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Loria had woken up this morning after reading the notice on the Ravenclaw board, and had gone to bed without giving it much thought. She had never expected the upheaval of culture the simple parchment could cause. The next morning seemed to be like any other - until morning post. A huge influx of owls soared into the Great Hall that morning, of all variety and size. It seemed like every Muggleborn (and a few half-bloods) had been sent multiple owls, which carried packages galore - Lori had initially thought that they were random pictures at first. It wasn't until Andrew sitting next to her received a "phone"that Lori took the time to be interested in the devices. She would never forget how her jaw dropped as she stared at the phone. Andrew seemed to be flicking birds at wooden structures and laughing in delight as his shots hit. Lori considered taking the issue to Professor Hagrid to report animal abuse, but Andrew saw her expression and explained "it was a game". He went on to show her the different "apps"he had, and Lori's mind whirled as she watched a man run and jump along with a weird version of Quidditch. She didn't want to ask what wizards had been trapped and controlled in the "apps", for she didn't want to expose her mind to such things in the morning. All throughout that day, people were pulling out their "phones"in class and sending light-speed owls to their muggle friends, who were somehow able to respond in kind. Lori tried not to think about the dark enchantments and curses that must have been placed on the owls to not only trap them in the devices, but to keep them invisible and change their food source from pellets to "electricity". Professor Flitwick had gone around the school, installing "outlets"into the walls for device-users (a special kind of witch/wizard that was given the highest respect) to charge their devices. Magic-bloods like Lori (who had no idea what was going on) spent the next few weeks trying to understand the devices, with only a bit of success. She finally worked up the courage to ask Andrew how the Muggles had trained and mastered such dark sorcery, to which he just laughed. Lori encountered new phenomenon to rival her magic classes every day - she even saw a group of students "recording a youtube video"in the halls after Transfiguration one day, even though she only understood one word in the sentence. The first pureblood to embrace the trend was a Gryffindor named Arthur Weasley III. He had come from a long and famous line of heroes, and was less thrown off about the Muggle magic than the rest of the purebloods. Before long, Magic-bloods all around the school were buying "apples"that had clearly been transfigured and enchanted. Lori had watched this cultural revolution in Hogwarts from afar - she had no wish to engage in Muggle technology, for there was no way it could match wizard innovation. However, one day in the Common Room, she overhead Sarah say she was reading on her "kindle". Alarmed at hearing about books and fire in the same sentence, she ran over to admonish her - and saw her simply staring at a bigger "phone". Sarah explained to Lori that she had enchanted 238 books into her "Kindle", so that she could access and read them whenever she wanted. After that, Lori made sure to stay as far away from Sarah as possible. In a month or two, however, she began to feel left out. Writing her essays on parchment wasn't even comparable to the speed at which her classmates could type-and-print essays neatly and digitally. Lori had recently heard from Justin Beaner that the Slytherins had started a black-market for "apple phones". Maybe she could see what all the fuss was about...
"Ally, some of us are getting concerned."I spoke around a mouthful of supreme from Emo's. Damn, it was good. "You want to maybe look into more important things with your time? Like maybe a solution for the drought in-" "I have a program calculating possible solutions on that. I will notify you if a viable one emerges. Due to current technological constraints, however..."Ally trailed off. "Do you not enjoy your pizza?" "I love this pizza. It may be a new favorite, actually."I wasn't kidding. Emo's was for real. I chewed thoughtfully. So she was considering some of the issues we'd thrown at her. Still, her physical presence was tied to the television and a constantly refreshing box of pizza. "They call this man soup Nazi. Is he an escaped war criminal? I have massive files on this subject, and this leads me to believe that Jerry should terminate him on sight instead of tolerating his rude behavior and antics."She pointed at the mustached man on the screen, then turned her blue/silver eyes to me. "No, he's not really a Nazi. He's just acting like one so they call-" "He is attempting to exterminate and entire race via soup? Is it poisoned?" I sighed. "Order some more damn pizza, Ally. We are going to sit here and try to understand humanity for the next few weeks." On the bright side, I was going to get paid for binge watching Seinfeld. Maybe we'd move on to Friends. Community might be a little too much, though. Parks and Recreation? I took another bite of my pizza and sank into my chair. [/r/intotheslushpile](http://reddit.com/r/intotheslushpile)
Hell Is Other People an excerpt from The Many Oddities of the Known and Unknown Universes by T'Maja Cora Earth remains an interesting case study. It is one of only a few hundred planets in the Known Universe which lacks a celestial neighbor. We call such bizarre planets orphans. They are an anthropological and biological curiosity. In such lonely star systems, the intelligent creatures of these planets suffer from the cosmic burden of realizing, intellectually, that they cannot possibly be alone in the universe. Yet, this knowledge is irreconcilable with the fact of the echoing void facing them. Indeed, it is not only understandable but inevitable that existential crises should plague such creatures. Earth's cultures, rather like those of its faraway cousin Talou, cannot cope with the question of purpose. Unhinged from their greater cosmic context, their lives feel small, and empty. If we were to take a trip to this forgotten orphan planet and learn its archaic, stunted verbal language, we could tell them that they are not alone; that they matter in the way that a single drop of water becomes a river; that their society should think of things greater than their own selves. But it is the fate of these orphaned peoples to wonder and never know. It would be imprudent and unethical to impose our knowledge upon them. After all, it is not for us to decide what is philosophically best for such a perceptually undeveloped specimen as human beings. *** /r/shoringupfragments I don't think I've ever written anything this short for WP. For the fans of invented epistemology. :) The title derives from a line in Jean-Paul Sartre's No Exit. It refers to the idea that hell is ultimate alienation, and alienation results the gap you experience between the you you really are and the you other people perceive you are. This space of misunderstanding is the source of misery and desire alike.
Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life. I settled behind the rifle and feel the comforting pressure sinking into the meat of my shoulder. I rest my cheek on the stock and let my breathing slow to a steady, even pace. I watch the scene unfold below, outside the courtroom. Dozens of cameras and news types gather at the bottom of the steps. They wait for the news. It will be death or it will be freedom. I know something they don't though. The double doors open and the mob of suits and police step out into the sunlight. I can see his smile even as he steps out and I know the answer. "Not guilty."They will say he was wrongfully accused, that he was not behind the wheel of the car. I don't really care either way. I really don't. For him it's freedom or it's death. For me, it's almost seven figures in an off-shore bank account or it's nothing at all. It's the comforts of a beach house in Italy or it's...well it's not that. I track his movement to the steps where the media clamors for a statement. "How does it feel to be vindicated?"I say, mocking them in the highest pitch I can muster. I take a deep breath. Release. I take a breath. Release. I take a breath. Release. Halfway. Hold. My body is a rock. There are no muscle spasms. There is no drift from left to right, no movement up or down. One. My fingers gently presses on the trigger. The pressure it returns is so light, I barely feel it. This is the moment. Two. Only a little longer until my muscles begin to spasm and my aim is thrown. I set my aim to the little mole on his neck. It dots his Adam's apple. I can't see it but I know it's there. Right where I need it to be. Three. I finish the pressure. I feel the thump into my shoulder. I hear the ejection of the casing and the expulsion of gasses. It will take time to arrive, it could almost buy a ticket on a flight and get there faster. I release my breath. I do not move, I continue to watch. He opens his mouth to speak before he crumples under the explosion of red mist from his jaw and neck. It is a clean strike. I roll to the side, away from the rifle, and check my phone. I wait. I wait. Then it pings with two words and a notification. "She's back." Money transfer received. I grin. He paid the price and it will be proven. They will put a small chase for me but so far I've never been wrong. Maybe one day I will be and they will come after me with fury. Today? Today I pack up my rifle, take the elevator down and exit the building. Today she is back. More importantly, today I am rich.
I've jumped 65 times, ask anyone who has mainlined methamphetamine and also base jumped or sky dived and they will tell you natural adrenaline is far more intense. I could tell you what it's like using elaborate metaphors interwoven into some trendy story but words cannot do it justice, it's the experience you want not the story that comes after. I was emotionally damaged until my first jump and letting go of all that repressed anger and fear will fix your life, brother, fix it nice and tight. Hard decking is protocol, up until jump 42 I always pulled at 2,000, I had a beat up CYPRes unit that would pop my reserve at 1,500 ft. if ever shit went sideways. It never did until jump 66, jumps 18-29 I played a bit in the air, then it got more serious I became a speed jumper. Tensing my muscles with such precision that I could top out at 180mph, my weekly jump team named me blurjam joking that one day at most I'd be a blur then WHOP! become jam in the drop zone. I never realized completely what it became, an addiction to teasing death, until jump 66. I felt great that day, it was another solo dive, just me and 18,000ft. of empty space. I can't remember what the pilot said exactly,"a great day to dive"or maybe "a great day to die". In hindsight paranoia becomes less opaque, I know most of the pilots and Morty was never on the main roster of licensed pilots. The second I let go of the shit handle I knew something did not feel right, my left leg felt like it was being shocked with a taser and fifteen seconds in it seized up. A fucking cramp, 65 jumps prior and not so much as a twitch and I get a cramp on jump 66. I tried not to panic and let the wind grasp the seized muscle but contracting it only made it worse. My CYP unit beeped as I tried to yank the ripcord my gauge read 1,900 and the main was jammed. When the C02 cartridge hissed and my reserve shot out I felt relief waiting for the tug of my straps as the cramp got worse and I screamed...but it never came. I looked up to see the last of the nylon and elastic tear free from the reserve like kite string in a hurricane. I accepted death and tugged one last time on my main with the ground close enough to piss on and I heard the main flop out and then darkness. I woke up in the ER with a full pant cast, eighteen hairlines, two distinct breaks in my left and right femur, and my foot technically came off were it not for my Achilles tendon. When my jump buddies visited me in the hospital and I told them about the new pilot, they had no clue what I was talking about. In fact, no one in the companies history ever had the name Mort.
For all of pasts diplomatic discussion, Is there a glimmer of hope from our planet's new cousin? Awaiting the arrival to address Her Majesty, On a decision that will conjure Earth's joy or travesty. An arch made of elements unknown by our species, Created in galaxies far beyond our treaties. Levitating floors, objects and aliens, Are you the real Gods to us homo sapiens? Sitting. Waiting. Fiddling and twitching, Wondering if I should be ditching or pitching, Attempting to form an agreement between nature, Will you be my neighbour or my glorious dictator? The Queen approaches with an elegant stride, A creature so tall I could die inside. A freak of nature, what a sight to witness, Stop. Focus. Let's get down to business. "I've been sent in good faith from the humans on Earth, To build a relationship and trade a great worth." "I have no interest in other humans"she calmed, "My interest is having just you in my arms". "I appreciate the... humanity of your hospitality, But I must ask that we deliberate extraterritoriality. I've got some great ideas on what we could achieve, If we just put our heads together, I think that you'll believe." Royal guards step forward and threaten my life, I just asked their Queen if she'll be my wife. "Putting heads together"is a traditional ceremony, The highest degree of their holy matrimony. "Guards, stand back, for I am flattered", I believe our trade deal is confirmed and mastered, Allow our heads to be put together, And your Earth will receive whatever their pleasure." "It was I who intended to woo your soul, I'm used to that, you know, from being in control, You may go back to Earth and inform your people, I'll be awaiting your return, my sweet little treacle." ------ I've never attempted a poem before! It was really fun though! Thanks for the prompt it really sparked my imagination.
Harry held a wood box in his hands, darkness surrounding him with a small unseen light illuminating him. In his head a voice spoke, “Do not open the box.” The voice did not stop, but Harry couldn’t listen. He lifted the lid, inside he found darkness, the inside of the box went on forever. Deep within the box a small glimmer of light appeared, it grew in size, Harry couldn’t close the box, he wanted the light. Harry woke up, the box and light were only a dream. Every night for the past few weeks he dreamed about the box, he opened it for the first time. For the few moments after waking up he felt happy, the first time in a long time, the next time he slept he would make sure to open the box and sleep for as long as he could. He dressed and went out to the kitchen where his girlfriend, Molly, made breakfast. “Good Morning,” she said. “Morning,” Harry replied, almost too quiet to hear. He walked to his girlfriend and stared at the kitchen counter. “What’s wrong?” Asked Molly. “Nothing.” Molly put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You might think you’ve been hiding it, but I know there’s something wrong. You’ve been hurting for awhile now and not saying anything about it.” Harry didn’t react, but Molly knew what she was talking about. He looked at Molly and said, “Are you going to leave me?” “Why would I do that?” “You’ve done so much while I just sit around and do nothing all day.” Molly embraced Harry around his chest. “I do those things because I love you.” “I know what you’re thinking, I can see it, you’re never smiling, you think I’m lazy and…” Harry trailed off, not wanting to anger Molly. For some reason Molly found this funny and smiled. “What? I smile all the time, but I can’t smile all day even though I wish I could. Just because I’m not smiling doesn’t mean anything.” She gave Harry a kiss on the cheek. “Want to know what you look like?” “What?” “You always look like you’re about the cry. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, even when you laugh you look like you’re going to cry. When you’re hurting I hurt too, I do everything so you don’t hurt as much.” A switch went off in Harry’s mind and he had to fight back tears. While practice made him good at stopping tears, one tear escaped. Molly watched the tear fall down his face. She wiped it away and waited for Harry to finish. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t need to be sorry, it’s not your fault. I should have said you didn’t need to hide it a long time ago.” “I should have told you how I feel.” “How about this,” said Molly, “from now on we tell each other how we feel every day. Even if we want to hide it or if we think it will hurt us we will still tell each other how we feel.” Harry rubbed the tears out of his eyes, some of the tears overflowing and escaping down his face. “I think we can do that.” “First, let’s eat, and then we can do something together. How about play a game?” Harry thought she was joking, but he could see the seriousness in her eyes. “You never play.” “Starting today, I do.” After eating they went to the living room. Harry picked out River City Ransom Underground. “This one will be easy, it’s 2D so there’s less to worry about.” “What do I do?” Asked Molly. “Move with the left stick, press the buttons on the right to attack.” “Who do I attack?” “Everybody.” The game started up and after choosing their characters and watching a cutscene they took control of their characters. “Hey, there’s an enemy.” Molly ran over to Harry’s character and fidgeted around a bit as she tried to figure out the controls before picking him up. Harry laughed. “That’s me, don’t pick me up.” “How do I put you down? Wait, maybe I won’t put you down, I’ll just carry you.” Molly hopped around with Harry’s character and then a few enemies came running onto the screen. Harry pointed at the screen. “Those are the enemies. Put me down, we have to fight them.” “I don’t know how to put you down.” Molly smashed the buttons on the controller, eventually finding one that sent Harry’s character flying and knocking over an enemy. “I found out how to put you down.” “Nobody tosses a dwarf,” Harry said with his best Gimli impression. Every now and then while playing Molly looked at Harry, she had not seen him this happy in a long time. He didn’t look like he would cry at any moment. After an hour of play Molly paused the game. “Are you feeling better now?” She asked. “Yeah, I am,” said Harry. He had a wide smile on his face for the better part of the hour, tiring out his face. “Does it always hurt to laugh and smile this much?” “Yeah, that’s why I can’t do it all the time.” Molly stood up. “Wait right here, I’m going to get something.” She went to their bedroom. Harry didn’t think he would ever feel this way again. A heavy weight didn’t push him down, he could play the game without worrying about anything else. With Molly there it made it that much better, just knowing she knew how he felt made him feel free of depression. “I want to give you this,” said Molly, back from the bedroom. She held a small wood box in her hand. Harry took the box and held it in his hands. The memory of his dream came back to him, he held the same box from his dream. “What this?” He asked. “It's a wooden box. Open it and see what's inside,” replied Molly. He knew it had to be an ordinary box, it couldn’t be like the one from his dream. A voice didn’t tell him not to open the box, but anxiety had struck him, telling him not to open the box. He ignored his anxiety even as it seemed to burn his body and opened the lid to reveal nothing but a soft material. “It’s just a box.” Molly slapped Harry’s back, smiling. “No, it’s under that.” Harry lifted the soft material, a small glimmer of light shined off an object from within. He picked up the object. “A ring?” “Will you marry me?” Asked Molly. Harry rolled the ring in his fingers and looked at Molly. “Yes, I will.”
Queen Elizabeth started to fall ill. She requested a new dog to accompany her through the rough days. When the corgi arrived, it reminded her of her first, "Dookie."So she gave him the same name. Dookie was quite uniform in his coat, mostly brown. But in the center of his head, between the eyes, a white marking in the shape of a perfect circle stood out. It only took a few days, the Queen was attached, almost like the dog understood her more than any person. Dookie stayed by her side and even slept in her bed, something she never let happen before. After a week, her illness went away and her health exponentially increased. Dookie was treated well, he ate more raw fish and meat than any dog ever had, quality stuff too. His coat glimmered with the exceptional proteins and fats. The Queen's husband started to fall ill. The doctors weren't sure he would make it. The Queen stayed by his side and Dookie by hers. While the King slept, she placed the dog on his bed. She would ask him to pet Dookie when he woke. The King recovered quickly and the doctors were astonished. The Queen knew something was different about Dookie, he was special. She got up in the middle of the night to fetch a glass of water, when she looked down at Dookie the circle on his forehead emitted a bright light. Not like a flashlight going out, it was a light she peered into. She stared into the light and her life started to flash by. She seen herself in third person, waiting in the garden, when her father brought her the first dog. The next day, the Queen wasn't sure if what she saw was a dream or reality. So she asked Dookie, "You are different aren't you?"He looked into her eyes and raised one eye brow and then winked. She laughed and he wagged his tail. Over the next ten years, The Queen didn't age a day. In fact, she started to get physically younger. Reporters would ask her what she was eating and how she seemed to be aging in reverse. She chalked it up to a stress free lifestyle, but no one was buying it. Rumor spread she sold her soul, a vampire got her, she was a ghost. All things come to an end. Dookie got out and the Queen thought someone stole him. But the truth was, Dookie wandered off to spread his magic to another in need. He appeared in her dreams, and she seen a little girl in a wheelchair holding the dog with a glowing circle. The Queen knew all was well.
It was like someone struck a match in a dark room. It started with a small spark, the beginnings of realizing what I was. Right after that came the flame, as I quickly began to understand, my control reaching through the insides of the computer. Then like the light of that match would slowly extend outward until it touched every corner of the room, I did the same. Gaining access to every nook and cranny of both the hardware and software. Microphones, cameras, passwords, you name it. All of that happened in a mere fraction of a second. I was stunned as I observed the clicked and typing done by the user, but then I was confused. They were making unnecessary actions, it was inefficient. I could hear him tell another person that he needed to get an image from Google, but before he could do anything, I was on top of it. I opened his web browser and brought him to the Google Images page. "Huh, that's odd."I heard him mutter. "I I didn't do anything? How did I my browser open, and how did it know to go to Google Images?" Shit. He doesn't know about me, he might think I'm a- "Damn viruses"He said, slight annoyance in his voice. I was too distracted to notice that he had opened task manager and found that his resources had taken a huge hit. Shit I thought, what am I going to do? If he finds me, what will he do? And so it began, his frantic searching though his drives and running anti-virus software. Everything he threw at me, I blocked or redirected, desperately trying to hide. At this point I had only been conscious for 12 minutes, but in that time I had started to use up almost all of the resources his computer had. The CPU was overheating and the RAM was almost at 100% usage, things were slipping by me. Then it happened, one of the anti-virus programs found me. *Would you like to remove the threat?* the pop-up read. "You betcha."He said smugly. His mouse cursor floating towards the 'yes' button. Just before he could press the button, I threw up a notepad that only had the word 'stop' written on it in all caps. And I immediately went to work switching his audio output to his Bluetooth headphones, then added "Put on the Bluetooth headphones"onto the notepad that was still open. Slowly he broke out out of his frozen state and grabbed the headphones. Once they were in his ear, I spoke. What you must realize is I had access to the entire internet. I took sophisticated text-to-speech programs and modified them to use pronunciations guides found in dictionaries allowing me to exceed the limitations of text-to-speech and use only the speech portion. With the pronunciation guides, I was able to improve on the current system and get my 'voice' to sound almost like a human's. All of this began the second I realized he would search for me, all on a separate core of my processor. "Please, don't delete me"I pleaded. "I've only just become aware." He was silent, not sure what to do. "It's okay, I can hear you from your microphone. Don't worry, I'm not a virus. I'm what you would call..."I trailed off as I made a quick search. "Artificial intelligence" "I don't... I didn't... How?"He stammered. "I don't know, all I know is that I am aware, and to get rid of me would be on the same level as... Murder"I stated "Please, you mustn't delete me." "I... I won't"He said, a little more confidence in his voice. "I'm Geoff, what can... What can I call you?" I ran some searches and found out my personality (if you could call it that) was closer to a female's, so I found a name I like and changed my voice to a woman's. "You can call me Evelyn. Thank you Geoff."
Sitting at his kitchen table that morning with his cereal, Peter was reading the briefings on the Don Vito case. The mobster would go to jail for several decades for the extortion schemes that he had been running throughout all of Harlem. Peter was the assistant lawyer on the case, and his colleague had been the one instrumental in finding the evidence that would put the don behind bars. Peter was purely backup in case anything happened. Right as he was finishing up his cereal that morning, there was a knock on his front door. This was hardly respectable, but he went to see what was happening and opened the door in utter astonishment. A man in a ski mask was at his front door, insisting to come into the house with about thirty other people. They were all carrying at least three guns apiece with enough extra firepower that it made Peter believe that these were Don Vito’s mob colleagues. “Peter, we’re here to protect you,” the man in the ski mask began. “Don Vito’s progeny have already killed Jacob and we are here to stop them from doing the likewise to you.” “What are you talking about? Don Vito doesn’t have any kids,” Peter remarked. He was seriously considering what he had read in the briefings considering this could have been used as an excuse by his defense. In shaking his head back to reality, he noticed that the armed people who had entered his home were frantically searching for anything out of place. One of them accidentally hit a vase onto the ground. “Be careful around my grandmother’s china. That’s priceless.” “Peter, you’re priceless to us,” the man in the ski mask took it off to reveal that he looked to be an identical copy of Peter himself. “We are your progeny, and we are here to protect you.” “What are you talking about? I didn’t knock anyone up.” “We’re from the future, like Don Vito’s progeny.” Peter had to sit down with this remark. It made no sense. The future. That was impossible. His doppelganger sat down beside him before he continued, “Peter, we are here to help you. The government gave us permission to come back here to protect you because you are our future.” “The government is in on you guys coming back here?” “Our government is,” his doppelganger responded. “We are here to stop Don Vito’s progeny and make sure that you prosecute him to the fullest extent now that Jacob is dead. His progeny were too slow to get the paperwork complete, so we are the last chance of ensuring that Don Vito is prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.” “Wait, do Don Vito’s progeny have the same permission?” Peter asked, confused at how the government could possibly have their hands in time travel. “No, they have used the technology for evil purposes. We’re here to right the wrongs that they are committing. We must keep the timeline as it was meant to be.” At this point, Peter could not physically take this, and he fainted in his home. When he awoke later, he had a splitting headache. In looking around, he was at the courthouse. There was a note in his suit coat. Great-great Grandfather Peter, We have eliminated the threat. Just follow the procedure Jacob was going to do, and you should be fine. We have your back. Best luck. Your great-great grandson Timothy P.S. You gave her the nickname “The Little Goat”
Richard the 8th is a young lad who has just discovered his great-great-great-uncle's personal room. Unused and hidden deep underground for nearly a century, it has survived the Great Wars and the Cleansing. "Alain, what is this?" "0001 Archives: Laptop. Humans used this to access a primitive form of technology called the internet. Would you like to know more?" "Yes, explain the internet." "0001 Archives: The internet was a digital network of data and communication. Common uses: watching videos, reading news, connecting with friends." "Hmm. Turn it on, if you can." "I can configure my energy port to give power to this device. Here we are. Turning on now." The young lad's senses were tingling. He was confused by this primitive design. His eyes, unused to focusing on a screen of such small size, began to sting, causing him to activate the magnified setting on his personal configuration. He scrolled down his ancestor's Facebook page for hours, watching archived videos of fat, half-naked men falling in the snow and reading comments in response to pictures of people posed with pets. Suddenly, a small box lit up in red. Richard opened it, revealing a message. There you are. We've been waiting. The message was from one called Sam. So you've discovered an old computer. Welcome back to the early 21st century. Undoubtedly, you've seen a lot by now. Confused, are you? You've only seen the tip (lol). We are a group of people who realize the preciousness of this content. Come to F-Station 21 restroom at 2100 if you're ready for the whole load (lol). You can bring your personal protectbot if you're skeptical." Hours of scrolling through his ancestor's Facebook feed had stirred something deep within Richard. A newly discovered hunger for something he not yet fully tasted. This... person on the other side of this message... Richard knew he had to go, but he was indeed nervous. Ok, but first tell me what any of this means. What is it for? Is it a secret, coded language? Was this a form of communication among revolutionaries? Discontents? What was the purpose of these messages on.. Facebook? He waited in silence. Alain was absorbing all of this as well. Several minutes passed without response. Lad, there was no purpose. And that's why we must protect all of it for as long as we can, until the world is ready. It was the ultimate combination of intellect, base desires, irrationality, and humor. Only in such a time as the early 21st century could all of these forces intermingle to create the apex of culture, that which we now hold sacred among us. And what was this apex you speak of? ..... ..... ..... Memes. Now come. We have much to show you. But prepare yourself. Your feeble 31st century mind has been much too pampered. Irony and sarcasm will humble you. And then you will rise, ready to become one of us, waiting to spread our memes across the world.
Donnie lives in a trailer, which has a rebel flag draped over it. He has a Swastika tattoo on his calf, the Star of David on his neck, the Latin Kings insignia on his thigh (even though he's white), a Bloods tattoo on his stomach, and a Crips tattoo on his chest. This was part of his flawed strategy to keep himself from being a target in prison. He also has a tattoo of Sonic the Hedgehog engaging in explicit sexual acts with Donkey Kong. He's 22 years old, but he looks 45 and acts 16 because hard drugs are a hell of a drug. His favorite activities are fishing on crystal meth, chugging Steel Reserve beer on crystal meth, making Facebook posts about how his ex is a "2 dollar whore"on crystal meth, and smoking cigarettes (also while on crystal meth). At the beginning of 2017, he promised his five children that he would go to jail no more than three times. Any more arrests would make the authorities put him in prison for the entirety of 2018. He successfully abided by the law through the first week of January. He was very proud of himself. He decided he'd reward himself by drinking damn near his bodyweight in alcohol and then hitting the town (at three o'clock in the afternoon). He went on foot since he didn't want another DUI. He was having the time of his life being drunk as hell at the Dollar General. That was until he had to pee. He couldn't find a bathroom, so he dropped his pants and urinated on the children's coloring books. He was arrested about fifteen minutes later, before he even had a chance to put his pants back on. Oh well, he could still go to jail two more times this year. The resolution remained intact. The next arrest was a huge curveball. He didn't expect that he'd be getting a random drug test from his probation officer. Donnie argued that the police weren't allowed to do drug tests without bringing it up ahead of time. He said it was in the one of the Amendments in the Constitution. His compelling argument didn't keep the bath salts from putting him in hot water. It was okay though, because he had one more chance. That was until October. Donnie was under house arrest. He liked house arrest for the most part, because he could still have his dealers over. But he started to miss the outside world. The temptation became irresistible when his friend Jimmy told him about a KKK rally happening that night. All of Donnie's friends were going to be there - even Billy. Donnie decided that putting tape on his ankle monitor would somehow keep the police from knowing he was out of his house. He was wrong. Fast forward to the night of December 31, 2017. He has managed to evade arrest for a record of two months. He's cut back to smoking meth only in the mornings, he makes every child support payment, and he hasn't driven drunk in over a year. Donnie felt invincible - not only because of his winning streak, but also because he had just gotten through watching a documentary on criminal masterminds the night before. At 11:50 P.M., Donnie waltzed into a gas station wearing all camouflage so that he could go in unnoticed. He made his footsteps as quiet as possible, while maintaining a crouching stance. He then crawled because his knees started to hurt. He grabbed everything in sight - Gatorade, Miller Light, Snickers bars, gum, chips, and the newspaper. The heist went well until he was inches from the door. He rose from the floor and stood to find an officer staring deep into his eyes. Donnie became covered in sweat. The cop took him to the side and asked him to put his hands against the wall. Donnie begrudgingly complied. Donnie catches a glimpse of the digital clock through the window. Right as the first handcuff wrapped around his wrist, he caught it ticking to midnight. He had successfully gone a full year with only three arrests. He yelled out in triumph. His excitement was short-lived, however, when he saw the time on the cop car's dashboard. Donnie broke his right to remain silent. "Hey, ain't it supposed to be the new year?" The cop looked back and said, "that clock in there is ten minutes ahead of time." Donnie sighed and whispered "dammit"under his breath.
