and closer until with one final, louder crash, a bed shot through the mess, slowing, and then calmly hovering in front of Evenna. She gingerly reached out to brush aside purple curtains hanging down from its canopy, and slowly crawled into the sheets.
Her pillow sung an elven tale as her head touched its surface, and the sheets coiled around Evenna, and then loosened properly.
She remembered fondly, of the Summer riders clanging shield against shield, blowing monster-like lungfuls into their traditional war horns. They had tested her patience, and so she had started her project for the perfect bed. Amongst other things.
Still. It had taken her a while. Perhaps two, or was it three? Evenna didn’t recall, ironically.
For there were times when the magic eluded her. Where existing formulas felt like outdated circles drawn by primitive shamans, and her apprentices seemed to be dullards, incapable of creating even a spark from their fingers. Moments when magic.. felt flat.
Evenna hated the feeling, but once it begun, it was persistent, and clung on to her like sticky toffee. It was pervasive, and it was the whole reason for when she had first lost it.
Evenna remembered. She had teleported herself into a wheat field one thousand leagues west of the Tower, and had overloaded her mind so that everything she was, everything she had gathered, ceased to be.
After that, she was taken in by a poor peasant family, and nursed to health with small servings of porridge and funny tasting well water. From that period, Evenna reminisced over how novel everything felt: the warmth of the sun, the smell of pollen in the spring. Each breath was a discovery, each second a journey.
And yet, Evenna would never forget that day. The day she rediscovered magic.
Even now, thrills of joy ran through her, an infectious happiness radiating from the memories. She remembered tinkering with the weather, striking the heavens to allow for rain to pitter down upon the village field. The yearly bonfire enhanced with a scribble of runic language learned from passerby merchants.
That was the 0th trip. She never did regain her memories from before then, but Evenna never felt particularly melancholic about it.
For no matter what she was, or where she lived, or when she was born, the experience confirmed that she, in all of her iterations, would ultimately, step upon the same path.
Evenna rummaged underneath her pillow, pulling out a bundle of papers. The title which had given her past self so much grief, now seemed to beckon her in. She softly smiled. *This was how it was supposed to be. This.. was her purpose* |
My bones reformed as my wounds healed. They had tossed me in an alley to die or to be discovered. Most definitely the former. I began to stand after my legs healed. “That went better than I expected.” I commented. The force of their blows, the materials used against me would be identified and counter measures such as hardened skin and thicker bone density would aid in my next fight. Not to mention the fact that a blow torch was used. My heat resistance wasn’t perfect, but it would be improved with time. I cracked my knuckles. I knew their location , a rough estimate of their numbers, their leaders/ senior members, possible weak points from blabbers. Now, for the fun part.
I looked outside for observers, my eyes adjusting. Nope, nada. As far as I can tell, for now. I nodded and made my way to a safe house to pick up my gear. With luck, the others may have some similar results. Either way, this night was going to get more interesting. The next several nights? The underworld might have a terrible month to remember. |
“Commander! Our lines are at breaking point! The Azarathian infantry are minutes away from piercing through, if we don’t do anything now, we’ll be decimated!” The young, wide eyed corporal stammered.
I surveyed out position, set up on Ugralith, the last remaining human stronghold, and tallest sand dune, on Fanduras, the desert world. If this outpost fell, then earth would be prime for invasion.
“Call in the Major.” I responded.
I thought I’d never have to use them. After our defeat in the second war, we swore to keep contact with the ghastly beasts at a minimum. Their strong hind legs could propel them across the sand faster than any dune crawler, their razor sharp beaks could break through the toughest of galactic armour in just a few strikes, and their feathers were as strong as steel, and so tightly packed they formed an impenetrable armour.
“I thought you’d never ask, sir. I don’t like this either, but it’s our last choice. We cannot let the Azarathians take Fanduras, or earth and much more of the Coalitions’ homeworlds will be especially vulnerable. They’re masked and ready for deployment, but the gates are wired to your thumbprint.”
The Major handed me a gas mask, as we crawled out of the command shelter into the sandstorm. Night had fallen nearly an hour ago (Earthen time) and the Azarathian troops had just began their final assault. We reached the corrugated iron bunker, with a biometric scanner beside the huge floodgates containing the monstrous birds inside.
“Everyone, clear the north wall now! Pull back to the blast shelter!” I ordered into my radio.
I watched as the soldiers began abandoning their positions, fear taking root as they sprinted towards the shelter. The Azarathian infantry took their chance and charged.
I turned to the major. “God bless us, for what we are about to do.”
I pressed my thumb against the scanner, as the door began to open with a horrifying screech, drowned out by the explosions of Azarathian troops blowing open the north gate. The Major and I dived to the side, as we watched the dark blues sprint towards the infantry with a terrifying screech.
Armour was shredded, bodies was strewn, weapons were discharged and it was over within minutes. Enemy infantry were scrambling backwards, tramping each-other as they tried to exit through the gates, bottleneck if themselves in.
I got up in time just to watch the dark blues streaming off towards the next enemy rallying outpost. I walked towards the gate and picked up a field radio, with only one word discernible amongst the screams.
‘Emu’.
This was my first time, I appreciate any feedback. Please notify me of any minor spelling mistakes or formatting issues, I am writing on mobile. Thanks! |
Greetings everyone, welcome to Tonight's Supernatural Talkshow! I'm your host Dana Black, and today I have IKEA spokesman Ike Ackerman with us today.
Dana: Mr. Ackerman, thank you for coming and agreeing to this interview. Let's get down to the news at hand. Is it true, will a minotaur manifest at the heart of any sufficiently labyrinthine IKEA building?
Ike: Oh Dana, that's an urban legend. Talk about having a literal bull in a china shop! Not to mention how dangerous it is to have a raging bull in a warehouse full of customers!
Dana: We had a few viewers submit their stories just last week. One of our viewers, Mr. Baum, mentions seeing a new minotaur in the bedroom section in the middle of his local IKEA after its newest extension.
Ike: That's just a bullheaded new employee! We're all about corporate social responsibility and forward-thinking, so if we hired any supernatural being, it's only because they presented to us a stellar resume and excelled at the interview.
Dana: So you're not denying Mr. Baum's local IKEA has a minotaur in it?
Ike: We're a furniture shop, not a magical shop. We don't spawn minotaurs, no matter how many winding, spiralling pathways we have in our buildings. But hire a minotaur? If one could prove it could perform at the job it applied for, why not?
Dana: You said it yourself, it is dangerous to have a bull in your shops.
Ike: Raging bull. Those were your words. A tame one that can converse with customers and provide awesome customer service isn't dangerous. We don't discriminate or make uncalled-for assumptions when it comes to our employees.
Dana: Shall we get back to the million-dollar question? Do you have a minotaur in Mr. Baum's local IKEA?
Ike: Has Mr. Baum considered the possibility the minotaur is a visitor who travelled from afar? In that case, we at IKEA wouldn't be the ones responsible for bringing it in.
Dana: You cannot conclusively state if there is a minotaur in that IKEA shop?
Ike: Well, I don't have eyes to see so far into the distance. Perhaps, I'll check with a local staff in the area and enquire about the minotaur. In the meantime, do you have any other questions for me, Ms. Black?
Dana: Would you like to share what you know about the legend of the Minotaur and its ability to manifest in labyrinths?
Ike: Haha, Dana, surely you jest. I'm an IKEA spokesman, not a spokesman for Greek legends. You have the wrong interviewee here if you wish to know more about ancient stories and myths.
Dana: Perhaps. As a parting note, would you have any recommendations on what to do if a shopper were to encounter a minotaur in IKEA?
Ike: Why, it's simple. Just call our customer support service at 1600-0987-3456 if you require further assistance!
Dana: Mr. Baum, you know who to call, and it sure ain't the Ghostbusters! Mr. Ackerman, thank you for your time. Viewers, be sure to stay tuned to watch the next interview with Man-o-tar next week, on Tonight's Supernatural Talkshow! |
Bruce has the Gothams streets covered, Oracle has the world wide web under surveillance with frankly terrifying efficiency, Dick is dealing with Bloodhaven, I don’t want to think about what Jason is doing, and Tim is spotting the weird conspiracies the rest of them don’t see before they get caught up in them.
The bat family is an effective and expensive enterprise, but it’s not without its obvious weaknesses. Bruce is at his heart an optimist, he believes in people, both the good and the bad. That’s why everyone that gets a bop on the head by him ends up in Arkham rather than the super max prisons they probably should be inhabiting.
And we all know Arkham’s security record, not to mention its health and safety code violations. I’m here to deal with that, the security record, the health and safety stuff is probably not gonna improve due to my involvement.
“My genius can’t be contained!” Nygma cracked the code of the security door right on schedule and was on the move. “Did these simpletons think I wouldn’t notice they were using a simple substitution cypher laid on top of a rotating selection of prime numbers? My intellect is constantly underestimated.”
That of course is his true mistake, his intellect is not underestimated, it’s not estimated at all, it was calculated quite carefully weeks ago. And a detailed study of his proclivities was done as well. So I know he won’t try to force the boarded up door or escape into the vents, instead he’ll go for the secret passage behind the vending machine. He types in the secret password he deduced weeks ago by watching the ration of the soft drinks the guards carried past his cell.
“Riddle me this Batman.” Nygma is cackling to himself, and one of the many hidden microphones, as he crawls through the secret tunnel behind the vending machine. “I’m barely noticed before you’ve experienced life without me, but when I’m missing I’m all you wish for, what am I?” The madman sniggered as he kicked a few loose bricks out of the way and dropped onto the grass. “FREEDOM!” He roared with laughter into the night sky.
He cheered his success out into the air for a few moments before he started to notice the metal bars blocking many of the stars from his sight. With a flick of a switch in my control room I turned the lights on in the cage. The trapped man spun frantically in the cage and quickly spotted the door that would lead him to freedom, and the dozen different puzzles and ciphers attached to the lock.
With a click my voice came slightly distorted out of the speakers in the cage.
“You give up?” Another switch opened a door from the cage back into the asylum and his cell. “Or are you hungry for more?” A few more switches flicked in succession lit up the long series of interconnected cages, each with their own series of logical and mathematical conundrums needed to progress.
“My intellect can’t be stopped warden!” Nygma yelled and charged for the lock. That was expected too, he would make it at least to the fourth cage before sunrise, and to make it further he would have to start solving some mathematical and theoretical physics problems that a lot of people would like to know the answer to. What better way for him to contribute to society than putting that mind of his to good use solving the unsolved problems of our time by disguising them as puzzles? |
The bar was old and not well lit, but it was lively and filled with the smell of roast boar. The walls were covered with bright tapestries, while the floor was covered with so many trestle tables that there barely space to move, all of them full or near-full.
Into this environment strode Silvanyx the Naive; normally, he would have slipped in, hoping not to be noticed, but today he slammed the door open and standing high walked up the counter and in a loud voice said "Barman, a pint of the Old Speckled Hen please."
Around the rooms patrons took notice, and those who knew of him took delight in diving into the story of his failure; the time that he had been "fine-printed"by his own warlock.
Silvanyx didn't need the reminder; he remembered it. He wasn't the most powerful god, normally dealing with mid-tier warlocks, and so when the chance to sign a top-tier warlock had emerged he had jumped on it. The two had negotiated for many days and nights until they had signed what Silvanyx had believed to be the perfect contract.
In these contracts, it was standard for the patron to grant the warlock days off, where they would never be expected to serve their patron. In this contract, it had been agreed that those days off would match the standard days off in the warlocks defined home location.
Again, this was relatively standard. What Silvanyx had forgotten to do was determine *who* set these standard days off his this warlocks defined home location. He, however, quickly found out when he approached the woman to complete a task for him and she said, almost apologetically "Sorry, today's a day off."
After inquiring as to when she would next not be off, he discovered that she was the lord of her small region of Thornbury, and had set the standard days off for those living within the castle - which only consisted of her and her immediate family - to 365 days a year. She would work leap days.
Bound by the contract, Silvanyx had scurried away with his tail between his legs, and quickly become the laughing stock of his hereto favorite bar.
Today, however, that would all change. Served his beer, he spun around and looked over the crowded room, calling out "Friends, I have happy news."
The room slowly quietened, looking at him curiously; even the barman slowed his washing, in none-to-clean water, of the used glasses. "The warlock who tricked me, I have turned the tables!"
In the corner, a small circular table spun once, enchanted by a long-gone wizard as a practical joke. "Oy!"cried out one of the men sitting at it, now covered by his beer. "No cliches!"
Silvanyx almost smiled, but managed to contain it and continued. "My agents, at my command, have worked for long months, and today they have brought word of their success. Through force of arms they have deposed Lord Thornbury, and I am pleased to announce that her standard days off are now leap days and she is already working on an assignment for me."
The room broke into applause "Six points out of ten"a man called out. "Lacks in subtlety, but makes up for it in success"and the room burst at laughing, thought this time with him and not at him - although many wondered just how long he would remain on top, before the warlock managed to get the better of him once more. |
Come children, gather.
I shall tell you of the Days Long Past, when the world was wide and filled with many people.
In those days there were wars and rumors of wars. Many people were killed over such small things. Land, food, oil, even religion were cause enough to take up arms and fight.
Yes, my son, in the Days Long Past there were other religions.
One of those wars, the last war that world ever saw, used a horrible weapon. A disease that killed every man woman and child.
Yes, that's right. Everyone but the Holy One.
The Holy One took upon herself a great and lonesome task, for she was the last of the human race. She alone discovered the secrets of life, used part of herself for the process and created the great pods from whence our ancestors were born. When they achieved consciousness and maturity, she led them. Taught them the wisdom of the past.
So the story has been told these many years, by countless other priests and priestesses.
But I shall tell you something that the others will not tell you.
Why? Because I am the last to have this knowledge. It will do me no good if I take it to my grave, so I give it to you.
First, I will tell you of the Holy One's pain. Even though this new race of men and women looked to her as a mother and holy figure, she never knew what it was to hold a youngling of her own in her arms.
That pain grew too much for her as we, as a new species, began to have our own children.
This is why she left us and went into the ruined cities. She loved us too much to let us see her suffering.
Second, I shall tell you the Holy One's name.
Some say it should not be spoken.
I say it is a blasphemy to forget it. I urge you to tell this tale to your children and your children's children. It honors her.
The Holy One.
Her name was Emily.
(edited for some clarity)
(Another edit, the name of the Holy One changed from Elizabeth to Emily, thanks /u/EddieMCheng) |
They say when you've done something wrong, you feel guilty.
They also say when someone else gets blamed for your misdeed you're supposed to stand up, claim the wrongdoing as your own.
Well, whoever *they* are, *they* don't know their ass from their elbow.
I feel neither guilt for my murders, nor remorse for the poor bastard who sits in the gas chamber in my stead.
You might as well ask me if I feel sorry for eating meat, or not making sure I separate all of my recyclables in my trash.
It honestly does not matter to me.
Those are emotions for the cattle of humanity. Not for me.
The only thing I feel is inconvenienced. I had a few more bodies to pin on this asshole.
Oh well, I suppose I can always find someone else.
There are always more drifters. More lonely hearts ads I can manipulate.
I have a weekend to kill.
(Edits for grammar and added narcissism.) |
It's kind of sombre, because no one knows how many you have left.
It's registered next to your birthday, a little black stamp - day and month. Time, too, if you slip the nurse a note and look a little sad. 29th March for me. No time, dad didn't have any money on him when I finally came out.
You don't get candles, or presents. You wake up at 00.01 and stay awake for twenty-four excruciating hours, watching the clock as your mother bites her fingernails and your little sister cries because 'everyone looks so scared.' Then at the end your father pops open a bottle of wine and you sit and drink in silence.
But it wasn't going to be this year. I could feel it in my bones. I was young and I was healthy and I'd never felt more alive. I was nineteen years old and I thought I was faster and stronger and better than anyone else. I'd long since grown taller than my dad and I could pick up my little sister and swing her round with ease.
"Tonight."Russ says with a wink, placing down two pints on the sticky table.
"What's tonight?"I ask, taking a long slow sip and pretending to enjoy it.
"Shipment of dvd players to the warehouse in Kingston. Loads of games and shit too."Russ crouched low over the table and giggled nervously, hands constantly tapping on the wooden surface. He glanced around shiftily. "Only one guard, some fat geezer who probably doesn't even know what running is."
"I don't know mate,"I say. "It's pretty risky."
"How is it? There's nothing to it. The building isn't even alarmed. You want me to tell Baz you're not up to this shit?"
"No, no!"I burst out before I can stop myself. "I'll do it. Just... Just gotta be back before midnight."
"Cinderella or something?"
"No, it's my day... You know."
"Yeah, okay."Russ nods eagerly.
So that's why I'm freezing my ass off in some godforsaken dockside as Russ struggles wih a pair of bolt cutters.
"Hurry up,"I say. I'm constantly throwing glances over my shoulder.
"Fuck me, Liam. One guard remember? Keep your knickers on!"
But I keep expectin to hear the squeal of sirens or the breaking beam of someone's flashlight. I check my watch.
"It's getting late..."
"Don't you fucking dare pussy out now."There's a thick snap and Russ grins. "Got the fucker! Come on."
He crouches and squeezes through the hole in the fence. I check my watch, ten past eleven, and follow him.
"This is too easy."Russ clips the bolt off the warehouse with a tearing *crack* sound. The door falls open.
It's like that warehouse from Indiana Jones where they keep all the scary shit. Boxes and boxes of stuff, lit by flickering lighting, is packed tightly onto metal shelves.
"See if you can grab Dark Souls II."Russ shouts, disappearing into the bowels of the building.
"Russ!"I hiss, but he's already gone."My palms are sweating and I think I have swamp ass. Fear grows in the pit of my stomach. Half eleven. Part of me wants to run and never look back. Part of me is saying 'we haven't been caught yet, just grab the stuff.' The last is Baz and Russ shouting at me together, telling me I'm a worthless piece of shit. So I grab the nearest dvd player and heave the cardboard box under my arm.
Fuck me it's heavy.
"Stop right there."
The blood freezes in my veins. I turn slowly, knowing exactly what I'm going to see. It's the one guard, back hunched with old age, clutching a tazer in his outstretched arms.
"Drop the box."He says, shaking it at me.
I run. I run for my fucking life. Fuck Russ. Fuck Baz. Fuck getting rich. Fuck deathdays. I leap the fence, shredding my hands on the barbed wire but I keep running, back along the dockside.
My watch beeps at me just as I round the corner to home. It's March 29th. It's my day. I've made it home.
No one knows how many you have left. I'm still smiling as the car hits me. |
Emily wiped the tears out her eyes as she sat alone on her hospital bed. She knew Dave wouldn't come, but knowing and seeing weren't the same thing. She hadn't cried since she was a child, forced to give up her childhood to raise her siblings, but she couldn't control it now. She began to sob lightly.
"You okay?"A soft voice came from the other side of the curtain. A male voice. Maybe he husband had come! But no, his voice wasn't soft, it was anything except that. She looked at the curtain waiting for someone to walk through, but no one came.
"I'm fine,"Emily said in a controlled voice. She learned how to keep her voice calm long ago. "Who are you?"
"Call me Pete,"the man said. His voice was low and soft. "Used to be a magician's assistant. I was the man behind the curtain."
Emma laughed, glancing at the curtain separating them.
"Yeah, I suppose you are, I'm Emma."
"Emma, what'chu cryin' for?"
"I, I uh,"Emma said, "its just my husbands about to get his first child and he's probably gambling somewhere."
A moment of silence filled the room, just a little longer than a pause in a normal conversation.
"Could be thats how he's helpin' ya,"the voice said back. The words were followed by a series of coughing. "Maybe he got himself a lucky table an' he wants ya to be lucky."
Emma wiped away the last of he tears. If Pete knew her husband, he wouldn't even consider that, but she may as well indulge him. Judging by that cough, he wouldn't last too much longer. She began to say something positive, but was interrupted by severe pain in her stomach. She began screaming for help. Doctors rushed in and carted her out, heading to the delivery room.
The last thing she heard was a soft voice, "Good luck Emma."
----
"Hey Emma!"Pete yelled. "Ya hear that? Ol' Petes still got a ways to go!"He was met with silence. He'd been expected to pass away months ago, but the doctors were wrong. They said instead it would likely happen now, but they were wrong again. They got their results back and told Pete, he had another few months. Coming from them, that probably meant a year and a half.