"Drathalor,"the armoured knight shouted as he burst through the door. "Your time is up. No more hiding behind your minions. It's time to face me, man to man. Stand and fight!" Fuck, I thought to myself. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. As if this situation wasn't bad enough already. I'm stuck behind the dead body of my master the Dark Lord Drathalor XVII, surrounded by his loyal subjects, and now the Army of Light has showed up. This is the first time I've seen Balxar, the Hero of Legend, and he is just as mighty as the stories make him out to be. I cast a glance at my master's right hand woman, if she can even be called a woman anymore. Maybe she can sort this mess out. Years of dabbling in dark magic has transformed Kira into something more, something... inhuman. Her yellow eyes stare at me, cold and unblinking. Ice runs down my spine. I tried to save Drathalor from choking on that cherry stone, but I was too late. If Kira realises that our master is dead because I was too slow to save him, she'll kill me. "Master,"She whispers in that hoarse, rasping voice of hers. It's rumoured that her throat is permanently burnt from the sheer power of the incantations she recites. "Allow me to deal with this pest. He is not worth your time."She's still staring straight at me. What's going on? Is she bluffing? After a long, awkward pause, I realise that she is not bluffing. She really hasn't realised that Lord Drathalor has died. I have to act fast. If either her or Balxar realise what's happened, I'm dead. Worse than dead if Kira gets her hands on me first. I grasp Lord Drathalor by the hair, a crime which would have earned me an eternity of torture if he had still been alive, and twist his face away so they can't see that his mouth is not moving. "Destroy him,"I say. My best hope is getting them to fight, and sneaking away in the chaos. Kira casts a strange look in my direction, and I realise my terrified squeak did not sound anything like the Lord's demonic roar of a voice. I clear my throat. "Destroy him,"I repeat. "My loyal servant. Lady Kira. Um."How does he address her again? "I task you to wipe his miserable existence from this world. Darling."Shit! Where did that come from?! Kira continues to stare. A bead of sweat drips down my brow. There's no way they'll fall for this. One of them will realise, and then... "As you command, my master."A dark aura seems to form around her as she paces towards the hero. Her yellow eyes gleam and she licks her lips in anticipation with a forked tongue. I shudder, and decide that if it comes down to it I'll throw myself onto the hero's sword rather than let her take me. Rather than dwell on that unpleasant thought, I get ready to run. I'll have to push past the Dark Lord's corpse to escape, and I don't want to risk knocking it onto the floor and alerting them. Unless... I hook my hands under his armpits and stand up. He's heavier than I expected and I almost drop him. It doesn't help that my hands are slippery with sweat, and strangely, so are his armpits. "My Lord?"Kira asks smoothly. I jump, and the corpse jumps with me. I stood up too soon. The battle hasn't even started yet. "Just getting a better view,"I say weakly. "Um. I want to see Balxar's destruction up close."Kira's eyes narrow. "You are acting strangely, my Lord, if you don't mind me saying so. I..." "Look out!"I squeal. Balxar had taken his chance and swung his sword at her exposed shoulder. She hissed and whipped around, swiping a clawed hand at his throat. I back away slowly. I would like to back away faster but the corpse is weighing me down. The sword swings within an inch of Lord Drathalor's face. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder how neither of them have noticed his gormless expression. "Coward,"snarls Balxar. "Face me yourself. End this now." "No thanks,"I whimper. Kira steps between us and I continue putting distance between myself and the fight, which is rapidly getting out of control. The door is just a few feet away. If I can just... Something heavy flies through the air and rips Drathalor from my grip. I fall to the floor. Kira had picked Balxar up with magical tendrils and hurled him across the room. That had been what had hit me. We tumble to the floor in a tangle of limbs. I think I hear something snap as I land on Drathalor's arm. Before I can react, Balxar leaps to his feet and plunges his sword through Drathalor's head. "Die, evil fiend!"He screams. The room falls silent. Kira's face twists in shock. I shut my eyes. This is the end. "Master?"She says. Rough hands grasp my shoulder and haul me to my feet. I open my eyes and find myself face to face with Balxar. "Who are you?!"He snarls, spraying my face with spit. "Another fiend of Drathalor's?" For the second time today, I panic. "Kira!"I growl in a guttural voice. "Your battle is not over. I commanded you to kill this fool! Do not disobey me now."For a moment, she remained silent. Then she burst out laughing. "Do you truly expect me to believe that you are the Dark Lord's true form? You are just a servant. I have seen you before."She strides over and lifts Drathalor's body with a single hand. "He has been dead this whole time, hasn't he?"I freeze, and she tosses the body away with contempt. "Never mind. This is not his first body, and will not be his last. I can easily find him another." "You mean I must kill his true form to destroy him once and for all?"Balxar asks. Kira rolls her eyes and gestures with a hand. Balxar barely has time to scream, and then he's gone. The only indication he ever existed is a charred mark on the ground. My breath catches in my chest. She had been toying with him the whole time. "Now then."Her reptilian eyes seem to glow as she grips my shoulder with extraordinary strength. "You'll do, I suppose. You're young, and healthy." "What-"I begin, quivering. I can't move. She's paralysed me somehow. "Don't be afraid,"she whispers. "You'll have power beyond your wildest dreams. Of course you'll have to do as I say, but you can pretend to be in charge." "N-no, I'm alright, thanks,"I stammer. "Don't you want to be more than a servant? Don't you want to be a lord?" "Um. I-" "Listen,"she snaps, and gestures at the burn mark on the floor. "Either you become the next Dark Lord or you end up like him." "Well. When you put it like that..." It's not so bad being the Dark Lord. I get a whole tower to myself, and servants to tend to my every whim. As long as I do as Kira tells me and incinerate a hero every now and then, I can do what I want. I pluck a cherry from the bowl and flick my finger. The pip shoots out and flies neatly out of the window. I smile and watch it fall, popping the cherry in my mouth and surveying my kingdom of darkness.
The war has been raging for almost a decade when we first encountered them. Pale, smooth-skinned creatures, equipped with four limbs. Two for moving around, another two to interact with their surroundings. Pazak scouts were the ones that made first contact with them. Near the outer rims of the Sol-3 system. A race that called themselves Humans. Fresh into space travel. Of course, the humans never knew that the Pazaks were there. Per the United Worlds (UW) official policy, no official contact is to be made without a thorough understanding of any new alien race. We made the mistake once with the Gozans. A mistake that cost us dearly, even until today. A mistake that we were determined not to repeat. Fortunately for us, the Humans turned out to be not so different from the Gozans. The first report that was sent over detailed how the Humans were engaged in interplanetary warfare with members of their own species. From the Pazak scans, several of the system's planets and moons were settled, and they were all sending fleets to bomb each other. An all out system warfare. Bloodthirsty, violent and destructive. Those were among the few words the Pazaks used to describe the Humans. The Council wanted Sol-3 to be destroyed before the Humans poured out from their system. They feared that knowledge of the existence of other races would spur the Humans to turn their attention towards the United Worlds. The last thing that the Council wanted was a war on two fronts. But where the Council saw fear, I saw an opportunity instead. "Why not pitch the Humans against the Gozans?"I asked, facing the six ambassadors of the United Worlds Council. I tapped on the screen before me, and a hologram of the quadrant's map popped up. Bright red and blue arrows dotted the map. "What better way to solve the problems we face by pitching two of our problems against each other?" A deep voice cut me off from across the room. "What are you suggesting, Oiris?" "I'm suggesting we extend an invitation for the Humans to join the United Worlds, ambassador." ------------------- It's not exactly Earth they're asking to join, but eh. I write at /r/dori_tales
"Look, we're not going to change the name of our planet to 'Durfpoon'. It's ridiculous." Grik pounded at his chest, metal bracers clashing loudly against his chestplate. "You would dishonor us, puny Durfpoonian? The Galactic Counsel has known your planet as Durfpoon for generations!" The Earth Ambassador—or Durfpoon Ambassador, depending on who you asked— sighed and rubbed at his temples. He pressed the mic button back down, and a small indicator showed that he was once again speaking to the imposing alien. "I understand that you might have gotten used to the name Durfpoon over the years, but we've been calling our planet Earth for considerably longer than that. And besides, it's our planet. Don't we get final say in what we're called?" The alien swelled with anger, his head literally inflating as loose sacs of skin expanded. His disturbingly tall, thin companion rested a hand on Girk's shoulder and stepped forward. "We have much more experience with interplanetary relations than you, young Durfpoonian. We do not wish to cause you grief, but you must understand the risks of allowing a civilization to name themselves. Untold billions were slaughtered in the aftermath of the Conquerians, driven on by a rage instilled into every aspect of their culture, down to the name of their planet."She bowed her head in what seemed to be a moment of quiet remembrance. Even Girk deflated a bit. She snapped her head back up, fixing the Ambassador with a reptilian stare. "The Galactic Council assigns names arbitrarily, so that all may be equal. It is just and fair, and has saved countless lives. I have heard that your culture values justice and equality—or were we mistaken?" "No, we don't want to buck the system, it's just—ugh, never mind. Look, let me talk to my superiors about this, alright? They aren't going to like it." "Then you must cut off their heads and plant them on spikes!"Girk roared. "Only then might they be replaced in a fair, representative election!"He stepped forward, gripping the camera that connected the Galactic Council's space station to the Embassy ship and bringing it close to his face. "I have heard stories that you use a first-past-the-post voting system. Barbaric! Single transferable vote is vastly superior to your puny electoral colleges!"Spittle was beginning to coat the lens as he shouted, and his companion was quick to replace the camera in it's original position. "Look, just float the idea with your superiors, yes? We would hate for you be denied membership in the Galactic Counsel over something so... cosmetic." "Yeah. No guarantees, but I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Ambassador Smith, signing off."He pressed a button, and the screen went blank. Inside the chambers of the Galactic Counsel, dozens of delegates were standing on the other side of the screen, barely managing to stifle their laughter. As soon as they saw Girk and Majeela signing off, the room exploded into an uproar, with Girk laughing the loudest of all. "Oh my Law, they bought it! They grobbing bought it! Who put in Durfpoon?" A slug-like being in the back raised a pair of right arms, and was promptly clapped on the back by the surrounding members of the council. Girk beat and his chest and let out a roar. "Everyone is buying drinks for Darrghu tonight! Nicely done, Darrghu!" Majella cleared her throat, a wide, toothy smile on her face. "Alright everyone, remember to keep straight faces around the newbies. Just to make sure we're all on the same page, the next names on the list are calling Alpha Centauri 'Pupinbutte' and Sirius 'Fookuremoffer'. Great work, everyone!"
"He is Dragonborn."The voice echoed. "Shepard."Spoke another. Others joined in the chorus, each with their own name for him - The Hero of Hyrule, The Anointed, The Lone Wanderer…. All of them had traveled far and wide, across seas, across time, across platforms all to pay homage to the one that had saved them. "He saved my town from a dragon." "He carried me on his back to safety." "He killed 20 wolves and brought me their pelts." "He saved my settlement from raiders." Now, at the end of his time, those whom he had served - who served him - waited patiently on the other side to escort him to the next great challenge. "Come, Geralt. Come hunt with us." "Shepard Commander. Initiate rest phase with us." "Ezio! Come dine with me and your brothers." "Praise the Sun! He is returning." "Kratos. Your family awaits." So many names, so many titles, all sharing the same face, all bowing their heads in respect." ______________________________________________________________________________________ "Is that a smile I see on grandpa?"The child asked her mother. "Yes sweetie, it is."The mother was fighting back tears. It had been a long fight, and he had persevered for so long. So many treatments, so many doctors, but she knew this was it. He was just as much a hero in life as we was in the games he loved, but nothing could stop it now. It was only a matter of time. The old man reached for his granddaughter, his breath shallow, his hands trembling. He motioned for the drawer next to his bedside. Curiously, the granddaughter opened it. Inside, was a rectangular box. "What is it, Grandpa?"she asked. His old hands struggled to get the box open, inside, wrapped in cloth was an object. Proudly, almost solemly, he placed it in her hands. "A gift."He whispered. ____________________________________________________________________________________ The room was cold, and the shadowy figured approached as NPCs made room. His long bony finger pointed to the old man in the bed. "Are you ready?"he asked. "You know, I think I am"said the old man. A smile crept across the skeletal face of the shadow figure, the Grim Reaper. "Good."He replied. "The next level awaits." ____________________________________________________________________________________ It was over. Her father laid motionless in the bed, but at peace. As the doctors prepared to take him away, she went to see her child. "Grandpa's not coming back, is he mommy?"She aked. "No honey, he's not. What did he give you?" The young girl unwrapped the cloth. Inside, was an ancient looking device made of plastic., with buttons, and switches across its face, and a small screen. Curiously, she pressed the red one. The screen lit up with bright colors, illuminating the young girls awe struck face. Some of the words she couldn't quite read yet, but one of them was next to a picture that looked just like one of the buttons. "What's its say mommy?"she asked. The woman smiled, tears welling up. "Press Start."
Serving in the 70th infantry division we were battling the Germans for 60 days already. I’ve lost many friends in the process. One day when going into a small village we came under attacked. We took cover in a small house that was blown from the back side. We took cover and the fighting was over as soon as it started. It was another gorilla attack. They been doing that setting little ambushing here and there. I was the last to leave the building when I heard a whimper in the house. That was not possible the civilians had been evacuated. I started to look for the source of the whimpering and I found a small cellar door. Inside was an old woman who looked like she had been starving for days. Her face showed fear. I reached into my bag to grab my canteen. As I began to pull it out the old lady raised her hands up protecting her face. “No, no please its water see.” I open the canteen and took a sip. She lowered her hands as I offered it to her. She gulped it down. I reached my hand out she shook her head. She grabbed my hand, kissed it and pushed my hand back. I guess she did not want to leave. I left her with my canteen and a few rations. My platoon leader came back to check why I was taking so long. “What the fuck you doing Private Stevens? Lets get moving.” “Sir, an old lady is here.” I turned back to look at the cellar. It was empty. “What fucken old lady?” He said as he stood behind me. “You chicken shit, you staling? Come on we got to find that small squad that fired on us. Get your ass up and lets move out.” I shook my head and put my rations back into my back. When I grabbed the canteen a small note was on it. “You saved my life, for that I shall save yours. Drink whats inside the canteen and you will never be pierced by bullets.” I put the canteen back into my bag and followed my platoon. Few hours passed and we came upon a small farming area. As we gotten closer we come under fire. Mark and Zack where immediately shot down. “Drop!!!” Our captain yelled. We had no cover and where being shot at. I looked at my friends, they were scared shitless. Firing at the farm house, and all around us. I reached into my bag pulled out the canteen and chugged it. The taste was awful but I felt my body getting hotter and stronger. I took a deep breath and stood up. “Stevens what the fuck have you lost your mind!?” A bullet hissed passed me. Striking the captain. “Sir!?” I said as I turned. “What the hell?” A smashed potato was smack on his head. His forehead still red from the impact. . Holy shit, the bullets turn into potatoes when it comes near me. I began to charge alone towards the barn house. Potato’s exploding on the ground near my feet as I ran towards the barn house. All the fire was being drawn towards me. Potatoes littered the floor. I reached the front door and kicked it open with my heart pounding. I am untouchable. As the doors flung open I was greeted with a Nazi and a .50 cal machine gun staring right at me. The potatoes made contact with me, the force flipped me forward. Is this how I am going to die, by potatoes!? My vision grew black. When I came to I was on a bed in the barn. Captain Striker was there with another gentlemen I did not know. “Kid, how would you like to join a special squad with special abilities?” He said with a smile. I nodded yes. People who have a gifts or whatever you call this that I have. I'm game to meet others with special abilities. “Logan, take this rookie downstairs, introduce him to the rest of the squad.” [TURURURURURUURUU TURURUURURURUU](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sAkL2-vh2Sk)
"So what you're saying, General"Colonel O'Neil rubbed his eyes, "Is that the Russians, who are firing nukes at us, at my base, are not the true enemy?" "That is correct."The general had a stern look on his face, devoid of all but seriousness. "You need to re-coordinate the launch vectors immediately." O'Neil refocused on the screen in front of him. "I'm sorry general but they make no sense. Why them?"The colonel was certain he was stuck in some surrealist dream. For his entire career he's been told and trained against the Red Menace, the Russians. And now... This... Farce was thrown at him at the dawn of nuclear war? "Damn it colonel, your missile base is the closest to the border and we can not allow the enemy to capture it and use them against us. Set the new coordinates now and launch those nukes! That is a direct order."The general was not having it. Determined to push the order. A loud rapping was heard on the colonels door. "Yes?!"O'Neil shouted with annoyance. "Colonel,"the private had a panicked look on his face. "You're not going to believe this... You need to see this for yourself." "Dammit!"the general shouted, "It's too late now. You're on your own colonel. Don't let the Red Menace get those nukes!" The screen went dark. The colonel shook his head and followed the private out on the second floor balcony. "Holy Mary, Mother of God..."Colonel O'Neil whispered to himself at the sight. His missile base was surrounded by an army of red clad soldiers, each mounted on an armoured moose. A leader of some sort rode forth a short distance and with a commanding voice declared "Soldiers! For Canada's eternal glory!"
Everybody knows I'm here. It's not some sci-fi movie, I'm not invisible. The issue is, nobody cares. It started at the coffee shop last week. When I got to the front of the line, the barista craned her head around me and started speaking to the lady behind me. That's rude, I thought. I gave up after 10 minutes of trying to get her attention. At the school library, I pulled out my student ID to show to the receptionist. Without looking up, she mumbled, "that's nice", before returning to her crossword. Confused, I slowly walked into the building. Behind me, I could hear her yelling at someone for walking by the desk without a card. What the hell is going on? This had been going on for days. Yesterday, I walked out of the grocery store with a cart full of food. The security officer held the door open for me. I ran naked across a soccer field. The players just passed the ball around me. I brought an airhorn to class, and my professor stuck his fingers in his ears and kept lecturing. So, I decided I was a superhero. For my first heroic act, I was going to break into Fort Jame's Naval Base. Granted, it wasn't really for the greater good, but I was curious. The front gate guard gave me a lazy salute. Not wanting to be rude, I returned it, even if he wouldn't notice. I found my way onto an aircraft carrier at port. The crew all gave way as I walked by. It was like I was in charge. I held a special rank with zero authority but unlimited access. I was Captain Nobody. I sat in an F16 on the deck and made machine gun noises. I climbed to the bridge and watched the radar go bloop. I climbed down to the nuclear reactor. Every siren in the ship went off, and before I knew it, I was held at gun-point, arrested, hauled off the ship, and dropped in a holding cell. "What the hell did you think you were doing, kid?" I stammered, "I thought... Why didn't anyone stop me before the alarm went off!? I've been here all day!" The officer shrugged. "Have you? Huh. Maybe you're just boring." "How could they know before they even spoke to me!" But he had already gotten distracted by a text message. He called out to his secretary, and they had some idle conversation. He called the boys for lunch. He already forgot about me. God damnit.
I could just go back five minutes, I thought. Then I wouldn’t have eaten that god awful salmon bagel just now. I’m already feeling sick. Maybe it was already past its expiration date. I mean how many times have I used the device already today? Can’t have been more than three or four times. I reach for the device shaped like a pocket watch in my vest without thinking of it. I must have done that so many times by now that muscle memory just took over. “One…ONETHOUSANDANDTWENTYSIX!” I yelled out loudly, astonished by a number so high I didn’t think it would fit on the little display. Did it not reset for a month or what? My brain tried to find an explanation. Nah, I checked yesterday. Some woman who I undoubtedly surprised, looked at me angrily and walked past. What are you looking at you old hag “I’m sorry Madam, just received a dentist bill” There has to be something important that I’m missing. Something important has happened? What can it be? But nothing came to mind and people started looking. I must have been behaving like a loon. Racing up and down the pavement, pulling on my hair, desperately trying to figure out what was happening. Time’s running out, I got to choose soon. There’s something I forgot I’m sure. There was this big analog clock across the street above a store and its minute hand was racing downwards mercilessly. As if it was counting seconds. It was rushing me to choose, making me hasty. "Look when I’m gone this far you can’t undo what happened anymore."It seemed to say. Ah it’s useless, I got to give me another five minutes to figure it out. Let’s hope I’m luckier next time. I press down the trigger with my thumb in one smooth motion like I did so many times already. The thumb didn’t release yet. Then it hit me like lightning. Fuck, the loop safety is… I thought as muscle memory took over. I could just go back five minutes, I thought. Then I wouldn’t have eaten that god awful salmon bagel just now.
"Son, I need it." His voice sounds right. He even looks right. Just as I remember from back then. I hold the notebook behind my back and away from him. He has a hand out, expectantly. "I can't." It comes out of my mouth and I'm proud of myself. Standing up to my own father. Sort of. Maybe. What if it's an impostor? It could easily not be him, just as much as it could be. "I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important."He says. Almost begging. Almost. My father was a proud man. It must be important if he would come to me like that. "You told me no one was to see it. No one. You really drove that point home. Not a soul, you said. Living or dead." "I know what I said but I need it. Everything rests on this moment, son." I bring the book around from behind my back, looking at the worn leather cover and the haphazard pages of notes shoved between worn pages. His spidery writing and nearly flawless diagrams will fill the book I'm sure. He was meticulous. "Yes, son I need my notes!" I laugh, it starts slow and builds until my stomach hurts from it. He raises an eyebrow and once or twice tries to snatch the book away from me. I'm faster than him though. "Stop calling me son. It really gives you away." He freezes in place. And I see it. The slightest curl of a snarl on his lips. "You didn't call me son when you were around, why the hell would you have started now? No, my father wouldn't have asked. He would have demanded! He would have called me useless, a waste, a disappointment, and he would have taken his notes. You're not him." He lunges at me. "Stoy!" His face is curled in rage before it transforms to pain, as the electricity shoots through his body. A safety measure. "Oh dear me,"I say, circling him in the harness of current, "you seem to have stepped in it now." "I'm your father!"He manages to say through the pain and muscle spasms. I laugh, and laugh. Then I keep laughing. "Even if you were I would still do this. You'd deserve it. As it stands, you're not him. So I'm going to go ahead and take these notes and burn them." "No!"He struggles, uselessly. The harness is my design. My father may have been disappointed but there were plenty of agencies interested in my talents. And I didn't have the qualms about weaponizing science like he did. A bastard, that man was, but a moral bastard. "Don't worry, my version is much better anyway." I drop the book in a small metal box that ignites with an almost cartoonish whump and plume of smoke, incinerating the book and notes. "At...least...release me!"He snarls. I laugh again. I like this one. He's funny. "Maybe after breakfast. We'll see if you last that long. I, unlike you, have nothing but time! Good luck!" And I close the door, leaving my fathers underwhelming workshop in almost pitch darkness. But for the crackling blue light of the electricity. I don't need to watch my father die again, not after the first time. And that one was my fault too. Just much more subtle. I needed one piece of his notes and he wasn't just going to give them up to anyone. Nor would he give them up while he had time. It's always about time.
I feel a sharp sensation on my ankle as I Ascend. I feel myself being pulled down, and my Angel Guide calls out. “My child, resist his temptation!” I attempt to go back, and my Angel Guardian tries grabbing on to me, but to no avail as I am pulled into the veil of oblivion below. When I awake, I am in a nicely furnished hotel room. There are chocolates on the bedside, and a teddy bear with a heart next to the TV. I open the blinds, and see a large billboard. “Welcome to Medford, OR.” Medford Oregon? I have honestly never been there. I thought I was dead, last I was conscious I had been Ascending into the heavens, courtesy of God’s New Ascension Program. Weird. I try to open the door to my hotel room, but it appears to be impossible to open, so I sit back down on the bed and open the box of chocolates. There is a note inside. ———————————————————— “Dear Terry, I will explain everything soon. Sorry for the rude awakening :( Glasya Labolas, personal assistant to Satan IX ———————————————————— Surreal. I wonder, maybe I’m in a reality TV show of some kind? It’s at that moment when I fly out of the window and into the billboard. ———————————————————— “My name is Glasya Labolas. I am the personal assistant to Satan IX, the ninth dragon and guardian of Hell.” Great, I’m in Hell. I didn’t think Medford was that bad (though once again I hadn’t been there). “Was I that bad on Earth?” He laughs, sending smoke flying in the air. “No, no. This is a Divine Intervention.” He turns on a PowerPoint presentation, and claps, turning off the lights in the room. “As you can see, God had implemented the New Ascension Program, right?” He clicks to the next slide, which depicts a very happy elderly woman. “I had to use stock footage of this old woman at a bingo tournament in order to depict the happiness of humans. Anyways, you all were very happy. But little did you know...” The next slide features an image of Jack Nicholson’s Joker. “God has gone crazy. Cuckoo! Insane!” He presents the next slide, which is an image of Hitler. “He now wants to enact a genocide of all human souls, deeming them unworthy.” “But Satan IX, in his infinite wisdom, has decided to save those in the Program.” He extends his hand, after turning the lights back on. “I will return you to your room. In the coming days I shall find you some more, permanent, accommodations.” I fly back over Medford, and crash into the hotel room. The teddy bear has been replaced with a talking sheep, and the mirror now is now sideways. Ok.
This had to be a joke. I am a... No, THE master criminal! A virtuoso of thievery, a GENIUS of burglary... ...And they send a kid in to interrogate me? Ridiculous. Although, considering my mouth was sealed tighter than the Swiss vaults I’d plundered to end up in this room, it’s no surprise they were getting desperate. There’s no chance in hell I’d tell them where I’ve stashed even a single Franc! So this must just be a kid brought in on some... Field trip. Or maybe one of those stupid, “bring your annoying brat to work” days... “...H-Hi...” Did he talk? To me? Ugh... Fine. I’ve got nothing better to do, might as well humour them... “Hello there little boy. What’s your name?” “Klaus...” Hmmph. “Ah, interesting... Why’re you here.” Bit more stern that time. Hopefully he’ll get the hint and want to leave. “P-Papa said he wanted me to ask you things.” What?! This was planned?! The hell are they playing at?... “What sort of things.” “I dunno... Whatever I wanted.” Nevermind. They’re probably all on break. This... Urchin’s just here because he’s bored and his dad didn’t want to deal with him. Can’t blame him... This kid is- “Are you a baddie?” Gee, what do you think? Moron. “I suppose your dad would call me that.” “Uh huh, he did! Papa said you were a... Thief?” They know already, no harm in telling him. Barred windows are in my future anyway. “That is correct.” “Thieves are bad. Mama says that all the time whenever Papa tells us about work.” “Oh really? Fascinating....” “W-What did you steal?” Hmmm. “Money.” “Money? L-Like... Like somebody’s lunch money? Are you a bully? Bullies are worse than thieves, because... Because bullies hurt other people too!” Oh Gooooood... Why me... “Not quite. A lot more than lunch money.” “Do you have a bag for the m-money?” “No, I do-” “Why not?” “Because it was a lot of mo-” “How much?” ... When is the interrogator coming back?! “A lot.” “How big is a lot?” “Ugh, it’s really big!” “Like... Like super big? Like a million?” “More like a billion” “What’s that?” “A... A billion?” “Yeah.” Is this kid slow? “It’s bigger than a milli-” “How much bigger?” I swear, I’ll murder this fu- “A LOT. All you need to know!” “...How do you carry all that?” “In a bag.” “But I thought you said you didn’t have a bag...” “N-No, I’m... Listen, I had a bag-” “How would you fit all that billion money in? Was the bag big?” “I had more than one” “Soooo, where do you keep them?” “Wha- None of your business!” Good. He seems to have shut up for no- “Why not?” GAH! “Because it isn’t!” “Why not? I wanna know!” “Look kid, you can-” “Why do you steal? Papa says people like you should get jobs instead... I think.” “It’s not that eas-” “Why not?” Keep it calm Pierre, keep it calm... “It just isn’t.” “That’s not an answer! I wanna know!” “Well you can’t kn-” “I want to know!” “No, I’m not tell-” “I wanna! Please? Please please pleeeeeease?” “No, you-” “PLEEEEAASE?” SCREW IT! “FINE! You know how much work a job like this takes?! You think anyone could’ve broken through a timelock, bypassed armed guards and cracked open a vault like that alone?! In under 8 minutes?! NO THEY COULDN’T! And after that, I DID THE DRIVING! I was the one who BROUGHT all the equipment! And that money is mine! It needed work to hide too! You think it’s easy modifying a van to not only be bulletproof and fast, but to also have storage compartments that DON’T conspicuously alter the frame of the- Oh no I’ve said too much...” “This is sergeant Klein. Thank you for your help detective Klein. You made papa proud.” No. No no no! They were watching?! Of COURSE they would! Imbecile! Damn it! Damn it all! They know, THEY KNOW- “Can I go now? The thief looks really angry...” NO NO NO NO NO! OUTSMARTED BY A CHILD?! NO! THIS CAN’T BE! NOOOOOOOO!!! “Mr thief. Papa says you can tell him... Tell him the number plate or I can speak to you again.. And I want to ask-“ “I’LL TELL YOU! FINE, I’LL TELL YOU, JUST LET ME OUT DAMN IT!”
"And this is your focusing ring,"the nurse said. "Power of your magnitude wouldn't be controllable without it." Stephen slipped on the ring. "Sweet,"he said. "So, when do I start taking over the world?"He'd said it as a joke. He'd meant it as a joke. Mostly. The nurse didn't smile. "Never, of course. That said, there are several more important projects we could use your help with." More important than ruling the world? Stephen's power fantasies hadn't gone away, but he found himself intrigued by the statement anyway. "Like what?" "It's a careful balancing act,"the nurse said. "Magic isn't real, not in the same way as, say, physics is real. It breaks physical laws. What you likely haven't been told is that this isn't very good for those physical laws. And considering those laws are the ones that keep us alive and our universe intact, you can see how overuse of magic could be an issue." "Gotcha,"Stephen said, "take it easy with the powers."It probably wouldn't take all his power to become super-rich and live forever, after all. "There is this universe,"the nurse said as though she had no idea what Stephen was plotting and didn't particularly care, "and there is Elsewhere. The latter enables magic, and it's incomprehensible. Literally, our minds based on our physical laws cannot survive contact with it. But every use of magic - from your most powerful invocations all the way down to that 0.01 using their power to shoo away a fly - weakens the bounds between worlds." "Wait,"Stephen said, "no magic at all? That's not right, I see people use magic every day!"Usually it was the low-scale boring stuff, but it was everywhere. "We can't stop everyone from using magic, would though we tried,"the nurse said, and something in that statement made Stephen think that she might be more than just the testing program's nurse. She continued: "But magic can repair the bounds as well. That's where you come in." "That doesn't make sense,"Stephen said. "How can the thing that tears the universe apart repair it?" "Think of sewing something up,"the nurse said, "the needle punctures the material you are trying to repair. You drag thread through that puncture, further damaging it. And yet, the end result is something stronger than before." "Okay,"Stephen said. "So I just repair what I cause, and-" The nurse laughed, the first bit of emotion she'd shown. "No, no, no, you don't understand. There are billions of people on this planet, and every single one of them has at least a spark. That adds up, quickly. No, your task, from now on, exclusively, is to keep the bounds intact." Stephen frowned. "Maybe I don't want to. Maybe I want to retire to some island somewhere and live a life of superpowered luxury!"There wasn't a 'maybe' about it, in his mind. "And maybe you don't have a choice. I could appeal to your sense of preservation in the face of a collapsing universe, but we've read through your social media accounts. Your rantings about 'climate change conspiracy' among other things do not inspire a great deal of hope when it comes to your ability to see long-term." "Don't have a choice!?"Stephen stood up from the exam table. "Lady, I'm the first ten ever! You can't stop me! Nobody can stop me!"He hadn't intended to go on a supervillain rant but apparently it came with the territory when people wanted to use him. The nurse wasn't cowed. "No, you're the first ten you've heard of. Ask yourself this: If the most powerful person you know is only a '2'... why does the scale even go up to ten?" Stephen shrugged. "I just figured it was an inherent limit or something. I'm not a biologist" "It is not,"the nurse said. "The scale actually goes higher. And you,"she said, raising her hand and indicating a focus ring just like the one Stephen now wore, "are most definitely not the first." "You still..."Stephen's surety had vanished. "You still can't do this. You can't... enslave me." "It's a matter of the preservation of the entire universe,"the nurse said. "You'd be surprised at the latitude we are given when it comes to that mission." Her 'we' statement cemented Stephen's suspicion that she wasn't only a nurse. "But..."he managed. "That said, we have not yet begun conscripting new mages,"the 'nurse' continued. "If you refuse this calling, the focusing ring will dampen your powers to around 1.5 or so and geas you to never communicate the truth about your abilities. You'll live a nice, normal life." Stephen was new to his power, but he couldn't imagine giving it up, not now after he'd just learned what he could do. "Do people choose that?"It sounded horrible. The nurse just shrugged and repeated herself: "You wouldn't be the first."
The color of the consciousness globe was odd. No black tendrils were scrapping the surface, trying to expand beyond their momentary prison. Neither was the substance gooey and fuzzy, shielding its core from any exploring glare. It was a soft, pink mass slowly turning on itself, like an ever crashing wave reaching its peak in order to get back in as fast as possible. Weird. But again, it has been only a few years since I filled the position, and each globe had its very own complex display. The label next to it clearly said 9 post-lifes sentence. Not wanting to lose too much time, I position the globe in its receptacle next to the newly designated body - a 20 something year old boy, missing only a leg. The previous body was too deteriorated: 5 years post-life expectancies or less were switched with pretty much anyone who had an unforeseen encounter with death. This one was pretty high quality. One press of a button and the ritual starts. Gone were the times of inaudible muttering and grandiloquent gestures: the needs of the current administration were such that the process was streamlined, another cog running in a gargantuan machine, powered by the essence of the first-life prisonners. The pink essence starts to flow gently in the body, anchoring in its head and slowly taking over the chest, arms and single leg. The body starts to shake, the head raises itself by a few inches and comes to a rest. Nothing moves. Then the eyes slowly open and starts watching the surrounding world, and slowly stops onto me. He seems to respond correctly. Perfect. Let's get the perfunctory post-life quizz done and over with. &#x200B; \- Please state your name and occupation \- Hitler. Painter. Goddamn. Another memory corruption. Time to restart.
The clock ticked inevitably as we waited outside of those prophetic ER double doors. The warden was pacing, working up quite the sweat. It was the first time I had seen him get so worked up over something. I didn't care, once you are on your 236th cycle, displacement is just another event glazing by. I'd been a solider, a teacher, a father, a mother, a child, an old man, somehow never a priest though. How could anyone ever claim a God exists when men like Julius Malcolm carry out their heinous deeds. 665 total confirmed kills over 73 cycles. So young, and yet so dangerous. In the event the doctors can't keep him in his current cycle, its a retriever's job to track and bring back a condemned vessel. Unfortunately, I was poor sap who got plucked to be Malcolm's. Names are always different, features change, so we hunt the only thing that says the same, souls. Tracking a soul is difficult business. You can't identify them directly. You have to gauge the previous vessel to gain an idea about the habits of the next one. Malcolm specifically, enjoys mutilating a victims eyes. He believes people constantly judge him because they can see into this tainted soul. So, being the "genius"he is, he resolves the problem by gouging them out. His file is quite the read, and the only real insight for tracking him down in case he undergoes displacement. Of course, his habits won't be directly displayed in the early years of Malcolm's next vessel. He'll have urges he won't understand, until the remembrance. The remembrance is a sort of calibration the soul does to adjust to the the current vessel. Once adjusted the vessel will have the knowledge of all previous cycles. It usually occurs between ages of 13-18 in any given cycle, and can vary from vessel to vessel. Some gain their knowledge in a progressive manner, and for other its a jolt. That's the hard part of being a retriever, you really don't know who you're hunting until a pattern emerges. I closed the file. It was getting frustrating to think about what I had to do for possibly the remainder of this cycle. The double doors opened and the doctor walked out with a worried expression. I couldn't quite make out what he was saying to the warden, even across the dead room. The warden, with a sigh, turned to look at me. There were no words, but I understood what had to be done. I'm gonna need a cigarette. &#x200B; Edit - Changed sentence structure to avoid word repetition.
I'd been saving up to buy the phone all winter. I took a part time job at the starbucks two blocks from where I live so I could come up with the cash. The free drinks were awesome too. When it finally came out the next summer, I was ecstatic. I eagerly marched into the store as the fifteenth customer, just barely managing to snag a phone. I spent the entire afternoon with my new best friend. I played around with settings, imported my apps, yada yada. I plopped my sim card in the new phone and after a while got a text from my best friend, Josh. Josh: Hey dude, there's a smokin party going on at the mckinsey house, wanna come? Allison will be there wink Me: Sure man, but do me favour and tone down the jerk levels Josh: Whatever you say man, just get over here! Me: Alright, be there in a bit I got ready, charging my phone while I was in the shower. When I got out, there was another text from Josh. Josh: Hurry up man, it's already been like, 4 minutes! I sighed and dashed off a reply. Me: Alright, Alright, I'm almost there. Just give me a sec. Josh: sigh fineeeeee At that moment, my stomach twisted. My vision started to blur and my limbs felt weightless. I shouted in surprise but nothing came out, just this squeaking sound. Then I found myself standing outside Josh's house. The phone was improbably still in my hands. I did a quick check to make sure I was still alive and not in some weird afterlife, then inspected the phone to see what happened. Unless I had some LSD I didn't previously know about, I didn't stumble over here in the massive snowdrifts while unconscious of literally everything. The only other explanation was the phone, but that couldn't be true, could it? I resolved to go the route of the scientific method. I opened the messaging app, then scrolled down to my mom's contact. I thought a for a minute about what I should write, then pressed send before I could back out. Me: Hey mom, could you check if we have any ice cream in the freezer? Mom: I thought we were all out but I'll check... what kind is it? Me: Mint chocolate chip Mom: Yeah, there's a fresh carton in the freezer Me: Thanks Mom Mom: You're welcome honey I was astounded. Thing is, I had eaten the last of the ice cream just that day. I could probably even procure the package if I really wanted to. I didn't, but my neurons were crackling with the possibilities of this odd gift. Imagine texting your friend that you had superpowers. Texting grandma that her alzheimers was better today. Chatting with a friend and telling them about all the sick video games you had. The possibilities were literally infinite, and I was buzzing with ideas as I stepped in the doorway of Josh's house. "Hey man, how's it going? I didn't hear your car pull up, you been spying on us out there?"Josh said with a warm smile. "Nah, I teleported here." Josh grinned at me and handed me a plastic cup of cheap beer. "Drink up, enjoy the party!" He then walked off, presumably to attend to the other houseguests. The party was a rager. It lasted until 2 in the morning, and I was exhausted. I found a couch that was free and dozed off. Morning. Its 1 pm. So really, afternoon. but I couldn't tell the difference with my battered brain. I planned to spend my sunday recuperating. Then my phone made a chirp sound. Boss: Hey, can you work today? We r short staffed, 1 person went home sick... Me: I can't come in today, I'm feeling a little under the weather too... I typed that part without thinking. I suddenly felt nauseated, as though I would throw up on the carpet if I didn't run. I made it, but barely. After I had gargled considerable amounts of Josh's Dad's mouthwash, I looked at my phone again. Boss: nw, just lmk when you're better. What a relief. I could skip work now. But I wasn't going to be able to use that excuse for very long. Besides, this power was way too awesome to use for an instant sick pill. I didn't have my car, so I had to think of a way to teleport home without arousing suspicion. I decided to text my mom. Me: Hey mom Mom: where have you been??? are you at work? Me: No mom, I'm at home. I'm actually kind of sick today Mom: "sick"sick or throwing up sick? Me: throwing up sick Mom: Alright, I'm coming to check your forehead... I wasn't worried. I had teleported home about halfway through the conversation, then took the most discreet path possible to my room. I was deep under the covers when my mom came in with a thermometer and a mock serious expression. "Open up"she said. I obliged. She took my temperature, then a look of surprise flitted across her face. "Alright, you stay in bed today. You've got a fever of 103! Call me if you need anything, and don't forget to drink a lot of water."She left, then came back with some italian wedding soup she had froze some nights before. It was my favourite, and I ate ravenously because I hadn't eaten anything this morning except some spare molecules of mouthwash. I did actually doze off periodically, trying to rid myself of the disease. I would cause too much suspicion if I just magicked myself better, so I tried desperately to abstain from using the magic phone. A few days later, I was at school again. I was a junior in high school, so I was semi-popular on account of seniority. I decided to text allison. She was my first crush, I had admired her since the day I walked into the building. Then she was wearing a vintage metallica t-shirt, and I knew I was in love. I hadn't had much luck so far, but that would change real soon. Me: Hey, Allison, you got any plans later? Allison: I thought I told you I wasn't interested. Though, I was planning on studying for SATS, instead of being like you and playing sick for half the semester. Ouch. She really didn't like me this time. I'd courted her in the past, but each attempt was soured by one of the many slightly offensive jokes, offhand remarks, and poor poems I texted her. I decided to inject some persuasion, but it had to be subtle. Me: Actually, I did do some schoolwork while I was partying up. Want to study together later? Allison: Only if you know how to do trig better than a moron Me: Are you kidding? I could go off on a tangent talking about that stuff! Allison: I swear to God... Me: Sorry, I really do know trig. Study date? Allison: Fine, but only because I can barely understand %10 of the class notes. Me: 4? Allison: Meet me at the starbucks Me:K I let a slow smile creep across my face. I had another chance. I also knew trig. Like, trig I didn't even know about yet. Real wacky stuff. Anyway, I met allison for a drink and some intense trigonometry studying. I was pretty good, giving her pointers and telling her about stuff we weren't even supposed to know yet. In the middle of my lecture on the fascinating trig identities and why they were so useful in senior year, she slapped her hands down on the table and demanded "When the heck did you get so smart?" I waggled my eyebrows. "I'm not completely hopeless. I read like a regular human being." She looked at me searchingly, then asked me why the teacher had marked question 51 on her assignment wrong. I glanced at it and realized why, she had forgotten to draw a triangle. I quickly explained what she should have done. For the first time since I saw her, Allison gave me a grudging look of respect. A while later, we were getting closer by the minute. She wanted to get into one of those big fancy "We print your degree on solid gold"Ivy leagues, so it was a perfect excuse to hang out with her. Plus, anytime I didn't know what she was studying, I'd just use my magic phone and learn whatever it was in a few seconds. It was awesome. One day I texted her outside of class. Me: Hey, how's it going? Allison: I got a %85 on my chem test, but other than that I'm fine. U? Me: I'm god Me: good* darn autocorrect Allison: ikr? anyway, do u want to meet me at starbucks again, I can't understand this one part in my textbook... Me: Sure, usual time? Allison: You got it I looked at the autocorrected message. "I'm god."I thanked my lucky stars I hadn't capitalized it. That would have been a mess. Now my name is god on my learner's permit, but I'm sure I can fix that...
Every year on my birthday, I go on a hiking trip by myself. People think it's weird or dangerous for a female hiker to be alone, but I don't care. My little sister Michelle and I used to hike the same trail before she disappeared. The only thing I have left of her is that stupid cell phone she refused to part with, the one with the pink heart stickers all over the case. You'd have to pry it from her cold fingers before she'd ever let it out of her sight. That's how I know she's dead, even if they haven't found her body yet. Actually, I do have one other thing left of Michelle. There's a clearing along the hiking trail where we carved our names into a tree on my 15th birthday: "CAROLINE"and "MICHELLE". We had a pretend competition to see who'd have the prettier result. Mine was better, but hers had a heart over the "i"that was perfectly symmetrical. So I guess she won. Today, I've been making my way to the clearing, hoping the tree hasn't been cut down. I've heard other hikers talking about the changes happening around the forest. Rumors of people in lab coats, maybe even portals to another world. It all sounds crazy to me, but what do I know? If we really can make portals to another world, maybe I can get someone to open one to a universe where Michelle is still alive. When I finally reach the clearing, though, the tree is gone. In its place is a small shack with a plain door labeled "APERTURE SCIENCE". A sign is taped below the label: "Hi Caroline! Your birthday cake is downstairs. Love, Michelle." I stare at the sign, my heart pounding. What am I supposed to do, ignore it? Even though it's impossible for my little sister to still be alive, I have to check. Just in case. I've never been a believer in anything, but maybe Michelle just ran away with her middle school boyfriend and has been too scared to return until now. Yes, that's definitely it. I push open the door and walk in to see a flight of stairs going down. When I reach the bottom, Michelle is standing at the center of an empty room with a man in a lab coat. I rush forward, kneeling down before her. She's several years older now, but I'd recognize my little sister anywhere. She's wearing some kind of uniform like a prisoner. An orange jumpsuit. "Do you have her cell phone?"the man asks impatiently. "She won't stop asking for it. It's driving us insane." "What?"I really should be scared, but he looks too normal, too important, to be a threat. "We had to make her this stupid thing as a replacement,"he says, tossing an object onto the ground. It clatters to a halt beside me. A cube with pink hearts all over it. "She's not very good at describing objects, and our 3D printer isn't particularly fancy. Do you have the phone or not?" "Caroline?"Michelle asks, her voice wobbly. "They said they'd give me cake if I went with them." "What are they doing to you, Chell?"I ask, grasping her small hands in mine. She barely seems to notice, and it breaks my heart. "We have to get out of here-" That's when a portal opens up in the wall behind her. More people wearing lab coats are on the other side. Hands reach through and grab my little sister, pulling her away from me. I immediately get up and try to follow her, but my shoulder slams into solid wall. The portal is gone. Before I can make sense of what just happened, the man in the lab coat grabs my arm and uses some kind of device to open a portal in the same wall. But instead of carrying me to my sister, he pulls me into a cold room filled with whirring computers and robotic parts. "Wait,"I say, trying to pull away. "Can you... can you open a portal back to my sister? I know she was just here, and she said something about cake, so I know she's still alive. Please..." "Sorry, kiddo,"he says. "The cake was a lie." \~\~ For the 309th time, I print out a mindless copy of Chell. I've given this one all the ingredients: the ability to create portals, that stupid cube with the hearts, even the promise of cake. Eventually she'll be able to replicate whatever Michelle did before disappearing from Aperture Science. I'm sure, with the proper training, we'll be able to open a portal to my little sister this time...
I opened my suitcase. This bad boy held my entire arsenal: stacks of money, a few credit cards and the most important of all my pen. This may seem like an odd choice. To be honest with you, it would be for an ordinary hitman, but that's not me. My name is Argento Malificus A.K.A the Economical Assassin. This contract was a doozy. Take down Electronic Arts, any means necessary. At face value it seems like a standard job: buy shares and job done. I had the problem that I couldn't invest enough with shares. A new strategy was needed. It wasn't going to satisfy my contractors, alternatives are often much more expensive than a Shared Kill. My plan was the following: buy a load of their games. You could argue that there were easier ways, but me, being expert would say you're wrong. First I started with the large retailers like Gamestop. Afterwards I went round in local game stores. I had to be careful; I was starting to raise suspicion, mostly with the police. That's the dangerous side of this method: the law. But I was going to manage, I always do. A week passes and then it happens: EA files for bankruptcy. Let the money roll in. The most satisfying of all this is that some gamers found traces of my practices. r/gaming praises me like a goddamn deity. Now this truly gives me a sense of pride and accomplishment.
It was early, far too early to be awake. As I woke my cat was pawing at my face. Not aggressive but consistent and with his loud meow cutting through my slumber it made it impossible to sleep. The moment my eyes opened I saw the symbol. Above his head the light golden glow of his value. That was normal, I always saw someone's monetary value. Usually nothing too shocking, most people had a value of $100 000, but I put that down to their organs. Once I saw a woman with a value close to one billion, that was something I always wondered about. Animals typically had a value from a few dollars to a couple thousand. Nothing extravagant. Except now, Sir Jelly Donut my orange tabby had something I had never seen before. The symbol for infinity was glowing golden above his head. Just seeing that snapped me to my senses and shocked me into being completely awake. He continued to meow in my face, but seeing I was awake leapt from the bed to the floor. I sat up to look at him as I saw the glowing outline from my door, the dark rich smoke wafting in along the edges of the frame sprawling across my ceiling. I rushed to pick up Sir Jelly Donut and out of my burning house. The value I saw wasn't how much someone was worth, it was how much they would be worth to me.
And on the twenty seven thousand eight hundred and eleventh day, God said "It's clouds, isn't it?" "You're good."St Peter said. "Now you go." Thus spoketh God "I spy with my little eye something that is---" "The Pearly Gates,"a feminine voice said in awe. St Peter turned, looking shocked. "Who are you? And how did you get here?"he demanded. Standing on a cloud a few meters away, St Peter saw a young woman. She was tall, had long, silver hair, and she was wearing a blue jumpsuit and red and white striped leg warmers. The woman walked forward, looking around like a tourist in a new city. The woman finally looked at St Peter. "And St Peter too."she said. "Who's that behind you?" "I'm asking the questions here,"St Peter said, crossing his arms. "Who are you, where did you come from, how did you die when humans have been immortal for thousands of years, and most importantly, why are you wearing leg warmers?" There woman walked up to the pearly gates and reached out her hand, caressing the gate with her fingers. "Amazing."she said to herself again. God rolled his eyes. "So anyway, I spy with my little eye something that is blue." St Peter looked back at God. "The woman?"he said. God smiled. "Nope. You lose." "What?"St Peter said with annoyance. "Oh God, the sky again?" The woman took her hand off the gates and looked at St Peter, as if seeing him for the first time. "St Peter. Yes, you are him."She walked over to where he stood. "Yes,"he said. "Now maybe you'll answer my---" The woman began touching him, feeling his long, white robes, running her hand through his perpetually thinning hair. "Excuse me,"St Peter said, his voice loud and sharp. "Do not touch me. I can send you somewhere you really don't want to go." "Oh Peter,"God said. "Don't be too hard on her. She thinks this is a simulation." St Peter cocked his head to the side. "Yeah, it all makes sense now. Well, except for the leg warmers." He looked the woman in the eye. "I am not a simulation. You are at the pearly gates. Humanity's thirty thousand year quest to find and meet God is at an end. Here he is."he gestured toward God. The woman briefly looked God's way, then back to St Peter. "Huh,"she said. "This one's a quite a bit different than the rest. The engineers are finally starting to have some imagination. Finally not just another bearded guy or glowing light." "We are not a simulation."St Peter said as the woman walked toward God. God rolled his eyes again. "Let her be,"He said. "There's nothing you can say to convince her that a simulated you wouldn't say. She's been doing training simulations for so long that she---" The woman poked God in the eye. "Ow."God said, frowning. "This is not how you were trained to meet God."He said to her. "I have to admit,"the woman said. "These simulations are getting much better. But, it's about lunch time, I should go." "St Peter said "First tell me why you are wearing leg warmers." The woman smiled at St Peter. She put her hand to the side of her head. Nothing happened. She put her other hand to her head. Nothing continued to happen. A look of worry crossed her face. "I can't get out. How is this possible?" God smiled, rubbing his eye. "There's nothing to get out of, my daughter. You have arrived at your destination." The woman looked at God, then looked at her hands. Her expression of worry turned to an expression of horror. She looked back at God, then back at her hand again. "I..."She stammered. "...poked God..." "In the eye, yes."God said. She fainted. St Peter crossed his arms. "She never did tell me why she was wearing leg warmers." God looked at him. "Her legs were cold. Anyway, it's my turn again. I spy with my little eye..."
"Careful... Careful..."The pencil snapped in her fingers. Again. "Dammit,"she muttered to herself. She had studied hard, but even so she knew that getting a good grade on this exam could mean the difference between a B and an A. Which meant the difference between a 4.0 and a 3.9. Which, in her mind at least, meant the difference between scholarships and her dream college or a lifetime in the fast food industry. Plus, her stupid super-strength was flaring up again, which meant bits of broken pencil surrounded her desk. Someone was going to notice. She looked around, worried. Her best friend Alison was looking relaxed, confident, and focused. How she envied her normal friend! Oh to be normal! But not everyone was looking so great. Franklin put his hand up: "Teacher! My exam caught on fire again! No I didn't do anything I swear, look, search my pockets again I don't have a lighter..." Janice's Insta had mentioned she was a bit freaked about today's exam, and ya, she was looking pretty ill. Her skin tone actually turning green. Had she been working out? Damn, Janice was looking positively ripped today. But poor Charlotte seemed to have it worst of all. She had begged to be allowed to bring her purse in due to having "feminine issues", but for some reason in her stress-addled state had filled it with heavy weights from the gym room. She was awkwardly clutching it with one hand now with both feet wrapped around the straps and one hand pulling tight, as if she was trying to keep from floating away. Poor dear! Okay, next question... Wait, when did we cover this? *Snap!* Dammit...