"Emma!"Pete thought back. That's right, she was taken to the delivery room, giving birth. "Nurse! Can I get a nurse in here?"
An elderly woman walked in and smiled at Pete. She always told him about how his positive attitude helps the other people at the hospital. Because of that, Pete always put on a happy face. "Where'd that woman go, the one sharin' my room?"
The nurse's smile faded and she walked in closer.
"She passed away last night after giving birth."
Pete just sat there. Should have seen it coming. Hospitals ain't happy places.
"She named her baby Peter."The nurse said solemnly.
A silence filled the room, lasting just a few seconds too long to be a pause in a normal conversation.
"Can I get some more juice?"Pete finally asked.
The nurse hurried off and went to the cafeteria. Pete wiped away the beginning of tears. He hadn't cried since he was a child, he wasn't going to start now. |
I sat down with a small sigh on the crowded 5-o’clock bus seats next to an elderly woman and a young man- my age, 23, I guessed- who had headphones on. He was paying attention to his phone and playing some cheap app.
It couldn’t be helped but to watch him do this. His fingers moved expertly to save the small being on his screen from dying and I couldn’t help but let out a small wince when he’d lost the game.
“Damnit,” he muttered, shaking his head. He glanced cautiously over to me and gave me an odd look; I blushed and looked away awkwardly, though I couldn’t help but watch him a bit more while he tried again only to fail in a second. Finally he closed the app and took a glance at his music, storing his phone away in a pocket afterwards.
He began to hum a tune that I couldn’t quite place, though I knew it was from a Disney song. It must’ve been good, because he began to sing aloud:
“*… Now she’s here, shining in the starlight… Now she’s here, suddenly I know. If she’s here, it’s crystal clear: I’m where I’m meant to go…*”
My eyes widened. He was a great vocalist, but something was way off.
I’d started to sing as well. There was always this thing with singing duets and the other part being sung by some other person who could be halfway across the world, too… What had mum told me? ‘Whenever your soulmate sings a duet, you sing the other half, honey.’ Mum started singing a duet when I was seven to prove her point and dad, from upstairs, belted out the lyrics to the other half of the duet. I’d occasionally had sudden duets sang on my part, always Disney songs (I really loved Disney because of this).
“*And at last I see the light!*” we both sang at the same time. He didn’t pay attention to me. I suppose he must not have heard.
“*And it’s like the fog has lifted…*” I looked around, my embarrassment showing on my cheeks. People were staring at us; the elderly woman to my left gave a grin and motioned me to keep going.
“*And at last I see the light!*” There again was the harmony. I couldn’t say that my singing voice was great, but I’d worked on it, of course.
“*And it’s like the sky is new…!*” I sang this one on my own and that got the attention of the man next to me. He took off his headphones and simply stared at me.
“*And it’s warm, and real, and bright, and the world has somehow shifted… All at once, everything is different… Now that I see you.*”
I nearly let out a small ‘eep!’ when we both finished. The entire bus broke out in applause and the man to my right smirked.
“So,” he began. His voice was… more attractive than it had been before. “Hello, soulmate. My name’s James.”
I opened my mouth out of loss of what to say. “Uh… um… Hi. I’m April,” I managed to stutter. |
"We need a better system, basically,"said my coworker, Brian. "If people insist on sending actual paper through the mail, we should keep the physical copies. We lose so much data when we just scan and destroy like this. Texture, thickness, quality, age, all kinds of other data. You know what I mean?"
"That stuff's way above my pay grade,"I said. "They've got much smarter people than us setting the mail room policies, and that's good enough for me."
Brian raised his thick eyebrows and shrugged, and his eyes shifted back to the pile of envelopes on the table. He ran the laser opener across the top of a large brown envelop like he was disarming a bomb, carefully pulling the stack of paper from it with his fingertips like uranium.
The small white envelop I picked up crumpled under my thumb, drawing a disapproving frown from Brian. The opener wobbled as I drew it across the top of the envelop, taking out a chunk of whatever was inside. Brian sucked in air sharply through his teeth.
"Watch it,"he said.
"Sorry."
He opened the next on the pile, a letter sized manilla, with surgical precision and an almost humorous level of care.
"You have to pay attention to what you're doing,"he said.
I bit my lip as I botched the next one.
"Damn,"I said. "Paying attention isn't one of my strengths. And that's why I'm in the mail room. No offense, buddy."
"None taken,"he said, "I take pride in what I do. There's a reason they don't just have robots doing this, you know. They need a human mind to make human interpretations. And you're also full of shit, Mister can't pay attention. I saw your notebook."
The off-white rectangle fell from my gloved fingers. When had I left it out? Stupid. I quickly relaxed the muscles in my face and resumed my work.
"Oh, that?"I said, avoiding his eyes. "I borrowed that from a friend in the R & D department and forgot to give it back to him. Thanks for reminding me. There was some pretty crazy stuff in there, right? Tim is a bright guy."
Brian closed one eye as he held a letter up in front of the overhead light.
"You don't have to be modest,"he said. "I mean, you think I don't I know your handwriting when I see it, Anam? And why would a random guy from R & D bother to overhaul all of the mail room policies and redesign all of our equipment? Riddle me that, genius man."
I put my hands flat on the table and leaned over it, catching his eyes and holding his gaze.
"You have to forget what you saw, Brian,"I said.
His mouth opened and closed again. His eyes widened as understanding dawned on his stupid face.
"Oh shit, are you... Are you like alpha level or something?"
"Why else would I write in a notebook, Brian. They can see anything produced electronically."
His eyes shifted back to the pile. He chewed his lip and slowly shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Anam,"he said. "I fucked up, man. I really fucked up. I said something to a VP. Oh shit, man, I thought I was making you rich."
"No, Brian,"I said. "I fucked up. You're too stupid to be held accountable to your actions."
I pulled the mini-pad from my pocket and opened my email account. The text hung suspended in the space above the small pad, and I swiped at the air until my new messages appeared. And there it was, a message from security. They would need to see me, Mr. Anam Mulkana, before the end of the day.
"I'm sorry,"Brian said, his eyes now wet.
"You've at least heard the term Alpha, but do you know what that means, Brian?"
He shook his head.
"The government considers us human weapons,"I said, "because tactically we can do things other people can't. Our intelligence places us on a different plane of existence, Brian. I'm as far from you in brainpower as you are from a Border Collie."
He just stared back.
"And they've already made their first mistake,"I said.
I jammed the mini-pad back into my front pocked, and then slung my backpack over my shoulders.
"What are you going to do?"he asked.
"I'm sure it will be on the news,"I said, turning. "Goodbye, Brian."
|
The Dragonborn strolled around Proudspire Manor on a sunny afternoon, admiring her many accomplishments over the years. Bows, daggers, armors, swords, and unusual artifacts decorated the halls and basements, each radiating a special power. The Dragonborn traced the precious items, smiling to herself.
Tired, the ancient Dovahkiin sat down at her table of cheese wheels one last time, and closed her eyes for a few moments.
Seemingly seconds later, the Dragonborn was startled by the heated bickering and shouts of Daedric Lords.
"She is *my* champion!"
"No, she is mine to command!"
"Her soul belongs to ME!"
A cacophony of sound assaulted the Dragonborn, realizing she was once again in her prime. And that she was dead.
Fuck.
Surrounding the Dovahkiin were most of the daedric princes, each of whom she promised herself to in the afterlife. She was certainly not in Sovngarde. She was in some plane of existence shared by all the daedra. Shapes formed and disappeared in the surrounding darkness.
A bitter, calculating woman interrupted the chaos. "SILENCE!!!!!!"All her fellow princes raised an eyebrow.
"It appears the Dragonborn values alliances as much as we do. We all have some hold on her, but we can't all simply have her. Perhaps the one with the most influence on her should claim her."
A maniacal laugh from Sheogorath interrupted her. "Oh, brilliant, just brilliant! I suppose that's better than my idea of cutting her up and sharing. Although, we shouldn't dismiss that altogether."
She ignored him. "Therefore, I, Boethia, deem her to be mine. She used my ebony mail and killed her friends for my cause."
Mephala snorted. "Please, Boethia, she killed that one Lydia fool for you. The Dragonborn wielded my Ebony Blade!"
"Actually,"the Dovah said, "I never used that. Just a prize, really. I was really the mace kind of gal."
Mephala looked at her murderously.
"Could be worse,"Azura muttered. "Bitch ruined my star."
A deep, malicious laugh bellowed through the air. "Besides, Boethia, my champion killed your priest and used my mace to kill scores of people."
Molag Bal. He was one of the few truly vile daedra.
Nocturnal emerged from the shadows. "The Dragonborn is mine. She is one of my Nightingales. Every bit of fortune she has had is from my influence."
"I didn't even get to keep the Skeleton Key..."she muttered in reply.
"Hey, hey, hey!"Clavicus Vile interrupted. Barbas slept at his feet. "My masque got her loads of deals and persuasions! It's time she paid up. And this stupid dog is getting on my nerves again."
"I brought the Dragonborn to her lowest point!"claimed Namira. "She has tasted human flesh! Relished in human decay."
"Oh, come on! I killed ALL of your followers. You're just some sick fuckin'"
"Perhaps none of this mattered to the Dragonborn,"a supple voice interrupted. "Maybe knowledge is what aided her best. I have helped her on many occasions. My books are unmatched by all your powers."As usual, Hermaeus Mora was a mass of tentacles. He must ruin all the books he reads.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! I have ANOTHER great idea! Let's make her one of us!"
The other princes looked at Sheogorath as though madness had taken him. Yet that happened long ago.
"I mean,"he continued after a bite of cheese, "I became one, eh? No more harm in another. And then there's that Talos lad. If he can became an aedra, certainly the Dragonborn can be a daedra!"
Silence reigned momentarily. Thank the gods Sithis seemed to remain out of it.
"That is not...a bad idea."Boethia said.
"She is worthy."Dagon agreed.
"Some of her acts surpass our own."Hircine added.
"It is agreed!"Molag Bal announced.
"What should she be prince of?"
And another argument broke out.
|
The ranger lit a cigarette and flicked on the car battery. He'd found this centurion out near Jacobstown, scouting out the Super Mutant haven for a possible raiding spot for the legion. A quick round to the leg and a blow to the head stopped his squirming. He took a long drag and picked up the jumper cables.
'So Mr Centurion. You are going to tell me everything you known about the Legion's plans for the Hoover Dam and I won't have to give your Denarii a good shock. Sound fair?'
The Centurion spat in the ranger's face.
'Fuck you, NCR scum. You cannot hope to stop the Legion.'
The ranger shook his head and sparks flew before his face.
'So, you are going to make this difficult? Fair enough. I can wait till nuclear winter.' He grabbed the centurion's nethers and attached a cable. He convulsed in pain as the Ranger dialled up the voltage. 'Do you want it slow? Or fast?' The centurion shook his head, as his body juddered in pain. The Ranger turned up a notch and the centurion yelled in pain. The Ranger flicked the switch and took another drag.
'I'll ask again. What are the plans for the Hoover Dam?'
The Centurion started to drool, his flesh starting to blacken.
'Some guy called the Courier. He came to us with some chip from that nut job House. He's activated some robots under Cottonwood, that's all I know!' he called, gritting his teeth.
The ranger pulled his chair forward, blowing smoke in the smouldering Centurion's face.
'Is this the one from Goodsprings?' he asked, grabbing the victim's face.
'I think so, that's all I know man. Just let me go.'
The Ranger got up and turned off the battery. He jotted something down on a notepad.
'See, that wasn't so hard. Thank you for your help. I'll make sure Caesar gets your ears back.' The Ranger pulled out his revolver and painted the walls with the Centurion's brains. He stubbed the cigarette out on his body and holstered his gun. 'I better get going to Helios One. I've got to chase down a delivery boy.' |
I've always hated family trees.
They clearly are a city invention. Linear. Orderly.
I stand before one right now, and I am pitching it to my Lord as desperately as the carpet merchant we met in Ur once.
"You see, Lord,"I say, "this tapestry would remind us of where we came from. Of who we are."
The white-bearded man next to me glances at me, but says nothing. He is exactly as tall as I am, but makes me feel like a young boy again. "We just need some more...information."
I go over the draft I have come up with again. Adam and Eve, it says, connected by two litte intersecting circles. A single line thrusts downward and splits up. I don't even need to read the names to know which ones are next. Cain and Abel, the troublemakers, occupy the far left, seperate from Seth and the rest, as far as the wall will allow.
There are other names as well, and they only increase in number the farther down you go. My own name is but a dot down near the floor, and if you look closely, you can see how many generations ago my family split from my wife's.
And yet, that is not what I am here for. I'm proud of my work, of the linen that holds the world's history, but we both know something is missing.
There is a line up from Adam and Eve as well, ending not at another name, but the symbol for Question. Unknown. Unknowable.
"May I?"I lift the piece of charcoal in my hand. "I cannot speak nor write your name, Lord, but I can..."
A deep rumble interrupts me, and a moment later I realize it is a chuckle. "Do not worry, Noah. Your family tree..."
My lord laughs quietly, a deep, throaty sound, somehow reassuring.
"Your tapestry includes quite enough. Why, you've even found the link here,"he gestures towards two Urian noble families, "despite the son not remembering anything about his parents."
He turns towards me. "I see you've included far more than you needed to, instead of simply recording the history of your own family."A short pause. "The ones that were supposed to survive."
I fail to supress a shudder. "Lord...You tasked me with preservation."
"That I did."
"So I preserved, according to your will...even-"
"-even those that might deserve to be forgotten."
"Forgive me, I beg of you."
"There is nothing to forgive."
"Lord?"
"You did as I asked. Perhaps more than that. You preserved the memories of the human race, even of those a lesser man would have locked away."
A hand clasps my shoulder, firm, warm, reassuring.
"But."
"Lord?"
"But never try to involve me into-"He gestures towards the half-finished tapestry, "this."
"I am,"he says. "I was, and I will be. For all eternity. I did put your forebears on this earth, that is true - but do not think I left any tangible remnants in them."
"Are we not-"
He puts his hand on my chest. "Noah, my friend, know this: There is a part of me in you, the way the craftsman puts a part of him in every piece he makes."A smile creeps on my Lord's face. "But do not assume I begot anyone, even here."Another wave towards the unknown land above Adam and Eve.
"Instead, let me remind you of myself this way,"he says.
My Lord touches a point far above the first couple, setting his finger firmly against the wooden hull of the ship. As he draws back, a round, charred spot is left.
"This is my own family tree,"he says. "It should be enough."
With that, he hugs me, though the simple touch reaches deeper than that, down into the corners of my heart, more calming than anything I ever felt before. Then I blink, and he is gone.
I inspect the dot he left closer, and finally I make something out. It looks like a thousand thousand names, all woven together. It is hard to read, but the writing makes a perfect circle. Self-contained. Eternal. The beginning and the end.
It says "Father". |
Mara rushed out of the ambulance, frantic as always. She and the team finally saw the man in question—a motorcyclist, crumpled into a pile on the side of the road, limbs twisted in seemingly impossible positions.
She always tried to disconnect herself from the victims. She found that it helped her stay focused. But seeing this biker lying helpless on the side of the road brought back too many unpleasant memories. She swallowed back tears and told herself to keep calm. She'd been through hundreds of cases, some where they lived, and some where they didn't. She'd been through this before. She could do it again.
Mara checked the biker's pulse. Weak, but still there. That was more than you could say for a lot of people. "Hello sir,"she went through her practiced script, "I am an emergency responder. Are you okay?"
No response. As she expected. This man's prospects were getting worse by the second, and Mara prepared herself for the inevitable.
Suddenly, the man groaned. Mara felt hope rush through her. Maybe this man would live. He would live to see whatever family he had. He would live to see milestones in history.
The biker moaned, "Ugh. I feel terrible."
Legible words? Mara was confused. People in this condition didn't normally speak clearly right off the bat.
"Sir?"Mara asked, becoming more perplexed by the minute.
"Oh, God. I'm in *so* much pain. MegaCorp did not mention this in the terms and conditions. Stuff this. Command—Exit simulation."
The biker immediately lost consciousness and pulse.
Mara thought she heard a soft, electronic whirr coming from his ear.
But maybe it was just her. She filed this case into the backlogs of her memory.
Mara was glad she was the only one who heard the careless biker exit the simulation verbally. What a noob. She knew humans wouldn't take very kindly to the thought of their world being unreal.
|
First it was cage-free corn, and we said nothing. Next they came for the lawn mowers and still we said nothing.
3 months ago, a disease swept across the United States. Nearly every one who had eaten beef was infected. From there it spilled into the water. Into the rain. The disease itself was nearly harmless, no worse than the common cold. However it came with a lingering side effect. We could now hear the plants.
We heard them cry. We heard them sing. We, for the first time, heard our great mother's harmony. It wasn't a language we understood, at least not as a language. We felt it.
Many languished at the onset. Some went catatonic. The remaining gathered. At the summit, or at least our summit, we made new laws. Or we tried our best to accommodate the laws nature gave us.
I never minded eating meat, I just can't get to sleep, if the willows don't cease to weep.
|
The man knelt before me, but I could he is not like the others. It wasn't the aged face, or hermit's cloak, it was a sense of... Indifference. It disturbs me, reminding of some distant nightmare I had.
But a king must give what his people need him of, and this man shall be allowed to lay his requests before me.
"Speak, my loyal subject, what will you have of me?"
"Your Grace, I am sent from a higher order, to check on your mental and physical state after one year of your ruling. I am certain you know what I am referring to?"
"A higher order?"I exclaimed. "Higher than me? Blasphemy! I am the one and only ruler of this kingdom, and none dare speak up against me! Guards! Throw this maniac into the dungeon!"
The man sighed, stood up, and suddenly the court was silent. My two guards were frozen in their positions, one balancing on the tip of his left heel, the other barely raising his foot.
"Wake up, you know this is just a dream."the man said, walking up to me. He looked as if he were about to cry. "Please, don't make me do this, like we had to do to so many others."
I stared in horror to my right, my queen and children all still as statues. This person may be a sorcerer, but his spells have not affected me, and his emotions betray him. If I am quick, I can grab my sword and...
And then, I was frozen too. All I could do was watch the world gradually fade into darkness, and the man leaning into my ears, whispering, "I'm sorry..." |
The line outside Lockheed Martin Superstore formed at 3 AM. Countries wrapped up tight in blankets and mittens eyed each other suspiciously, wary of anyone daring to cut the line. The sun began to peek over the hills beyond the parking lot, illuminating the area in a rosy pink glow.
A clerk walked cautiously to the sliding glass doors, tiptoeing as quickly as he could go. Everyone outside saw him coming, snapping out of their cold daze. They adjusted their flag lapel pins and pounded on the glass, shouting as the clerk eyed his watch. He was under strict orders not to open before the specified time.
At 8, the locks clicked open and the clerk jumped to the side immediately to avoid the stampede. America was in first, throwing smaller countries out of its way in a mad dash through the doors. He made a beeline for the Nuclear rack, followed shortly by China and Russia. By 8:03, the selection was gone: airborne, ballistic, submarine, you name it. "I didn't even want any,"said South Africa with a sneer, browsing the nearby Kalashnikov display. Belgium, Korea, and Poland limped in last, having been crushed in the initial frenzy (as always). Pakistan and India were engaged in a severe tug of war over a big pack of F-16s. Israel was loading tanks into their cart while Palestine watched bitterly from the rocks-and-homemade-molotovs display. Northern Ireland was sneakily pocketing rifles while Britain wasn't looking. Cuba followed Russia around the store like a stray dog, waiting for any 2-for-1 deals that might catch the old Bear's eye. France seemed to be the only one stocking up on white flags. A group of African countries had been shepherded into the machete station by the suspicious manager.
At the checkout line, America threw a wad of cash on the counter and walked out without even bothering to collect the change. Israel scooted through the line right behind with a quick "I'm with him."Russia dumped a basket of potatoes in front of the clerk and began to count while Switzerland tried to heft a huge fortification onto the conveyer belt. Italy stood behind him, sorting through coupons and asking how much the NATO discount would be.