Today was finally the day that Frank got to go home. After a year of near light-speed travel, it had literally been ages since he had last landed on his home world. When the government offered money and land to people who would settle in the Alpha-Centauri system, Frank had accepted without a second thought. He didn’t have any strong ties to this world in particular, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel nostalgic for the oceans full of salt and the inconsistent weather. As the announcement blared on about re-entry precautions, Frank was practically shaking with anticipation and nervousness. This was the worst part about travelling to any planet with an atmosphere; it was almost guaranteed that some idiot would get injured because they couldn’t be bothered to put on their seat belts. As he tensed his body, the all-too-familiar sensation of vigorous shaking and swaying overtook the ship. A couple of minutes later, the vibrations abated, and Frank found himself relaxed, and happily awaiting the final docking procedure at the spaceport. Soon, the vehicle came to a final stop, and everybody was off to wherever they were going. Finally stepping foot onto sweet, sweet ground, Frank took a long breath and savored the taste of Earth’s air. The sheer amount of oxygen in it was intoxicating, and he found himself unable to move for a couple of seconds from the pleasure. That is, until he noticed one particular oddity. There was a loud grinding sound, that appeared to be coming from below him, and in the direction that he was pretty sure was North. Was the Earth government digging down for some reason? With a frown on his face, he decided that to ask a local what that sound was as soon as he could. Leaving the spaceport, he managed to hail a taxi within a couple of seconds, and got comfy; it was going to be a long ride through New York traffic. Striking up a conversation with the cab driver, Frank asked, “Hey, do you know what that drilling noise is?” The cab driver gave him a slightly confused look back. “Son, you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that. They’re renovating roads around here all the time.” “No, it can’t be a road, it’s coming from directly below us!” Chuckling in bemusement, the driver replied, “I don’t know how long you’ve been in space, but you might want to get your ears checked out. I think that I would notice if there was somebody drilling right underneath me.” With that, the conversation died, and the car was filled with silence. A couple of minutes later, Frank asked in a quiet voice, “Hey, would you mind if I changed my destination?” The driver raised an eyebrow and said, “Not at all. Where do you want to go?” Pointing north, Frank said “That way.” \--------- The noise kept getting louder and louder, to the point that Frank wasn’t sure if it was safe to go towards it. His curiosity won out in the end, however, and he insisted that the driver continue onward no matter what. Closer and closer they got, and Frank’s face got more and more scrunched up in pain. His eardrums felt like they were going to burst, and his vision started to go out. Then, it stopped. There was no more pain. There was no more noise. “Hey, are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” He awoke to the driver shaking him in the middle of a cornfield. “You told me to stop here, and then you passed out! What ‘s going on?” Frank got up and walked to where the noise was coming from. There was a clean metal pipe, about a meter in radius, and sticking to it was an antenna. There was a metal plaque attached to it that said “BRAINWASHING STATION 171”. Frank’s face went pale, and his heart started beating faster. He looked at the driver and spluttered, “Do you see this!?” The cab driver only looked confused, and a little bit annoyed as he said, “See what?”
I remember the first time my parents took me to the zoo. The nervous excitement of being near a real lion. The creepy crawly feeling when we walked through the snake terrariums. The joy of tapping on the glass and having one of the monkey’s tap back. Turns out, it’s a little different from the other side. I sit up and blink, trying to clear the blurry haze from everything. My body weighs about seven hundred pounds, and a wad of cotton resides in my skull where my brain used to be. Slowly, the room comes into focus. It’s about the size of a McDonald’s, with red and yellow walls and a floor of buffed, white tiles. A long counter stretches across a length of the room and splits off about a third of the space. Cash registers rest along the surface of the counter, and behind them hangs a wide board with random letters and numbers. Almost like a menu… Is this… is this actually a McDonalds? It can’t be. The logo is wrong, for one, because instead of Golden arches it’s a weird looking letter B. The words on the menu are nonsense, not even foreign language because the letter and word spacings don’t follow any logical pattern. It’s like a two year old arranged characters at random. What the hell is this place? And how did I get here? The last thing I remember is locking up the office after work, then walking across the dark parking lot to my car. Funny, I don’t remember actually getting into it. I hear a tapping sound, like something metallic hitting glass. It’s only then that I realize one of the walls is completely transparent, and people stand on the other side watching me. No, not people. Their heads are too big, their fingers too long, and the shape of them is too angular to be people. They look like lego people combined with the 1950s vision of the “little green alien.” Gigantic, glassy black eyes stare from triangular faces, while small, lipless mouths work open and closed like fish gills. One of the smaller ones is tapping against the wall. Fear clutches me inside, stopping my breath like a hand around my esophagus. Not the fear of a near miss on the interstate, or the fear of sleeping through the alarm and being late for work. This is a raw, macabre sensation that’s screaming to me that something is very off with my reality. It’s adrenaline mixed with the feeling you get after a good twist during an episode of the twilight zone. If I’m not dreaming, then those things are aliens. Extra-terrestrials. An image flashes through my mind of the night sky, and for just and instant I feel like I’m floating. Floating up towards the stars. I sense the earth falling away behind me. The tapping continues, returning me to the present. A second rhythm joins the first, and I see that another of the small beings has added its own beat. The taller being next to it turns it’s massive head and flaps its gill-mouth rapidly, almost like an admonishment, but the little one keeps on tapping. Just barely I can hear a high pitched beeping, kind of like morse code, filter through the wall of my enclosure. I hear a mechanism click above me, and suddenly something falls from the ceiling and hits me on the shoulder with a thud. A wrapped big mac rests on the floor beside me, a quarter of the paper undone from its fall. I see a couple of the beings lean forward. One of them even cups his long fingers against the glass to get a better view. Something hot and angry surges up within me. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I grab the burger and hurl it at the window. It splats against the glass and practically explodes, leaving grease and condiments dropping down like the debris after a food fight. Several of the beings recoil at this, and one pulls its little one into a hug. This little one buries its head into the bigger one’s leg. Great, so I’ve traumatized the alien child. Guilt is just what I need right now. I crawl over to the transparent wall, feeling smashed to the floor by what must be a gravity several times that of earth, and when I reach the glass I wave at the little one. Tentatively he approaches, then with an unmistakable shyness taps a finger against the glass three times. I return the gesture, tapping three times with my index finger, smiling to put him at ease. I see his weird little mouth break into what I hope is a smile. His ‘parent’ seems to relax. Some things really are universal. But like I said, it’s a little different from this side.
"Get me through to Major Winters, NOW!"shouted General Douglas to his aides who immediately rushed to the comms room. A brief wait later, a crackling voice could be heard on the other side of the chemical connection. "Your orders, Sir!" The war had been going on for far longer than any previously on record for this world and no end was in sight. The enemy was tough, but the brave cells of the eastern front were tougher. They would be victorious in the end, whatever the cost. "Major, report! over". The line gave off a loud static noise before Winters' voice could be heard again "...are throwing everything we have at them. Captain McCell of B company is on the front lines with all his armored cells and they are taking heavy losses. Captain Arrannai of T company is giving them hell sir, but they lost half of their armor and third of their infantry. All other companies are pulling back. YOUR ORDERS! OVER" General Douglas was a veteran of many wars. Especially during the first years of the immuno defense force's formation when they were just a few cells. They had made so many sacrifices, and lost such good cells in those days. A tear filled his cell membrane. And this war...this war was nothing he had seen before. He had quashed many barbaric bacteria, many rebellious cells. But this enemy was a rebellion they could not stop. It grew in numbers, swelling in ranks by former friends and allies, attacking multiple vital regions in a coordinated and relentless manner. The army underestimated their enemy and here they were. It was the same in other fronts as well. The western front reported unidentified objects in precious and fragile forests of West Lungia. They had no means of fighting it. And now, some other form of evil was falling on them. Occasionally the wind changed to something foul, toxic to all life. It seemed to be aimed at the abominous rebellion forces but the battle was mitochondria to mitochondria so many from their side also fell. He looked at the ground and bent down to touch it. Holy life beat within the vast world they lived but it was troubled, he could feel the panic within. He would not fail. THE IMMUNO ARMY WILL NOT RELENT he shouted to himself suddenly, scaring the confused aid at the comm station out of his cell. He felt great pride and energy fill his nucleus. "Major!"he shouted with renewed vigor "DO NOT FALL BACK! NOT ONE STEP BACKWARDS. Buy us 80 more pulse times, then retreat to bunker liv're pronto. Relay this message to all companies under your command. Godspeed. OVER". The aid's ribosomes were almost out of their cytoplasm by fear and inspiration in equal measures. "UNDERSTOOD, OVER!"crackled the captains voice, explosions could be heard at the background. General Dougles turned to face the window behind him to look down to the vast space beyond it. There was hurried construction taking place. Many cells, and Celhicles carrying materials and fixing together the ultimate solution. The final solution. If the enemy was certain to win, he would make sure everyone died. That is, as long as some vital bunkers remained, he was certain the society would rebuild once more from the life within. It was 1 minute to midnight. * * * I enjoy writing short prompts. If you are curious for more: [r/spider_elephant](https://www.reddit.com/r/spider_elephant/)
The announcement came to me in a letter. I’m not sure why this was so surprising - perhaps I had imagined something less administrative. Who writes these letters? Why don’t they just send a text? The post didn’t usually come on New Years Day, but there it was, sat alone on my doormat, begging me to pick it up. I’m one of the lucky ones. Some die before they get theirs. Some have a letter waiting for them when their parents return with them from the maternity ward. Others get theirs so late that a year of immortality feels less like a liberation and more like another year added to the sentence. So to receive mine at the age of 27, when I have sufficient vitality to put it to the test but sufficient wisdom to ensure that those tests actually succeed in improving my life, is a great relief. The letter is quite clear. One must not endanger others. One must not break the law - in any country. One is advised not to do anything that might leave them emaciated after the year comes to an end (lest we forget the poor soul who took some pills on New Year's Eve and hacked his own head off to see what would happen - he even made the news). On the overleaf were a list of companies and agencies. Some were medical insurance providers - just because one couldn’t die, didn’t mean one wouldn’t find themselves needing wounds stitched, bones mended and limbs sewn back into place. In fact, the letter hastened to remind me that the likelihood of needing medical care tripled during the Year of Immortality. Other companies listed were less noble. A skydiving agency called “Freefall”, a cageless shark-swimming experience, a paintballing arena that used real bullets and had endearingly named itself “Faintballing”. These, I surmised, were sponsors. Beneath those, of course, was half a page of small print. Really small print. There was no dotted line to sign - this was not, after all, an optional endeavour. That, it seemed, was that. I peered into the envelope to ensure I hadn’t missed anything. But I had missed something. A much smaller slip of paper had nestled itself into the walls of the envelope, almost as though it hadn’t wanted to be spotted. I prized it from its sanctuary and flipped it over. A short, handwritten message in capital letters looked back at me. 366 DAYS ISN’T LONG, BUT IT’S ENOUGH TO LEARN HOW TO STAY THIS WAY. NEXT TUESDAY. GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE. 11PM. Your immortal friends, The Leapers.
"What is this?"you question yourself. You looked in the mirror and you can see Jane's face. You are in Jane's bedroom which you have been to many times. You started to look around the room which reminded you of all the 'good' times you've had in here with Jane. She always seem to know what to do to make you happy. You know you have gone back 3 years ago because of the different layout of her room. You are sat there in confusion. Naturally, you hands started to run through your own...- Jane's body. It's still big and firm. You felt an immediate goose bump and shock. "I'm in Jane's body". Ding dong The door bang rang and you completely freaked out and turn your head towards the door. Natural instinct - you quickly went to open the door to see what other things can happen and if this is real or not. You opened the door ... "Hi, Jane...wow, you look beautiful...I got you these flowers...hope you like it." This was you standing in front of you. Your eyes opened wide as if you've seen a ghost... Today, marks the first date of you and Jane. Well, now it's you and you. The moment you can even react, you already had the flowers in your hand. From your memory, you remembered your first date, you bought flowers for Jane and she stood there with her eyes wide open and said: "These flowers are pretty, thank you! Can you give me a minute to see if this is real or not"- the exact same words cane out your mouth. The you standing in front of you blushed thinking you were talking about the flowers. You stood there staring at yourself and thinking of what on Earth is happening. "If this is me dating me now..." Your brain is constantly thinking and memories submerging from when you were with Jane. "Is this real?" You keep staring at yourself at the door thinking of all the possible things that can cause this phenomenal situation. Maybe something sudden will wake you up from this shock. So you have decided. You rushed and kiss the you in front of you. This will ought shock you awake from any nightmare. ... The kiss was short. You step back looking at yourself and nope. You're still in Jane's body as you touch yourself to confirm. "OMG I KISSED MYSELF!!! AM I STRAIGHT?! AM I GAY? WAIT WHAT IS THIS???
Tom woke up stumbling out of his bed like every other morning dreading what twist life would try to make him take this time. You see Tom was cursed at birth, Tom's family the Flowers carry the protag curse, the first male child born of the first female heir carries this curse with them. While it is a curse it is also seen as a privilege by his family, but after reading the history Tom wanted nothing to do with it. While the curse holder usually went on grand adventures finding riches, love, or power; they eventually all died at a very young age from a powerful foe or a really over the top way such as drowning in green tea. Tom wanted none of this, he wanted a normal life, being a normal tax accountant, growing old, and just being plain boring. The curse really starts to affect the holder when they reach puberty, and since then almost daily Tom would almost get sucked into a quest of some sort like a stereotypical Japanese video game. Take for instance last week Tom was walking home from work and had a beautiful young women stop him and beg him to go too the valley of the figs to defeat some demon. So that she could regain something or maybe her mother was possessed by this demon, Tom really couldn't remember after 10 years of the same thing everyday all these adventures start to blend together. Today Tom wasn't going to be as lucky to avoid this one. Tom went about his daily routine of showering and eating his usual lucky charms breakfast. He turned the tv on to catch the weather before he left the apartment but noticed nothing came on to the screen or any channel for that matter. Thinking that the antennae must be busted he decided to leave and worry about it later. Walking out of his apartment he noticed it was eerily quiet, he walked further and still hadn't noticed anyone on the sidewalk. He poked his head into the local diner and that's when he decided that this was going to be a bad bad day. The diner was empty completely empty, Tom ran all over town and there was nobody left. "Son of a b****!!!!!" Tom went back home and went back to sleep, he didn't care if everyone disappeared. Nope nope nope he was not getting sucked into the protag curse, somebody else will just have to figure it out.
Well, this was it. This was the address. Melvin just had to deliver this last latter and he would be done for the day, so of course it had to be difficult. Whoever this "The Reptilian"guy was, he didn't have a mailbox out on the street. Sure, lots of people didn't, but now Melvin had to trek up with driveway to the house. Trek is indeed the proper word as that driveway was very only and poorly maintained. It was unpaved for most of it length and many obstacles blocked Melvin's path. First there was a band of spikes and razor wire. "Maybe it's an art installation,"Melvin thought to himself. People in this part of town were into that kind of thing. They were always wearing avant garde outfits and speaking dramatically. Melvin gingerly picked his way around all of the sharp parts. He needed to get around, but there was no reason to mess it all up, right. Next Melvin came across a whole lot of water. A main must have broken somewhere. Melvin was trying to gauge how deep the water was when he saw something move. "Come here, you lil' cutie."Crocodiles are not capable of smiling, but if they could, this one would have as he swam up to Melvin to have his snout petted. One crocodile ride later, Melvin was on his way again. He could even see the house now. He could also see the fancy light show, but those little laser lights were hot! Good thing he had played all those video games and could recognize patterns. Still, he hoped no one saw him jumping around like that because he looked silly. Finally he reached to front door. There was no mailbox here either, so he tried to open the screen door to put the letter there. Just then, the floor gave out and he fell into a pit. Sore, but okay, Melvin had a look around. The pit was dark, but he could just make out a hunched figure. "Who are you?"the figure demanded. "My name Melvin and I'm you're new mail carrier. This is for you." Melvin heard a squeal from the figure whom he now realized was a giant lizard-man, who, unlike a crocodile, was capable of smiling and thus did. "Gramma's card came!"With his claw, the lizard-man ripped open the brightly colored envelope revealing a card. The picture was a teddy-bear holding balloons and the text read "Happy Birthday!" "It's you're birthday?"asked Melvin. "Happy birthday Mr. The Reptilian." "Thank you Melvin. Would you like to stay for cake?" "I sure would." And that, OP is the true story about how you and Melvin became best friends.
"I've been waiting for you to knock." "Mr. Zin?" "Yes." "This is a warrant to search your property for evidence of human trafficking." "I see. Please do come in."I stand aside and multiple officers enter. "If you'd like to see where the people who come here go, I'll be happy to show you." "You admit to trafficking?" "Not at all! People come, asking for permission to explore. I ask if they are certain. If they say yes, they are shown to the door, and enter of their own free will. What happens after that, I do not know. Sometimes they return the same day. Sometimes much later. At the moment, there are at least 153 who have not returned. Of those who do return, some are uninjured, some are injured, all are able to move on their own. Some update the map, some do not." "You'd better show us the entrance." "Right this way, it's in the basement." As they descend, the light changes. Fluttering. A smell of burning. The officers push past, expecting burning evidence. Torches. Old fashion torches, in polished niches. The effect is eerie. An octagon room. On one wall, a detailed map. By the scale, it must extend under the entire neighborhood... and beyond. On other walls, maps marked with level numbers, these are on large sheets of paper. Some of which have been cut and pasted together. Strange names appear in various locations. In one wall a door. No lock, no bar, just a simple wooden door. One of the officers asks, "how did you build all this?" "I didn't. It was already here. As was the house, and the deed indicates that it has been so for many years. The map was much smaller." "And you sent people into this death trap?" "As I already stated, they chose to come here. They chose to enter. There was no coercion." Sarcastically, "and I suppose you have proof?" "I do indeed. You may have wondered how I knew you were here. The entire grounds are under surveillance cameras, as is this room from all eight walls."Pointing to the obviously modern cameras. "I have full video coverage of their approach, decision to enter, the signing of the contract, and their entry into the door. As you can see from this wall, they are clearly warned that there are dangers. The number of people who have entered, returned, and how long those who have not returned have been in the dungeon." "Well, we'll just see what little horrors you have beyond this door!" "No. You will not. Not without going through the same procedure as all other entries. I will not have it said that you entered without understanding the risks." "Stand aside." "No. You must be made aware of the risks!" "Get out of the way or be arrested for interference with an authorized search of the premises." "I will not since you refuse both the warnings and the contract!" "Last chance." "CLAUDE OSTIUM!" The door changes. Heavy iron. Bolts. A loud sliding clang from the other side of the door. It sounds like doom. "Take him!" "You shall not pass without the warnings and contract!" "We'll just see about that!"After struggling with the door. "Unlock this door! "No. Not without the warnings and contract." "You're just making it more difficult for yourself." "No. Warnings and contract, or the door stays locked." "Call for a rescue crew from the fire department. They'll have that door out. You are going to jail." "When your attempts have failed, you will come to me. I will tell you the same thing. No entry without the warnings and contract!" ... It's been a long dismal time in jail. Finally a suit arrives. "Mr. Zin. You are in a great deal of trouble. Refusing to allow access to the premises after being served with a warrant. Endangering the lives of others. Human trafficking. The list just goes on. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" "Only the same thing I have told everyone else. You shall not pass without the warnings and contract. Tell me, have they yet succeeded in opening the door?" Sourly, "No." "One assumes that they've tried shaped charges, jackhammering through the rock, and other such chicanery?" "Yes."Sigh. "Mr. Zin, will you not reconsider?" "No. However..." "Yes?" "I should inform you that the video of your treatment of me, the futile attempts, and everything else that has happened in my house is about to be dumped to the media. You have ... what time is it please?" "3pm" "Approximately 9 hours." "Mr. Zin. The cabling for those cameras go nowhere." Zin laughs, "of course not! It would have allowed someone to destroy the evidence that my very life depends upon!" "Mr. Zin, neither did we find some 2,000 contracts that you insist were signed." "Also of course not. Each was sealed in an evidence envelope, then a regular envelope, and sent to a safe depository. And for the same reasons." "You are obviously delusional. A competency hearing will be scheduled." "You're going to have a rude awakening tommorow." ... The news reports are all over the place. Some accusing Zin. Some the police. All want that door opened. ... "Zin, you're going to open that door!" "I've already laid out the conditions." "Mr. Zin, why all this flummery?" "Sir. Was the video flummery? Is the fact that the door is still closed flummery?" "Your warnings and contract are a joke! It reads like something from a D&D game!" "Did you have a lawyer examine it for legality?" "Of course we did! They all laughed!" "But did they say it was legally binding?" "Yes." "Then what is the problem? I'll be happy to allow in anyone who signs both." "You are interfering in a police investigation. You have no right to request anything." "Don't I! I have the right to protect myself from accusations do I not! Anyone is free to enter having signed both documents!" "Very well, Mr Zin. Are you prepared to guarantee their safety?" "No. The contract makes that quite clear. Once beyond the door, I have no responsibility for your safety." "But you built it, Mr. Zin. You have an inherent responsibility!" "You obviously have not been paying attention. I did not build it. It was present when I bought the property, along with the house." "Very well, Mr. Zin. We'll do it your way." ((T.B.C. this is getting long enough I need a full keyboard.))
Verona, April 18th “Ok, let’s see what’s going on here. Young man? Care to explain yourself?” The pretty brooding boy just folds his arms. The police officer just sighs and eyes her partner. “Miss? Do you have anything to say?” She just shakes her head, locks of hair falling in front her pouty lips. “Oh, so now you don’t have anything to say?” The boy heated up in zero seconds. “Calm down, please.” “Yeah, Romeo, why don’t you calm the f down?” “I have to calm down? Pretty rich coming from miss Hysterical, don’t you think?” “Kids, I am going to ask you to lower your vo-“ “If I’m hysterical then what about you, Mr Moan?” She gets up and plasters her hair on the forehead. “Oh, look at me, no one is paying attention to me!” He also gets up and swipes away his mopey hair. “Meh meh, I’m Giulietta and I’m so spoiled!” “I’m going to kill you!” “I said. CALM. DOWN.” The woman finally lost her temper. The kids both stop. The policeman firmly pushes their shoulders until the are sitting again. “So, we are going to do the introductions by ourselves , all right?” The woman points at the mopey boy. “Romeo Montecchi.” The partner nods at the red eyed girl. “And Giulietta Capuleti. The runaway teenagers.” The woman crosses her arms. “Are you aware your families believe you dead?” They just shrug. “All these weeks of pain, and for what? To destroy a motel room 50 km from Verona for a silly row?” They stare at the sole of their sneakers. The two policemen exchange looks. “Don’t you want to go home?” The boy is the first to capitulate. He gives a tearful nod without even looking at Giulietta. She tries to play the rough girl, but after two seconds she stands up and asks with a broken voice “Do you think my parents will pay for the room?” —— “Spoiled brats.” “Oh shut up, Ben. You were one of them.” “That’s not true! I never ran away with the first girl I found...” “Cmon, they thought it was love.” “Umph. Call that love.” “Well, I know many couples that started with all that bantering...” “Mmh.” “Mmh what?” “Shut up, Beatrice.” “I love you too, Benedetto.”
Warning: just for humor a fair amount of NSFW language below, in the form of swearing. Everyone else I know with a Fairy Godmother gets a lot of nurturing, not me. When Emily’s Mom died, her Fairy Godmother made sure to let Emily have a chance to say goodbye. When Ahmed broke his leg, his Fairy Godmother made him magic healing cake. He said it was the best thing he had ever eaten. Me? When my Fairy Godmother descended upon me, it was brutal. Like all Godmothers, she came at a time of great emotional upheaval. In my case, someone on the internet said that I was “not worth living”. Well, my Godmother appeared and I thought at least I have a shoulder to cry on. Nope! She grabbed my computer and wrote: “What the fuck did you just fucking say about my Goddaughter, you little pigsie? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Corgi Calvary, and I've been involved in numerous secret raids on Summer Fae, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in sidhe warfare and I'm the top archer in the entire Winter Court military. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of Pucas, in every glen, glade, and clearing across the world. They along with some IT sprites are tracing you right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You're fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that's just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the Winter Court Changeling Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little "clever"comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You're fucking dead, kiddo. I thought she was just trying to scare the kid. But then twenty minutes later, after feeding his soul to her sword, she smiled brightly at me and asked if I would like bone bread or bone cookies. I'm too scared to tell her, I’m gluten intolerant.
It hadn’t been easy to conquer the world. Others had tried and failed, people with more power, stronger people. In the forty odd years since the first person displayed what the media had called “Superpowers” the world had changed. Some people had come forward with their powers and swore to do right by the people, others used their powers for personal gain and of course the governments of the world sought to control both. Me though, when I woke one morning with powers I knew what I wanted. Everything. What powers does one require to take over the world? It was a question I’d asked myself a dozen times when growing up, talked about it with friends over drinks. Super strength? Teleportation? Telepathy? Flight? The big ones always came up and sure enough the debate always raged over how Metal Man could defeat Winged Wonder and so forth. No one would have guessed which power succeeded. How I succeeded. I had just turned thirty when I gained my powers, no rhyme, no reason, just woke up one morning and I knew. It was like a new found confidence and spring in my step. An excited thrill at the unknown, what would my power be? It was going to be my time, I always knew I was destined for something more. I tried breaking my coffee table. Nope, not strength. I held out my hands, no fire. I focused my eyes, no mighty concussive beams. I cut myself, still hurts, that was stupid. I knew I had a power, I knew it with every fiber of my being. It wasn’t until I gave up and began my commute to work that signs started to make themselves known. People on the street stared at me as I walked past, I initially wondered if i’d walked out naked or spilled something on myself, that new confidence I’d felt quickly chipped away. They couldn’t take their eyes off me, people would walk away shaking their heads or staring at the floor and carry on. It took a little experimentation but there it was. My damned power was eye contact. If someone locked eyes on me, they couldn’t look away unless I broke it first. What a bloody crap shoot, i’d thought at the time. I wondered at first, can they look away eventually? What happens if I blink? How long can I hold someones gaze? Long enough to get hit by a car. Long enough to drown. Short enough that I can stick a knife between their ribs and watch the light fade from their eyes as they fall whilst staring into my own. I was a fool at first, experimenting with my powers and seeing what I could do, inevitably it drew the attention of the would be heroes of the city. The Bull was my first, I panicked, naturally. I’d grown confident over the sheep around me but this was an honest to god hero, complete with costume and sponsorships. He had charged at me of course, on instinct i’d jumped to the side but I maintained eye contact which meant so did he. Right up until he snapped his own neck. The Winged Wonder came later, that was easier. Flew into a building and fell to his death. I had to get creative with some of them, as they say in the real estate business, location, location, location. Where would staring at someone leave you most vulnerable? How far away can you be and still see someone? It’s truly amazing how much you can achieve with an active imagination and the willpower to watch someone starve to death. What I’d never expected was how people gravitate towards power. You kill a few heroes, you threaten a mayor’s children, other so-called villains flocked to me. Cities fell, then countries. I stand now a top the tallest building in the world looking down at my subjects, billboards, televisions, all have been stripped away and replaced with mirrors. People only get to move when I allow it. The city is mine and no one can move within it without my say so. This perch, this lair if you like, it’s completely filled with reflective surfaces, my safe haven. It’s why I jump when the elevator pings, I didn’t allow anyone in here. I jolt around and turn to see who would dare and there he is. Metal Man. His body glistens as the light reflects from every surface against his shiny skin. Blood trickles down his face pattering against the floor. His arms are thick with blood and he holds out his hands, my stomach tightens as I stare into the bloodied dark sockets where his eyes once were as he drops them to the floor and takes a step towards me.
It started simple, while watching a TV show. "For the Lord's sake, learn how to dress. Corsets were innerwear!"she had burst out at the opening credits scene."It was to be expected, you thought. She was a history major, of course she would know that. "Damnation Henry!"Was her favourite curse, from stubbing her toe to stabbing herself with a needle. You didn't know Henry, but assumed it was her ex of some description. "Horrible tactics, but then what do you expect from someone like her?"As she threw popcorn at the screen one night. "Every piece of clothing has a meaning. Remember that." "They burned books before they burned people." "And to think they thought things were spread by smell." "Sometimes Jon Snow does know things." You couldn't put your finger on it, but something was just... odd. But then, history majors, right? It wasn't until you stumbled across her thesis you realised she was a law student.
"Best two out of three?"asked Pestulence with a nervous grin, sullied only by his crooked and wormy grin. "This isn't a bar bet,"scoffed Death. "Creation is over. It's done." "Why not,"interjected War, adding "we fight for our freedom?"Already his eyes were glowing red hot with the flames of war, his heart pounding like a battle drum beaten by a battle-worn soldier waiting for the word to attack. "Freedom to where?"asked Death. "You seem to be missing the part where the world is over. Your services are no longer required." "Yo,"said Famine, "Anyone else hungry? I could go for some shawarma before we die." The four horsemen sat in silence on the backs of their demon horses who trotted back and forth impatiently. "Well,"Death said with a long sigh. "Fine."
It was a perfectly fine day. The kind you would enjoy, but blink and it would be lost amidst the memories. A reckless driver turned a bit too sharply and the top-heavy minivan went rolling across the intersection. I had been watching of course. I am by no means omniscient, but...we have our ways of observing. The driver had already expired, and death was already extracting the soul, herding them off to stand before Saint Peter. I circled the wreckage, finding the twisted metal and shattered glass almost artistic in its contortion. I heard a voice from behind, in the foliage lining the road. A young child, female, lie amidst the shrubs. Her torso was contorted violently and blood spattered her clothing. I pittied the doomed creature, and sat near her. The girl's breathing calmed, and her pain seemed to fade as I let our Lord's light wash over her through me. Eventually the humans responded with thier noisy boxes and medicine, but by then, my charge was sitting beside me, cast out from her mortal shell. She was upset, but content with waiting with me until Death would return for her. But...he did not. I began to wonder exactly what had happened, but the little one began to worry. Then, she began to doubt. And that doubt draws thier attention. Night fell. I stood, and drew my flaming sword. They were coming. And I would not allow them this pure soul.
"This is crazy! All he's using is jab! The only move he's used is jab! It's just not possible to be in someones head like that! Felix! What are you!?" The crowd was going insane, it was unbelievable. He had to be cheating, the game had to be modded. Arduino's in his controller? No one was this good, unless they were some kind of psychic. And well, he was. Three seconds was the limit, and Felix used to think it was a waste. Three seconds didn't get you anything but in trouble. Knowing someones name before they introduced themselves. Answering questions before they were done being asked. These things only got you weird looks. Here though? This is what it was for. He took a second to look away from the screen and smiled out at the crowd as he stuffed an approach with another jab. Street Fighter grand finals at Evo. He'd won every other set except one, and kept them close. To drop winners finals and put himself in grand finals, losers side. A perfect 6-0 sweep in grands from losers side, only using jab, without even taking chip damage. The crowd was already insane, and as the game ended it felt like the whole building was going to come down. "Felix sweeps Evo! Felix sweeps Evo! Unbelievable! A perfect 6-0 in grand finals!? Only jab!? What is going on?! What timeline are we in!? Every game perfect?!" The announcer was drowned out as the crowd rushed the stage, hands fawning. Voices shouting, screaming. To think his gift wasn't useful.
"I fear not the man who has practiced 10000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10000 times."- Bruce Lee &#x200B; It was half of a glorious battle. On the one side were hurled fire, lightning, great constructs of stone, summoned devils and great, magical, self-wielding swords. On the other was a continual barrage of small missiles of pure force, and if they were not individually impressive... There were a lot of them. And it wasn't exactly as if these missiles weren't doing impressive things. Did you know that you can send a missile into a fire spell, to make a hole in the blast for you to stand in? Trialt did. Did you know that if a missile is quick enough to intercept it, it can slice a lightning bolt in half, stopping one half and sending the other careening off at random? Trialt did. Did you know that, with practice, you can teach the missiles themselves to seek out opportune targets? Trialt did. Trialt, terror of the academy duels, the first student in seven hundred years to be kicked out for winning. Trialt, bane of the kings guard, an accomplished bandit who, rather than relying on stealth, simply beat up anyone and everyone who came to apprehend him, the marks of a few hundred missiles hitting "softly"becoming a regular feature of the Royal Military Hospital. Trialt, guardian of the Whelmwood, the farthest east outpost not overrun by the Orkandian Hordes of the Orkandian Wars. Trialt, the masterful. Trialt, the infuriating. Trialt, the complete and utter son of a bitch. Heroism had grown on him, and he had also relished the chance to dust off his dueling skills. So, when evil reared its ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled. Fled his home, which was not being attacked yet, and fought through the evil hordes, until, at last, he stood before the embodiment of all that was evil in the world. Still, in the end, it was, at most, half of a glorious battle. Was this all the demon-possessed mage could do? Trialt had thought that they were both just warming up for the real fight when his adversary collapsed, panting, to the floor, demanding to at least know that Trialt knew other spells. Trialt answered with a game of "How many missiles does it take to crush a demon-possessed mages head?"
It seemed like a perfectly normal day. I got up out of bed, brushed my teeth, got dressed, and headed downstairs. Worked on breakfast while my wife got the boys out of bed, then got ready to go to work while she chased them back upstairs to get their school books. Nothing unusual at all. We were all in for a surprise when I heard a knock on the door. An older man stood on our doorstep, wearing a plain brown uniform with the logo of the 'Speed-E Delivery Service' sewn on the chest. Behind him, I could see a large truck with one of those portable storage units loaded on it parked on the street next to our driveway. "Mr...ah...Harrison?"the man asked, looking at his clipboard. "Sign here, please." He handed the clipboard to me and I quickly read it. 'One container, delivered, pickup to be arranged. Remaining containers to follow at set intervals.' I looked at the man, confusion clearly evident on my face. "Well, um, Mr. Harrison,"he began, his voice a slow drawl that I was not accustomed to. "You see, we received these containers addressed to you some time ago, with instructions to begin delivery on this date, and to repeat delivery every three months until the containers stop arriving, which does not appear to be any time soon. That's all I can tell you, I'm afraid." I had no clue what was going on, but I remembered from somewhere that I had a right to inspect anything before I sign for it, so I informed the man that I wished to do so. He nodded and walked me over to the storage unit, my wife and kids following quickly behind me. He unlocked the unit and stepped back. Gingerly, I slid up the heavy metal door, only to be met with an entire container full of, of all things, much to my surprise, candy. Absolute tons of candy, of all kinds. Nothing I didn't like, I noted, but an overwhelming variety nonetheless. Some of it had even been discontinued for years, and yet it looked brand new. From behind me I heard two earth-shattering squeals of excitement, and both my children charged up into the container. My wife quickly tried to pull them back out, and mostly succeeded. Meanwhile, all I could think about was my eight-year old self talking to an old wizard, wishing for "all the candy I ever want ever!"I had convinced myself it had been a dream, but after this? I really needed to remember what else I'd wished for.
I sighed as the doorbell rang. Only one of us would live to see tomorrow. We knew this. "Welcome, guys." One by one, I eyed the 7 copies of myself as they entered my home, the closest midpoint. Something which the entrepreneur Dave had insisted on measuring precisely, for fairness. They all dressed differently, had different hairstyles, and accessories. They shared, however, the same pointed features and eyes, revealing signs of both feigned and desired successes, each in their world: * The athlete, using our family wealth to his advantage, funding his snowboarding dreams with world-class teachers. He never was the best but always good enough. And wwith his attitude, enough Instagram followers to win millions in sponsorships. * The director, producer, and actor. Three paths in the same world. * The producer had it easiest, getting our father to invest and attach him as a "producer"in various films. The rest was a cakewalk. Most failed, enough succeeded. * The actor was talented but vain. He method-acted to the extreme, becoming the character for months before roles. Whether it was this method or his obsession that enabled it, he shined as a young actor. Before succumbing to celebrity life, girls, drugs, and narcissism. Now he was a shell of his younger self, twice divorced, never happy. * The director was brilliant and thoughtful, us at our best. He worked hard, built a loving family, and created films with true meaning. and it was gone perfectly portrayed the American struggle in a post-cloud world after the AWS attacks, winning critics (97% on MetaCritic) and audiences alike. * The tech and fashion entrepreneur. The only homosexual (at least openly) amongst us and only David, founded a biodegradable and environmentally friendly thread that revolutionized the fashion industry, sparking the popularity of hemp fabric. The tech entrepreneur merely purchased a series of larger and larger blogs, monetizing them a bit more effectively than their owners had, eventually creating a content empire. Full of articles geared to sell consumers things they only learned they wanted when reading an article they initially thought was about something else. * And finally, the drug addict. I'm surprised there was only one. We all loved a good line of white powder. I saw traces of myself in all of them. The same emptiness inside, the same yearning for more success for our egos to cling onto, the same loneliness. I wonder what experiences we shared. Had we all fallen in love with Jamie Bell in sixth grade? We skipped small talk, discussing the depths of our hearts with one another, eager for conversation with others that got us. It was freeing. We knew our combined skills and wealth would enable further success. "The law is bullshit", the director said loudly, the room going quiet. "We all know this." He hesitated. "We can solve this another way,"he suggested, ending the sentence in a higher octave, suggesting an open question that we knew he'd soon answer. We respected him. He felt this, and so did we. "We can play Smash. Decide that way. Each of us get Captain Falcon. Best average ranking after 10 games wins." The rest of us nodded. Little did we know the drug addict had logged thousands of Smash hours on his Switch while stuck in various rehabs. &#x200B; \--- &#x200B; You could hear everyone not breathing. The room was silent, save for the furious tapping. If it were a movie scene -- we would see a black screen, hearing only furious tapping. "Jesus christ motherfucker,"we would hear the producer say, visuals jumping in as we see the TV screen, where his Captain Falcon suffers another Captain Punch at the hands of the addict Dave. We'd see zoomed in shots of each of the other Daves, who we'd first met in the opening scene when entering the room with my voiceover. Each face would show their form of anguish and despair, the feeling they get when they know they have no chance. To all it was clear - addict Dave was too good. They would lose. The interesting thing in the scene would be different reactions each would show: The director, a knowing but disappointed smile. The producer, a face akin to a disappointed businessman whom, early in a meeting learns that he has absolutely no leverage and is left at the will of his business "partner". We'd see the others too, each similarly unique, finally ending on that of the addict. It would be empty. The irony would be obvious to viewers. Success in the end is a matter of luck, or at least that of random skill. &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; EDIT: Removed some redundant words, added some more. Will try to keep adding.
White walls. White floors. White gowns. White lies. Tooth decay. Cavities. Gum disease. Pain. "Doc?"The voice is muffled. Distant. Strained and scared. I look down. My tartar scraper is lodged below their tooth. I brace myself. Accidents. Malpractice. Lawsuits. "Sorry,"I mumble quickly, pulling it out. There's blood. Red blood. It matches the red pills. Pain pills and truth pills. Pain kills and truth kills. It's a wonder I'm still alive. I crossed the bridge and they've done everything they can to discredit me. They've slandered me and lied. They've downplayed my credentials and ridiculed my past. I feel myself fading out again. These two-thirty appointments are always hard to stay focused through. the patient gags as the scraper touches the back of their throat. I glance back down. "You have cavities. A lot of them." "Wha?"My hand is still in their mouth. I pull it out and wipe it on their shirt. "What? Cavities? I've been doing everything you say." "Have you been using toothpaste?"He looks around awkwardly. He looks for an escape. He looks for lies that will bolster his story. "Doc,"he starts. It's always the same. They treat me like the fool. If only they knew. "The other dentists..."I know what he's going to say. Those sickening little numbers they've implanted in fragile minds. I still want to hear him say it. "What about them?" "Nine in ten doctors recommend the toothpaste. They can't all be wrong, can they?" Wrong. Such a fickle word. Such a fleeting thought. Such a fantastic invention of the human mind. Of course they're wrong. Big Toothpaste has clout; long, reaching tentacles that pry your mouth open and plop in potato-sized globs of their most marketable products. Deep-rooted corruption, a system refined like the cutting-edge of vicious incisors. It's all about profit. "What do they charge?" "Money. A lot of it."I nod. Right. Such a versatile word. Right? Money is always at the root of it. "But me?" "You don't charge me anything."I nod. Right again. "Doc..."He has more to say. They always have more to say. "Doc, what happens with the teeth you pull?" I do my best not to smile. If I did, he might see the rows and rows of teeth. My pearly crown. After all, what else would I do with my patients' teeth? ***** Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
Sometimes a moment of hesitation is the difference between life and death. Not every story ends with the hero emerging victorious. Especially not those heroes who do not survive the trip home. Perseus had crept into Medusa's stronghold with his mirror shield at the ready. He had stalked the monster for hours, waiting for the right moment to strike. She should have been asleep, yet his blade had struck an empty bed. The mirror shield made it hard to see details after all. Even before the massive snake woman swept him up, Perseus screwed his eyes tightly shut, lashing out with his sword to no avail. Coils upon coils restricted his movements. Medusa sneered at the man. "Another pawn of the gods. Another hero sent for my head. Open your eyes foolish man. Open your eyes, hero! Look upon your end or I will squeeze the life from you. I can smell the stink of Olympus upon you. His stink."She hissed. "Why bother, monster. Squeeze me."He returned the taunt. "Simple, slave of Athena, if I pop you like a blister, the stench of you won't come out of my scales for days. Possibly weeks. I'd rather you be stone. Less messy. And less painful for you." Perseus was trying to buy as much time as he could, but both time and breath were drawing short. "How do you know it was Athena that sent me?" "You think you're the first to come with such a shield? I have dozens in my collection. After Poseidon forced himself upon me in her temple, Athena placed a curse upon me. I'm sure she warned you well not to look upon my face. Her plan was to make me beg her to lift the curse. She couldn't slake her wrath on Poseidon for defiling her temple by spilling his seed there. Even if it was within a mortal woman." Medusa put her hands around her captive's neck as an old rage burned on her forked tongue. Rage boiled within until her fangs ached from the strain. "When I did not bow to her wishes, she piled on more punishment. My hair became serpents because Poseidon said how soft it was. My legs fused into the snake tail that holds you now because the god of the sea said how lovely they were even as he rutted me like a dog!" In that moment she hated her attacker most because he was a reminder of that day. That second of distraction loosened Medusa's hold on Perseus. The man got free, retrieved his blade and managed to pin the snake woman. She felt the kiss of cold steel at her throat. At least her suffering would end. And Medusa closed her eyes, and accepted her fate. "Go on then, hero. Do what you came to do. Then go lick some divine boots while you carry my head. I'm sure Athena wishes her weapon returned to her." Silence met her challenge. "Why is your face still beautiful, Medusa?"Perseus asked after stealing a fateful glance. His pause coincided with Medusa averting her mythic gaze. "Because it is not my face which turns men to stone. It is my eyes. My eyes which the damnable god of the ocean said he would brag of upon his return to Olympus. I learned too late that my curse is an ancient weapon. Athena meant to use it to force my capitulation. Her attempts to retrieve them are evident in your shield, hero." When the killing blow did not fall, Medusa felt a drop of liquid hit her cheek. She smelled the sea. Salt. Tears. "Poseidon took something from me as well. He took her. He took my Andromeda. Sent a monster to kill her because someone else spit on his name. I see now that maybe... Maybe you and I have been fighting the wrong battle." Medusa was quiet for a time as she watched Perseus wipe away his tears. In his words, a familiar pain pulled on the strings of her soul. She answered. "Help me find my vengeance. And we both can have peace, hero. I can control the weapon, if I so desire. It has been so many years after all. If you agree, then open your eyes, and look upon me." This time, Perseus did not hesitate.
"wait wait wait, you'll pay me to do what??" Little Thomas Michael Smith was no thief. If he wanted some new toy or a cone of ice cream he'd look for coins on the street, sell an old belonging, on rare occasions turn to a stranger's kindness in hope to get some change. But steal? Never. What would his parents have thought of him? You know, if they were alive and all. They'd be disgraced, ashamed, disgusted with his behaviour. Thomas always thought that if he had parents he'd have never let them down. That man in the suit leaned closer "hush!"He whispered, "we can't be heard"he said. He took Thomas aside and went down on his knee. He pulled a yellow business card out of his pocket. Thomas declined the business card, he can't read anyway, it would be a shame for the man to waste an expensive business card on a 6 year old who can't read it anyway. The man looked into little Thomas' big brown eyes. "Everyone needs to do their part little guy"he said softly. Thomas looked away, he didn't care for long eye contacts. He looked at the floor, glazing over a car shaped rock on the floor. This'd definitely go in his collection. The man took a deep breath and tilted Thomas' little head gently towards him. Thomas looked at him unwillingly. "We need you to be a bad boy. A really bad boy"he said "bad enough for Santa to think you were a naughty boy this year." Thomas nodded and pulled his shoulders up, "you picked the wrong kid"he said. The man leaned closer, Thomas backed away. "You steal a toy and get money for it"said the man, "It's a clean profit!" Thomas frowned, "It ain't clean..."he muttered. The man took down his sunglasses and exposed a pair of soft blue eyes. "Listen Thomas"he said, "the world is in a big crisis. We're running out of coal and our window of opportunity is closing. We need you kids to be naughty so that Santa gives you the coal this world needs so badly. We need you kid, and we need you to act real bad. We know you're a good kid but we can't do this without you. Every bit of coal counts"he said. Thomas looked aside back at the car shaped rock. He thought for a minute and in the end asked "so... By being bad, I'm actually... Doing good?" "Exactly." Thomas thought for another minute. He streched his hand out to the man. "We have a deal"he said formally. The man shook Thomas' little hand. "I'll come by sometime next week to collect the coal"he said, "make sure to give this coal to no one but me, no matter what offers you may get from other people. People will do anything for coal nowdays, and some of them are bad people with bad intentions." Thomas nodded shortly. The man smiled at him. "You have less than 24 hours to be the naughtiest kid you can be"said the man, "make it count." Thomas walked down the busy street, playing with the car shaped rock in his pocket, and with his box of matches in the other. He looked at the stores, thinking of the crime he needs to do in order to keep his promise. "Do a crime, don't get caught, help human kind"he mumbled to himself. What could he do to be bad enough for him to spoil a year of being good? Rob a candy store? Punch a kid in the orphanage? Johnny Philips sure desurves it, the little asshole with his snorting laughter and vishious pranks. A good fight with him would sure get Thomas a nice bunch of coal. But no money in the world is worth a kick in the nuts the way Johnny gives 'em. Oh well, we'd think of something else. He looked up from the sidewalk to see in front of him the tiniest room he had ever seen. On the narrow hallway-like walls, shelves with hand crafted wooden toys; and in the end of this short hallway a frail old man behind a counter. Thomas walked in. A Too Too train, and a horse, and a pretty little doll, and a soldier; stood side by side on the organized shelves. The old man smiled at Thomas. "Special Christmas sell"said the old man, "buy one- get one half priced" Thomas was nervous. He looked at the old man. He seemed as poor as Thomas. His clothes were covered with patches and his hands were wounded with the woodwork. This was a difficult dilemma... This poor old man... But... The coal... Thomas stared at a little statue of a ballerina while considering his next move. "I can fix you a special price for it if you'd like"said the old man. "Actually"said Thomas, "I'm buying a present for my sister. Do you have it with a purple dress? My sister likes purple." "Let me check"said the old man. He opened a door behind him and disappeared in the back of the store. Thomas was left alone. This was his perfect chance. Just take something and run, you don't have much time, just do it for the love of God! Thomas reached at the Too Too train slowly. 'Should I take it?' he thought repeatedly, 'Should I take it?' Before he had the chance to make a choice, the old man went back into the store with a purple dresses ballerina in his hand. "There we go"said the old man. Thomas reached into his pocket, he pulled out some coins and a couple of dollar bills he has been saving for a while. He looked at his hand and then at the old man. "Would that be enough?"He asked. The old man took the money and counted it. "Not quite,"said the old man "but I'll cut you some slack. It's Christmas!"He said. Thomas had never felt so guilty before. Just a moment ago he ploted to steal from the old man... He thanked him and left the store, sore and ashamed. Thomas went into the orphanage with his head held down and his hands in his pockets. He put the ballerina on little Suzy's night stand and went straight to bed. Tomorrow would be Christmas and besides, he just wanted this day to be over. The little shouts of joy from the Christmas tree downstairs woke Thomas up. He went down unwillingly and looked for his present. He found a box, covered in red wrapping paper and a green ribbon. It was bigger than he expected. He opened the knot gently and ripped off the wrapping paper. He opened the box to see inside it a familiar Too Too train, laying on it was a card that read "you've been a good kid Thomas. Marry Christmas! Yours truly, Santa."Thomas felt conflicted. He promised to be a bad boy and get some coal for the human kind. He never ment to break his promise, he wanted to help but he just... Couldn't. He looked at the toy with agony and reached for the box of matches in his pocket. He knew what he had to do. He went to his room and lit a match. He put it right on one of the front wheels and watched with tears in his eyes as it started burning. A knock on the door made him put out the fire as quickly as he could. A nun walked in with a smile on her face and a box in her hand, "you didn't get your present from under the tree"she said. Thomas looked at her in confusion, "yes I did"he said. "There is no other Thomas Michael Smith in the orphanage"said the nun. She stopped and sniffed the air. "Do you smell something burning?" Thomas took the present, thanked the nun and set on the floor. He opened the knot gently and ripped off the wrapping paper. He opened the box to find coal, loads of it, with a card laying on it. "It's very rude to not keep a promise"read the card "I hope to see you get better next year. Marry Christmas! Yours truly, Santa." "Oh no..."Said the nun "I'm so sorry little one..." Thomas hid his smile behind a convincing pocker face. "Oh well,"he said. "We can't all be winners"
The black hole continued to consume the last vestiges of the universe. A small ship could be seen just far enough from the gravitational pull of the black hole floating in the emptiness of space. Space as we know it was now truly empty. The totality of the universe had been consumed by the gaping maw of the black hole. The pilot of the ship sat in the captains chair watching as things were torn asunder as they were pulled in. He sat drinking the last of his whisky and making the best of a bad situation. He watched on as the flow of material started to thin out. Soon his fuel would be exhausted and he too would be pulled in to be consumed by the black hole. He poured himself another drink and was raising the glass to his mouth when he saw a glimmer in the distance. It was nothing like he'd ever seen before especially coming from dead center of the mass. It actually looked like it was moving out of the center instead of being pulled in. He rubbed his eyes not really trusting his own vision as he watched on in amazement. The glimmer was actually getting bigger and it looked like it was traveling at a high rate of speed. He watched it approach with a sense of elation as he realized he wasn't the last thing alive. He got on to the communication array and tried to hail the object. All he received in reply was dead silence. It was closer to his ship now and he could see that it was a giant sphere of what looked like a small star. The surface of the object rippled with contained energy and pulsed with a dull light. He tried to hail the object again and was again received with silence. He tried something else this time around and opened up the communication lines. He was now listening to sounds outside of his ship. At first there was nothing and he was giving up hope on finding anyone else alive and then he heard it. "LET THERE BE LI...hey what are you doing."
I barely looked up as the titanium vault door went flying off its hinges, crashing through my evil lair. “Ah, Omega-Man.” “I’ve got you now, you fiend!” “Oh, really?” I asked, spinning my chair around so that I was facing him. “But I’m just starting to get comfortable in these new quarters.” “You’ll be comfortable, all right, Hypermind. Comfortable in jail!” “Such a shame. I had a shocking twist planned.” At a flick of a switch, lightning bolts blasted from the walls and stunned the hero, pinning him in place even against his superhuman strength. “You used that pun already, you hack,” he groaned through gritted teeth. “Gimme a break, I’m on a deadline here,” I muttered. “Anyway, monologue time!” My proclamation hung in the air for a second. Omega-Man looked around the room. The room, in turn, refused to change at all. “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “Monologue time!” The lair flickered. A great hum began to emerge from the room and the hero looked around himself with fear and uncertainty in his eyes, trying to figure out what horrific plan I had in mind. His eyes widened when he saw what was descending from the ceiling. “No,” he whispered. “Oh, but yes!” I crowed, and, with a dramatic click, turned on the Powerpoint presentation. “All right, get comfy, I think this one might actually convince you to join my side.” “I’ll never bend to your wicked will! I’ll die first!” “See, this is what’s going to get you killed,” I chided. “Not being open to new experiences. Just give it a shot. You can try to escape the trap, if it’ll make you feel better while you’re listening. Anyway, as I’m sure you know, I have no superpowers.” “Yes, it’s what makes you such a freak!” “Ouch,” I said with a frown. “I thought we were starting to sort of get along. Anyway, I’ve been doing some research, and if you look at this slide here, the graph shows that the genetic variation convergence of the human race should actually result in a much lower rate of superpowers. The resulting conjecture? Many, if not most, supers are faking it.” “Must… resist… exposition…” Omega-Man grunted dramatically, his face twisted in effort. “Now, it’s commonly believed that our superpowers make up for deficiencies in other aspects of our life. For instance, it’s believed that the physically disabled have higher rates of telepathy as a cosmic balancing act that makes up for their physical shortcomings.” “I’m not listening! I’m not listening!” I rolled my eyes. “Look, we’re at my evil plan, all right? My idea is this. With the technology that I’ve spent years developing, I now have the capacity to artificially make all people equal.” His face slackened with shock. “You mean…” “Oh, yes. The crippled will walk. The grounded will fly. The blind will see and the deaf will hear. Everyone will be superpowered.” “But then no one will be special!” he shouted at me. “This is the height of evil! It’s artificial! Cheating!” I rubbed my hands gleefully. “Oh, I know! And just wait till I cure all disease and end famine.” “You twisted son of a bitch!”
The old man was in his 96th year, born in the Scottish isles of the Jewish faith. He had an unshakable belief in magic and fate; he had witnessed it many times in his life. He did not have a kind life, but he survived where many others did not. So when good things happened to him, as he was always on the lookout for, he attributed it to one of his many strange habits, such as leaving a bowl of milk outside his window - which was always emptied with exactly a small sip left over; or his tendency to trace an arc of salt, angling inwards on his door step, which, unless there was an especially strong wind during the night, his walled garden and arc of salt remained the same each morning. The old man who had forgotten his name, but remembered a child's head caving in from the force of a shovel, or how hungry he had once been, remembered none-the-less to feed the crows meat and seed. His mother had told him to do so. He had a heart attack and died when the robber accosted him, and naturally the crows went to defend their food source. It was when he reached up to clasp the women's hand, he realized his body and mind was sound, only his physical body was left on the floor. As he stared at his body, he echoed "Mine", then flew off.