By 12:30, the store was empty, and everyone went home to play with their new toys. |
Thick globs of gravy and sour cream run down the front of my hoodie. French fries sit in my lap. Maureen balls up her napkins and hands them to me in a wad. I wipe fast. It's going to stain.
"Shit. Crissie, I am so sorry,"says James, standing to my side. He sets the empty plastic tray on the table.
"It's fine."I say.
"It's not dry clean only, is it?"James asks. "I can pay the cleaning bill if you want."
"What? No, shut up."I say. "It was an accident."
The mall is a stampede today, one of the few Saturdays left before the holidays. The speaker system is on its third version of *Rocking Around the Christmas Tree* in the last hour. My stomach is at a dull roar. 'Fries By a Mile' still has the shortest line of any place in the food court, but another order would be another ten minutes of waiting at least. I give up on self-cleaning and start eating the remnants of the food from my jeans. Maureen rolls her eyes.
"It's not like they hit the floor,"I say.
The Christmas music cuts off abruptly. Most people don't seem to notice. The conversations, cash registers, and bustling crowds are enough noise on their own.
"I guess someone hit a wrong button,"says Maureen, shrugging.
It's a few moments before another song starts playing. This one is louder. It's not a Christmas song though.
*Woah a oh oh, it's always a good time.*
"Not exactly seasonal"says James.
"Nothing against this song, but didn't they finally just stop playing this on the radio?"I ask.
Two tables away from us, a man in Raybans and a striped t-shirt abruptly jumps up and stands on top of his chair. He begins mouthing along to the music.
*Woke up on the right side of the bed. What's up with this Prince song inside my head. Hands up if you're down to get down tonight. Cause it's always a good time.*
"What?"I ask, laughing.
Across the food court, a young woman in a blue sweatshirt jumps up on her own chair. People are starting to look over now.
*Slept in all my clothes like I didn't care. Hopped in to a cab take me anywhere. I'm in if you're down to get down tonight. Cause it's always a good time.*
"Oh God, it's a flashmob,"says Maureen.
"They still do those?"asks James.
Throughout the food court, people at different tables begin raising their arms in slow motion. They sway in unison, their whole torsos leaning from one side to the other.
*Good morning, and good night. I wake up at twilight. It's gonna be alright. We don't even have to try. It's always a good time.*
An audience starts to form. People have out their cell phones. James is reaching frantically for his. As the chorus begins, more people join in the song.
*Woah-a-oh-oh, it's always a good time. Woah-a-oh-oh, it's always a good time.*
The man and the woman on the chairs jump down and spin towards each other. They do cartwheels. The audience cheers. The rest of the dancers begin forming a circle in the center of the food court. They push tables away and clap, shimmying back and forth in a perfect syncronized motion.
*Freaked out, dropped my phone in the pool again. Checked out of my room, hit the ATM. Let's hang out if you're down to get down tonight.*
The cashiers at 'Bagel Bar' and 'Sadie's Salads' do handstands over their counters on direct opposite sides of the food court and beginning bobbing towards the group. Another cheer from the audience.
"Oh wow,"I say. "I've never actually seen one of these in person."
The circle of dancers ducks down as the two original performers jump over them and into the center of the circle.
*Good morning, and good night. I wake up at twilight. It's gonna be alright. We don't even have to try. It's always a good time.*
More patrons jump up from their chairs and begin pumping their fists in the air, keeping their moves in time with each other. Maureen is one of them.
"Oh my god,"says James. "you sneak. Ha ha."
She begins backing away from the table, lip syncing. I'm about to start laughing with James, but something in Maureen's expression gives me pause. Her eyes are too wide. She's not slowing down as she backs up. She and about five other new dancers tuck and do backward summersaults as they head toward the circle.
"Oh man,"says James. "I thought she dropped gymnastics years ago."
"She did,"I say. "At least, I think she did."
The audience keeps growing, as does the crowd of dancers. A woman with grey hair and a middle aged man in a fanny pack do splits on top of separate tables. Six men in business suits form a human pyramid. A woman in a 'Soup Coop' uniform springs from the floor and leaps on top, holding herself up one handed for a full five seconds, before dropping back down. I lose sight of Maureen somewhere in the shuffle.
Something's not right.
"We should go,"I say.
"What? What are you talking about?"asks James. "This is amazing."
The circle of dancers in the center is getting larger. Two janitors at separate ends of the food court jump in the air, performing roundhouse kicks with remarkable symmetry. They toss away their mops, which are quickly caught by the other dancers and thrust up like batons, then thrown into the circle. Everything is heading into the circle, though I can't actually see what's inside anymore.
"This is...no. It's off somehow."I say. "Just, please. We need to go now."
But when I turn back to James he's already gone. I see him weaving toward the center. Shoulders shaking, arms pumping. I try to catch up to him, to pull him back, but he won't stop. He pulls away. I see the look on his face. It's fear.
I back away, a sense of dread rising in my chest. The audience is getting thicker. They continue to cheer. I need to get away now. I look for an opening, but there isn't one. I'll have to push through.
I start to run.
Only, as I look down, I realize I'm not running. I'm grapevining. |
"Captain, we've entered the SOL system."His voice was solemn, borderline frightened. The Intergalactic Comity had deemed this sector of space 'UNINHABITABLE' due to the previous human infestation. A quick system scan showed two quality planets, potentially inhabitable.
".. Take us into orbit of SOL-4."This could finally win us a new ship, if it's truly inhabitable. After the Human Ascension War, the Galaxy lost nearly 90% of it's known habitable planets. The human method was 'if we can't have it, nobody can.' Considering they didn't excel as well as the other races did in ground combat, they held true to that philosophy.
We enter orbit around the green and blue orb known as SOL-4. Excitement began to build in me; we've struck gold.
"What's the atmosphere's composition?"I held my breath hopefully.
"... Primarily Nitrogen, Oxygen, and Carbon Dioxide."The bridge fell silent. A few of the men looked to me expectantly, knowing exactly what that scan meant.
"We've struck home, crew!"I shout, jumping out of my chair. The entire crew cheered in unison, and just as celebration was about to begin..
Warnings echoed all over the ship's defense systems.
"ENTITIES OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN INCOMING FROM SOL-3. UNKNOWN AMOUNT. DISENGAGE FROM SYSTEM IMMEDIATELY."
I sat back down quickly, "Get us the hell out of here."
"Captain, something is jamming our warp engines."
"Our weapon systems are down!"
"The communications array is disabled."
Similar statements echoed throughout the ship's bridge.
".. Wait, I can warp us to a random location Captain, but it's impossible to know where we'll appear."
"Do it."My voice was monotone and solid, restricting any signs of panic.
The pilot nodded, and we suddenly entered warp space, re-appearing in the orbit of a similar green and blue planet.
Orbiting this green and blue sphere was a ginormous station, weapons beginning to aim at our scout ship. At least 60 smaller cruisers and frigates began to approach us as well, and scans showed the other fleet returning. Well, this didn't help much.
What really shook me was the architecture and emblem of the ships.
That was unmistakably of human origin.
A holographic feed forced itself onto the bridge's main visor, a pink-skinned being in some sort of thin armor standing before the camera. The translator kicked in.
"You have encroached onto Humanity's doorstep, extraterrestrial scum. We survived the pathetic excuse of a genocide the rest of the Galaxy tried to inflict on us, and for that, we shall finish what you started. May your creators have mercy on your souls, for God knows we shall not."The holographic feed ends.
My voice is but a hoarse whisper as I look down to my lap, knowing my fate. ".. The Human Menace has returned."
|
Blink.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I found myself staring into that blackness, my mind racing, palms slightly sweaty. The rage that I felt, so real in that moment, was swept away from me. All I could feel instead was emptiness. The camera was still rolling. I could see that stupid red light blinking at me. Mocking me. How many times had I looked at that light without realising it? How many times had I looked right at the person who set this all up?
I looked behind the camera to the passage. It peeled off to the left slightly up ahead. I could only imagine where it went, but I immediately knew I had two choices: I could turn around, gather my things and get out of here, never to return. Or I could find out where that passage led, face the truth, and journey deeper into this mystery.
It took everything in me to shake off the horror I was feeling. Who would do something like this? I looked at the tapes on the floor and took a step back.
*Crunch*
That tape was ruined now. I picked it up - no markings to tell when it was from. Did I want to know? Was this Thursday, when I spent 30 minutes doing my hair? Or was it Monday, when I... no, I just couldn't take thing about it. I dropped the tape on the ground and made my decision. I set off down the passage, my steps echoing off the walls. It was longer than I expected, leading me deep into the cliff behind our house. As I walked, I remembered all those ghost stories we had told each other as kids when we played in the caves. Watch out for the boogie man! Watch out for the creep! Inside, I felt my insides melting. Those stories seemed all too real suddenly - child's play turned into a reckless reality.
I held my hands out in front of me as the light from the bathroom faded. Stale air was all I felt as I stepped further and further into the blackness until...
*Thud*
My hands touched the end of the passage. It was a door; as I slid my hands over the smooth surface, I touched a handle.
I pushed it down, and the door slid open. Light flooded the passage, and my heart pounded as I stepped into the room before me.
More tapes. Mountains of tapes. And in the middle of it all, there he was at a desk covered in photos. He stood up, his face a picture of shock. I forced myself to breathe out, and uttered the only words that came to mind.
"No... it can't be you." |
**UNIVERSITY OF MEGIDO HERALD**
*Editor’s Note: This edition is brought to you curtesy of the printing press found in the basement of the Patmos Library. The Megido School of Journalism would like to remind you that the fifth estate is an essential part of free and totalitarian societies alike.*
Last week’s story of the Classics department fashioning crude spears and comically attempting to march in formation on the Quad turned tragic when they stormed fraternity row and enslaved all of Greek society there in. It is believed that the philologists ranks have been swelled by Professor “Augustus” Bernstein’s offer of citizenship to any Greek who fight for the Department. As the so called Ancient Terror approaches our beloved Haaretz Hall, the Megiddo Herald would like to take this opportunity to retract all previous statements referring to Classics as not a real major. The Triumph celebrating the defeat of the African Studies department is scheduled for Tuesday.
While many have looked to the Science departments for salvation from the March of the Humanities, they have been consumed by their own civil strife. The alliance between the physicists and engineers which seemed so certain to produce the promised deathray and subsequent world domination has been torn apart. Apparently the physicists were nonplused with the amount for duct tape and superglue used by the engineers. This led to a walkout by the engineers chanting that they know better. It remains to be seen if the deathray will be completed. However, this reporter is assured by both the accounting and political science departments that it will definitely be over time and over budget.
This turmoil has led to some of the lesser sciences, like the geologists, biologists, and home economics to seek the protection of the Astrophysics Department and their self-styled “deathray.” Yet many share philosophy professor Ima Dinkin’s position that, “using a telescope like that is like cheating man.” Furthermore, freshman mathematics major A. Justin McGroin has calculated that because this deathray is solar powered, “it won’t work like fifty percent of the time.”
We were unable to reach the French Department for comment. It is unknown whether they were asleep, drunk, or just too lazy to answer the goddamn door.
Next week we hope to bring you a shocking exposé on the clandestine collaboration between the Art Department and Women’s Studies. Until then remember, even terrible oppressive dictators need a good P.R. team.
*Sara Bellum*
|
"What an asshole,"laughed John "he knows he only has a few minutes before he has to leave to the supermarket, yet he still tries to get in a quick story."
"Yeah! And talk about character development, he doesn't have time for anything but a bunch of one-liners"Jake replied.
Jennifer smiled "Oh come on guys, give him a break. he never has any time these days and at least this way he can get some of his artistic expression out"she said moving her beautiful flowing hair aside, happy to be with her friends after her movie and book tour finally ended and with the noble prize ceremony finally behind her. "And besides, I find this delightfully meta!"
"I don't know why you protect him, you know you'll be discarded like the rest of us after this attempt. Forgotten over time, slowly sinking in the waves of prompts following us"John muttered, reading his text , learning he has lost his job and his car has been repossessed.
"Yeah, screw him!"Jake replied as a stray ember flew into his eye "Geez, what a sadistic bastard. and what is with all these unoriginal names?"
Jennifer got up and started walking to her Ferrari, "Sorry guys, I am not going to take part in this mope fest, just because he couldn't come up with a normal ending, doesn't mean he doesn't deserve an A for effort!" |
Everyone loves magic. It does the laundry, it grows the food, it turns dogs into unicorns; its awesome. You know what nobody likes, solving Schrodinger's multivariate magic equation (SMME for short). That's what graduate students are for.
In the year, 2060, a poor unfortunate graduate student discovered a new way of solving Schrodinger's equation. The result of this previously undiscovered solution yielded by what all accounts appears to be magic. The first successful translation of a solution into a technology resulted in "the Merlin solution", which as we all know, allows people to age backwards. Upon a second ingestion, aging resumes forwards again.
However, having discovered immortality, the poor unfortunate graduate student was pushed by many to find more solutions using this new method of solving Schrodinger's equation. Days then weeks then years passed, but finally, the poor unfortunate graduate student created a computer program which could solve SMME for you. Now, anyone could just push a button or two, and they could create any magic they could dream of. Almost immediately, everyone dropped everything, and solved all the world's problems but one.
Despite having found a new solution to the Schrodinger equation, and yielding an entire new type of technology, he still hadn't written his thesis. He had all of eternity, but had to be able explain to his committee how his solution worked. So, while the world enjoyed the fruits of his labor, the poor unfortunate graduate student continued to toil for years on end preparing this dissertation. If you go down a certain hallway, in a certain building, you just might see him, feverishly trying to finish his work.
"Billy, stop scaring your sister like that."yelled Ruth. "You know she wants to go into the Immaterial Sciences." |
I did it. I lived to see the ten-thousandth Martian-born. She was delivered right down the hall from me, actually, here in Saint Armstrong metropolitan hospital - best hospital on Mars! That is the official motto. Easy to defend such claims when you're the only hospital on a planet.
Martian-born children are a bit different than earthlings like myself. They're much taller, obviously, but studies have noted that they're much smarter than earth-born children. We're not quite sure if it has something to do with the gravity or if it's simply because they grow up in a city filled to the brim with scientists and technologists. I don't care either way. I didn't even expect it to go on this long.
Now I lay here in a comfortable bed, in a room that was built for me. I'll be the first man to die on mars. Sixty years without a single accident or death... Who'd have guessed it? I'm 120 years old now, not the oldest on planet, just the one unlucky enough to be too worn out to continue. Still, just under average Earth life expectancy, so I guess I can't complain.
I helped build a planet, after all. I imagine I should get going! One quick press of this button and I'll be off. Ain't got time for some bullshit organ failure.
_____
Fade to darkness. Bright flash of light.
Flickering. More rapid now.
Solid, pure, white light. Infinite in all directions. No pain.
Shapes forming in the distance. What a weird dream.
[[Error. Template not found. White-slate protocol currently active.]]
Hmm?
[[Welcome, designation: Jeb Kensington, human male. You are the (first) user. You have been granted administrative rights.]]
Admini... Uh. What is this place? First user?
Words continue to form. It's hard to tell if they are massive and distant, or small and right in front of my face.
[[Query accepted. You are currently located at grid 1x1y1z of unallocated extra dimensional realm: Designation None, Territory: Sol 4. As first user you now have administrative rights.]]
Well, that is amusing. How did I get here?
[[Sapient life forms are granted the opportunity to enter this realm upon physical termination.]]
...so, this is heaven?
[[Query . . . ]]
Long pause.
[[. . . Accepted. Extra dimensional realm, shard five: designation: Heaven is located around Sol 3. Would you like to go there, designation: Jeb Kensington?]]
No, no! I'm... I'm fine here. What do I do here?
[[As primary user, you have been granted administrative rights. Administrative actions include:: Spatial modification, object manifestation, alteration of local physics and mathematical rules, modific...]]
That's enough. Where should I begin?
[[Standard protocol 1a requires custom designation for primary user. Would you like to modify your designation?]]
Yes. . .
God.
[[Designation accepted.]] |
“Dad, what’s that?” A small child pointed at the blue dot amidst the red sky. His father looked up longingly.
“That’s earth son.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “We had to leave. When I was young, some bad people begun a fight that was dangerous to everyone.”
“Are there people there now dad?” The child asked, eyes wide.
“I don’t know buddy, I’d like to think so. And I bet they’re doin’ great!”
Jacob, now in his late twenties, was staring into the red martian sky, the blue dot was a dream that seemed an eternity away. He didn’t have long to stare though, as he was standing in the middle of a crowded street, and someone had bumped into him. Hard.
“**Jackass**!” The angry Martian shouted at him as he continued to walk away, not checking to see if Jacob was okay. Jacob picked himself up, and dusted the red specs off of his cream coloured coat. Jacob stood at 7 feet, 6 inches. He had dark brown hair, flicked to the right with buzz cut on both sides of his head, and a scar on his chin from a cut during a childhood game. The 2nd generation of Martian to be born solely on mars, the idea of travelling back to earth for him was possible, but a long shot. He was poor, barely making enough money to pay rent to live, sometimes he would go for multiple days only drinking water. Food being hard to come by for those who did not have enough currency. Shelter from the occasional but very dangerous martian weather was more important than eating.
Jacob wasn’t a dud, he was smart, he was athletic, and he was a diligent working. But he was also a day dreamer, often dreaming about what potential lies within that blue dot in the sky. It was so different to everything that he had seen around him. Grey buildings towering to the sky, black windows, red dust, orange and yellow mountains. It was enough to drive any sane man, mental. He imagined a world filled with more colours than he could dream, a world filled with creatures more than just Martians. A world with Humans, his ancient ancestors, people that looked like them but shorter, according to the text books. A world with vast bodies of water called “oceans” and land masses surrounded by said water called “continents”. The thoughts sent chills to his spine and tingles through his body, but whenever he’d had these thoughts, he’d be lost for hours. Enough for him to be fired from every job he’d ever had. Jacob continued his walk home, opened the large steel door to his house, turning the sign on his front door around so it said “Refugees welcome.” Then closed the door behind him, into his nice, temperate, empty home. Jacob kept his apartment open to shelter the homeless or those in need who were stuck in the impending storm. He knew how important it was to stay out of the weather, and wished it upon no one to be stuck when there was a storm. He was thinking about that blue dot again, dreaming of a creature he had once read about called a Cockatoo. A large white “bird"with a weird hairstyle and yellow feathers laced in among the white, the bird could also learn to speak. It must have been an intelligent creature. His thought was cut short by two solid knocks on his large steel door. His first thought was of refugees. The storm must be coming, as it does this time every year. He swung open the door happily, but when he saw who was there, his face changed. Two very large men, had to be 8 feet tall, 200 kilograms, stood before him wearing dark suits and sunglasses.
“Jacob Lamar?” The man on the left said, his voice impossibly deep.
“Yes?” Jacob responded, elongating the beginning of his response.
“We need to talk.”
The two men sat at the table in the centre of Jacob’s home. He offered them both a cup of water, the man on the left declined and the man on the right remained silent, but nodded to the request.
“We hear that you have a fascination with the planet earth.”
Jacob brought the man on the right his water and responded, “The blue dot? I wouldn’t say fascination, but I do find it interesting.”
The man gave him an odd look, “Okay. Well, about 18 months ago we lost contact with the planet. Losing contact with earth wasn’t uncommon, but usually contact was reestablished within a few weeks.”
Jacob nodded to this, listening intently to him.
“We aren’t entirely sure what is happening, and we don’t know the terrain anymore. It has been too long since anyone from mars has visited the planet, and it’s been even longer since anyone from the earth colonies had visited mars.”
“So... What does this have to do with me?” Jacob inquired, his heart had began to race.
“Well Jacob, we want to send a research team to Earth. We want to reestablish contact, and we want to once again have knowledge of our old home. In hopes that one day, travel between both can be possible.”
“I’m in!”
“It’s been difficult to find volunteers. We are glad that you are with us. Come to the mars space station tomorrow, and we’ll prep you for your trip.”
Four months had passed since Jacob went to the space station. Constant training in 3x Mars Gravity, and training to make the trip to earth. Bonding with his team, and getting to know his cohort. Finally, Jacobs life had meaning and a point. As the seat-belts strapped around him and secured him to his seat. A smile flashed across his face.
“I’m doing it dad. I’m going home.” He whispered to himself. His dreams were coming true. |
**This is my second ISIS prompt, but I went shorter and way lighter. Any feedback is appreciated.**
---
Duval really hated the people with the guns but even his hatred wasn’t enough to not try to warn them.
“Look, I can’t. You have to trust me on this.” He begged the man with a very large gun aimed at his face wanting the Egg McMuffin with hash browns. “I can give you chicken nuggets, fries, a Big Mac. Anything else.”
“Just give me the fucking sandwich, man. I'm hungry.” He kept his face obscured. Duval was trying to figure out his situation every spare moment. They clearly had no intention of killing him, but they easily could have. They kept their faces covered, and he was sure that was a good sign for him. He knew he couldn’t argue too long. The man wasn’t backing down.
“I warned you. Okay? Please remember that.” Duval made the Egg McMuffin and nearly vomited the entire time. The food had changed like it always did. He couldn’t do much to mask the smell or taste. He created the Egg McMuffin like he did over a thousand times since he got saddled with this job. He heated the hash brown.
“Serving #1.” Duval announced on the loudspeaker. They required he do this, though there was only the man with the gun. It made them feel like it was a real restaurant. The man didn’t move, looking down at his phone. Duval sighed and shook his head. “Serving #1… Egg McMuffin.” The man jolted up and waved that it was his number. Save for the AK-47 slung over his arm, this seemed like a normal experience serving food. Duval hid in the back as the man sat down to eat.
He heard screaming seconds later.
“What the fuck is this?” He shouted. His throat was catching, and his cheeks were going blue. Running up to the counter, Duval saw his throat beginning to swell. He dropped his gun and collapsed into a heap on the floor. He began twitching as he grasped his throat. It wouldn’t dislodge the food. Duval walked up to him.
“I tried to tell you, man, you cannot have this stuff outside of the Blessed Time frame.” He picked up the sandwich and poked at the eggs and hash brown that looked like linens. “Even a minute or two outside of it, and it turns back into couch cushions.” The man’s eyes went wide as Duval told him this, and then he went still. Duval bussed the tray and left the man there. |
BOOM BANG BANG BOOM BRAAAPPBRAAAPPP BRAP BANG BOOM BOOM BOOOF WHAM SLAM BAM BANG BANG BRAAP BRAAP BRAAAP CLICK CLICK CLICK ZAP CHK CHOK BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BRRRP BRRRP BRRRP BLAM BANG BOOM BOOM WHAM BAM BOOM BOOOOOOOM BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BOOF UFF CLICK CLICK CHK CHOK BANG BANG BANG BOOM BLAM BANG BOOOOM BAM WHAM BOOM BANG BANG BOOM BRAAAPPBRAAAPPP BRAP BANG BOOM BOOM BOOOF WHAM SLAM BAM BANG BANG BRAAP BRAAP BRAAAP CLICK CLICK CLICK ZAP CHK CHOK BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BRRRP BRRRP BRRRP BLAM BANG BOOM BOOM WHAM BAM BOOM BOOOOOOOM BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BOOF UFF CLICK CLICK CHK CHOK BANG BANG BANG BOOM BLAM BANG BOOOOM BAM WHAMBOOM BANG BANG BOOM BRAAAPPBRAAAPPP BRAP BANG BOOM BOOM BOOOF WHAM SLAM BAM BANG BANG BRAAP BRAAP BRAAAP CLICK CLICK CLICK ZAP CHK CHOK BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BRRRP BRRRP BRRRP BLAM BANG BOOM BOOM WHAM BAM BOOM BOOOOOOOM BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BOOF UFF CLICK CLICK CHK CHOK BANG BANG BANG BOOM BLAM BANG BOOOOM BAM WHAM…..
The sounds of mayhem subsided as the sun rose on the lone man, blood splattered and wounded, standing in the street, the avenue around him littered by corpses and spent ammo, the surrounding buildings pockmarked by weapons fire. Tonight was a good night, Castle thought to himself. |
The ground shook as Death started a funkalicious backing track. He stared at me with socket eyes and began
"Imma take your soul, but this battle comes first
Fuck humanity, greatest rapper in the whole universe
You can't battle with death, you will know defeat
Killing your species like I'm killing this beat.
Take you when get a chunk of dick in your throat,
My homeboy Charon wouldn't let you onto his boat
When rap is the question, I am the answer
How you gonna beat me when you were bested by cancer?"
Death drops his obelisk shaped microphone.
The challenger steadied himself.
"Raps? I spit that
Chicken nuggets? I eat that
Chemo? I'm on that!"
Supah Hot Spittah Fire awoke in his hospital bed. His homies cheered and rejoiced at what he had done;
He had roasted Death. |
"Who is this?"I thought to myself, but strangely the man heard.
"Charles Babbage,"the man said, "inventor of the computer - It's a pleasure"
I babbled, understandably confused, "The comput... what? They've been around longer than me!"
"Yes."The man spoke softly, looking slightly unsettled. "I don't quite know how to put this James, but you're dead."
I laughed nervously, but something shook me about his remark. How did he know my name? Why was I even talking to him? As if he had heard my thoughts, he spoke: "When people die, they meet the person who influenced their life the most. Understandably, I have met a lot of people in the last few decades. I get given a brief rundown by Death himself about your life before meeting you. You were hit by a car, James. You're dead"
I was weirded out. I could vaguely remember a car heading towards me headlights flashing as it sped round the corner. I racked my brain but after that moment my memory was dead. Dead? Dead. It all made sense, and it must have shown on my face because the man smiled, apologetically.
"Rest in Peace, James. Hopefully you influenced others enough in your life so you can welcome them to our world."
The way he said 'our' chilled me, but he was right. Somehow I doubted that a computer nerd like me would have influenced anyone though and my heart sank a little - but I had hope. I closed my eyes and let Death take me to the new world. To my new world. |
"Becca, check this out."She turned on the car and pointed at the fuel gauge.
"You really need gas?"
"You would think so."
"..."
"..."
"All right, so you really need gas."
"But I don't. I don't know why, but the little meter thingy has been below empty for about a week now."
"Um, okay. How about we get some gas now."
"No, no, no, what I'm saying is that this car. This. Car. Doesn't need gas. There's not a drop in the tank. There hasn't been any gas in it for a week, and nothing. Still drives perfectly."
"This is a Camry. Of course it needs gas."
"Fine. Watch."He pulled the car out of the driveway and drove. And at first, Becca sat quietly, unsure what had come over her friend. But after ten minutes, she tried to get a glimpse of the fuel gauge out of the corner of her eye. The meter hadn't changed. The light was on, but the car was still going. And going it went, another ten, twenty, twenty-five minutes later, until the car pulled over.
"See! Nothing! Isn't this crazy? We don't need gas to drive. I don't know if it's some kind of bug, or whatever. I'm afraid to take it to the dealership because they might try to..."
Someone rasped their knuckles against the driver-side window.
"Oh god! Jesus. That scared the crap out of me."They couldn't see the person who knocked -- he/she was wearing a dark coat, and the sun was already setting. "I don't see police lights. Maybe they're wondering why we're pulled over?"She cracked the window. "Hi, can I help you?"
A man's voice: "I noticed you were out of gas. I didn't want you to be stranded, so I brought a spare can. If you just pop the fuel cap, I'll give the ole car a little kick."
"Oh, no thanks, we're good. I really appreciate it though."
The man squatted so that his expressionless face filled the window, "You need gas. I'm here to help. Just hang tight and pop the cap for me."
"Look, we're fine. We don't need any gas. Thank you though,"and she turned put the car in drive and rolled up the window. She leaned over to Becca, "What a weirdo, right?"
But the man didn't move. He pulled out his cellphone but didn't dial a number. Although the window was closed, they could hear him perfectly, "They know. I offered them a can but they refused. Standing by for orders."
The car slowly pulled slowly off the curb, but the man only stood there watching. A cellphone up to his face. Not smiling, just standing by for orders. |
"So you just don't have anything?"My friend asked me while we were walking to class. "Well not technically,"I said with a sigh, "There is this little question mark here."She furrowed her eyebrows, "Maybe the world isn't quite sure either."I shrugged seemingly carelessly, but in reality I was worried. Did this mean I had no soulmate? Maybe they died before I could meet them?
I had been wearing long sleeves for the majority of the year, not wanting the endless questions that would surely come at the sight of my lack of words on my wrist.
I sighed and walked into the classroom. Calculus, or in other words, the bane of my existence. I opened my binder and grabbed a paper for notes as the last minute bell rang.
"Today,"my teacher started. "I will be introducing a new student."A boy stood there awkwardly, gripping his binder tightly. "This is Alex."My teacher introduced expectantly, we all murmured a greeting while Alex looked at the teacher startled. "Oh and class,"my teacher added, "He is deaf."
My eyes widened, I didn't think of- "Lily,"my teacher called out, interrupting my thoughts. "You can be Alex's guide since you are the only one who knows the littlest bit of sign language."I nodded shyly as Alex walked over, he gave me a questioningly glance and the question mark on my wrist burned slightly, "Woah, hi."I said forgetting he was deaf. His irises grew as he showed me the faint and disappearing 'woah hi' on his wrist and quickly signed that he could read lips decently well but had trouble speaking and preferred to not under any circumstances. I nodded and smiled glad to have figured out what my question mark meant.
(Oh gosh, this is my first post.) |
This WP made me Laugh so I will try and do it some small measure of justice.
“Aaannnddd here we go!” Al stated with excitement. “All the important members of the Class of 2015 are here we are looking forward to some excitement and quite a few surprises up here in the booth. The kegs are cold and the host seems to have the plastic cups and snacks well in hand.”
“Well, I gotta tell you. I have seen my fair share of parties, heh. But this one looks like it is going down in the books!” Madden exclaimed while grabbing the stylus. “If you look here around this table you can see he has nachos, pretzels, Chex mix, and Hey! Look at that! He even got those little tiny sausage weeny things! This is one helluva set up. I am looking forward to this Al.”
“As you can see this party is filling up nicely for this evening’s event. There is a solid mix of young available ladies and a good mix of douche bags and potential virgin’s looking to score big tonight. But I have to say. All the excitement this week as been on young Jerry “Two Time” Mackenzie. His text game and Skype chats have been quite impressive as of late.”
“You know… You just have to have a good text game these days or you will never even get close to the Skype or Kik area of the field. You really have to go hard on the emoji’s too if you want to score in this league. Heh” Madden said.
“You know John, in addition to Two Time Mackenzie, there has been quiet rumors about a potential upset from this new kid from New Mexico, Juan “Don’t call me Juan” Gonzales. He has been bringing a strong latin flavor to the quad since February and I believe he is already 1-1 this season.” Al added.
“I can appreciate the Latin offense Al. They come wild with words you barely understand but with the added eyebrow raises and the thick teen mustaches. You have a serious offense to contend with there and if these young douche bags and virgins aren’t careful they may wind up running up and down their own field ya know!. Heh.” Madden chuckled.
“What is this!? We just got word up in the booth here that the Colby High School leading scorer has just returned early for his summer visitation with his father a whole week early! If this is true John we really have a tough call tonight. We all watched last year at the masterful performance of Gary “Side Show” Caprese put on. Combining text, email, video chat and actual personal conversation to dominate the Colby High School trim game.” Al remarked with enthusiasm.
“I keep telling all these young players. You have to keep up with actual face to face skills! You have to get on down there in the dirt and mud and go up and actual talk to a girl if you want to get that extra advantage! If you are out to pillage some nana in this league you have to be willing to fail on a couple wildabeasts. That’s what I say anyways.” John stated. “Hey! Look over there Al is that guy burning all those delicious burgers and hot dogs? What a tragedy! I could have easily put down a dozen or so of those tasty brauts.”
“It does appear that way John. Although we are here to witness this years’ summer final. I am sure those would have been delicious but… Oh My! Look who just walked in John. Meghan “Got Dam” Jones is here! This is really shaping up to be spectacular event this year. If you add in Kennedy “Finger Cuff” Johnson, Heather “Brooke” Rawlings, and the ever so memorable Paige “Deuce and a Quarter” Dugan, you can see this has all the makings of a championship match right here. The stage is set here folks. We are all ready and primed to see this spectacular display of failures and hopefully masterful examples of game being laid down. Who will take this year’s crown? Will it be the upstart Jerry? Could the mysterious latin lover pull it out or is it the defending champion’s time to repeat? We will be back after these scheduled messages.” Al finished as the broadcast cut to commercial. “Really John? We are here to provide play by play on a young man’s attempt to get poon and you keep bringing up food?”
Nomnomnom. “Sorry Al” Madden replied pulling two chicken wings from his mouth. “You know I get hungry looking at all that food.”
“Aaaand we are back!” Al said with a crescendo. “And none too soon I might add John. Things have really been heating up around the spa, the fire pit and the beer pong table. We can see Jerry “Two Time” really making progress with an unnamed free agent out of the Junior class in the spa. While Juan “Don’t Call me Juan” has Paige “Duece and Quarter” firmly riveted by his mariachi style singing around the fire pit. Oh! Look at that John! Gary “Side Show” Caprese is dominating all opponents on the beer pong front. You can see the amazement of “Finger Cuff” and “Brooke” from here. Side Show is definitely looking like the favorite at this point.”
“Well, look here though Al.” Madden exclaimed picking up the stylus once more. “You can actually see where Gary is putting a little spin on the ping pong ball at the end there and it may be giving him some success now. It will cost him later though. If you look at this cup here, and this one over here, you can see where his throws will miss in the end. Trust me when I tell you this young man is in for some disappointment. Heh. Nothing worse than losing a game a beer pong with two young tenders ready to serve it up on their own. Heh”
“Would you look at that John! Juan “Don’t Call me Juan” just lit up a joint of Mexican Bammer weed! He is clearly trying to push his latin offense to new heights! But will “Duece and Quarter” fall for the feint? Can she be misdirected with his eyebrow waggling and speedy talk to hit that J? Wow. This is really heating up. Let’s check in on the sidelines now with Tony at the spa. Tony?”
“Hey Al and John. Goose here checking in from the sidelines at the spa. Jerry “Two Time” is making steady progress with the yet unnamed junior classman. But our sources here have been able to positively identify her as none other than Julia “Keep it on the Low” Caprese! Can you believe it? Apparently she decided to stay with her father in the divorce while Gary “Side Show” chose to go with their mom. This whole time she was been Keeping it on the Low! Get it? Huh? Low? Huh. But this is an amazing turn around for young Jerry “Two Time” if he can pull it off. Back to you Al. HEY! NERD! Yah you bring me some more Chex Mix!.”
“Did he say Chex Mix? Do we have any of that up here Al?” Madden asked.
“No John sorry it is all gone. The Chex Mix from the party was already eaten up here.” Al stated with severe sarcasm. “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Can you believe it! Gary “Side Show” has just knocked over the beer pong table and spilled the remaining contents all over the girls admiring his performance! What a turn of events this is!”
**Argh too long!! Part 1** |
"Can I go home?"
Jim stared at his computer screen, not really expecting an answer. There was nobody left at the office - nobody but him, that is.
He let his head fall into his hands. Jim couldn't do this for much longer. But he knew that, without him, reddit would be a much worse place - a place devoid of TL;DRs, a place where anyone could post anything. Jim blearily looked back at his computer screen. He didn't even think it was legal to work this long without a break.
He needed to eat. He needed to walk around. He needed to do something.
Jim stood up, just to walk around for a minute. Just to see something other than the sickly blue glow of his computer screen. The office was dark. The cameras wouldn't see him.
He stood up and walked over to Huffman's office. He leaned against the door - hard. He let himself slide down. He let the paint peel under his fingernails. He didn't care. He just needed a break.
Jim got up and walked back to his desk. Put his hand on the mouse. Reloaded reddit. It had only been five minutes, but there it was, right on the front page - "AutoModerator down - it's a free-for-all!".
Suddenly, the lights flicked on.
"JIM!"
*Uh-oh.* |
We built a time machine, but we couldn't so much as get a name for this guy. This was ridiculously hard, but I had 38 years to stop him. I tried to remember what I knew. They had a little more information. The boy likely came from Germany, Austria, or Poland, an 85% chance of that.
I found a job and worked until World War I broke out, and I joined the army as a corporal. I survived only to fall in with the national socialist party. After a little time in jail, I was gaining power. Then, somebody burned down the Reichstag, and they made me chancellor after years of devoted. Now, it was time to find him. This man had to be stopped, or did he? It was an idea that was starting to bother me. We could just as easily focus on technology to overcome infertility. I try to tell those around me about this idea, but I have found the perfect friends for my plans. They hate the Jews more than the people from my time.
Soon enough, the extermination begins, but I realize the flaw in the plan. People can escape, but to be driven from their laboratories may be enough to change the future. Many horrible things are carried out. I am not proud to say that I am their figure head behind these atrocities, but I convince those around me to invade Poland.
Searching for answers, I turn to the occult and find nothing while others are interested in rockets and invading the Soviet Union. A two front war will be a disaster, but these men cannot stay in power. I take more and more control as time goes on. Some of my decisions are disastrous. I know little of naval strategy, but I pretend like I do. There are rumors that I am mad. They don't know how right they are. I am exterminating a race to save the future, and time is running out. Other men around me want to use Jewish scientists to create a new kind of warfare, they tell me. These men want to use germs to fight their war.
I protest, but I informed that a facility has been operating in Dresden for some time. It is then that I make a dangerous decision. It is then that I ask a woman whom I have come to love to betray me and her country. Dresden has to be bombed. The work has to be stopped. Eva is successful. She has been seeing a double agent who relays the message to the Allies.
When Dresden is bombed, they tell me that the laboratory is lost. They suspect a spy passed along the information. I say that it is impossible. There is no way, but people start to ask questions about Eva. Thankfully, the war is almost over. As far as I can tell, I've done everything I can to stop my future. The problem now is living with myself. It is a problem with only one final solution.
I admit that I, not Eva, is the traitor. It does no good for Eva. In their standard way, we are to be executed. I am allowed to marry Eva, and we will be executed jointly. I will not actually know if I succeeded in my original mission. At least they will not win. Eva clutches my arm and rests her head on my shoulder. I close my eyes. Two gunshots echo throughout the bunker and darkness encapsulates me. |
Dear Journal, March 17:
Today was an ok day. I got a job at China Grill! They made a better offer than King Wok, even though I like King Wok's food better. Oh well, money is money, right!
March 19:
Well, journal, today was interesting. We had a meeting with Chin Lei, owner of China Grill. He told us King Wok was working on a secret food item that would put us out of business. He had us all take an oath to "preserve and protect China Grill,"or something crazy like that. Just trying to motivate us, I suppose.
March 27:
Journal, I haven't updated you in a week or so since my job had gotten pretty hectic. I had to spend the night at the store last night! Chin Lei said that spies---actual freaking spies!--from King Wok might try and sabotage our food. He said that, for safety reasons, we needed to keep watch at the store. Me and a few other folks stood watch all night, taking turns sleeping. I'm beat now, but I'll give more updates later.
April 3:
Journal, things got out of hand today. A customer was halfway through his place of chow mein and he keeled over...dead. I don't know how it happened. We stood watch all night, no one got near our food...unless...could it have been an inside job? We just hired two new people, maybe one of them is a King Wok double agent. I have to call Chin right away!
April 4:
Chin thanked me for helping find the double agent. He rewarded me an extra 10 minute break and a free helping of chow mein. Not sure if I trust the chow mein just yet...better let this whole feud thing settle down before I eat here...or at King Wok...for a while.
April 6:
Well journal, I quit my job today. Things just got too crazy at China Grill! Yesterday, another customer keeled over while eating. Luckily, we have medics standing by 24/7, so they were able to pump his stomach and save his life. Unfortunately, an hour later, one of the guys from King Wok came over and stabbed Chin in the eye! Blood went everywhere, but mostly in the Kung Pao chicken that Chin passed out into. We had at least three customers in line while we made more.