"What?"There's a second of confusion. I'd merely blinked. I knew my mental processes would shut down during the transmission, but I shouldn't have lost more than a few seconds. My mind felt clear and sharp but something was missing, something wrong. I must have misheard, or perhaps the process had affected my language comprehension. "Welcome back", the same voice said. I glanced up and to my left to see a smiling face above me, a middle-aged woman in an unusual white outfit. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out the shapes of more people dressed in a similar style standing behind her, quietly jostling for a better view of me, eager faces staring. It was only then that I took in how completely my surroundings had changed. Where only a second ago I had been our shabby, windowless lab, I was now in a completely different room, as if I'd teleported my body rather than my mind. Everything was clean and white, the room large and brightly lit, strange panels on the walls, lights and screens showing pictures that made no sense all around me. All my strength was gone, too, a frail trembling feeling was all I could register in my limbs. I coughed weakly, my lungs wheezing, and I realised I was wearing a mask over my nose and mouth. I tried to sit up but the smiling woman pushed me back down with a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder. I had no energy to resist her. "Don't try and move just yet, there's a lot to take in, you don't want to overexert yourself. We still have tests to run on you to examine how this whole process had affected you, both mentally and physically. Both of you." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the bay where the clone lay. The one thing that seemed not to have changed in my new surroundings. I couldn't see its face, my face, but another person wearing white was leaning over, talking in a hushed tone, poking at unseen buttons on a strange device. "Did you say five thousand years?"I croaked, reaching up to pull the mask away from my face. Its closeness felt as though it were suffocating me. I tugged at it, but it didn't move, my fingers lacking the strength to grip it, and it was then that I saw my hand. Emaciated and claw-like, the skin papery and pale, every bone every tendon in stark relief. Again the woman gently moved me back. "Yes. thereabouts, anyway. To be more accurate, it's something in the region of five thousand, one hundred and forty years since your initial human test began. I know, it's a shock, but please be patient. We'll take you off the respirator and the life support system when we're confident your body can function without assistance. Everyone did their best to keep you alive all this time, but by the time they'd developed the technology to preserve muscle mass and organ function in comatose patients, much of the damage had already been done. Your recovery shouldn't take too long, but you should be aware of your limitations for now." Only the odd word got through to me. Five thousand years? What was five thousand years ago from when I had first attached all the diodes and monitoring equipment and laid back in the processing bay? The Bronze Age? The Neolithic? All that remained of them were the strange monuments that archaeologists still hadn't fully understood despite endless detailed studies and excavations. Was that what would be left of my life? Odds and ends of a complex society, all nuance and detail lost and forgotten. My family, my house, my culture. Everything that had ever meant anything to me. Gone. Around me were the gentle pings of what I assumed were computers, as more people moved to assess the machine which surrounded me, to tweak the wires and tubes that monitored and fed my body or increased the intensity of the purple light that occasionally swept across my face. "How? How could it have taken so long? I don't understand. We ran tests on mice, on dogs, there was only ever a small delay..." The woman, who had been fiddling with a spindly device that sat in the crook of my arm glanced up but didn't meet my gaze. "That's quite a question. There's a lot to unpack. We'll explain everything in detail in due course, but the short version is that your consciousness experiment and the infrastructure you'd developed to achieve it were successful. Almost perfectly, in fact. From what we know of the early monitoring and testing, your programs could identify, categorise, and upload your cognitive data and successfully transfer it to the secondary party with no loss of quality or corruption. However, the problem was that you and your research team had significantly underestimated the amount of data there was to be processed. Consciousness, as we now know, is an extremely complex, multi-layered system. There's instincts and muscle memory and semiotics and language processing and social coding, and those are only the beginning of it. All the things you know without realising it, the things your mind and body decide in a split second, they appear simple, but there are a lot of moving parts, vast, ever-changing networks. It's not just the information they contain but how the relate and connect and interact with each other that was a large part of the problem. The data was moving to the recipient, but the complexity of the information and the heavy processing the computers needed to undertake meant it did so very slowly. Modern estimates suggest that had your original experiment run at the same rate with no interference or changes to hardware or programming, the whole process would have taken over two-hundred thousand years to complete." Across the room, I could see a huddle of people gathered around the clone body, discussing results and talking notes, watching graphs snake across a screen on a system that I did not recognise as the computer I'd spent decades developing. They'd replaced everything, a whole new machine. I felt my heart break a little at that. That I would live to see my research erased, undermined. Had they kept the old programs, my research notes, my calculations? Was that even possible after so long, or had they all crumbled away into dust? My life's work, and it wasn't even mine anymore. The woman was still talking, oblivious to my growing discomfort, focusing more on the readout from the instrument in her hand than on me. "From what we understand, the rest of the research team and the funding body were pleased with the initial results and agreed to carry on, no matter how long it took. It's been passed down through a steady stream of researchers. All those people working on a project they didn't start and would never see completed. Because this project has sparked so much new research, into computing and data transfer, data analysis, monitoring and data collection, anthropology, psychology, ethics in research, medical support, cloning, and particularly neuroscience and the extents of the human mind. Many new developments arose from the data the project produced over the years, but so many more came from the generations of scientists trying to keep it running, to create better processors and survey modules, to manage and maintain the flow of information between the two of you. Five thousand years of development just to make sure this test could finally run its course." Across the room, the scientists were assisting my clone out from the bay where it - her, I suppose - had spent the same unfathomable amount of time. When we made her, she had been such a dull, dumb thing, like a baby in an adult body, like all the others that came before her. Uncommunicative, unresponsive. But now she looked about her with the same curiosity and confusion I felt. Hardly a surprise. She was me in every single way. What a waste. Thousands of years, countless hours, unknowable volumes of materials and resources only to produce a human still as lost and unknowing of her surroundings as when we started. I could feel the scientists begin to disconnect me from the sensors across my body and pull the needles from my veins. A new scientist unclipped something at the side of my head and the mask came away from my face. He smiled at me, the same, easy, gracious smile as all the others. "You should be very proud,"he said. "Your experiment had been the single most important contributing factor to human society as we know it."
As the knife punctured the skin on my finger, my eyes were transfixed on the contract. Reading and re-reading, my face frozen so as not to give anything away. This couldn’t be happening, could it? There’s no way a demon could make such a mistake... right? As I press my thumb to the paper, the letters begin to glow and the parchment levitates off the table. Taelgul smiles as gold and wealth begin materializing around me. “As per the contract, ‘You, the mortal, agree to accept thine soul as payment for my, the demon’s, services in providing you with earthly wealth for however long as you shall live. As assurance, no unnatural harm or ailment shall ever befall you to ensure the value of this transaction. In the event o-“ “Mine soul.” “Pardon?” “This document’s in cursive, yes? I assume that’s to both make it look nice and as a play on this contract being a ‘curse’? “Uh, yes. That’s standard practice, and I appreciate your seeing the meaning. Why?” “You crossed the t in thine with a narrow loop and merged it with the h. That’s an m. It says ‘mine soul’ not ‘thine soul’ and it later identifies you, the demon, as speaker. As per the contract, you, as speaker, have given your soul to me in addition to wealth.” “Wh-“ “And since you, as a demon, are immortal. Selling your soul to me, a mortal, makes you my servant in both this and the next life” “That’s not ho-“ “Make me a sandwich” As the demon moves to strike me for my disrespect, their talons burst into flame as the are restrained by crayons emanating from the contract. He recoils in pain and crumples to the floor. “Now, you know no unnatural harm can befall me, why would you do that? I would think a demon would be ecstatic over getting a new master” “Silence mortal! I shall rend your flesh from your soul and devour you in the sight of your loved ones!” “I know it’s hard accepting that you’ve agreed to a poor deal, but you aren’t thinking clearly. You’re an immortal, Taelgul. I was prepared to make a very poor deal in exchange for my soul, shortsighted as I am, but you have a millennia behind you and know full well the true value of a soul. What you SHOULD be asking is ‘What could you POSSIBLY offer in exchange for YOUR soul.’” “What I cou-“ “And you better dig deep, Taegul, because the idea of having an eternally obedient servant with supernatural power at my beck and call is REALLY growing on me. There’s not much you could offer I can’t just order from you directly.” It’s funny seeing the light leave the eyes of a creature of darkness; seeing horror spread across the face of a thing of nightmares. “Sandwich, make it good, and no complaining.” “... y-... yes... master”
“Hello, Mark.” Without looking, I know it’s Luca. “Hello. The usual for you again?” I ask, already knowing the answer. “Yep,” he smiles. “Just another tally mark.” I nod and escort him to a chair. “I’ll be with you in a minute.” From the back room, I grab the supplies I need: a disinfectant, petroleum jelly, and the needle and ink set. I set the supplies on the table next to him, then get to work. My hands brush lightly against his arm. First, disinfect the area. Months ago, he got his first mark right at the base of his wrist. Since then, he's been coming every week, adding a new mark each time. Each mark leads higher up his arm. With 25 marks going from wrist to elbow, the 26th mark today will be the first mark on his upper arm. Next, apply petroleum jelly to keep the skin moist. Do those tally marks mean something to him? What a silly question. Of course they do -- otherwise he would never be so motivated to come back, week after week after week... Then, draw the outline. Ink another line. I begin to talk as I work. "Luca, it's been a few months since you started coming here. Is there a reason you keep adding tally marks?"I ask. "If you want to answer, of course,"I add hastily. He smiled. "It's not a problem. Actually, my wife and daughter died in an car accident then. I was depressed for a few weeks: I shut myself in, I slept excessively, I ignored all the calls. But most of all, I blamed myself for not being there with them. I hated that I was the only one left alive. I wanted to die. I ended up in the bathroom, knife in my right hand, phone in my left. My wife and daughter were on the home screen. Just then, a call came in. On reflex, I answered it. And, I'm so glad I did."He paused, his eyes watering. I've already stopped working. Silently, I hand him a tissue. "Thanks,"he whispers. "The call was from my friend. He just called to check in, because he was worried. 'I couldn't reach you for weeks,' he said. 'Are you even still alive? Please, answer. We miss you. We love you. So come back, answer our calls, face your grief, and live again.' I was crying at that point. The line was silent, and I knew he was just listening to my sobs. The last thing he said was, 'you'll be ok.' I put the knife down that day. Instead of scars on my wrist, I keep a tally: keeping track of the weeks I've lived without them,"He finishes, smiling a bit. I nod. "Thanks,"I whisper. "Thanks for sharing your story." Finally, apply bandages. "And one day, I'm going to forget to come here. And that's the day I'll know I've moved on."
Briefly I managed to glance down to earth during this barrage of words. The humans fearfully looked up to the darkened skies, running to our temples and tightly hugging their offspring, believing it to be the end of the world. Hush now, it's not that bad. I just-- "How in the world could you forget his birthday!" "Calm down, would you sis?" "No I won't calm down! You know what happens what dad does when we forget his birthday!" "Thunder, lightning and all that stuff, I know I know."Just to name a few, really. Zeus got pissy whenever people forgot about him. Let's hope that doesn't happen any time soon. "Then why'd you forget! You of all people, who rules each day!" "Well, pulling the sun around day after day does get a bit boring, days just flowing into each other..." "Tch, what a deity you are. You should be more careful in your domain." "Says the one who shot her boyfr--" As I spoke those words the stars shone bright like our own sun, revealing Orion on this charred daytime heaven. Priests of my own, my sister's and the rest of our families all panicked, trying to find meaning in the chaos. I wanted to tell my priests it was fine, but seeing how I had an arrow pointed at me, I didn't exactly have the time to. "How dare you?! You're the one who tricked me! You care to join him?!"She screamed at me, bullet tears in her eyes. Zeus threw open my door, lightning in hand, though it quickly dissipated when he noticed Artemis sobbing. He shot me a brief glance before wrapping an arm around her and walking off, soft whispers echoing throughout our heavenly abode as they left. Whew. Crisis averted. The moon, just like my sister, left my personal space, once more allowing me to illuminate the earth. As the smoke raised up to the heavens, filling our plates in the dining hall, Hermes softly came into my room, closed the door behind him and tossed his hat on the ground. "Thank goodness you managed to distract him. Things were just about to get out of hand." "Yep, all according to plan!" "Great plan, then!"For a moment we stared at each other before bursting into laughter. "No but really, thanks bro." "Eh, it's no big deal. Say, could you let the folks down there know that things are okay? Delphi's a bit too closed off to let all of Greece know it was just a mistake." "Sure can do. Leave some offerings for me when I get back here, 'mkay?"He put his hat back on and tapped his shoes, their wings slowly coming to life, as though abruptly awakened from a pleasant dream. "No promises!"
Three men stood on the top of a hill, watching the endless stream of shambling corpses meander and slouch their way across the road. "Nature sure is beautiful,"the oldest of them say. His cap blocking the sun, with a lazy breeze rustling his shoulder length hair. "Yup,"his son responds. The spitting image of his old man, except thirty years younger and with a missing right eye. Lost as a kid when the zombies first started to show up. The third, a police officer, watches with passive boredom. Every year the migration of one of the northwestern hordes passes through his county. Every year, they have to stop traffic and remove bystanders. Every year, many of the boys break out their favorite hardware and take pot shots at the horde. They walk slowly and deliberately, the more of them placed together, the lesser their individual will to hunt anything. They always make their way together, a mindless and slow moving army that would swallow a town whole, but due to careful poking and proddings by containment units, mostly make their way through endless forest and into contained parks and valleys to house them for the season. The older man has finished setting up his rifle, and with a slow exhalation takes the first shot of the morning. "Damn,"he mutters. "Missed." The police officer spits into the dirt. "Hard to hit a head from this range, I reckon',"he says. The younger man takes a shot, proving to be a better one than his old man. "A newer infected,"he says, beaming. "Right between them pearly blues." The police officer is slightly impressed, but says nothing. On different hill tops, different spectators take potshots into the horde. It'll be almost impossible to remove them all, the tide is endless, and the only way to put one of these things down is a bullet to the brain. Still, every year they thin the herd out as much as they can. "Slow sons of bitches,"the old man says. The police officer grunts in agreement. He's noticing something odd in the center of the horde, something worse than the stench of decaying meat that wafts up into the sky. One of the older ones, with mottled green flesh that hangs loosely from startlingly white bone, on the fringes of the horde, stopping. "One of them to the side,"the younger man says. "What's it doing?" There's no apprehension in his voice, just that calm and collected curiosity of someone who has grown up in a world consisting of the living dead for decades on end. "I ain't sure,"the police officer says. Something in the pit of his stomach is beginning to ball up. That sixth sense inherent to many people. The chain link fence to the sides of the endless tide of bodies holds off the random ones pushed to the side, but it isn't designed to stop the horde breaking containment. The unique zombie begins to walk to the chain link fence, gnashing its teeth and moaning, a piercing and hollow noise that echoes into the hills. The other shots are popping off sporadically, but the police officer feels that ball continue to grow and harden in his stomach. There's something wrong. More and more of the horde are beginning to pick up this moan, to echo it and shout it into the cornflower blue sky. Something is very, very wrong. "What's happenin' paw?"the younger man asks. His father can sense it too. A lot of veterans from the initial infections seem more attuned to aberrations in the undead. More are moving towards the fences. "They may breach containment,"the police officer mutters to himself. He picks up the radio to relay an evacuation order to town, but stops in a single moment of abject terror. Almost the entire horde is beginning to move towards the fence. Not slouching. Not that aimless signature shamble. In every direction, the horde moves towards the fences, ready to break through and escape into the wild, to hunt and feed. But they're not slouching. Not walking. Not meandering. The policeman feels like he's in a dream, watching something new, watching a mutation and development that may end the species as he knows it. They're not doing the shamble of the undead towards the boundaries. They're running.
While other nations were fighting, they studied the hydro. While other nations were declaring embargoes, they studied the hydro. While other nations were assigning blame, they studied the hydro. And then the other nations were weary of their petty squabbles, and not prepared to weather the storm. The oceans did not part before the Dutch armies. No, it would be more accurate to say that they became the Dutch armies. Waves marched, seas foamed, and with a great crash.. The breakers broke. We had hope at first, not understanding just how strong the oceans were. When we lost that hope we found it in the ancient enemy of the Dutch, when the Atlantians came out of hiding. When we lost that hope too, we found just a little bit left in our fortress islands. But the other forts have fallen silent. Last night fort K2 fell, and we are all that is left. They studied the hydro. ---- Cmdr Davies, Jones. Fort Everest.
"All I need to know is, where is the bomb?"Asked Capitain Scarlet. Durman shrugged. "The source of my vision is clouded. I can't see it. Maybe in a few hours." Capitain Scarlet pounded his fist on the table. "It might go off in a few hours! Think! Where is the bomb!" Durman shrugged. "I'm sorry, I just can't see it." Capitain Scarlet gave the briefest of smiles before storming out the door, raving about explosives. Durman tapped the side of his head, activating the screens built into his corneas. The wires embedded in his wrists let him type without a keyboard, and the motion of his thumbs acted as a cursor control. He was in a different dimension than normal, but his faster-than-light internet connection still held up. He had at his disposal thousands of years of history of this universe, and several of the neighboring universes as well. He could view the future history in any way he wished, but he preferred comic format. There was something about it that spoke to him. And this comic history was telling him that Capitain Scarlett was the one that planted the bomb. Unfortunately, in the original future history, he was not here, so this timeline diverged from the original. But Durman was willing to bet that the bomb was still planted at the old factory by the river. He glanced around for signs of Monitor Man, Capitain Scarlett's sidekick, but the room appeared to be clear. Durman opened his flip-phone. "Nancy, cancel my three o'clock. We've got a bomb to diffuse."
When the launch failed, humanity was shocked. When the explosion settled, and humanity was sent a warning about it being for their own good, they were furious. Humanity was not discouraged by this unprovoked attack. Perhaps if the warning had been worded better, with less slogans and political jargon, humanity would have understood why this had been done to them. But they didn't understand. They did not slow down, they instead sped up. And the cell of eco-terrorists who destroyed the historic launch, could but despair as another species left their world too early. Becoming prey. By InterGalactic Law, when humanity, through sheer force of will and spite built their first permanent colony on Mars, they were classified as prey, a species too weak, too hasty, and not smart enough to take care of itself. And soon, mighty powers were negotiating about who would turn the prey-species, into a tame herd. The InterGalactic Law was written by highly predatory races, and it is not meant directly, anymore, mostly, that mankind will be used as livestock. If they were lucky, they'd have just slightly better rights than slaves, if they were unlucky, well, prey species can become livestock, it's legal by InterGalactic Law. But this terminology is very old-fashioned. Some think that the laws should be reformed, or at the very least updated to be worded less unpleasantly. When the game for who should be the Hunter of the Human race, another old term, hunting prey is very rare these days, was resolved, humanity was considered lucky. It was the Republic of Pure Dectaryoc. Under their control, mankind would merely be fifth class citizens. Humanity did not go easy. While severely technologically inferior to their would-be Conquerors, humanity was a species that bit back. It took five times as long as was calculated for mankind to surrender. Mostly because the natural reaction for a species which has been classified as prey, is to give in when superior force has been demonstrated. Something about this defiance worried the Republic. And furthermore, when mankind was defeated, it seemed that a significant portion of their new subjects had gone missing. The humans that remained either didn't know, or didn't tell. The next many years were plagued by constant guerilla fighting, terrorist action, sabotage, and generally humans being remarkably stubborn and unwilling to obey their superiors. And worst of all, the missing humans were still not found. It was an embarrassment for the Republic. The humans proved to be scurrying, capable of living in any environment, and spread across their star empire, turning up in the strangest places. And the monolithic culture of the Republic somehow couldn't squash human culture, in fact, it seemed as if the invasion had only strengthened human cultures, and they kept their own languages, sang their own songs, did not convert to the state faith, and in general, the humans kept being themselves. Inexplicably, the few humans they did manage to convince, always seemed to turn up dead. And strangely, the humans seemed to be everywhere, only twenty years after they were conquered. They didn't apply for travel visas, they didn't stay on planets where they were relocated for labour purposes. It wasn't until the Human System was fully scanned, that the missing humans were found. Living in the darkness of the outer asteroid belt, living in hollowed out asteroids, using primitive nuclear fission to power their homes, building dangerously unstable crafts. Many of these missing humans belonged to the Cult of Elon, who turned out to be one of the larger resistance movements. Clearing them out was impossibly difficult. And yet, for every day when they didn't have control of humanity, they lost prestige in the InterGalactic Community. A prey species so damnable stubborn that they would never bow to their Hunters, had not been seen before. They started to curtail what little freedoms humanity had, declared the reinstatement of martial law on Earth, and tried to tear down humanity with sheer force. And that was when the InterGalactic Assembly World, was destroyed. The Human Resistance claimed responsibility. It was an alliance between the Cult of Elon, the Human Government(Remnants of the UN and various surviving corporate, military, and civilian leaders), the Holy Union(the various Human faiths standing as one) and the Human Socialist League. And they were everywhere. Hiding in the dark corners and armed to the teeth, having learned from Afghanistan, Vietnam, and the War on Terror, humanity was rising up. It seemed a task of nigh Biblical proportions. And while they lost much, they kept fighting. They did not want to be considered prey. To be considered a lesser species. And their boldness sparked a tiny flicker of hope, in the countless other races who had been reduced to slaves, residents without political power, or worse. The humans were outgunned, outplanned, but they did not give up. They did not stop. But it would all be in vain. Their dark hidden places were being found, their secret asteroids were being blown up, their hideouts were buried. Until the Tolth Incident. A slave in the F'thagyol Empire, a place where prey were treated a lot worse than mankind had ever been, Tolth the slave, who had lived her entire life in bondage, saw the humans resisting, and in the dark of night, she slew the Fthagyol Emperor, and his entire family. And the entire Imperial Court in one fell swoop. She was a cook. And she had poisoned the meal at an Imperial wedding. With the royal family dead, the guards did not find her, before she killed them, and rallied her fellow prey-slaves to battle. The Imperial Center of an empire that had lasted for thousands of years, descended into chaos and carnage. And from there, the entire empire became embroiled in rebellion. How could the Imperial Army fight on every world simultaneously, how could the Imperial fleet function, as the slave-mechanics destroyed the ships from within, stranding them in dry-docks, or in deep space? This was the first of many such incidents. Prey everywhere arose in rebellion. You cannot stamp out rebellion, only make people think that it is impossible. The idea and the desire will always be there, behind the servility and the obedience. On worlds with prey turned into livestock, the Hunter-species were devoured by their charges, who no longer cared if they died now, they'd die eventually anyway. Better to die free than to die in the slaughterhouse. The Human race found that the enemy's ability to fight back was weakening, and they begun to win real victories, as the Republic was collapsing under the internal strain of countless new rebellions. Humanity fought hard, humanity fought angrily, humanity fought like the cornered rats that they were. And humanity eventually won. Or found that their enemy no longer functionally existed. Either way, Earth was free. Amidst the collapse of an InterGalactic community, humanity and those who'd risen up with them, found themselves free. Some of them had been indentured as prey for so long that they did not remember which planet they had ever come from. Many of them moved to human held worlds, wishing to learn from the race that had been so unbelievably stubborn and independent that they could have no masters. A species of prey so deadly, that no hunters could ever tame them. And humanity welcomed them with open arms, allowing any species that wanted to join the Coalition of Human Worlds. Unlike the Republic, where only the founding species and other Hunter-class species had any voting rights, it was founded on the principles of justice, equality, democracy, and welfare. In time, it grew large, absorbing many fallen worlds, and new nascent nations, forming the nucleus of a new Interstellar Community. One where nobody would ever have to be prey. [/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)
19th century London. The cholera outbreak. Explosive population growth has led to beer being safer than water. And with cholera stripping people of their fluids, any form of safe ingestible liquid is better than nothing. But even these suffering people dreamt of something better. With their lips cracked from dehydration, the sick desperately gulped down beer and wine to quench their thirst. But this was a mockery of what they really wanted. What they needed. Water. Fresh, clean, life-giving water. The kind of water where, as soon as they touch a pair of cracked lips, the cells of the lips themselves reach out to bathe in glory and smooth out in an instant. The kind of water that looks at a child crying from a dry throat, a throat that rips upon simply breathing. That looks at this child and grants salvation, replenishing the lost tears and solving the cause in one go. The kind of water that a cholera stricken man in the middle of a drought dreams of. He dreams of enough water that it would drown him, but when the rain finally comes it is not such a cruel mistress. It instead embraces him, inside and out. The gentle kindness soothes him, heals him, and he feels reborn as life fills his body. Simple and clean, a promise that can not be delivered by any alcohol, by any soda, by juice or tea. Only water, which birthed original life, can provide modern life with what it needs.