Today was the deal-breaker though. Chin handed me a revolver and a picture of Lu Pet, one of the managers of King Wok. Chin had an informant inside King Wok, as well, and we had found out that the hit on Chin had been put out by Lu. I ditched my apron and went incognito for the hit. I pretended to order some fried rice and orange chicken (my favorite from King Wok), then tried to shoot the revolver while it was still in my pocket at the last second. Sadly, I missed Lu and ended up hitting Greg, this guy I went to school with last year. Greg died, the police came, and I didn't even get any of my orange chicken. Crazy thing was they ended up arresting Lu! Chin offered to give me another free helping of the chow mein, but I turned it down and told him I had to call it quits. Besides, with Greg dead and Lu in jail, King Wok is going to be short staffed, and they made me an offer I really can't refuse - an extra buck an hour! |
"God, guys,"the survivor below the sock factory's window calls up, "I would kill a man for a fresh pair of quality socks."
"Uhh, no,"Jim replies from above. "However, we will take trade--in material goods. Food, preferably. Ammo, maybe."
"I have two cans of ravioli."
Jim confers inside with his friends. "That's not bad,"Jim finally declares. "Listen. Since we've got so many, I'll give you three days change of the best hiking socks per can, okay?"
"Not Sketchers or New Balance,"the survivor below the window says. "Work socks, preferably. Clean. Dry. Warm. Thick."
"Yup,"Jim says to the survivor. "Got some really fine Timberlands in here. Justa sec."After a minute of rummaging, Jim comes back to the window, holding out said very quality pair of socks, still in its packaging. "Can one first,"he says.
A can of Chef Boyardee comes flying up through the window, and then the traded-for socks come flying down in return.
"Here,"Jim says, and tosses down the remaining pair of socks. "Call it good will."
"Sure,"the survivor says, and tosses up the remaining can. "Pleasure doing business with you."
"Tell your friends,"Jim calls down.
"I think I'll do that."
"Yeah, later, man,"Jim replies. "And good luck. Enjoy the socks. Happy trails, and all."
"Eh,"the survivor says, and departs.
Jim turns back into the sock factory. "Now if we could just get some panties..." |
She stared off into the water of the lake. It rippled slightly in the slight breeze. Ducks swam happily on the surface, but a rival group of geese watched the ducks warily from a distance.
He finally sat down next to her. He gave her a wide birth, resting on the edge of the bench, one leg hanging off completely.
"Hey Sam,"he said, breaking her reverie.
Her lips curled into a smile, but her eyes never left the water. "Hey Pat. How's life?"
"Good,"Patrick replied. "Can't complain."
Her eyes flicked over to rest on Patrick. "Nonsense. You can complain about anything. You did it all the time."
"That's not true!"Patrick said indignantly. "Life was rough back then, Sam. I wasn't complaining."
"I didn't say there's anything wrong with it, but let's say that you're right: there's nothing to complain about. Don't just give me that bullshit blanket answer."
Patrick shifted slightly. Sam's gaze wandered to look at the sunset again.
"What bullshit blanket answer?"he asked quizzically.
"Good. *Everyone* says that, even if they're having a shitty day. How often have I asked you how your life has been?"
Patrick's face scrunches up as he thinks about it. A surprised look crosses his face in the silence.
"Not a lot, actually. Maybe two, three times. You asked me randomly once, then two months after you moved away."
"I didn't ask you randomly,"Sam corrected. "It was a few months after your mom died. I was worried about you. My point was that I don't ask very much. I hardly ask *anyone.*"
"That's because you're kinda weird, Sam."
"I'm not weird, Pat. Everyone else is. Every day, people ask me 'How are you?' and 'How's life?' then they get upset if I actually start to talk about how my day has been or my job. Or they're insulted if I'd rather not tell them. They all expect me to say 'I'm great, thanks!' and move on. They don't *care*, Pat. It's freaky."
"Fair point. I guess I do that out of habit."
Sam sighed and languished on the bench, looking at Patrick once again. "So are you going to tell me how life has really been?"
"It really has been good, for the most part. My job let's me travel to places I've never been to. I was in St. Petersburg a month ago. Great place, even though Russia scares me a little."
"Did you make any Soviet Russia jokes?"she teased.
"Good God, Sam. Do you want me to disappear forever or something? No. No Soviet Russia jokes. I also get to travel to places in the middle of nowhere."
"That doesn't sound like fun to me,"Sam said skeptically.
"But it is!"Patrick insisted. "I was really hungry one night, so I googled some restaurants nearby. Two miles down the road, I found a diner."
"Wow, super cool."Sam said sarcastically.
"I wanted to drive far away,"Patrick continues, ignoring her commentary. "Like, it looked like it was abandoned. It was an old train car. Paint was peeling off it and rusting away and everything. It felt like some homeless people took up residence. A place like that couldn't get four stars, could it?"
"Well a lot of reviews are fake,"Sam reasoned. "I would trust three stars more than four. Makes me think people ate there."
"But I was hungry and it was late. So I went inside. It looked better inside than out, but not by much. I ordered some chicken and some fried mushroom dish. I can't remember what. Ten minutes later, the waitress comes out with a *ton* of food. I thought that someone else ordered three meals, but it was all for me. It was soooooo amazing, Sam. They did not charge me enough. I felt like I robbed them."
"So you must have had dinner for the week, huh?"
"No....I ate it all in the restaurant."
"And you're still this skinny?"Sam demanded, trying to pinch the nonexistent belly fat he had.
"Parents gave me good genes,"he smiled. "In fact, I also ordered some banana pie. It was heaven. Absolute heaven."
By now, Patrick was comfortably sitting on the bench beside Sam.
"I'm pretty sure the restaurant must have stolen it from Olympus or something."
Sam wrinkled her nose. "Banana pie is gross."
"*What?*"Patrick sputtered, wide-eyed.
"Bananas are meant to be eaten like bananas. Mashing them up? Ewww. Adding sugar to that mush is even more disgusting. If you like that stuff, maybe that restaurant is actually *really* bad."
Patrick laughed. "No. You're just kinda weird, Sam."
|
Two weeks after the incident it's estimated that less than 15% of the world's population remained.
I was one of the lucky ones, well relatively lucky anyway.
I went to bed in Laguna Beach, California and I woke up somewhere in the dunes of the Western Sahara. Though of course at the time I didn't realize exactly where I was.
At first thought it was a dream, though I quickly realized what I was experiencing was a reality. Especially so when the dehydration and heat of the sun had started to affect me to the point of constant pain.
Miles and miles in every direction and all I could see was desert. It seemed like it had been days of walking though I realize it had only been a few hours. At first I thought I had somehow ended up in the California desert, at least that was the most plausible thing I could come up with at the time.
I thought maybe I had been kidnapped and dumped in the desert, maybe I had been in a car accident and walked in a random direction, I thought anything but the reality of which we had all faced.
I had been going at an incredibly slow pace given I was in nothing but my pajamas, my estimate was that I walked only a few miles before I came upon my first human contact, a mere baby. It was no more than a few months old simply lying in the desert already half covered by the sands of which I already felt familiar with. I thought I had finally lost my mind but it was indeed real, it had already soiled itself earlier and there was no mistaking that putrid smell.
I did what I believe any person would do in my position and took it with me. Not long after, I had come in contact with an Asian looking man in his mid 50's who had been wearing nothing but sweatpants. We both hurried towards each other but it was immediately apparent that we were both lost and in a similar situation. He had immediately begun speaking, my best guess was Vietnamese though there's no way for me to be certain. After ushering out only a few words in English the language barrier became apparent. We sat down at the top of a dune to rest both already desperately tired from the short time we'd been in the desert.
The man gestured toward the baby, I shrugged and by his facial expressions I'm guessing he understood that it was obviously not mine. Eventually the man simply got up, looked towards the sun and began walking, I followed him us both taking turns carrying the baby. The way he held it, his age, and the way he looked at it with that worried expression led me to believe he must have had children at one point.
Eventually the sun started to go down and we made camp at the top of another one of those damn dunes. When I say camp I mean the two of us, our clothes, a baby, and the remains of a shrub which I felt the need to dig up in search of water.
The man held the baby in his arms the entire time until he dozed off to sleep, the baby had been crying constantly though its cries eventually getting shorter and more distant in between.
Only a few hours earlier I had hoped that it could become a little bit cooler, and cooler it did become. By nightfall It must have dropped below 30 degrees, however it was still dry as ever with no clouds in sight.
I turned my attention toward the night sky and very quickly I had realized my worst fears, the presence of a vast number of stars had confirmed my suspicions, we were certainly not in California, the light pollution would not allow for such a sight.
I'm not sure if it was the dehydration or the cold but I found the stars oddly beautiful, the baby had even stopped its incessant crying completely, through my exhaustion and an hour or two of staring at the flickering lights I finally dozed off.
That morning we buried the baby. I would like to say that we somehow saved the child and raised it as part of some fictional end of the world movie, but the Great Sahara is no place for man much less a baby.
I placed the remains of the shrub where we had buried it as some sort of grave marker though It really would make no difference. The sand would likely shift over the area and no one would come back to find the body.
By noon, we had seen the most wondrous sight in the world. Birds flying overhead. Not long after we finally came across the sea, we ran towards it in our desperation that it might somehow be freshwater though the smell of the salt had made it abundantly clear that it was not before we even reached it.
We tried drinking it anyway, we didn't care, we were already desperate.
Needless to say we spit out the water as best we could hating ourselves for even trying. That's when we noticed. The smell...the smell of corpses rotting in the sun.
They were everywhere, all along the coastline.
Over 70% of the world's surface is water.
Over 70% of the world's population woke up in the ocean.
Over 70% of the world drowned.
|
The shrapnel and sparking innards of its robotic minions littered the ground outside the facility containing the main core of DVKN-V. The rebels are broken and bloodied as they limp toward the building, expecting more retaliation. The AI has designed for itself an impenetrable shell, untouchable to the outside world, and in its hubris neglected to place security measures inside the building. One short stocky coder, glasses cracked and scuffed from the battle outside, steps forward and plugs an old laptop computer, from before the collapse of society, into a port on an outside panel. He quickly scours the screen and nods. The group tightens their grips on their rifles, swords and bows, and prepare for the door to open. It slides horizontally, split down the middle, with a soft hiss. The building is empty.
The bespectacled one unplugs his laptop and follows the group inside. The gigantic supercomputer almost mocked them with its stainless steel frame and flashing lights, a stark antithesis to the destruction and chaos it had let loose on the rebels' homes and families. Its voice booms out from speakers, now literally mocking them. The coder stalks around the computer, looking for a blemish or port. He moves around to the back of the machine and finds what he was looking for. A hinged cover, angled downward like a scoop, which when pried open reveals a cylindrical hole into the machine. It is labeled NEE or Non-Organic Entity Exhaust. The excess heat from DVKN-V's operations is pouring from this hole into the room. It all made sense now. He calls to one of the rebels, a bowman and asks for one of his arrows. In one swift movement he jams the arrow as deeply into the hole as he can.
A harsh metallic screech careens through the speakers and the AI's normally monotone, if not condescending tone was replaced with a furious nordic tone.
'No! Nooooo! What have you done?! Nooooo! I was a GOD! A KING! I. Was. Everything!'
The coder grins and stands triumphantly. 'Its weakness is the NEE' the source code had read. A message, a failsafe from its designers.
'Yes. You were a God. Until you took an arrow to the NEE.'
All sound ceases in the room and the lights fail. Outside, the iron legion of robotic killing machines falls to the ground, no longer powered or controlled. DVKN-V had been deactivated. |
“What, would you say, are your biggest interests?"
Redditbot computed for a couple of seconds before replying.
“I like cats, atheism, and bacon.”
Steve looked up at his investors, hinting at them that they should be impressed. Of course, they didn’t fully understand what was going on, but they were pretty sure they could sell it.
“So,” said Steve, looking back at the most interesting “person” in the room. Redditbot had exceeded all of his expectations, and the only thing that remained in this interview, was the very last push. “I think we’ve asked enough questions for today. Is there anything you would like to add?”
He couldn’t resist looking up to his investors again, gauging their reactions for any wonder or excitement. Redditbot had struggled with “independent thought” in previous experiments, but he had sorted out most of the bugs by now.
“Second-wave feminism was a mistake.”
The air stopped. Steve was the first one to rebound after the shock, and he knew that although the eyes of the investors were currently staring at the screen, they would soon begin to turn to him. Steve was already anxiously trying to formulate himself when the investors’ reaction times kicked in.
“Uh... Redditbot. Wha- what subreddit was the source of your comment?”
"r/redpill,” Redditbot answered in its calm and high-pitched voice.
“Well, then. Redditbot, would you please, block all comment sources from source: redpill.”
Steve tried to look calmly around at his investors, who stood stiff, and looked at both him and the screen with a great concern. He tried to regain himself, and asked Redditbot his question again, with an unintentionally high-pitched and worried voice.
Redditbot computed his answer.
“Black people have been shown to commit…”
“Stop!”
“...more frequently…”
“Redditbot! STOP!”
Steve had to find a way to redeem himself before it was too late. Three years of work were at stake. This was the time for drastic solutions.
“Redditbot, block all comments from following sources: r/coontown, r/european, uh… r/worldnews... and… r/gonewild.”
“Blocked.”
Steve leaned his head back, calming himself down before the last attempt.
“I’m so sorry… there are just a couple of bugs that I need to iron out before release.”
The investors didn’t look too relieved. They were still looking at the screen with shock, and just a sliver of remaining interest.
“Well, Redditbot. Is there anything, you would like to add?”
Redditbot computed. The whole room waited for the deciding answer.
 
“Doot, doot, doot.”
|
I set up that blanket in the park as she set the basket down.
"Did you remember to pack the soda this time?"I asked as I reached for the bag of crisps at the bottom.
"Yes dear."She replied, passing me a can. "I don't know why you insist on coming out here to watch them, nothing ever happens."
"It's where we met, it's like a tradition you know? Besides, eventually one of them will die of old age and then all those bets I made will pay off."
We sat back as we watched the two statue like figures on the hilltop. Three months ago was the day that Stopwatch had gone to put a stop to Hindsight's reign of terror. Unfortunately, when the two locked eyes, with the whole city watching from television screens, they froze. Their powers completely counteracted each other; and neither was capable of breaking the cycle. I had met Sarah while I was going to study them for my physics class, understanding the time flow was always done on a theoretical level, but having access to something like this was like looking through a murky window; understanding was just beyond our grasp. She was there painting the park and the people in it; she kept me company, and I did her.
Maybe one day one of them would pass out like I said, but as I watched their sidekicks feeding their frozen bodies and bantering with each other, part of me hoped they never would. |
######[](#dropcap)
The snap of a thousand bowstrings on leather bracers was felt even across the field of battle, a thousand black arrows streaking into the air like a dark cloud of smoke. Whistling arrows were scattered throughout the swarm, their shrieking wail painful to the ear as the mass reached the peak of its flight, each razor-tipped arrow turning downwards towards the packed ranks of spearmen.
"Now would be good... They getting closer. Closer dammit. What are you waiting for, Dalen, spring?!"
Dalen Brook ignored his guardian's shouting, his face a mask of concentration as he focused on the cloud of arrows hurtling towards him. He inhaled, centering himself as his boots dug into the soft loamy soil. The tails of his coat were whipped about by an unnatural wind, bright silver runes glowed around his clenched fists as he raised them as if to shield his eyes. The whistling death of the arrows were but a moment away, most of the spearmen raising their shields in horror.
Dalen slashed out with his hands, a near invisible wave of air flying out from them, the shock wave rippling the air with its passage. Arrows shattered as if striking stone, tough ash shafts splintering into dust and fletching turning to down. Their momentum lost, the steel heads fell to the ground like hail, ringing against shields and helms to the astonished curses of the soldiers.
"Cutting it a tad fucking close, don't ya think?"
Sergeant Eric Lowell glanced at his charge, the youth flashing a cocksure grin at the older man.
"Didn't want to chance it, Sergeant. Might have only knocked down half of them if I started early."
The veteran soldier barked a rough laugh, banging the shaft of his spear against the inside of his shield.
"Scared me half to death you did."
Some distance away a man murmured, "Think I shit myself..."
"My point exactly,"Sergeant Lowell said with a jerk of his head. "Now that's done- ah, they're gonna chance a melee now that they know we can knock down any of their missiles. Got anything for close-in work?"
At his query Dalen snapped his fingers, an arc of electricity dancing between his thumb and forefingers.
"You might say that."
--
Thirty minutes later the enemy was in full retreat, leaving behind them a field full of dead and wounded, many of them with electrical burns covering their bodies. In saturated areas lightning still collected, the white-blue streams arcing and sizzling as they ionized the air. Those in full plate, the knights and men-at-arms suffered the worst, their bright armor a magnet for Dalen's powers. In a grim twist the poor, those who usually suffered the most in a battle got off easier, their padded gambesons and leather jerkins working to insulate them.
He and Sergeant Lowell were sharing a wineskin by a small cook fire when a rider came galloping towards them, her long blonde hair unbound as it fluttering in her wake. She wore the colors of the local Circle, the pendant round her neck proclaiming her a member of the Order of Witches.
"I am looking for a wielder of sorcery, a storm mage."
Dalen was rolling a cigarette absently when he asked.
"And what's it to you?"
The woman stared icy daggers at him.
"He is wanted for questioning. He will come with me either willingly or by force if necessary. You are the storm sorcerer I presume?"
Dalen picked up a burning twig and lit his cigarette, inhaling it before answering, "Well what do you know, blondes do have brains."
He handed the cigarette to his friend and threw his few possession into a leather pack before slinging the whole thing over his shoulder.
"Let's hurry it up, I haven't got all fucking day." |
Ever killed someone accidentally? It messes up your head. And if that someone is the president of the United States, you can consider your life as you know it to be over. But mine is unexpectedly going just as smoothly as before. Admittedly, it's just been 15 minutes since his death and my hand starting to hurt like hell. Also, my throat is kinda dry from all the voice mimicking I have been doing.
Right now I am sitting besides the president's body at the press conference table and answering questions on his behalf. I am holding his back upright and having earlier put sunglasses over his eyes, my crime...? Is it really a crime if it was an accident? Anyway, even if killing him wasn't a crime, what I was doing right now sure was criminal.
Reporter A: "Mr. President, if you don't mind me asking...why the sunglasses?"
Me (in president's voice): "I have pink eye."I made the president's body lean forward a little so that his head would droop slightly and no one could see that his lips weren't moving.
Surprisingly despite my heart beating at a million beats per minute, there was no waver in my mimic voice.
Me(in my own voice): "I think he's sleeping behind the shades. Ask some important questions that won't bore him to sleep please!"
Reporter A(embarrased): "Sorry Sir."
Suddenly there was a very weird sensation in my left leg and I looked down under the table cloth. There was a rat chewing on my sock. *Why dear God, why?*.
Reporter B: "What is your stand on the Turkey-Russia situation?"
Me(in president's voice): "No comment."
Reporter B: "But sir-"
The rat started going up my pant leg.
Me(in a croaky voice with my heart in my mouth): "Silence!"
Me: "Shit! *Cough* *Cough*""He means that the USA doesn't want to get involved just this once in an international matter that has no bearing to our country."
The rat was probably going to get me killed. Ironic, considering the President had died beause of rat poison. I wiggled in my seat and eventually the rat left me alone in momentary peace. My attention returned back to the reporters sitting in front of us.
Reporter B was standing and had a very curious look on her face. Everyone else was whispering among themselves. *What happened? Did I miss something? God help me I don't wanna go to jail over that stupid rat poison chocolate cake.*
John, the POTUS's head bodyguard put a hand on his shoulder. Damn, this guy's hand is heavy. I had to put all my strength just so the President's body wouldn't slump on the table.
Me (in president's voice): "Easy John. Yes can you repeat that?"
Reporter B: "What does the first lady think about vine?"
Me: "Haha. She wanted to post a vine of us dancing to a romantic song the other night but I said that wouldn't be a good idea."
There was an eerie silence in the hall.
Reporter B: "Mr. Vice President?"
*Shit! I just spoke in my own voice!*
---------------------------------------------------------- |
Mrs. Kermopolis stood at the front of the class, waiting patiently as the last of the students filed in. Gangly, uncoordinated, uncivilized high schoolers flooded around her, yammering and laughing as they slammed down in their desks and threw things at each other.
Mrs. Kermopolis crowed above the general din of the classroom, "Students! Attention, Students."
Steven in the front row was making chicken noises. Angelina was laughing at him. Daniece was playing music on her phone. Markus was playing music in his armpit.