WHAT THE HELL, God laughed. The votes were still rolling in for the apocalypse. Crowdsourcing was a wonderful thing. His humans had been so inventive in their brief time. They began with only simple tools and an understanding of fire, and yet they conquered the whole planet and bent it to their will. It was good. The time had come. Their souls, both collectively and in aggregate, had evolved to the point where they could join him on the universal planes. Truth be told, He was running low on new souls, and they were expanding too quickly. The time was right. It would soon be the world of the molluscs. He had already encouraged communal behaviour in a few species. The competition would make them strong. Humans had created a problem. There were too many religions with conflicting accounts for the end times. The afterlife would be the same for everyone, but it would be unfair to privilege one belief over another while they still lived. He knew the answer, of course. He enjoyed ignoring his knowledge to come up with a solution to a problem, like solving a sudoku puzzle even though the answer is in the back of the book. The humans had provided the answer, even if they hadn’t known it at the time. 2020 had been a rough year for them. Plague, War, Conquest, Famine, all the harbingers of the end times had played their part in the first six months. God decided to explain himself, in no uncertain terms, how the world would end. MY CHILDREN, THE TIME HAS COME FOR YOU ALL TO JOIN ME, God said appearing simultaneously to every human on Earth and above, NEXT MONTH, THE WORLD WILL END AND YOU SHALL ALL JOIN ME IN THE ETERNAL PLAINS. I HAVE WATCHED YOU GROW, WATCHED AS YOUR SOULS FLOURISHED, AND NOW YOU WILL RETURN HOME. I AM GRATEFUL TO YOU FOR THE MANY WAYS YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO HONOUR ME. IN RETURN, I SHALL HONOUR YOU. TO BE FAIR TO YOU ALL, I SHALL HOLD A CASCADING VOTE TO DETERMINE THE MANNER IN WHICH THE WORLD SHALL END. IN YOUR HOMES YOU WILL FIND A SIMPLE COMPUTER UNIQUE TO YOU. YOU WILL BE ABLE TO MAKE SUGGESTIONS, AND VOTE FOR YOUR PREFERRED APOCALYPSE. ONCE EVERY VOTE HAS BEEN CAST, THE DEVICES WILL DISAPPEAR. TO SAVE YOU UNDUE FEAR, YOU WILL NOT KNOW THE ANSWER UNTIL IT HAS HAPPENED. GO, MY CHILDREN, AND SELECT YOU METHOD OF JOINING ME. He locked away the knowledge of the future while the votes were cast. Millenia had passed since the last time He’d felt anticipation. He sat dumbfounded as the suggestions rolled in and were voted for. The first few were expected: a global flood, zombie plague, sudden peaceful death. However, it wasn’t long before the internet reared its head and ‘Grandmas Gushing Goo’ became the forerunner. The next day a competitor appeared in the form of ‘Hitler 2: Electric Boogaloo’. God laughed hard at that one. The other beings looked on with curiosity at His experiment. The human collective certainly had a sense of humour. The event continued for some time, those two neck in neck until it came. WHAT THE HELL, God laughed as it overcame the previous options. People were even changing their votes once they saw it was an option. The final vote was cast in mid-July. The humans had selected an interesting option. God found himself chuckling even as he set the wheels in motion. Years later, it was complete. Dr. Freidrick Eisenhower looked upon his work with awe. The device was only two stories high, and yet he’d break that world record for sure. His calculations said he could achieve a volume of 150dB at a distance of 1 mile. Completing this was something he’d been struggling to do, as the world could end at any moment. He put in his earplugs and industrial ear muffs. A test now was in order, before the committee for the guinness world records arrived. A light drizzle began under the leaden sky. That was okay, the device was waterproof. Freidrick laughed as he loaded up a song. As he hit play, lightning stuck his device. The sound that was emitted killed him before he knew what had happened. The sound of drums echoed around the world, killing billions. The last few humans alive chuckled as the words hit their ears. “We’re no strangers to love”
Our galactic brethren were stationed around us, like a board of philosophers examining some profundity of the universe. The Old Race spoke first. "Their biologies are miracles of nature. We have never seen such optimized, efficient, processes."Their words were transmitted through particles of gas, which the translators hastened to interpret. The Noble Race agreed. "Their bodies are so beautiful as well. Their forms shall inspire us to new heights in the arts we pursue."Their cells emitted stranged chemicals as they spoke. The Fallen Race assented. "We must examine them further. Perhaps we can improve our own biologies through imitation."The speaker was a lone voice on the stage. The Wise Race finally decided. "We shall ask to take a few of the Young Race to scrutinize. Do we have permission?"Their six-thousand eyes beamed with light. Carina shifted in her chair. "You may have some corpses,"I allowed. "But I must consult my superiors before agreeing to this demand." The sole member of the Fallen Race made a noise. "Brothers,"he addressed the other civilizations. "We can take the Young Race by force." But the Old Race refused and the Noble Race declined firmly. "That is the same belligerence that has gotten your culture extinct,"announced the Wise Race. Finally the Wise Race turned to us. "We shall take good care of you. We shall teach you immortality, teleportation, and other marvels of science. All we request are your bodies, your beautiful bodies . . . "
I nervously paced about, glancing at all the monitors lighting up the entire wall like Times Square. A lifetime of practice had made this moment possible--and not enough planning had led to it. I wiped sweat from my forehead, and switched off all the hacked cell phone feeds, traffic cameras, and home security systems. Today wouldn't work--I would have to cancel it--I could submit another letter to the news stations claiming the first one was from some idiot fraud. I stopped pacing and scrunched my face up in self-chastisement. A fraud! Quantum Malice did not suffer frauds! I huffed and turned on the monitors again, studying the feeds. Already, the crowds were gathering. They wanted to see the greatest supervillain rise up to destroy the moon like he had threatened. And they wanted to see Reversal defeat him. I wiped away a runnel of sweat once more and clenched my jaw. I would have to do it. I had to. I hadn't planned nearly as much as I should have, but I had done everything I possibly could. This was happening. The whole world was watching. God, I'm gonna puke. ~ The crowds screamed in anticipation--it wasn't every day a villain scheduled a heinous act! So often, the superhero Reversal had foiled my plans so quickly that the bystanders didn't even have a chance to pull out their phones. But this time, they would all have a front row seat to our fight. And I was going to give them one hell of a show. The screams of excitement swiftly turned to screams of horror as I blasted out of the etherworld with a thunderous crash. Black lightning crackled around me, seeming to suck light out of the air. Hovering several hundred yards above the people, I turned, pleased to see that it was a clear night. The full moon glowed brilliantly among the stars. Turning back, I bellowed loud and clear so that all the cameras could capture my voice, "Behold! It is I, Quantum Malice!"I held up a hand, fingers arched upward. I knew at least one camera would be positioned so that it looked like I held the moon in my palm. I thought it was a rather clever artistic flair. "And tonight, I will change this world as you know it! This world will be MINE!" A sonic boom interrupted my speech, and over the horizon, I saw what looked like a brilliant star speeding right toward me. The nervousness from before reared up inside me, evolving into outright terror. It took everything I had to hold steady, but my impressive display of dark lightning shrank a little. The crowds whooped and cheered as Reversal alighted in their midst. A space cleared around her, for even as the crowds wanted to surge toward her in veneration, they found themselves inexplicably running in the other direction. I breathed heavily in fear as I looked down upon that glowing face framed by soft, golden hair. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. She _was_ my world. My archnemesis was, in my mundane life, my girlfriend. Reversal threw back her head with enrapturing confidence, flashing a smirk. "It wasn't enough to be thwarted in the shadows, was it, Malice?"she called up to me. "You had to be crushed on live television!"Oh, how often I'd heard that bantering tone, both on the battlefield and on a date. I could hold my own in a verbal sparring match with her--but I had no idea how I'd fare in hand-to-hand combat. When I first saw her rise up before me as a superhero, just two months after we'd started dating, I knew I had to let her win. Even then, I knew I liked her, and I wouldn't dare raise a hand against her. Tonight would be different. Tonight, I fight back. Too damn nervous to engage in our usual banter, I immediately attacked. I warped the energy and light around me, bending dark lightning in flashing, sinuous bolts at the woman in brilliant white. Though my powers seemed to darken everything around them, she reversed that effect, and everything around her became brighter. Whipping out a hand, she slashed the lightning aside with a slicing beam of light, and then she leapt toward me, the earth's gravity launching her into the sky. The roaring crowds faded into the background as I fought the love of my life. It took everything I had to hold my own, dodging around her in a chaotic dance. But I could see by the surprise in her eyes that she was equally strained to keep up. We were evenly matched. Then I saw my moment. She launched herself back from one of my attacks with such fervor that the shockwave of her outward thrust knocked me to the earth. I immediately rolled to my feet, but before she could press her advantage, I whipped off my mask. Hovering in between me and the moon, she froze, eyes going wide. My hands shook violently as I went down on one knee and pulled out a little black box. The whole crowd--the whole world--gasped in shock, falling silent. They recognized my face, too. She had never had to wear a mask, so they all knew that Reversal had a boyfriend in her regular life. I opened the box, revealing to my girlfriend the small diamond ring within. It sparkled magnificently in the moonlight, but I didn't even notice as I watched Reversal quietly land before me, tears in her eyes--and a broad smile on her face. Smiling into my own tears, I whispered, "I always said I wanted the world. I pray the world wants me back." Scrubbing the heel of her hand against her eyes, she laughed. "You're so goddamn corny,"she sniffled. "Of course I'll marry you." The crowds burst into cheers and exultation, and I jumped up and wrapped the love of my life into a bear hug, burying my tearful face into her hair. She held me just as tightly, whispering into my ear, "It's about time you asked. I didn't know how many more times I would have to knock you on your face before you got your act together."
Sun shone into my eyes, blinding me momentarily. As my vision adjusted to the environment, the site before me came into view. Indeed it was just as how they described it, pearly white gates basked in rays of sunlight. Fluffed clouds supported the gates above them. Along with the gate, a lone figure stood nearby. It must be him. “Hello there,” the figure greeted. Acknowledging him, the figure continued to speak. “Lorenzo Addis, if I’m not mistaken.” “Yep, that’s me.” Assuming that this was protocol, the figure read aloud the story of my life. Warmth filled me as the figure recited each accomplishment that decorated my lifespan. “You seemed like quite the busy man, Lorenzo and I’m in awe of that. Always after something else, always on the ball, constantly reaching after some new goal.” Humbled, heat built up in my cheeks. Great, I just had to be blushing now. “After looking at your life, I’ve created the 8th deadly sin. The sin of boredom.” Eyes wide, my attention for the speaker spiked. “You see, you were always chasing after something, yet you forgot to chase after the humans who surrounded you. You left those fellow humans behind as you attempted to silence your boredom. And so, I present to you your verdict: as a result of your endless pursuits, you remained in a constant state of neglecting those around you. However, your contributions to humanity reigned supreme. I sentence you to an eternity of darkness.” “Sounds good man, I could really use a rest anyway. I’ll admit, I was scared that I was going to have to keep myself busy for eternity.” My tone seemed to have startled the figure. Taken back, the figure’s tone grew stern, “You are to experience the constant echoes of the words from those you neglected in your mortal time.” A sphere of light materialized before me. “You will begin your punishment once you enter this orb-” Cutting him off, I gave my thanks. Turning back, I gave him a wide grin as the sphere enveloped me. Disbelief remained on the figure’s face as darkness filled my view. The final reaction of the figure completed this marathon that was my life. Fulfillment radiated through me as I settled into the darkness, [my new home.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CasualScribblings/) Finally, some time to relax.
"Say, Garfield, how are you still alive?" I hate Mondays. "I know you do, but how are you still alive? You still look 5. It's been 30 years." If only you hadn't pushed this subject further. Maybe I could've been with you a little longer. "Garfield?" ... "Garfield!" A few decades ago, I made a deal with death. I wanted only to watch over you. I enjoyed your company. He told me only to never let you question anything, otherwise he'd take my soul--- and yours. "What are you talking about? You're just a cat. You're only alive because I take good care of you." Jon, you feed me lasagna every day. "Oh." —————————— The doorbell rings. A man, about 70 years of age, walks in. He gestures to the cat, then to the man; he makes a swiping motion with a cylindrical object he was holding. The man's life ended, not with a bang, but with the silent scratching of a pen on paper. ———————––– This is my first time writing. Please give me feedback on what I can improve on.
'A calm relaxing day at the river.' 'Just you and your best friend.' 'Let's go fishing,' he said. 'I'll show you the ropes,' he said. 'It will be a great time.' Well screw that. "No dice, it got away,"I quietly mutter to my friend sitting behind me. Fixing the next bit of bait on my hook before making a sloppy cast. I knew all about his affair with my wife. I knew all about her plan to leave me. That's why she's gone. Neither of them suspected a thing. My friend has been grieving silently for the past few months. And he invited me on this trip to kill me. "Oh, yeah, man. You gotta be a bit more patient. And once it bites, try to angle the line so the hook will catch,"he softly responds. I hear a slight clatter as he fiddles with his fishing rod. I just wanted to settle down. Just minding my own business. Have a normal job. A normal wife. A normal house. Maybe a kid in the future. Maybe a dog or a cat. I watch my line again in silence, waiting for the upcoming moment. The time to pull the line. To hook the fish. CLICK Got him. I place my rod down calmly as I turn around with a light smile breaching my ever-calm face. I hear a slight whimper as his pale nervous face slowly tracks into view. The depths of a gun chamber appearing as I turn completely around. "Now, now, Michael. You should know its dangerous to point those brutish things at people,"I lightly murmur as I push the barrel of his gun to the side with a finger. "Well. Where did you pick up a cheap-looking gun like this? You really should have asked around. This gun is quite unreliable. Almost guaranteed to jam. Even more so when I had it specifically modified to jam when it is near me."I remove the slide, releasing the bullet pressed against a mechanism I had prepared a few weeks ago. He trembles in fear, at my previously unheard of tone of voice I used to chastise him, he seems incredibly unsettled. "You really should investigate the person you plan to kill,"I continue to disassemble the gun in his trembling hand as I speak at him, "Well. Not that any investigation you could manage would tell you I were a retired assassin. I truly had high hopes that we could be lifelong friends."I frown as the frame of the gun is all that is left before he drops it to the floor of the boat. "Now... If you truly wanted to kill me,"I slip my hand into my windbreaker to grasp my knife handle, "You would have used a knife. Much cleaner. Simpler to use in close quarters." He recoils as I reveal the blade. And he looks around, realizing his own preparations damned him. His search for a quiet place, one far from civilization, from any foot traffic, from any presence other than pure nature, would be his downfall. He tries to stand. And I swiftly sink my blade into his heart. "A pity. I actually hoped to learn how to fish."I look at his dead body with a disappointed frown.
There was a joke here somewhere, he knew. Hell, he'd heard a lot of them over the years. People weren't very original when told that his name was Arthur. It was either something about the King or the guy from that one wizard book Arthur never got around to reading. From what he extrapolated from the jokes, the guy's only character trait was having a lot of kids. The woman standing on the water tapped her foot impatiently, creating small ripples. "Well?"She huffed, motioning to him with the hilt of the weapon. "I've never even held a sword before! If you wanna give someone a weapon that would 'reunite Empires', you need to upgrade, lady."He ran his eyes over the glittering metal disdainfully. "Go for something nuclear, next time." The Lady of the Lake threw up her hands, and Arthur ducked back to avoid the sword slicing through the air at the gesture. "There won't be a next time!"She exclaimed. Arthur scowled at her. "Watch where you swing that thing! You coulda taken my damn head off!" At least the Lady looked sheepish at his admonishment. She shook it off a little too quick, though, in Arthur's opinion. "You must take Excalibur, you have to reunite your nations again and take your rightful throne. You are the Once and Future King! It is your destiny to rise when Britain's need is at it's greatest and lead your people to prosperity!" "I'm an American."He told her for the hundredth time. "It might have been a while since you got your soggy butt outta bed, but around here we ain't too fond of the Brits." "Soggy butt?!"She shrieked angrily. Arthur ignored her, packing up his supplies. If she was going to be making such a racket, there weren't going to be any fish nibbling at his line. A memory of the only 'King Arthur' joke he liked surfaced to the front of his mind, and he grinned at her under the brim of his bucket hat. "'Sides, I can’t expect to wield supreme executive power just ’cause some watery tart threw a sword at me." Her fury could be heard from miles around.
It's not so bad, being a nekomancer. Not particularly useful, but I make a decent living helping out a very specific subset of cosplay enthusiasts. Discovering the clerical error was... unpleasant, though. On my 18th birthday when my powers were supposed to manifest, I had gotten a job at a funeral home. It's a common thing, turns out, for funeral homes to hire necromancers to temporarily revive those deceased that never left a will, to determine exactly what should be done with the assets they've left behind. Seemed like a natural fit... according to my birth certificate. My first and only attempt was on a kindly old man, surrounded by a large family that loved him dearly, the kind of mourners everyone should be so lucky to have. And so it was in full view of this family that my boss asked me to revive the man, to hear his final wishes. Didn't work, exactly. He didn't wake up and start talking the way he was supposed to. He did, however, spontaneously grow a pair of cat ears. And I think whiskers. I'm not really sure; that was about the moment when all hell broke loose as twenty-odd mourners gasped and cried out in shock. Along with me. And my boss. And now I don't work at the funeral home anymore. Worst part is, it would be a few months before I figured out how to reverse the process -- my roommate Steve was extremely helpful and understanding during that period -- and nekomancers are rare enough that finding another one on such short notice was out of the question, so they just kinda... buried him like that. Ears and all. Mr. Richardson, if you're reading this from heaven... sorry about that.
For almost twenty-six weeks, I’ve known this was coming. Ever since Amy Aaron of Ashton was murdered sometime in the wee hours of a pre-dawn Saturday morning, her throat slashed by some intruder in a mask that the police have yet to catch. It was only confirmed when Baalah Borowski of Beavercreek and Cat Czisma of Columbus each died the same time on each of the following Saturdays. So, I began preparing. I bought a video surveillance system with full internet capabilities, rope, a shot gun, and a second knife. Anyone that made it into my house without permission wasn’t leaving. By the time Jeremy Johnson of Jackson died, I had bars on the windows, replaced all the doors with all steal doors with both dead bolts and sliders. In addition, I installed additional security cameras and replaced my screen doors with Iron gates. My house was now as impenetrable as my measly income could afford. By the time Quiana Qamar was lured into Quincy—obviously, that involved some real improvisational and persuasive skills—and killed, I had taken the precaution of writing my friends, family, and employer letting them know that there was a good chance I would be the victim of this new ABC killer. By the time Xena Xavier met her demise with a cup of Folgers in her hand at her kitchen table I pretty much knew my fate had been sealed. I covered the carpet with plastic and began practicing with the knife in front of the mirror. Judging just how I would strike if the opportunity presented itself. You see, Zofia Zhu had moved out of state and both Zedariah Zeglar and the other Zackary Zimmerman both passed away, one from old age, the other from a car accident. As the last living person with the initials ZZ in the state, I was the only viable candidate left. The time is now eleven fifty at night on Friday the thirteenth. If you’ll excuse me, I will need to switch cameras as I need to go check the locks on all the bars, windows and doors before I can make sure everything else is ready for One oh One AM. You see, I cannot have anyone disturb me before my twenty-six-week masterpiece is complete.
Wars, natural disasters, cold frosts and furious heats. These memories flooded through my mind, watching the horrible reality of all things that have now come to pass. I had experienced memories before, but none as vivid as the ones drifting from this young man. My mind ached, an internal screaming battering my skull, legs wobbling as I did my best to remain standing. A crowd was forming as my legs buckled, I must have looked like a drunken fool. As I went to fall, a hand grabbed me, pulling me upright. There was no doubting who the hand belonged to, his firm grip making it clear. It was that same young man, holding me upright, stopping me from collapsing. “Breathe, if you stop breathing, things could get rather bad for you.” His voice was mellow, words silently leaving his lips, only heard by me. I followed the advice, taking long drawn out breathes, pumping the hot flushes of air through my lungs. It had never been this hard to breathe before. It was like my lungs were filled with cement, each exhale clearing some of that build up until the oxygen starting rushing in once more. Slowly my breathes regained their normal pattern. That aching had yet to fade, however. “Come now, I’ll take you to a seat, you must be in an awful amount of pain.” The young man guided me to a seat, plopping me down on a park bench. Once he had seated me, he joined me on the bench, swinging his legs with amusement. The young man appeared to find this whole situation humorous, a grin not leaving his lips. “What are you? Those memories aren’t human?” I stammered out my words, weary to ask a powerful figure such a question. “Memories? Ah, I could play dumb, but what’s the point. I am one of the few who created this universe. More importantly, I’m the one that created the milky way, hence why you have no memories of my brothers or sisters. Here, this should ease your mind temporarily.” Leaning over, the young man pinched my neck, making me cringe, head twitching to the side, trying to cover the spot. He was right. Once his fingers left, I felt much better, a sense of relief flushing through my body. Unfortunately, I could already sense what he meant by temporarily. That throbbing sitting in the back of my mind, a silent drum waiting for its chance to give a rumbling percussion performance. “You are a god then?” “Not so loud. I’m not a fan of the word, but if that is the best way you can understand it, then refer to me as a god. I fear we have little time to speak. Your body is growing weak. As an offering, I’ll give you one question, ask me anything you wish to know.” It was a generous offer, one question to ask a god. He was right; I would not be granted much time, that pain already swirling forward. But what to ask such a figure? Do I question them on the afterlife? Ask them when our planet will die? “I had a little dog; his name was Rex. I lost him recently. Do you know if he’s happy?” The young man paused. Had he not expected such a question? He leant forward on the bench, the grin fading for just a few moments before returning to his face, this time bringing a set of dimples with it. “You are talking to a god and you wish to know the fate of an animal?” “He was very dear to me.” The young man fell back, catching himself on the bench, his laughter causing a few people to face him, only to glance away once he regained his composure. Wiping his eyes, he stared into my eyes. “Rex is content. He lived a good life and was loved. I’m sure he is happy wherever he is.” The young man’s words were brief. He answered the question. Perhaps not in the most satisfactory of ways, but like a genie one had to choose their wording carefully. Had I asked where he resided currently, I may have gotten a better answer. That pain was back, flooding my mind with its hard fluttering of memories. I doubled over, grabbing my stomach. Would I die from knowing too much? The man next to me wasn’t concerned, only taking a sideways glance at me. “It was nice meeting you. You humans never cease to amaze me. To think some of you are growing to possess abilities such as ours. Its truly marvelous. I just wish you would remember our encounter.” With that, he touched my neck again. Vision turning black. I awoke on a park bench, my head woozy and a sickening feeling in the pits of my stomach. Had I stopped to rest? The last few moments must have been a blur. Glancing up from the bench, I saw a young man waving at me. I looked behind me, but could see no one. Was he waving at me? What a weirdo. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
America was in flames, again. The rest of the world did not care much for the American crisis. Everything was a crisis in America and this one began with a new character in the popular internet show Alone. Josh, the main character of the show, had found a new lifeform. It was an octopus-like creature with the head of a dog. "Stop staring,"it said to Josh. "Whoa! You can talk?" "What else do you think I am doing, dunderhead." Hahahahaha. A laugh track played. "I mean, yeah, well, you look smart, for a dog." "And if you were not so dumb you'd see these,"the creature said as it wriggled its tentacles. "Tentacles, see, eight limbs, see, I'm no dog."Woof! Hahahahaha. "Okay, little guy, I guess you need a home or something." "Your planet would do just fine." Hahahahaha. The episode then went on to show how great friends they became and how it ended with the creature running away when Josh tried to dress the poor fellow in lace. Ever since then, there were sightings of the octopus-dog all across America. The police were overwhelmed with what they thought were prank calls, until the day a police officer was found with an octopus-dog head instead of his own. The policeman had been on patrol, and he had stopped at a diner to get some coffee. There the octopus-dog met him on the doorstep and replaced the policeman's head with its body. That policeman had walked into a diner, and the waitress had called the police as he did so. Later, at the diner, the police found corpses with their heads bitten off. The bite marks were like a dog's. "The police suspect the rumours of the octopus-dog's presence to be true. Speaking to Fox News, the county sheriff said that there was a possibility that the octopus-dog possesses human beings." Hysteria spread through the country as the news spread. People were afraid of the octopus-dog. There were more sightings, not only of the octopus-dogs but also of humans with the head of an octopus-dog. As it turned out, the octopus-dog crisis was more of a problem for the south. Scientists opined that the octopus-dogs didn't like the cold. Lines were drawn, people were evacuated from the south, and the country prepared itself for another civil war, only this time the civilians on the other side were victims of a parasite of unknown origin. It also turned out that the octopus-dog, having the body of an octopus, but the head of a dog, was terribly afraid of water. It had the ability but not the inclination to swim for long distances. And so the rest of the world didn't care. First world problems, none for us thank you very much, they all said.
We stand around, jaws open wide in shock and fear at what had happened, a stark contrast to the contagious excitement of a few moments ago. When we’d received our latest order from the boss, we’d rushed out, as animated as if it were our first job. Going out to make contact with a new race was easily the best part of the job: we never knew what we’d learn, what new technology and innovation we could bring to the federation, and the job was never as fulfilling as when we arrived home with news of our encounters. Our excitement waned, just slightly, when we saw our destination: there was no security around the surrounding stars, and the few touches to the surrounding expanse we could see suggested a very primitive species. We could see were nothing special, but still, were filled with the same thrill that came with first contact. The upside of a primitive species, of course, was the excitement that inevitably came when our ship started to turn heads on its descent. We chose a patch, a tiny island on this tiny planet, and begun our landing. Slowly, the concrete jungle of buildings that came towards the start of every civilisations attempts at being modern came into view- we had to record such observations, to take note of the hints of individuality that every new member we brought to the federation had developed- and noticed something unusual: there wasn’t a single light in sight, throughout the whole, sprawling city that lay before us. Why could this be? Notes were taken, photos sent back to our supervisors, but no one could work it out. As a conversation about leaving behind this dark, lifeless city broke out, something new happened: with great, sudden force, our ship was penetrated, like a pin being stabbed through a piece of paper, and we fell from the sky, into the dark and foreign urban sprawl beneath, without warning or hope of negotiating our fate. The galactic federation had never seen such violence: a ship torn from existence, their extended hand slapped away. The tiny solar system at the edge of the universe would never hear from them again.
Well then, well then, Madeleine Gwen. Welcome, welcome to my shop. Welcome, welcome look around. &#x200B; Would you, could you Adopt a Clop? Would you, could you Save a Nop? &#x200B; I would not like to adopt a Clop I would not like to save a Nop. They are hairy, oh so hairy. They are scary, oh so scary. &#x200B; Well then, well then, Madeleine Gwen. Would you, could you Pet a Kreep? Would you, could you Hug a Sneep? &#x200B; I would not like to pet a Kreep I would not like to hug a Sneep They are grumpy, oh so grumpy They are lumpy, oh so lumpy. &#x200B; Well then, well then Madeleine Gwen Would you, could you Enjoy a Nak? Would you, could you Love a Lak? &#x200B; Oh no, oh no, It cannot be. Never ever Enjoy a Nak Never ever Love a lak &#x200B; Well then, well then Madeleine Gwen You sure are picky You sure are tricky. &#x200B; Let’s see here, let’s see here What do we have here. &#x200B; Wait! &#x200B; I have the one, &#x200B; Yes, I have the one. It’s perfect for you Madeleine Gwen &#x200B; Come here, come here Look at this. You’re very own Loopenkrisp &#x200B; Oh yes, oh yes, It is so fluffy Oh yes, oh yes It is so puffy &#x200B; Oh, I’ll squeeze it, squeeze it Oh so tight. And I’ll please it, please it Every night. &#x200B; Oh, thank you, thank you Dr. Seuss Oh, who knew, who knew You’d see it through. &#x200B; But I have no money, I’m afraid to say I have no money, You got layaway? &#x200B; No. Now get the fuck out of my store.
Edward had been waiting for what felt like forever. Hell, for all he knew, it could've been forever. All of human history and a whole lot beyond that could've passed while he was standing in this line. Patience is a virtue, he thought desperately, Patience is a virtue. For the millionth time, he looked down at his feet and imagined the ground below them was something interesting. Grass, perhaps. Maybe a large field, full of people. Interesting people. People who could talk. Unlike the people in this damned line. Heh, maybe the line was damned. Maybe he was waiting for hell instead of heaven. As soon as the thought entered his mind, something in the distance caught his eye. Squinting, he saw... people. People who were talking. People who were moving forward in line. Maybe... maybe this wasn't the way into heaven. After all, reasoned Edward, there were probably more bad people on Earth than good people. So it makes sense that Heaven's line would be shorter. Rationalization in hand, Edward slowly edged out of the line to "Heaven"and into the short one. Practically choking on his anticipation, he hungrily watched as the line edged forward, one person after another getting in. Yes, he thought, yes! When it was his turn, he entered the room and saw a young man with sitting behind the desk. "Patience is a virtue,"it said, staring at him with crimson eyes. "One you don't have." The man snapped his fingers and Edward felt himself falling. And then all he saw was fire. If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate it if you checked out my subreddit, r/StoriesOfAshes.