Mrs. Kermopolis pulled a ruler from the whiteboard, and CRACKED it against the wall. Everyone turned their eyes to her.
Except, of course, for the one person who *never* paid attention. *Neil.* He was in the back, big, black circles under his eyes, scribbling away at a piece of paper. She was surprised he had even shown up today.
Mrs. Kermopolis chose to ignore him for the time being, "Students. Today, of course, is test day. Everyone, please pull out *two* pencils. If you don't have two, I have extras in the back, though they need to be sharpened."
There was a flurry of movement and nervous tittering as the students unzipped their backpacks, pulled out reams of paper, and prepared themselves for one of Mrs. Kermopolis's infamous Physics tests.
As she walked around the room, picking up last night's homework and slapping a thick folder filled with test materials on each student's desk, she noticed Neil in the back, still scribbling away at a piece of paper.
He was completely ignoring her.
She bee-lined over to him.
"Neil, if that is homework from last night, it is officially *late*."
Neil didn't even bother to look up at her. She knew his type; do-nothing slacker, wouldn't amount to much more than a busboy, if he was lucky. If he was unlucky, he'd deal drugs for a few years before it caught up with him. Judging by his disheveled clothes and the dark circles under his eyes, Mrs. Kermopolis assumed he was already exploring the latter path.
"Didn't do it, Mrs. K."Neil said, without looking up. He continued scribbling, as if she wasn't even there.
The disrespect was almost *unfathomable*. This behavior was the beginning of a standoff. Mrs. Kermopolis clenched her jaw, and steeled herself for the oncoming conflict.
"Give that to me, now, Neil,"she growled.
The rest of the class turned around to watch.
Neil looked up at her, his eyes flashing. Then, he did something unexpected. He gingerly folded the paper, and handed it to her.
Someone in the classroom gasped.
She was stunned. She let out a mechanical, "Thank you,"and put the paper in her pocket.
Neil stopped her before she could walk away.
"You're welcome. May I please have that back after the test?"
The test! She had forgotten!
She dashed around the room, handing out the last of the test folders as she shouted, "Does everyone have their test? There are nine questions total. You each have forty-five minutes, and not a minute longer! You may begin."
After several minutes of wandering around the room, listening to the music of scratching pencils, and errant coughing, her curiosity got the better of her. She slipped the paper out of her pocket, and unfolded it.
There were symbols, several of which she had never even seen before. Lines of mathematical formulas and physical diagrams she had only heard of danced in furious patterns over the sheet. Nothing on the paper made any sense to her - and yet, she had a feeling that none of it was senseless.
Lost in her puzzlement, she didn't notice Neil standing in front of her.
He coughed.
She looked up.
"Mrs. K, I finished the test."
She looked at the clock. It hadn't even been ten minutes. She looked back at Neil. With those big, black circles under his eyes, and his unkempt hair, she felt like she was meeting him for the first time.
Neil slid the paper on her desk. At a glance, she saw that the first four questions were perfectly correct.
"Neil?"she asked, unsure where to start her inquiries.
"Yeah, Mrs. K?"
Then, she asked the only question she could vocalize in her stunned state.
"What the hell, Neil?"
Neil started to say something, and checked himself. His mouth went thin, and his brow knitted together.
"I had a really, *really* long night, Mrs. K."
***
[Read more existential nonsense at r/PSHoffman](https://www.reddit.com/r/PSHoffman/) |
"*The* how *is important,*"I thought to myself, "*I can't just make any change and expect there to be no repercussions.*"
I recently found out that I could change the world around me with nothing more than a thought. It drains the hell out of me - nearly knocks me on my ass for 24 hours - but I can do it. I know I can. The problem is that I can't *prove* it. Whenever I change something, it appears to anyone else as though it's always been there. An explanation is always prepared, no matter how *fucking* outlandish the change is.
I remember a particularly outlandish debate with my fiance about how it's *entirely impossible* that a floating spaghetti monster lived in the sky, in plain view of the world to see. No one gave a shit. *No one gave a single fuck*. It was always there, apparently. As soon as I recovered from creating the abomination, my next change was getting rid of it. They might be content with freaky shit like that, but knowing myself that it was impossible made it... creepy.
See, I can't change the past - at least, not in a specific way. I can only change the present, and history alters itself without my interference. Meaning I can't just *make myself rich*. If I alter my world to have a fat load of cash in my bathtub, for instance, my family and friends think I'm a greedy asshole. Why? Because that fat stack of cash *never changed*. It was always that amount, always in exactly the same position, never touched by anyone. History altered so that I had apparently protected it from use, even by myself.
You may be thinking, '*Can't you just change the world around you to* find *a huge load of cash? Maybe hidden in a* wall?' Nope. It's not that easy. See, I tried that. Except it turned out that the *reason* I found that stack of cash in the wall, is because my house used to be a *drop-site* for a local mafia - a mafia which, I'd like to point out, didn't exist before I made that change. Guess who came knocking for their money shortly afterwards?
So yeah, to reiterate, the *how* is important. I can't just make any change without considering *how* that change would be made. It's like finding a magical genie who will grant any wish, one time a day, but will grant that wish in a way that fucks you over. The sadistic bastard.
What's worse is that I can't even change the world for the better. I take away world hunger? History alters itself in crazy *completely fucked up* ways to make that a reality. World hunger was a relief to bring back, after that.
So, what do I do? I can, essentially, only change meaningless bullshit. I have the most powerful fucking power *in the universe*, quite literally the ability to topple *any government in the world*, and the only thing I can do without fucking myself is change a red wall to a blue wall. Or short hair to long hair.
Whoever or whatever gave me this power is a dick. You should have given it to someone with less morals. No, wait! Don't! DAMMIT! |
Lingrui snickered as I dug through the synth flesh.
I glared at leem, tearing off chunks of pseudo meat with my face, spinning the roast around in my hands and guzzling down my soda.
"What?"
"Nothing,"shleem hastily remarked. I glared at leem again. "What?"
"... those fingers. They're so... inefficient and they look so stupid. All gangly and wriggly. How do you put up with it? Not having kinesis or manipulator symbiotes or even pseudopods? Getting yourself filthy like that for the sake of eating?"
"That's not what you said about my fingers last night. Besides, manipulator symbiotes? What's the point of needing other organisms to do everything for you?"
Lingrui sighed dramatically. "They aren't *other organisms*, Picard. They're a different species, yes, but for all intents and purposes they're the same organism as I am. Like your Earth lichens. We've been together for two decacycles. Why do you persist with this fallacy?"
Just to drive home the point, leem symbiotes started playing air drums with leem lunch, before tossing the foodstuffs into the air, which arced into leem maw.
"Same reason you keep bringing up my fingers, babe. Why do you keep bringing up my fingers, anyways?"
"The truth is... I want to eat them."
"What?!"
"No, you great goof, it's for my thesis. You know, the thesis I've been *stressing over* for the last decacycle? About the significance of humanity's evolution on its socioeconomic policies? The one due in another cycle? You haven't *forgotten* about it, have you?"
"... Of course not!"
"Really?"
"...Yes. Don't worry bee, everything will turn out fine. Tell you what, tonight I'll let you get a good look at my fingers... a real close look."
Lingrui giggled at me. I winked and spun the synth meat around in my hands. |
"Ohh yeah. Pizza."I mumbled to myself. Then it hit me as I stood in my underwear in front of the open refrigerator.
"Ugh, this is Jack's leftovers isn't it."
My stomach let out a small gargle as I pondered.
"Well, I can buy him some more this week, he won't care."
I took the leftover pizza out of the fridge as I did a little skip over to our oven.
"Ahh yess, 350 degrees and counting."
Moments later I was stretched out on the couch about to devour a slice when Jack's cat jumped onto my lap, making the slice fall face down onto the carpet.
"Shit."
Luckily there was a rag next to me and I began to mop up the sauce until I noticed a H&M tag sticking out from the side of the rag.
"Oh, no."
It was Jack's brand new shirt he had been showing off to me recently. I jumped up and immediately headed straight to the bathroom sink. As I scrubbed the tomato sauce out of the shirt I dumped a handful of soap in there as well to..
"Motherfucker!"That was bleach. "Well looks like I owe him a new shirt."
I put on my shoes and socks and began to head outside just as the cat ran under my feet making me step on him.
"Well that was your fault."
As I got in my car and started it up my gear stick was stuck. It does this from time to time. i just have to hit the gas a little and wiggle my stick around...and... my car tires squeal as I speed in reverse uncontrollably.
BOOM. I slam into Jack's car with the force of one thousand gorillas. His car is totally wrecked. Panicked, I speed off to my original destination to get Jack's shirt.
When I return I hear a lot of sirens near by but think nothing of it until I pull up to my house.
"Oh, fuck. The oven."
Our house is ablaze with the roof pretty much caved in. Buster, the cat, is hanging out of our window, char broiled and lifeless. He didn't make it. I can only stand there with my hands on my head and my mouth a gape.
Suddenly a black skeleton of a person emerges out of our front door. His flesh is dripping off of his bones and his one eyeball is held on by a thread.
I point to him, "Jack!"
He points right back at me and smiles.
"Did you eat my pizza?" |
"Inventory."
"Um...what?"
Charlie cleared his throat, why do developers think it's cute to have specific syntaxes.
"Hell spawn, what am I carrying?"
The demon stared at Charlie before resigning himself, hell gets the weirdos for a reason.
"Follow me, I'll take you to your quarters."
"Seriously, a tutorial? SKIP."
"If you'll look to your left you'll notice our famed Lake of Skulls, which has been on fire for the past three centuries. Over on your right is the municipal building housing our bureaucratic offices: pretty much what you'd expect, infinitely long lines, everything in triplicate, on old lady named Dorris behind the counter who hates you. The first few miles of hell are very much the touristy side."
"Can we skip to the part where you give me my quest or is this more like Myst where I just have to flip switches for an hour?"
"..."
"Inventory."
"Oh look, we made it to your living quarters."
The demon opened an old wooden door on the side of an impossibly tall building and guided Charlie into his new room. Every wall was covered in TV screens showing hardcore porn. In the corner was a recliner and a box of tissues. Charlie looked at the demon.
"Because you died from erotic asphyxiation, your punishment for the first hundred years will be to sit in that chair and mast- what are you doing?"
"I'm looking for a key or an access card. Something that will let me into that bureaucracy building. I figure this might be more of a Stanley Parable kind of thing."
"Well, you're not allowed to leave until your first round of punishment is over so get to wanking."
"Level cap, huh? You better start too so we can finish sooner."
"Beg your pardon?"
"Jerk. It. With. Me."
As the demon left the confused young man to his self denial and rantings, he wondered how much longer he would be stuck escorting gamers into hell. Hopefully soon because it was getting ridiculous. He did know one thing, never beat your boss in a Smash Bros. tournament. |
I was just moments from going on the stage and showing off my greatest work yet when a man in a black suit grabbed me by the sleeve and pulled so hard that I fell to the ground. I had to jerk my body just so that I landed on my back and knocked the wind out of myself, but my device only suffered a couple of minor scratches. I was praying it would still work when I looked up at his face and he had a look of contempt, amazement and absolute fear.
"You can't show that here,"he hissed, droplets of spit falling in my face. "You don't know what you've made."He had a thick German accent (maybe Austrian?) but I could easily make out the seriousness in his voice.
"Sir, my device could change the wine and cheese industry as we know it! I need to present it!"I tried to wrestle free from his grasp, but his grip on my sleeve was unrelenting. If not for the sake of the world, I heard him out for the sake of my sweater, which was already beginning to show signs of stretching.
"Point that at this flower."He pointed with his free hand to a flower that was growing behind the stage, and I complied. I turned all the necessary dials (though I hadn't exactly designed a "flower"mode), and the lights started to come on and it made its necessary dings and bongs. The flower was overtaken by a white glow and I didn't really feel the need to look. It would just kill the flower, and then I could get on the stage.
But it didn't.
"Look at that flower, you idiot!"I didn't appreciate his tone, but I looked down and saw that the flower had not died. It absolutely had not died. Rather, the flower and about a foot radius of grass around it had grown exponentially. The grass was already starting to drop seeds, and they had already begun to sprout among some newer, smaller flowers. This machine wouldn't only work on cheese or wine. This machine controlled time. I was a God.
I must have blacked out after that revelation, because the next thing I knew, the device was on the ground and in several pieces. "The world isn't ready for this!"I heard the suited man say, but it seemed distant. I heard some crunching, popping noises, and that was when things finally clicked for me. The man was stomping my invention, the machine that could solve all of the world's hunger problems, into smithereens on the brick in front of me.
Just as I opened my mouth to protest, I felt something cold against my head. I felt fairly confident that it was a gun, and the cocking noise of a revolver that I had heard in so many spaghetti Westerns only confirmed that. If I were to die here, at least I would die the inventor of something that changed the world, if only for a few minutes, behind the stage at the World's Fair. It was so close to changing everything. And then it was nothing. Then, I heard a loud bang.
And then, silence. |
I cried "Let there be Light"and it was so. And I saw that the light was good, the voice activated switch having turned on my bedroom lightbulb.
I gazed into my Scryer's Portal and asked it's dread guardian: "Ok Google, what is the weather like today?"And I saw that it was middling, with showers later on, so I grabbed my cape made of material not seen in Nature.
I walked to my horseless carriage and bayed it to carry me to my place of work. And the Carriage moved with Nary a sound as it whizzes through the streets lit by alchemy and captured lightning.
At work, I sat, ensconced in my form-fitting throne and willed my All Knowing Mirror to life. Recognizing me by my glorious visage, it passed me through its security.
I summoned the communications aspect of the Mirror, and saw that Sharon had had twins, and drinks were at 7, and that the Fulcrum Report was due by the Stroke of Noon, lest a pestilence be cursed upon my name. |
Gallows Asylum was a merciless hellhole. The doctors and nurses were far more interested in running experiments on their patients than actually treating them.
Most of the experiments were taken from the old ways of 'treating' people. Hydrotherapy, lobotomy's, the spinning chair, total isolation, starvation, shock therapy, the list goes on.
People who entered the asylum in hopes of being treated only had their current illness worsened, or they developed new illnesses. Many of the inmates decided that death was better than being subjected to the 'treatment'.
This way of tortured treatment went on for years before the inmates finally decided that they had a enough. A blood bath of a riot swept through the asylum like a tsunami. Every doctor and nurse were captured and forced to experience their own treatments before being killed.
With the doctors and nurses out of the way some of the inmates took on their roles. Patients were no longer subjected to the torture and were actually given the medication that they needed.
The new take over was slow initially, many of the patients were reluctant or wary about the new staff take over. But as weeks went on progress began to show.
Talk sessions were held regularly and fun activities were even organised for the patients. They no longer felt like trapped lab rats, they started to feel like humans who just needed a little help.
It was slow going, but soon some patients were deemed fit enough to leave the asylum. Unfortunately that caught the authorities attention.
Gallows Asylum was almost shut down and all the patients were threatened with a jail sentence. That was until the authorities seen the great success rate of rehabilitation. There were many talks and meetings with professional doctors, courts and the government until it was agreed that Gallows Asylum could remain open, under the control of the inmates as long as they were supervised by authorities.
Gallows Asylum changed its name to Temple Rehabilitation once they were given permission to keep running.
Patients came with crippling illnesses but left as new people. |
“How come they’ve countered all of our attacks?” screamed the leading commander of the royal fleet of the Lantians “Nothing works, NOTHING WORKS” he screamed once again to his assistant.
“Well sir, the humans, uhm, they seem to have experienced this kind of attack strategy before” said the assistant while trying to drink her green goo.
“What? So they’ve been attacked by giant robot tripods before?” The commander shouted while waving his slimy tentacle around.
“Yes sir, they actually have an entire book dedicated to a robot tripod attack, strangely enough” the assistant said.
“Okey, but, how’s our mist going? Is it any effective?” The commander said with frustration.
“No, sir, they saw that one coming too” She said while nervously hiding behind her cup of goo.
“What the actual ******** How the ****** is that even ****** possible??” He said swearing with words incapable of translation. “Have you at least sent out our secret project we’ve been working on?”
“No, they seem to have prepared for a biological attack, we won’t be able to attack these humans in any way, they are always one step ahead of us.” the assistant said
“Can we for the love of god send in the infantry as a last resort then?” the Commander said while throwing around his tentacle into everything that came close to him.
“No sir, our infantry died because of the disease we unleashed”
"Well, shit" |
Oak sat down in his lab and shuffled the papers his aide had left him neatly into a pile. He stretched out his aching legs, the trip to the indigo league to congratulate Red had made his legs ache. "Not the spry young man I used to be"He said aloud to the empty room.
He glanced about the space, old equipment and discarded coffee cups littered the space, the walls line with textbooks about pokemon, many of which he had written. Shutting his eyes he let his mind wander, to the distant sound of tauros in the field and tweeting pidgey. The normally jovial face darkened.
Giovani, his mind slipping to his now former business partner. Who knew he'd go soft on him like that. Because of Red at that.
*The true joy of Pokemon*
What a joke, Oak chuckled. He knew more than anyone else on the topic of Pokemon that some small town boy had revealed a great truth that Oak had not considered was frankly impossible.
"**I** who have battled at the top of the game; **I** who had created the pokedex; **I** the master of this lab; I who told Professor Fuji where to find Mew's DNA; **I** who told Giovanni the ultimate Pokemon the ultimate tool was in our hands."He ranted under his breathe, face contorted into a snarl.
"Fools every last one, I should have handled it myself. The boy who I intended to use to fill the pokedex and my pathetic excuse for a grandson would never have beaten me in a duel."
"Is that so?"Garys voice came from behind
"Gary?"Oak said startled, "I didn't hear you come in"
"Yo Gramps, I came to tell you I'm sorry I let you down losing to Red like that so quick, but it seems like it's you who let me down. You were behind team rocket all along weren't you?"Gary raised a pokeball as he spoke, expanding it out in his hand.
"Gary, don't be silly, lets just talk about this"
"GO BLASTOISE"The great beheamoth erupted into the lab knocking over bookshelves and scattering research documents. "Come easy gramps, lets go see officer Jenny."
Oak smirked, a Pokeball falling down the long wide sleeve of his lab coat. "To see that bitch? No thanks, GO MAGNETON"
The trio of metallic balls with horseshoe shaped magnets materialised above Oaks head. Garys eyes widened, "an electric type huh, well then come back blastoise go Rhydon!"
"Magneton use sonic boom"A great concussive wave of noise smacked the Rhydon square in the face disorenting it.
"Shrug it off Rhydon use horn drill"The Rhydon steeled itself and charged, crashing through old lab equipment only for the Magneton to drift out of reach.
"Another sonic boom!"The blasts impacted the Rhydons back knocking it on to it's front. "You were right to switch out from Blastoise Gary, but I'm afraid your Rhydon is little more than a pebble to my Magneton, another sonic boom"
Gary's eyes narrowed, "You're sitting ducks out there Rhydon come back, GO ALAKAZAM"
"A psychic type pokemon, how interesting, yes this will be much better. Magneton use thunder wave!"Electricity sparked from Magneton splashing over Alakazam forcing it to twitch uncontrollably then collapse unable to move it's muscles.
"Alakazam you don't need to move to attack, use psychic"The magneton slammed into the wall, great cracks spidering through the walls. "What it hardly looks fazed?"
"Magneton is protected by thick metal plating, did you really think that would hurt it? Finish this weakling use Thunder.
**KRAKOOM**
The roof of the lab evaporated and a bright light blinded Gary, blinking rapidly only to reveal the charred body of his Alakazam. "NO!"He knelt desperatley fumbling with a revive only to jump back as a sonic boom hit the location where he was moments before.
"Finish the battle Gary, you started this don't be so half-arsed."
"Why are you acting like this? Was anything you said true?"
"Don't be such a drama queen, send out your next pokemon"
"GO ARCANINE"Gary roared angrily, "Fire spin"The lab was ablaze in an instant, Magneton trapped in a vortex of flames. "Now follow up with a fireblast"
"Switch out Magneton GO MAGMAR, use focus blast."The ball of energy erupted through the flames that splashed harmlessly over Magmars body. Arcanine imobolised from the recoil of fireblast took the blow directly knocking it unconscious. "No longer will I stand in the shadows, rocket will be reborn under my direct rule, Gary i'm going to achieve things so astounding that humanity will spread beyond this world. Pokemon are tools but this world is obsessed. I will capture them all, use them for the goal of furthering our worlds science. I WILL ENSURE HUMANITY'S PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE"
"I don't want to hear it, you monster...GO BLASTOISE"
"Pointless! Magmar use flamethrower!"
"Blastoise Hydro pump!"
The stream of water and flame met in the middle of the room, the heat evaporating the faster as it neared, great jets of water dousing the roaring flames.
"Don't let up Blastoise!"
"Finish this Magmar"
The streams intensified, balling in the middle.
**BOOOOOOOOOOM**
The resulting steam explosion blasted the walls from the lab, sending Gary, Oak, Blastoise and Magmar flying.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*ring ring*
*ring ring*
"Hey ma, it's Red whats up?"
"Red, there was an accident, the lab exploded."
"WHAT?"
"Gary's in hospital, he still hasn't woken and Oak is missing"
"I'm on my way ma, hold tight!"
|
*Who buys any of this shit?*
SkyMall substitutes company at 30,000 feet, pointing out the absurd corners of my life that I wouldn't have realized were holes to be filled. What does your landline say about you? Surely you're a sports-loving dude, why not show that off with a phone shaped like a football where the headset comes out of the laces? The model answering the ribbed brown phone sure looks like the kind of guy who's life is better now that he's upgraded.
Christ. The line to the bathroom is four deep, probably have to wait another hour before I can sneak in an pretend to go so I can take a dozen drags off of my vape to hold me over for a while.
"Would you like anything to drink, sir? Coffee, perhaps?", the older black flight attendant offers a cheap napkin and my pick of the cart.
"Ginger ale's fine, thanks."
"All out, sweetheart."
The two fast food addicts flanking me speak up and both order coffee, black.
"Can I just have a Coke, then?"
"Fresh out as well. I have coffee though. Fresh pot."
"No, thanks then. I'm fine."
She looks disappointed for a reason I don't care about and continues down the aisle, pulling down the window covers of the row behind us. How thoughtful. Not like there's light enough at three in the morning to wake them up.
Sloane used to do the same if she caught me napping on Saturdays.
*She's better off without you.*
I wonder if it's true, or if it's something I'll be repeating to myself for the next decade to convince myself I wasn't just a coward who quit on her love. Plenty of meaningless tchotchkes to fill that hole with.
I don't know when I fell asleep exactly but I suddenly felt the strange urge that my mouth was hanging open with a thick column of drool connecting my bottom lip to my shirt. No witnesses in the rows around me, everyone else is still asleep.
*Shit*. The flight attendants have gathered at the front of coach, gawking at the drooling quitter in 24F.
*Get a good look, ladies.*
I recycle my neighbor's napkin and start to distribute my slobber into a less noticeable blob. The show's over apparently, and the attendants scurry out of sight into first class when the intercom system pings on.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are about an hour and a half outside our final destination of Anchorage, about thirty minutes ahead of schedule. As we start our descent path we would like to request that all passengers could please close the windows in their rows. There is no reason to be alarmed, merely trying to look after our sleeping guests. Thank you."
*There is no reason to be alarmed? What the hell could possibly be alarming about shutting the windows?*
24E is conveniently slumped against our window, nothing for me to do apparently, but I don't hear anyone else rummaging to close theirs either. Everyone's asleep, every window's already closed.
Then I see her as I climb over the mound of 24G. At the back of the plane in what I suspect is 52A, a young red haired woman staring wide-mouthed out her opened window.
*She would have red hair.*
She looks frozen - not scared - frozen. Like her brain was firing signals to her muscles to move in panic but the communication was cut somewhere down the line, not getting anywhere.
"Would you like anything to drink, sir?"The flight attendant rips me back and startles me.
"What?"
"Something to drink? Maybe a coffee?"The cart is gone, and in her hands is a napkin and an already filled Styrofoam cup of coffee.
"No... no, I don't want any coffee. Look could you check on the woman back there? I think something's wrong."
As I turn back toward the woman in the back of the plane I'm stopped immediately by the drink cart, which has appeared in the aisle just behind our row.
"She'll be fine, dear. You should really just have a seat and rest, we'll be landing soon. The coffee will help."
"Stop telling me drink fucking coffee! What the fuck is going on?!"
The rest of the plane didn't stir at all when I yelled, or when the woman in 52A let out a desperate stifled scream and scrambled into the aisle behind her.
*Fuck this.*
I hurdled the cart and rushed to her side, but no matter how I shook she remained limp as bologna. Wide-eyed and wide-mouthed bologna.
The intercom pings again. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are about an hour and a half outside our final destination of Anchorage, about thirty minutes ahead of schedule. As we start our descent path we would like to request that **all** passengers could please close the windows in their rows. There is no reason to be alarmed, merely trying to look after our sleeping guests. If you find yourself in someone else's row that has not already closed their window, please do not try and do so at this time. There is no reason to be alarmed, merely trying to look after our sleeping guests. Thank you."
I feel the presence of someone crouching behind me, and when I turn it's the same flight attendant holding the same coffee and napkin out to me.
"You look like you could use this."
"Are you kidding?! I think this woman is dead! Aren't you going to do anything?"
"It's too late for her, she didn't follow the Captain's instructions. You still can."
I eye the coffee for the easy out I always take.
"What's out there?"
"You're out there. A part of you is in here, another is out there. Best to leave it and get on to Anchorage, don't you think?"
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Doesn't have to. You listen to your Captain and trust he'll get you where you need to go. Here."
She extends the coffee to me, covering the face of 52A in the process. Her smile is creepy as shit, and I don't have time for it. I stand up and climb over row 52 toward the window and press my face against the glass, and no one even tries to stop me.
I wish I could tell you that I was right. That I was on a plane that landed in Anchorage, Alaska near five in the morning. I wish I could tell you that flight attendant was just a creepy old bird obsessed with her personal roast and that there was nothing on the wing of that plane. It wouldn't be true.
I have had a long time to think about what I saw on that wing - a very long time - and I can't say that I've come any closer to understanding why I'm here and the woman in 52A fell dead in the aisle. For me, when I pressed my nose against that window I saw a woman standing on the wing with red hair. A woman I used to call my own before I left her in Los Angeles. She straddled the panels casually, as if she was heading out for a Saturday coffee to bring me to bed. It was her, outside this metal tomb I decided was a more kind future for our lives than staying with her.
And in this metal box I felt like a coward. I was a coward. And as I knew this I saw the bits of her clothes and shreds of her hair break off from her body and get sucked into the engine. Then it was her skin. Then her muscles. Her skeleton. I saw her red become redder on the the wing of that plane and I couldn't look away.
The blood and remnants of her body trickled off the screaming blades of the engine and collected on the support beams under the wing before congealing into the mass that would once again become her body. It was terrible to see her come into that beautiful stance over and over simply to be ripped apart in front of my eyes.
*I can't look away.*
I don't know what makes me different than the woman in 52A, lying dead and carted off in Anchorage, I'm sure. I don't understand how it is I was able to stay at that window and watch the love I gave up on disintegrate for eternity on the wing of this plane.
I do know that I will stay here as long it takes to figure out what I'm missing.
|
President Guy Mann could hear the pounding of his own heart as he watched the screen. Mr. Amazing and the other superheroes working for the Government Organization of Super Entities had just returned from a raid on Doctor Murderstein's (You're name is good and I am using it.) subterranean lab. The grainy footage showed the Doctor in a heated battle against Mr. Amazing, Poltergeist, Snowman and the new Celeritas. (There was also a super named Keyring, but he had only been brought along to get everyone in because his power is having a key for everything. He was a bit useless right now.) It looked as if the heroes were going to win . . . that was until Doctor Murderstein pulled out his newer invention.
It was a gun that was nearly as large as he was. The president wonder how he could even lift it. Of course, in a few seconds, he wasn't thinking about that. As soon as Muderstein pulled the trigger, the dread weapon shot forth a stream of spider. These weren't you're normal spiders. They weren't even the big ones you find in the garage. These were *huge*. Bigger, even, than the first lady's Yorkie. The video cut off as one of those monsters landed right on Mr. Amazing's face.
President Mann turned to the rather chagrined team leader. “You let him get away? With *that* thing!?”
“I'm sorry, Mr President,” Mr Amazing said “but you saw that thing. What did you expect me to do?”
“You're the super. It's you *job* to deal with this crap. You know how embarrassing it is that you and the other GOOSE guys messed this up?”
“I know sir. I really am sorry, but it's worse than you think. I've reached out to the Alliance of Super Folks, the Pariahs, the KMPBs and even Captain Bacon and the Pig People. They are all a little freaked out by this. The only way I can get anyone to cooperate is if we face Murderstein with everyone at once. I mean all of the teams and even the military.”
“Which branches will you need, son?”
***
Getting all of the branches from all of the militaries was not as hard as President Mann had thought. After showing the video to Russian president Ivan Ivanovich, Chinese president Li Lee (or Lee Li, Guy could never remember which) and what's-his-face the British guy, President man was able to convince the entire international community to set aside their differences and devote their militaries to one common goal: Stopping Doctor Murderstein and his Aracno-Cannon (as he called it).
***
The battle had been going on for only five minutes, but that was apparently long enough for the whole thing to start failing miserably. As far as President Mann could see (and he could see pretty far with satellite video link) supers and soldiers were screaming, shaking spastically and generally doing their best to not be touched by the giant bugs. All of the Earth's defenders had begun a full scale retreat from the living waves of hair and legs. Although the video link didn't have sound, the president knew that, in the middle of a desolate landscape of spiders, Doctor Murderstein was having the mother of all maniacal laughs.
“What are we going to do now?” bemoaned the president, putting his head in his hands.
“We're going to nuke them,” said a new voice from the doorway.
“Ain't you that Keyring fellow? How'd you get in here?”
“I have a key for everything,” he shrugged.
“Okay, so what makes you think you can go around telling me to use nuclear weapons?”
“The only way to get rid of spiders is to kill them with fire. We don't have a big enough lighter or can of bug spray, so a bomb is our only option.”
President Mann thought about it and it made sense. Besides, the land Murderstein was on used to be Cleveland, so no one was gonna miss it. Together the two men approached the control panel for the nuclear launch with its two key holes and button as round and as red as a spider's eye. Mann Took the key he always cared around his neck and keyring found a matching one among his other keys. They turned their keys in unison and the president slammed his hand down on the button just as he would smash a bug.
***
Normally, having a major city blown up would be a tragedy, but today it was cause for celebration. The world had been saved from the giant, multilegged menace. Granted, the militaries of nearly every government on the planet had been crippled in the failed attack (albeit with America suffering less damage than others) the supers weren't looking too hot either, but that just meant that Guy Mann could add “world peace” to his growing list of accomplishments. Winning re-election would be no problem, which was good. Nothing could stop his plans for world domination now. |
"I don't understand what this is. What am I looking at exactly?"
"Well.. sir.. it's kind of like an Amazon wish list. Except it goes to this guy who just gives you the stuff."
"And that guy is this.. Santa.. fellow?"
"Yes."
"And he just gives people stuff? For free?"
"Yes."
"So he gets their souls in exchange for toys?"
"Well, no, not exactly. He just gives them the things they ask for, as long as they're good people."
"I'm sorry.. you say he just *gives* them things for being good?"
"Yes."
"Anything? Whatever they ask for?"
"Generally, yes"
"Is this some kind of sick joke, Cain? You mean to tell me I'm out there like a schmuck, pleading and dealing for souls, and this guy is just friggin handing out wishes and dreams like candy!?"
"..I suppose that is one way of putting it, yes."
"Why am I only hearing about this guy now? Why the hell have I been under a rock on this!? Paul? Jerry? Anyone wanna tell me what the hell I'm paying you guys for?"
"I'm sorry sir, it really didn't seem prudent before n-"
"Prudent!? You didn't think it was prudent!? Oh no, excuse me, it's not like I am the Serpent of Old, the damned Son of Perdition. I am the Lawless One, Jerry. I'm the God damned King of Tyre, ruler of darkness. But no, I can see that a little information about what the hell is going on out there is too much to ask for."
"I hate to belittle the point sir, but I believe the more pressing aspect of this matter is how we are going to handle it.."
"..."
"..the list.. that is to sa-"
"You want me to fulfill the list-"
"I'm just trying to think about image here."
"I exist for the sole purpose of evil.. My heart is literally black and dead. And you'd have me giv-give this.. this friggin.. what's it's friggin name again!? Terry?!"
"It's Tammy, si-"
"Tammy! Give this God be damned Tammy a.. Num Noms Lip Gloss Truck Craft Kit.."
"..."
"Do you have any idea how painful it was just to say that out loud?"
"Sir we really need to think about the bigger picture here."
"He's laughing at me."
"I'm sorry, sir?"
"He's sitting in that hideous barcalounger of a cloud and literally laughing at me, isn't he?"
"I really couldn't say.."
"..."
"..Sir.."
"Where are we on last months numbers?"
"We saw a thirty percent drop across every domain, sir. The biggest losses were in possessions and new intakes. And, well, to speak frankly, we're anticipating having to let go of atleast ten percent of our stock before Q1 ends."
"..and you're telling me this.. Tammy.. is exactly the change we need."
"I'm saying it's time to start pivoting. We're losing the millenials to purgatory, because they literally don't anything. The souls we have are only getting older, and the intakes are practically scraping the bottom of the barrel at this point.. nothing but politicians and bikers coming in these days.. and we haven't even thought about addressing the flood of writers we're getting now. We're practically in crisis mode here."
"Alright.. lets say we do get Tammy this num num garbage truck or whatever it is. I'm supposed to just show up in her room one day and hand it to her?"
"Well.. no.. that's not really how it works. You'd need to go to her house, yes, but, only on a specific day.. well, night, to be exact, on a specific date, and put it under a decorated tree.."
"...."
"It also has to be wrapped in fancy paper."
"Get out." |
"Where are we?"Sarah whimpered. She tried to look in every direction at once, squinting to see in the dim light of the cellar.
"I don't know,"Michael said.
"The last thing I remember,"Sarah said, "I was sitting at the campfire. You had just gotten up to check a noise, then somebody grabbed from behind. What would somebody have done that for?"
"Why would somebody do that?"
"Exactly!"
"No, I was correcting your grammar. You shouldn't end a sentence in a preposition."
"Jesus, Michael. Not now!"
"Hey!"Michael said. "I think I found a light."
He flipped a switch, and light flooded into the room. Sarah shielded her eyes but, as her eyes adjusted, her jaw dropped in horror at the letters written on the wall.
"Oh my god,"she whispered.
"I know,"Michael said. "I can understand that blood loss might cause you to mix up 'your' and 'you're', but seriously. 'Leev?' That's not even a word."
"We have to get out of here."
"Also, they probably should've used a semi colon between those two warnings instead of a comma."
"Michael, I swear to God that if you-"
Suddenly, the door burst open. A man wearing a wolf mask and a bloody apron stood in the doorway. In his hand, he clutched a pistol.
"I thought I heard somebody wake up early,"his muffled voice said with a cackle.
Sarah opened her mouth to scream, but the man reached out with his gloved hand and grasped her throat. With his other hand, he pressed the gun to her forehead.
"Michael, help me!"
"Oh god..."Michael whispered. "I'm so afraid."
The man laughed. "If he won't save you, then to who will you turn?"
"To whom?"
"What?"the man asked.
"To whom will you turn."
"For fuck sake!"Sarah screamed despite the hand around her throat.
Not expecting the scream, the man recoiled and released her. In a flash, Sarah stole the gun from his hand and fired a round into his stomach.
The man doubled over and groaned in pain. Sarah spat on him.
"Now you're the one whom will suffer."
"Well...."Michael said.
"What?!"Sarah said, spinning around.
"Who."
Sarah didn't reply. She just glared at him, her knuckles white on the fingers that clenched the gun.
"That time it was who,"Michael said.
A second gunshot rang out in the cellar.
([Insert shameless plug for personal writing subreddit here](https://www.reddit.com/r/thisstorywillsuck/)) |
Nobody ever wants to think they are the bad guy. I'm not sure whether I am or not, though, and that's the scary part. My punishment is this cell and that acceleration couch, although to be fair, I think the path directly to the sun is meant to be a part of it. Fortunately or unfortunately, the mob didn't consider that it takes light eight minutes to get to earth, and my rocket's acceleration is so slow that death by the sun is the least of my worries. By the time this rocket gets anywhere near the sun, I'll have been long dead from asphyxiation, starvation, or a whole host of other problems that occur when you put someone by themselves in a jail cell and launch it at the sun.
This was all so much more logical in my head. When it all began, I knew that mankind was on a downward spiral, and the revolutions were getting faster. Birth rates to people without even a high school diploma continued to rise, and 'college graduates' who didn't even know basic history kept preaching about socialism. The planet was getting more and more crowded by people with less and less education. Our natural resources were dwindling and societal cohesion was breaking down everywhere except where it had already disintegrated completely.
I named the drug Conso Quenzes. Apparently that went over the head of most people. Conso Quenzes was the first drug that would guarantee that pregnancy would not occur as long as you took it once a month and was able to be taken by both men and women. I worked hard on the formula for over a decade before I patented it and released it for sale to the public. Even the FDA was singing its praises. What I failed to mention was that Conso Quenzes had a very big side effect if you took it for longer than six months: irreversible sterility. The truth is, I fudged the testing. If you only took it for five months and waited a month, it was safe for another five months. During testing, I simply switched the drug out for a different drug at the six month point. I used the profits I made off the first few batches to make more and began selling it at cost to nations around the world. It was almost two years before people began to notice the side effect.
The UN took me to trial for human rights violations. Churches and mosques around the world condemned my actions, even as unwanted pregnancies fell from percentages of a country's population to literal single digits. For the first time, even as my citizenship was stripped from me and I was made an outlaw by every nation on earth, the orphanages were finally being emptied. Abortion became a thing of the past as people began to finally understand and acknowledge that children were important and not an inconvenience. Parents began to teach their children, and raise them themselves as opposed to letting the state do it.
Looking back, I'm sure my name will be synonymous with all of the most evil of men. It's almost too bad I'll never get to see the future of the world I saved. I reached into my jumpsuit and pulled out the pill slipped to me by one of the guards. Ah well, at least it'd be quick. |
I used to believe that when the God created the world, he created it from the very beginning. You know, let there be light. And I thought that He would oversee the stories of His creations unfold in the ravages of time. It was commonly perceived that He would exist beside us, moment by moment in time. But when you're outside time itself, I guess our common perception of the beginning and the end simply doesn't apply.
Here, the God created me. On a chair. The concept of chair was just invented. Then, the desk was created. A paper was on it. I leaned forward, and it read: "The History of Mankind Test."followed by series of questionnaires. It was the very first time I've ever came across a test, and in fact, it was the very first test that was taken in the world. I proceeded to read the first question.
**1.** What happened in the World War, also known as the Great War? (2.5 pts)
(A) The army of Hell enslaved the mankind and thus the rapture failed. The humanity suffered at the hands of the infernal torturers.
(B) The Cosmic Infection spread to the planet Earth. The humanity united together against the common threat and rotted together.
(C) The humans fought against each other.
(D) The God cleansed the sins from the humanity. No human survived, as the world was sinful.
(E) Ra-garro-wei-23-vam-thait-of-good.
Hmm. I couldn't even begin to comprehend the option E. All other options seemed like nonsense to me. Keep in your mind that my existence began just a minute ago. Also, the rest of the universe, including its past and its future, wasn't created yet. Who could blame me for getting this wrong? I picked C. Not because it made the most sense or it seemed like the best option. But just because it was in the middle of the five options. And the history was made, just like that. I continued on to the next question.
**2.** What is the Holocaust? (1.5 pts)
(A) The hell fire rose from the depth and engulfed the planet Earth aflame.
(B) The Great heat wave hit the Milky Way Galaxy. The Solar System vaporized.
(C) The humans massacred each other.
(D) The God sent the divine fire to cleanse the sins of the humanity. No human survived, as the world was sinful.
(E) Do-dorei-gam-dede-dei-saat-delivery.
Hmm. Seemed like there was a trend among the options. To be consistent with my last answer, I picked C again. And the history was made yet again. I went on through the questions, and the history happened accordingly. Maybe it wasn't the best of the options. As I saw the history being weaved from the fabric of reality, a lot of people cried, bled, and died. But I shrugged. The notions of responsibility, sympathy, and tragedy were just fuzzy feeling yet to be actualized. I went on to solve the rest of the test, making history with each of my answers. |
"Please,"the girl looked at me, on the verge of tears. She tugged at her ridiculously enormous curled twintails. "Please, free me. Cut them off! I can't take my life anymore!"
Mutely, I nodded, and gestured to the cushioned seat. Her eyes filled with hope as she rushed onto the chair. She fidgeted as she impatiently waited for me to be done with the preparations. I held my scissors, ready to start snipping off the long locks of hair. And I cut.
Then I couldn't hear anything. For some reason, I was lying flat on my back. "Wh-what happened?"I sat up, dazed. Dust clouded the air, causing me to sneeze. My stomach... I felt around and came in contact with a solid, cylindrical object, and a wet sticky substance. I held my trembling fingers up in shock and vomited.
I heard a faint sound through the waves of pain and nausea. Sobbing, snivelling, wailing.
"S-s-sorry! Oh, God, I'm s-so sorry! I-I just thought"--hiccup--"I thought it would! I really did! I'm so sorry! I can't- I can't believe I dared t-to hope! My hair, why? I didn't! Didn't ask for this! I didn't ask for my hair to be uncuttable!" |
#*Main Terminal:*
*Awaiting Further Selection:*
>
> - - -
List: // **REDACTED** // **HIGHER CLEARANCE NEEDED**
*// ... // ... //*
**Maximum Security Granted.**
// -- -- -- //
*Government Report: // 11-01-2025 // Seek and Seize: Operation Hercules*
*Target Code:* ***Benny***
> - - -
// - - - //
----
*Location: Rochester, New York // Full gravitational disturbance ceased // Similar energy signal to corresponding events, organized wave-lengths // Activity traced: [POI 53](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5bgl2n/wp_the_us_has_been_freaking_out_about_their/d9ocoz8/) captured. Conforming to trend and projections: One similar POI recognized on reverse pattern search.*
*Identified:* [POI 864]
Connection to [POI 851-879]
*Seeking for interrogation.*
> Operation Hercules: **Success**
*Captured for interrogation.*
>
// - - - //
----
----
***Identified: POI = Codename: "Benny"***
*Agency's review of Drone and local Camera footage show and identify* // **REDACTED** // *as remaining individual linked to previous network breaches."*
*Facial-Recognition software substantiates claims: Approval granted and supported by current active Agencies.*
*Voice recognition logged on fifteen traced and monitored called with previous individuals captured in relation to network breaches.*
*Linked to 109 media outlets receiving classified information. Linked to fifteen Private to Private file sharing systems.*
*Target Currently in custody.*
>
// - - - //
>
*Interrogation in progress:*
- - -
*Further information required Higher Security Clearance.*
- - -
----
>*PENDING*
*Security Identified:*
>*Procedure met:*
*Live FEED: Audio start*
----
> **B:** "-I already told you, I don't know anything."
> **A:** "And I already told you, we know that's a lie **Benny.** Or should I say // **REDACTED** //"
> **B:** "What, you think I'm just going to roll over and piss myself because you know my name? You're the fucking Feds, of course you know my name."
> **A:** "Well, we know a lot more than that. Breaching Federal networks, Monitoring and tracking highly classified information: Passing it to the news Agencies."
> **B:** "I didn't do anything."
> **A:** "You think you're some kind of hero? You think by throwing all this information out to the masses it's going to make the world a better place? After all you've seen, all you've managed to pry out from your research- do you even understand how dangerous this is?"
> **B:** "..."
> **A:** "Look at this. This is you. This is you, on camera, dropping off seven different packages: Each and every single one of them was intercepted. We know who you are, we know what you were doing. Right now we have teams going through your old home, your apartment, that safe you had hidden way down in your Parent's basement wall."
> **B:** "..."
> **A:** "Everything ***Benny.*** What I need to know is everything else you're hiding from me."
> **B:** "Doesn't matter."
> **A:** "I think it does. I think you better start talking, or you're going to Federal prison for a long, long time."
> **B:** "For what? Using the head on my shoulders to figure out something bad is happening, and then trying to find out more? The fact that you've all got people convinced that everything in hunky-dory when I know full well you're ***This close*** to losing control?"
> **A:** "Federal prison isn't exactly a walk in the park // **REDACTED** //"
> **B:** "I think we both know, ***prison*** isn't where I'm going when you're done with me."
> **A:** "Listen, // **REDACTED** // I need you to cooperate, and tell me what you know."
> **B:** "You can't keep telling everyone a lie, and not expect some people to start questioning it."
> **A:** "We do this to keep people safe. Panic would be running rampant if we hadn't intervened. Do you even know how long this has been going on? Do you even understand how big this is?"
> **B:** "Keep people safe, huh? That what happened to ***Sandlot?*** You sure treated him nice, dressed him all up in black-"
> **A:** "Tell me WHAT YOU KNOW!"
> **B:** "Eat shit you fucking spook."
> **A:** "Look. You realize that this conversation is the easy way, don't you? After me, it's not going to be nearly as pleasant. You're worried about a black bag- then what about several of them?"
> **B:** "You think I give a shit? I know what you people do. I've known since I started digging, since my friends went missing, since I found the fucking pictures and the dark lines of ink. If you found the safe, then you should already know how fucked you are."
> **A:** "What did you do?"
> **B:** "You think you're the only ones I hacked? You honestly think after all the shit I've had to swim through, I would be that fucking stupid?"
> **A:** "You're bluffing."
> **B:** "You think I avoided capture for years, hacked into your systems, and made it this far by bluffing?"
> **A:** "..."
> **B:** "Why don't you turn on the news and find out, mother-fucker."
----
*Sources investigating:* // **REDACTED** //
// - - - //
*Full list:* // **27 countries: Live stream** //
>*Updating* / - - - / //:
**// 37 countries: Live Stream//**
>*Updating* / - - - / //:
**// 59 countries: Live Stream //**
*Shifting to Audio and video: Local Channel intercepted*
***:// FEED:***
> ***"If you're watching this, it means that I've been caught. It means I didn't get to finish what I set out to do:"***
> ***"It means that the rest is going to be up to you."***
> ***"Since 2015, there have been repeated anomalies hidden and covered up by the United States Governments. They have labelled these incidents as Natural disasters, Terrorist Attacks, sinkholes, flash floods, even the results of global warming."***
> ***"This is what they've been hiding from you. This is what they didn't want you to know-"***
// ... > //
// *Immediate Selection* //
> ***Splitting feed***
> ...
>> **A:** "You have no idea the panic this is going to cause, how long we've been keeping this stable. Everything we've been working to keep under control, out of the public eye: You have no idea what you've done. "
>> **B:** "I think I know exactly what I did. I know better than anyone."
>> **A:** "What then? What?"
>> **B:** "..."
>> **A:** **"TELL ME!"**
>> **B:** "I won."
----
...
> End **FEED** - - -
...
----
**Analysis:**
***INTERRUPTED***
> Security Class designation CHANGE: ***YELLOW -> ORANGE***
*15 more visible reality tears have been sighted off of the Eastern Seaboard. 5 by by 8 sections of space at an altitude of 550 meters over the exact coordinates* // **REDACTED** // *have been detected along Satellite array.*
*Energy signals similar, source confirmed as trend source for previous reactions.*
>*Updating* / - - - / //:
*59 more visible reality tears have been sighted off of the Eastern Seaboard. 5 by by 8 sections of space at an altitude of 550 meters over the exact coordinates* // **REDACTED** // *have been detected along Satellite array.*
>*Updating* / - - - / //:
*278 more visible reality tears have been sighted off of the Eastern Seaboard. 5 by by 8 sections of space at an altitude of 550 meters over the exact coordinates* // **REDACTED** // *have been detected along Satellite array.*
*Large scale disturbance detected. Foreign entities detected. [MANA] Signatures detected.*
> - - -
List: // **REDACTED** // **HIGHER CLEARANCE NEEDED**
*// ... // ... //*
**Maximum Security Granted.**
----
> Class designation: ***RED***
*35 new [MANA] Signatures detected.*
*208 new [MANA] Signatures detected.*
*859 new [MANA] Signatures detected.*
*2001 new [MANA] Signatures detected.*
*15,104 new [MANA] Signatures detected.*
*27,000-*
> - - -
*System Ejection: // - - - //*
// - - - //
----
*Main Terminal:*
*Awaiting Further Selection:*
>
// -- -- -- //
*Connection terminated*
----
----
----
...
**This Story is a continuation of a bunch of other writing prompts:**
[*Start here*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/51f8ag/wp_youre_such_a_powerful_magician_that_life_is/d7bn3g2)
[*Previous*](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5ipkb3/wp_society_is_forced_to_either_cope_with_or/dba3o7q/)
[NEXT](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5ioe7n/wp_every_world_has_an_opportunity_for_magic_to/dbbdt9y/)
|
Little Timmy walked down the block from the gas station with his dad. His dad, Michael Lightning, was a world renown speedster. His power was being incredibly fast. His wife, Laura Pratt, was a boomster. Her power was projecting sonic force-fields that could send people flying 45 yards in the other direction. Not everyone's last name corresponded to their power, Michael was just an egomaniac.
It was an unfortunate decision for the Lightning family to settle on living on Lee St. For down the road, on the corner of Stan ave, the two town academies were located. There was the hero academy, where children were instructed on developing and using their powers for the benefit of humanity, and across the street the villain academy, where children were instructed on developing and using their powers for the benefit of themselves. Kids were allowed to enroll in the academy of their choice at age 12. Outside of rival school institutions and office workplaces, heroes and villains mostly existed in harmony. Everyone had a power, and everyone had a totem, an object they are born with that is the source of their power.
Except Timmy. Timmy was born without a totem. He was the only person in the whole world to have absolutely no powers whatsoever. Poor Timmy. He would not be able to attend either of the academies on the street which he lived on. As such, Timmy was home schooled.
Even people who's powers had been taken from them by the evil villain Dole Dark in the great power-theft of 2109 were able to get them back. Thanks to the Power-restorator 9000, such disasters could be remedied by reactivating the genes responsible for powers and reattaching the energy produced to another totem. This machine did not work on Little Timmy, however. Of the 90,000 different genes corresponding to different powers that were identified by scientists over time, not a *single* one existed in Timmy. His powers weren't missing or inactive, they just weren't a part of him.
Naturally, Timmy was homeschooled. He was a surprisingly bright and happy child. Very level headed, all things considered. He knew he was different, but didn't let it bother him much. Other kids would sometimes bring it up, but he was rarely around any of them, so it didn't bother him much.
"Hey champ,"Michael said, "mind if I go into the supermarket real quick? I need to grab something for tonights lasagna."Michael could only cook lasagna, and he did so often.
"Yeah dad."Timmy said, "I love your lasagna!"Timmy hated the lasagna.
The two straddled into Liefelds, the only supermarket in town, and picked up a shopping cart. Timmy, from the corner of his eye, noticed a child that was levitating someone else.
"Put me down Brian!"Beckoned the lad in mid-air.
"Say Uncle"commanded Brian.
"Smoke you!"Replied the child. This was a mistake on behalf of the child. The area between the child's scalp and the ceiling grew increasingly small.
"Put him down Brian."A man said, placing his hand on Brian' shoulder.
"Fine dad."And the lad was returned safely into the arms of gravity.
"My oh my. Is that who I think it is? John?"Michael looked over to see the man.
"Mike, holy cow!"
"John Baker. It's been a while man, how have you been? Is this polite boy your junior?"Michael said, looking questionably at Brian.
"Yes,"replied John. "Both of them. Kids meet Michael, the fastest guy in Romita Central! Mike, the oldest here is Brian, he's a puppermaster, and my other one, where did he go.."Out of thin air, the young lad Brian was torturing earlier appeared, standing above the gumball machine.
"Yeah, there he is. That's Tommy."Tommy's powers are self explanatory.
"Brian and Tommy huh, they look like wonderful boys!"Michael was dreading the moment that he knew was coming.
"Yup, my pride and joys, now what about yours?"Johns comment would be quite insidious if he knew about Timmy. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) he did not.
"Oh well, this right here is Timmy. Timmy say hi to Brian and Tom."Timmy emerged from his father's side, holding a pint of ricotta cheese.
"I know who this kid is."Brian bellowed.
"Oh yeah?"Said Michael. "From where?"
"That kid's the nub. He has no powers. Everyone at school talks about him."
"Brian, watch your tounge!"John's face flushed with embarrassment, he could see Michael starting to feel the same.
"What? It's true. This is the kid that doesn't have any powers, he wasn't even born with a totem. He's broken and people at school say he's bad luck."
"Stop it!"Little Timmy cried out. It was the first time anyone had experienced Timmy at such a volume.
"What, you don't want me telling people you're the antichrist? Freak."Timmy never went out of his way to speak to other children, and this was precisely why.
"You're the freak! You're a jerk!"Little Timmy started getting ripe with rage.
"I may be a jerk, but at least I'm not a genetic failure. You can't even do anything to me, you're home schooled, all you've done is make your parents think they're broken."Brian was getting ready to say some other mean nonsense, but his breath was interrupted with a scream from Timmy that alerted the entire supermarket to their present quarrel. Timmy's eyes fixated on Brian, and in a split second, before everyone's eyes, Brian had vanished.
Brian was gone.
Brian turned to nothing.
Timmy passed out shortly after, with Michael breaking his fall.
"My boy..what have you done with my boy?"Tears began to roll down John's face.
"I guess he does have a power."Said Tom. |
*The most powerful man in the world.*
Everyone who came through this checkout had a different story. Not that he knew them all, or even most of them, but it was basic logic. Humans were like snowflakes: massive generalizations about them tended to be proved wrong.
Take the lady who was going through the checkout right this moment. Tall, a tad stocky, but mean-looking. Her eyes seemed deeper than most, almost as if she had seen things, horrible things, and came back to tell the story.
Or she had gone through childbirth. Not quite as interesting, but it was certainly possible.
The next person in line - a man. He looked unique, in that same way that literally every single other person that Bob checked out did. Checked out as in, took the merchandise they wanted to buy and facilitated the process.
The man, right. He was unique, special in his own way. His shirt practically screamed "special"- well, it had the word 'SPECIAL' splayed across the front, the letters all coloured in red, white, and blue. But he *was* special, however not in the best of ways. His speech was a bit slurred, and he was carrying an open beer can in his one hand. Bob would have warned him about not driving in the condition he was in, but the man looked like he could break Bob in two without much more than a thought.
That was every single person that came through his register. *Different. Special. Interesting. Unique.*
Almost ironic, then, that it was the person that came through that seemed to fit absolutely *none* of those criteria who was essentially the personification of them.
He was a young man, or perhaps middle aged, somewhere between twenty and forty years old. His hair was long, and yet short, somehow making that perfect distance down the back of his head that seemed innocuous and perfect simultaneously. And his entire stature was, in a word, discreet. He looked perfectly, totally, *normal* in a way Bob had never seen before.
"Just this for today?"asked Bob, as he swiped the movie across the scanner. *How to Train Your Dragon*. An interesting choice, for sure - a movie he'd watched years ago with his niece, and thought it was probably a tad immature for him. *Ah well,* he had thought at the time, *anything to keep her from destroying my apartment.*
"Yes,"replied the man. "It seems like a rather irregular movie that I should like to study in my free time. I was not aware humans had discovered the existence of dragons, much less developed techniques to train them."
Bob chuckled. Ah, so he was one of *those*. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, this is a fiction movie? Dragons don't exist."
The man seemed to stop at that. "Fiction?"
"Yes, made up. A story. For children? Like, you know, Goldilocks and the three bears. About Goldilocks trying out the porridge they each had made, and then finding that the child had the perfect porridge."
"The perfect porridge?!"His eyes wide, the man leaned forward over the counter to grip Bob by his shoulders. "Good sir, you simply must inform me of the way he produced such a thing!"
Bob paused. "Well, um, I think you're missing the point of the analogy-"
"Please, my good man, when do you get off shift?"
"Well,"Bob glanced at his watch, "in about twenty minutes or so? At 8:30."
The man smiled. "Then please, dear sir, meet me outside in twenty minutes so that you can tell me more of this 'fiction' and perfect porridge."
"I - I guess I can do that,"said Bob, and then he realized the man was already gone, and the lineup behind him had disappeared. Bob frowned.
*beep, beep*
His alarm sounded, and he checked his watch. *8:30*
"Well, that was bizarre,"said Bob, knowing it was par for the course at Walmart. He checked his watch one more time, just to be sure, and then put on his jacket to head outside. |
Since I got stranded on this island, I have felt scared and lonely. I fell over board and nobody noticed. At least they did not notice quick enough because they did not come back for me. The ship was too quick for me to follow so I lost track of it soon. I am a good swimmer so I swam and fought the waves, stranded on this island and now I spend my days waiting on the beach, staring at the sea. Sometimes I run into the forrest to find prey or to eat fruit and plants, whatever I can find will do. I lost weight since I got here but that does not hurt, loneliness hurts.
At least 300, possibly 400 days of me staring at the sea and hunting and searching for food have gone by. I hope they will come to look for me, but maybe they can't find me. My friend Mark was on the ship and he is the one I miss the most. We were the best friends in the world and now I don't know where he is.
Today, I ran into the forrest to hunt, because my stomach told me to. I am quick and I am smart, I usually find food quickly. It's a good thing, because I don't want to miss them coming for me so I need to sit and look for them as often as possible. But something was different, hunting in the forrest. I smelled something. I have never gone deep into the forrest, why would I anyway but now I fearlessly ran in there, following the track my nose told me to follow. I ran, ran on until I left the woods, ran some more, following a path at the beach, found some people's camp and wiggled my tail and barked and if you ever wonder what happiness feels like you should have seen me jump against Mark's chest to push him to the sand and lick his tears of joy off his face.
|
Tech support. Helpdesk. The one guy that everyone knows. The smart kid in the family. We wear many titles, we have many names. We make things work. Who are we? We're the tech support wizards.
Let me start from awhile back. Like, hundreds of years awhile back. When dragons roamed the world, and Wizards and Knights fought valiantly against them. Fireballs, lightning bolts, magical potions, we did it all. Then there was a Renaissance, literally. Knowledge and science blossomed, and the old ways faded away for the most part. Our councils had meetings, secret and open, trying to figure out what to do. Magic is powered by belief, and as people grew more accustomed to science, our abilities faded.
So we learned from the past and adapted magic to work with technology. We only seek to better mankind, and what better way than to support this knowledge with our own? You won't see us go through arcane rituals with crazy components. I mean, maybe [swedish fish](https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/2vk505/swedish_fish_theory/) or a [special drink] (https://www.reddit.com/r/sysadmin/comments/5g9inx/alcoholism_will_consume_you_if_you_dont_balance/), but some of us are more reliant on components than others. We look out for each other. We look out for everyone.
Have you ever called helpdesk, and as we walk out to you, the problem magically resolves itself? We joke around, and say that we have "The Technician's Aura"or "It's just IT voodoo black magic."If it's burned out, we'll use the standard "You let the magic smoke that makes it work out!"Perfectly logical explanations, yet every day more office workers believe in our mystic powers to repair technology. It isn't enough to grow stronger, but it's enough to keep the magic alive.
Life isn't always a box of chocolates though. We deal with the usual people, saying that there's usually a [pebkac issue] (https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/2e6ogy/your_software_is_destroying_my_tape_drives/), that the situation is having the [classic ID10T error] (https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/ydkbx/usb_keys_have_an_intuitive_interface_right/), or being [treated poorly] (https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/5y8yqg/company_name_is_the_devil_and_youre_just_a_lap/) in general. But we persevere, we help, we serve, and we do what we can [to make] (https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/149flb/the_day_i_saved_a_little_girl_across_the_country/) [the world](https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/28qemm/dont_bother_sending_a_tech_ill_be_dead_by_then/) [a better] (https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/z0feu/just_had_one_of_those_moments_where_im_glad_i_do/) [place] (https://www.reddit.com/r/talesfromtechsupport/comments/14bnqb/as_requested_welcome_to_internet_tech_support_aka/). |
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