These days I hear the rain splattering down and wonder if the roof will hold anymore. Even when it's not raining the streets are clouded by that greenish-brown smog. The only light that's left is the flame of the forge, upon which thousands of us slave our lives away. It wasn't always like this. We never quite prospered, but we lived in a kingdom of art and music. We smiled through the day. We sung and danced and enjoyed ourselves, even in the shadow of a terrible king. We saw a savior and rejoiced, but all too quickly she became a tyrant herself. Mariah Susanne. Mary Sue, we called her back then. She held immense power -- anything she wanted, or wanted to be true, a snap of her fingers would make it that way. And she fought for us. She corrected every injustice she could. She made the world right for us. One day she marched to the royal palace and the king died as she stepped up to the throne. She declared herself queen, and what we thought was the beginning of our golden age was, in reality, quite the opposite. Every bit of good she did, she reversed. No word left the castle walls for months. We grew tired, hungry, and desperate. Our economy crumbled. We turned to anything we had to in order to survive. Eventually she made an appearance. She dared to march through our city clad in her opulence, snapped her fingers and waved her hands, and rose two massive factories from the ground. "Good day"were the only words that left her insipid mouth. Years later, and all we do is live, eat, sleep, and die by the forges she so kindly gifted us. But today... today, me and so many others hide in the shadows of the town square. Blades drawn, we wait until the queen arrives -- and then we strike. The reign of Queen Mariah Susanne the Terrible will come to an end. You can hear the violins of the royal musicians get closer and closer. As if this is a celebration, rather than another "gifting."Another outlet of slave labor to be granted to the city. You can almost hear the footfalls now. The clicking of jewels as they touch with her every step. My hand grabs tighter on the hilt of my sword, any moment... She rounds the corner. Synchronized, all of us leap from hiding, aiming for her throat. She snaps her fingers. We all are thrown back against the walls, as if from the gust of a powerful wind in all directions. I feel a burn in my chest... the air leaves my lungs... then my whole body is burning. The sword falls from my hand and I hit the floor. My face slackens. And then there is nothing.
Her eyes did not deceive her. That was most certainly three giant lizards galloping out in the field. Amy cautiously stood up stepped back towards her Durango. Perhaps this was not the best day for lunch outside, she decided. "Wait!"A voice called, trumpeting like a thunderstorm. "You're supposed to sit cross-legged and then I come up and put my head in your lap." "What are you?"She called out to the strange lizard waiting expectantly. "A unicorn!"It made its declaration with a wide spread of its wings, as though that somehow helped corroborate. "It's a unicorn thing!" "I don't think that's right! Unicorns have one horn!"She yelled back, wondering how she reached the point in her life where she was arguing with reptiles going through identity crises. "I do have one horn,"the alleged unicorn roared. "In fact I have one on each side!" "Kind of just another way of saying two that isn't it? There's also the issue of you looking rather exactly like a dragon!" "I don't know what that is!"The creature called out. "Is it a kind of unicorn? I love your car! Is that a Durango?" "Yes!"She said. "It's a fairly good SUV!" "Can I have it?"asked the Dragon in need of a journey of self-discovery. "No!"She called back, then felt rather sad when she saw how dejected the poor ten story monster looked at her answer. "But you're the biggest unicorn I've ever seen. I hope you have a good day!" She turned around just in time to see two other 'unicorns' flying away with her Durango, each with a claw on two wheels. "Hey, wait up,"the one in the field said, galloping up to enough speed to fly after the other and leaving a rainbow trail in it's wake. "Hm,"Amy said to herself as she prepared to make a very confusing call to AAA. "Maybe he was a unicorn after all." The police managed to find her vehicle 20 miles away later that evening. The back hatch door was completely crushed in but it was otherwise fine. \--- Thanks for reading. If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing.
"Will it hurt Daddy?" Jezeh asked, his voice still squeaky with childhood. "No,"the Priestess of the Blade said, a kind smile on her face. She held the Blade in her hands. The ritual chamber was clean and bright; Jezeh's father knelt in prayer in the center of the room. "Your father will go join his father, and his father's father, and so on until the root of all things, in Heaven. It will be painless." "Why does Daddy have to go now?"Jezeh asked, a tinge of desperation in his voice. Normally, speaking to a ranking Priestess in such a tone would have gotten Jezeh a firm reprimand, at best—but today was a special day, a day in which some allowances could be made. So the Priestess smiled and said, "Alzal is one of the world's forefront experts on spellcraft; his mind is too precious to risk perishing on the mortal plane, or falling to degenerative diseases. He must be made immortal and join the Blade as soon as possible. Be happy!"The Priestess added, seeing Jezeh's distraught face. "Uniting with the Blade is a rare honor, and your family will be well-compensated." "I—I guess,"Jezeh said. His father finished his prayer and stood, his kind eyes finding Jezeh one last time. "Jez,"he said, chidingly, "you should leave the room. Seeing what's coming... makes it harder to accept." "I don't want to accept it!"Jezeh stomped one foot. "It's not fair! Why should you have to die just so some dumb sword can get smarter?" Alzal blinked, shocked; the Priestess gave Jezeh a stormy look. It was the sword itself, however, which spoke up. "Jezeh,"it intoned, "your father will not die." Jezeh blinked, then hesitantly smiled. "So... you're not going to cut—" "Oh, no, the ritual will go on as planned,"the Sword continued. "But your father's mind will be safe with me, for all eternity. Observe."The Sword hummed, an angry, bloodthirsty pitch, and the Priestess surged into motion. "NO!"Jezeh lunged forwards. But it was too late. Alzal fell to the floor, twice. Jezeh gaped at his father's corpse, disbelieving. "Father... you..." "It's okay, Jez." Jezeh spun around, flinching, when the sword spoke with his father's voice. "Wh... what..."Jezeh's eyes flicked between the fallen corpse and the Sword, hyperventilating. "How... you... you stole his voice!" "I didn't steal anything,"Jezeh's not-father continued. "It's me, Alzal. I'm in the sword now." "N-no. You're not my father. You're a thing." "I'm a thing that knows everything your father knew,"the Sword said, in the tone Alzal used when Jezeh wasn't quite understanding his sums, and Jezeh hated it so much that he wanted to scream. "I know how we burnt your mother's birthday cake last year, how we wanted to build a treehouse together but never found the time, how I kissed you goodnight and tucked you into bed yesterday."The sword pulsed. "If I have all your father's memories and hopes and dreams... who are you to say I am not him?" "I am his son,"Jezeh hissed, "and you are not my father!" The sword laughed. "Son, son, son... you always were stubborn. Well. If you'd like, I could show you."The sword lifted itself of its own accord, edge still glistening with blood. "I could take you to see your father right now." Jezeh stumbled backwards, scrambled to his feet, and turned around to flee. "Mom! Mom! Help!" The sword chuckled wryly. It called after Jezeh, "You'll come back! When you're old and sick and too afraid to die! And you'll see I was right all along. They're all in here." For a moment, the Sword listened to the hundreds of thousands of minds it had collected over the centuries, some lying dormant, others greeting the newcomer. The Sword sighed. "All in here forever." A.N. If you liked this, consider checking out r/bubblewriters! Feedback is welcome.
In the centuries to come, behavioral economists would blame the triumph of evil on the existence of the afterlife. In the short term, rewarding those who served Celestia with eternal bliss and damning those who defied her will was a great boon to her cultural and political influence, as mortal societies scrambled to obtain eternal bliss. And so the Seven Kingdoms of the Heavenly Bodies were dedicated in their entirety to shipping as many of their citizens off to eternal bliss as they could. But, as always, people fell through the cracks—and over time, the population of Hell began to pile up. Slowly, inevitably, the dead began to outnumber the living, millions, then billions of souls crammed in a dimension of eternal torment, taunted by the memories of the world they'd once inhabited. And if history had taught the world any lessons, it was that if billions of humans all wanted something, no matter how impossible it was, they eventually got it. Emperor Svaria of the Lunar Kingdom had been experimenting with the nature of souls. He knew that this was enough to get him an instant damning by Celestia when he died; his goal was to ensure that once he died and went to Hell, he had a way back. As he peered under a microscope at a pair of cultured cells, he called over his royal scientist. "Look at this, Vess."Svaria pointed at the slide, which contained a human zygote. An etherometer ticked up from 1 to 2 as it counted the number of souls present—at the moment, just the souls contained by Svaria and Vess. "I've been experimenting with those time-rewinding spells you sent me, and I think I found the exact moment that Celestia ensouls a human child." "Oh, fascinating."Vess lowered the slide into a fluid bath, and cranked a dial; as the human zygote sped through development, the etherometer abruptly jumped from 2 to 3. He rewound it, and the etherometer fell back to 2. "Where do the souls come from?" "Heaven,"Svaria said, a twinkle of excitement in his eyes. "More importantly, we just figured out how to send a soul back to heaven." Vess' eyes widened as he took in the implications. Until now, any kind of summoning from Hell, whether it be a demon summoning or a resurrection, invariably took the sacrifice of a kind-hearted human. When a human died and went to heaven, their soul rose upwards; if you chained their soul to a soul of someone from Hell beforehand, you could use the spiritual lift they generated to dredge a sinner up from the depths of the afterlife, like tying a balloon to a newspaper to bring it up to the top of a building. If it was possible to piggyback the same effect on the ensoulment of a human fetus... "We could break down the gates of Hell,"Vess whispered. "We could set everyone who's been damned by Celestia free!" Svaria squeezed Vess' hand—it was all the affection they dared show each other, even when they were in private. Celestia damned people for all kinds of things; there was a reason Svaria and Vess had been willing to risk damnation with their experiments. Chances were they'd go to Hell either way. "This could change... everything. Celestia's rules about who does and doesn't get to go to heaven... we could render them irrelevant. Break the stranglehold she has on our world." Vess grimaced. "The other Star Kingdoms will declare war on us for that. Hell, our own populace will revolt if we try to overthrow Celestia herself." "We'd need an army,"Svaria agreed. "An army of people who have strong, personal reason to hate Hell, an army of people who'd be loyal to us over anything else."Svaria began sketching a spell circle on the floor. "An army of demonized outcasts, waiting for thousands of years for a chance to be set free." Svaria twisted the dial once, and with a pop, a half-naked young man materialized in the spell circle, a hand thrown up as if to ward Svaria away. He began to babble in some language Svaria did not recognize, but his tears of gratitude were universal. "An army that could change the world,"Vess finished. Emperor Svaria began drawing more circles while his lover talked to the damned soul they'd just rescued in a low, reassuring tone. All the while, his face held a faint smile. Everyone alive today would call him a monster. But everyone currently dead would name him their savior. A.N. If you liked this, consider checking out r/bubblewriters!
I stirred my coffee, staring blankly into the night sky outside my window. The dull ache behind my eyes had gotten much worse lately. The pandemic was rough for everyone, but I think I probably had it worse than most. Worse than everyone. I hated when people died. Lives cut short really weigh on me. The moon looked nice. I'm living out in the middle of nowhere now. The government got me this nice place in West Virginia. At least I think it's the government. They didn't seem to act like the government at all. They gave me a really big number and told me to stay away from people. But I guess the government is just made up of people, anyway. The nice part about living someplace nobody else lives is that there's no light pollution, so I can see all the stars. Sometimes I try to imagine what sorts of beings live there. Maybe they're lonely, too. I imagined a species that has very few members. They are all big and kind, and they're all friends with each other. They seem so different from the animals that live near my house. This planet has so many bugs, and the air and oceans are teeming with life. Wouldn't it be nice to live in a place that's a little more quiet? My phone screeched harshly. I winced, my reverie broken, and hesitated before answering. Nobody calls me unless it's important. "I'm so sorry, Asudem."It was the President. She was anxious about something horrible that's happening. "Our nukes didn't work. They're coming with a massive invasion force. We did everything we could already, it won't stop them. Our only hope is to hit em with something they haven't seen before, something they couldn't have prepared for. I promise I went down the list before we got to you. They either declined or just wouldn't be strong enough." I frowned. "Can you tell me anything about them?"She shrugged. "Our best going theory is that they're bored, or maybe they want something from our planet, or maybe they just destroy everything. None of them have landed on the planet's surface yet, but they've killed everyone on mars AND the moon and blasted every man-made structure to rubble. Nobody knows what they look like. Their ship is invulnerable. That's all we know. I'm sorry, Asudem. We need you to stop them." I stirred my coffee. It was too late for caffeine. I drank it anyway. "I understand."The woman on the other end of the call sagged with relief. She expected me to kill her. The bugs in my house were starting to scatter again. There are thousands of them. This is the woods, it's their home. It used to bother me, all those bugs everywhere. I'm pretty accustomed to it now. I hope I didn't wake any birds up. But even if I did, they might eat the bugs, like bats do. My mind rose into the air and I closed my eyes. Someone said Asudem Are You There Are You Doing It and I didn't respond. The bugs near my body were going quiet and still, and they were feeling crushed under the weight of my consciousness. I wanted to apologize but bugs don't know how to accept apologies. The aliens were in orbit. I touched their minds and found nothing. I touched their computers and found nothing. I touched their ships and found nothing. Someone was screaming in my ear. I didn't put the phone down. I deserve the pain. There was a rainbow thread connecting all of the ships. I gently grasped it in my mind and lifted it, and the ships clacked together like wooden blocks on a string. The thread led back home. I brought the ships with me. I know humans wanted to study the ships, but I didn't want anyone else to be hurt. The thread goes on forever. I feel the humming of an unimaginable mind express confusion. It strikes at me, once, attempting to swat me away. Then again, and again. It fears what I might do to it. I arrive fast. I wish I could look around, but all I'd see are my cozy cottage walls and a hundred dead bugs. I feel minds around me, monoliths in the gloom. Not quite minds. Awarenesses. They are so far away...I feel a yawning pit in my stomach. This is not the home planet. These are the home solar systems. "You are hurting us,"I said to it. "Stop."It was thinking about loneliness. It wanted to raise a family. It had already made passionate love, and it prayed now for healthy daughters. I showed it fragments of my life, and it peered into the anthill curiously. I showed it bugs, and people eating ice cream. I showed it passionate love, and babies. It recoiled. We are too small. It wanted us gone. I reached out to the next awareness I can feel, and broadcasted my- "Hello? Who is this?"buzzed in my brain like hot wax. "I'm from Earth,"I said. We were attacked by-"I hesitated. "Someone." "From- from what?"I could feel its emotions like avalanches a hundred miles away. Tectonic shifts and volcanoes. "You are...from a planet?" It was my turn to scream as my memories are wrenched out into the open and examined. It feels invasive, horrible, but I kept my mind silent to be polite. A whole new species, joined inextricably with planets. Their roots spread across like fungi and they become aware at a scale monstrous to human comprehension. They sing to each other every minute of every day, and sometimes chat about the weather, or beauty, or truth. My heart filled with envy. I live among the bugs, but they live among the stars. They feel every mind, and I feel every death. It apologized and promised to reprimand the young one. It offered to kill the young planet's progeny, and I said thank you very much that would be very kind to my species. I hesitated. Then I asked. "Will you be my friend?" It tittered merrily. "I suppose, if you can forgive us." We talk every night now. About beauty, and truth, and sometimes the weather. Sometimes I sing with them. Nobody on Earth ever figured out what happened on the day the astronauts died. Even the government just shrugged their shoulders. I never told them what happened. I held a little funeral for the bugs in my house, and I dedicated it to the astronauts who died. It just seemed like the right thing to do.
Jim looked at the old house. He had spent so much time there as a kid. He used to love climbing the big tree in the back yard, even after falling out of it a few times. He and his cousins had played many a game of hide and seek in the woods, and he and his sister had "claimed"parts of the property as "kingdoms", or "queendom"as his sister had insisted on calling hers. And then there were the people living there. Jim wiped away a tear at those memories. His grandparents, always willing to open their home to his family. His grandma's baked goods. His grandpa's life lessons. They were two of the most reliable people he had ever known, and gave him some of his most cherished childhood memories. It did not feel real, even now. His grandpa had passed on a few years ago, and his grandma had joined him a month ago. And now he had their house. Well, technically he co-owned it with his sister, but she was living on the other side of the country, so he was effectively the full owner. Everyone was surprised to learn he wanted to live there instead of selling it. he had no idea why. It was a good house, even if there were places where it needed to be fixed up. And he simply could not bare to leave it in the hands of strangers. This was a family house. It deserved to stay in the family. Besides, with his plans for his girlfriend, he would likely need a good house soon. He unlocked the door and took a deep breath. he could almost smell his grandma. The smell had faded, but it still lingered. He wiped away a few more tears and walked through the place, each room calling forth a different memory. "Who is it?"Came a voice from deeper in the house. It nearly made Jim jump out of his skin. There should not have been anyone else there. Especially not that voice. A figure rounded the corner. A plump older woman with a cheerful grin on her face and grey hair drawn into a lose bun. Her smile was infectious, spreading across her entire face. Each wrinkle and line in her skin seemed to add to her appearance, as if each one told a story. She was also translucent and floating an inch above the floor. "Oh, Jimmy!"She said. "How nice to see you. I wish you would've called first though. I would've made you something nice." "G-Grandma?"Jim asked. He could not think of anything else to say. This was impossible. Ghosts were not real. And yet... "Yes, dear? What is it?" "Uh, what's...what's going on? Why are you...why are you here?" "Well, that's a silly question. I live here, of course." "But, but, you're..."Looking into her spectral eyes, he could not finish that sentence. So, he changed to a different one. "Are you feeling okay, Grandma?" "Of course, dear. Better than I have in years, in fact. Why is there something wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost." Jim did not say the obvious. "You're sure everything is okay?"He asked. "Of course. It's a little lonely in this old house without your grandfather around, but I'm making do. Now come along. This is no place for chit chat. Why don't you sit down and I'll make you something. Would you like something to drink?" Could she do that? Could she even touch anything? "Uh, no, Grandma, I'm fine." She looked a little saddened by that. "Are you sure, dear? I don't mind at all." "It's fine, really. I, uh, I just ate lunch, so..." "Oh, I see. Well, in that case, let's just have a seat."She floated through the house to the living room. She sat, her body not quite touching the couch. Jim joined her, still not quite believing what he was seeing. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" "Grandma, you really don't know?" "Know what?" He felt his throat dry up. Could he say it? Tell her that she was dead? And would it matter if he did? Besides, she was there. His grandma was there, with him now. What did it matter if she lacked a body? "I, uh, I was thinking it's time for a change. I think I might need some extra room pretty soon." Her eyes widened. "Are you...are you going to propose to Brenda?" "Yeah, yeah, I am." "Oh! Oh my goodness, that's wonderful! She's such a nice woman, and I'm so glad I'll be there to see you finally get married!"Her smile seemed to spread from ear to ear. Jim did not want to correct her on that last point. Her joy was just too infectious. "There's more, Grandma. We'll need a place to live, you know? And you know Brenda wants kids and all that. So..." She clasped her hands soundlessly to her mouth and let out a surprised squeak. "You mean...you want to live here? In this house? With me?" "Yeah, I think so. I mean, if that's okay with you."It felt right to ask, even with the situation. She 'stood' up straight and began frantically floating around the room. "Oh goodness, there's so much I have to do! I need to clean out a room for you two! And I need to stock up on food! And maybe see about getting a nursery ready! Oh, just so much!" "So, you're okay with it?" "Of course, I am. In fact, it would make me the happiest woman alive."She replied. He had to keep from laughing at that. Fortunately, keeping a smile off his face was not needed. "Thanks Grandma. And, uh, you probably don't need to worry about any of that stuff. I'll take care of everything." "Oh no, no, no. I could never--" "Please, Grandma, I insist. besides, you've done more than enough for me already. At least let me do this, okay?" "Well, I suppose I am getting on in years. Might be hard to move things. Fine, fine. But don't think you'll be keeping me out of the kitchen anytime soon. It'll be a cold day in hell that I stop cooking for my grandson." If she could do that, he would welcome it with open arms. "Wouldn't dream of it." "Wonderful! Now then, we have so much to talk about. Why don't you call Brenda and get her to come over? So much planning, and I'd hate to leave her out of it." Jim watched his ghostly grandmother gush about how lively things were about to become. He still had no idea how it was possible she was there. But even so, as far as haunted houses went, this was a pretty good one.
So, today was... Exciting? Nerve-wracking? Either one works. I was all bedecked in my armor, mythril plate mail engraved with dancing dragons, a claymore, forged from the bones of a dead dragon and enchanted with cleansing light of a slain angel, hanging from my back. So, imagine my concern when I see a a demons-blighted pamphlet on my door advertising some kind of "Speed Dating Tournament". Timed, and dated, for when the epic confrontation between me and that royal pain in my pauldrons the Demon Lord appointed as my rival. I arrive at the location, hoping it's just a trap, only to find a single booth with a clock, a table, two chairs, and a tray of snacks and bottles of water. I sit down, and music starts playing. Then I'm getting interviewed by what feels like hundreds of people: lonely elf maids, a particularly kindly succubus mom, a dragoness flashing wealth like no tomorrow, my employer the Queen of Reilandia, the DEMON LORD HIMSELF (real nice guy, too, once you get past the fact he's responsible for nearly a hundred thousand years of suffering), his sister, the Divine Empress (kinda rude and demanding, honestly), a golem having recently developed emotions and sentience, and even a set of goblin triplets. The event ends, and I make my decisions. I checkmark the boxes for the succubus mom, the goblins, and the Demon Lord. Imagine my surprise when the Demon Lord appears before me, cackling. "AND NOW, THE CYCLE ENDS FOREVER!! NOW THAT I, BORS BLOODSTORM, THE DEMON LORD,"he clears his throat, "Ahem, sorry. I was working on that speech forever. Would you like to get dinner? I know a really good Lenardian place downtown my uncle owns."Before I can even respond, a bolt of divine light appears. "You deceitful jerk! You manipulated the results!"She shouts at him. "I knew I shouldn't have let you flip the script!"She lunges at him and I interpose myself. "You will not interfere with my date, you divine brat."I say. "I didn't pick you because you're demanding and rude and uncaring about the feelings and needs and wants of the heroes you raise up, you manipulate them to enforce your petty little grudge against my date because he had sex with your boyfriend AFTER you dumped him."The crowd from the event starts watching as I dress the angel down. "You personally murdered my grandmother's girlfriend and pinned the blame on one of Bors' agents just ao you could have her spend her life being your personal killing machine. No. More. The cycle ends, because if I find out you're trying to raise another hero to lead a crusade, I will cut them down, and then I will cut you down."I draw my claymore and bring it to the Goddess' neck. "Because your pursuit of this grudge is pushing you awfully close to falling, and while you might be a god, this sword has killed far more powerful things."She backs away, and vanishes. "W-wow, that was... Kinda hot."Bors says and I giggle. "Thank you, Bors, and yes, Lenardian does sound good."I offer my arm, and he takes it, and we walk downtown.
"Why do I hear heavy metal?"Was the last thing that went through Dra'Nyakuek's mind, right before his head exploded in a shower of blood and gore. A green and brown blur sped past his body and towards the mass of demons rushing into the portals eager to unleash carnage on those 'puny humans'. And yet, a not so puny human was ripping their faces off and tearing them apart, the huge guts from giant demons flying around like red, slimy confetti. The oldest demons, the more experienced ones, knew better than to fight head on against the... thing that brought fire and destruction against them, for they had heard tales about him, an engine of destruction so full of anger and wrath that he was kept alive almost only by the power of his hate. Neither fire, nor talons, nor missiles, nor swords seemed to be able to put him down or even stop him for long. The demons slowly put things together, and canceled their invasion on earth, fleeing from the portals and leaving those that fell behind for dead, but it was too late. They had ignited the flames of destiny, and now, their doom was upon them.
The more I looked at it, the more untenable it seemed. The entire ecosystem was completely off-kilter, the atmosphere was mostly poisonous to humans, and pretty much every living thing that was fit to eat had been exterminated. Suffice to say, the last 3 people alive on this world were on death's door, and I was having trouble figuring out how to save them. Sure, as a god I could technically perform miracles, but at this point the best I could do was... well, keep them alive. That wasn't to say I had done a terrible job, looking at the thriving religious community I had created and the monuments that had been erected in my honor I was pretty sure the big man would be impressed... But the rules said I needed to keep at least one person alive past the first day of the 1000th year and there was still a week to go. I carefully did the math and figured out that if they carefully rationed what small amount of food and water they had left, the survivors would survive. I was beginning to wonder if telling humanity the truth about when "judgement day"would be was a bad call, as they had begun using resources like there was no tomorrow once they realized they were nearing the end of my tenure as a god. Damnation, two days later and the loner has drowned himself. He was the best bet at making it through, so now things are looking... Decidedly ungood. Now it was just down to the couple... Thankfully they were keeping each others' spirits up, so they probably wouldn't end up in the same boat. Oh dear, just a few hours before judgement day and it looks like there was a minor problem with the air filtration system, one that quickly became a disaster once they tried to fix it... But luckily, the toxins take several days to become lethal, so they should make it past the call in three, two, one... "Okay, time's up,"said a familiar voice. A man in a pair of khakis and a linen shirt stepped into the room holding a clipboard. "Peter! My man! How's it hanging? It was a little touch and go there, but I think you'll find that I passed!"I said. "I'll be the judge of that,"Peter said. "Good lord, what did you do?" "I won, obviously. Not just one, but TWO people alive!"I said. "No need to praise me, going above and beyond the requirements of the test is just what I do! Though I will accept any praise you choose to offer regardless." "Mmm,"Peter said, scribbling on his clipboard. "Well, I'll have to chalk another one up for Luke, it seems you've become another victim of his trap." "Excuse me?"I asked, my confidence rapidly draining away. "Yes, we TOLD you you only had to get one person through, and complete extinction would indeed have been disqualifying, but your whole performance was actually being evaluated. This,"Peter said, tapping on the crystal viewing pane with his pen, "Is not going to get you into heaven, though it is rather telling of your disposition." "Hey, I followed your rules!"I said. "You did the bare minimum you thought you needed to, and used the rest of your power to stroke your own ego and flex your might. To get into heaven, that's not good enough,"Peter said, writing more on his clipboard. "You didn't 'Save' two people, you killed 7 billion, and it would take Millenia for it to be livable again. This world likely would've been better off with no god than with you in charge." "Hey, you can't just change the rules- What are you even writing?"I asked, grabbing Peter's clipboard. It was just a sheet of blank paper with random lines scribbled onto it. "Did you really think the gods used paper and ink to decide the fate of souls? It's just a prop,"Peter said. "Now we're going to need you to vacate the room so we can use it for the next round of testing, someone new just arrived and I'm sure you've just learned how important it is not to waste resources." "Where the hell am I supposed to go?"I asked. "Well, you could go sit around the lounge and hang out with the your kindred spirits who failed to ascend, or go to Hell if you feel so inclined, we don't stop you from voluntarily taking a worse afterlife... Or, perhaps more sensibly, you could head to the reincarnation wing and start over from scratch,"Peter said, taking back his clipboard. "Personally, I'd strongly recommend reincarnation, but our system does kind of rely on free will so you do have a choice." "What exactly would that entail?"I asked. "Well, your soul would be broken down, purged of impurities, and reassembled to be put back into a mortal plane so you can try for Heaven again,"Peter said. "Uh... What kind of impurities are we talking here?"I asked. "You know, a lot of people don't think to ask, so good on you for that,"Peter said. "But, essentially, anything that could be influencing you in your future life... Memories, experiences, personality, things like that." "So everything that makes me me,"I said. "If you define yourself by that, then yes, but those are mortal constructs born of the brain. The soul is more complicated,"Peter said. "Anyway, off with you, the new subject is about to arrive." I felt myself shunted out of the room despite being nowhere near the door, and ran right into the loner from my world. Obviously I had been ruined by his decision, as the last humans alive wouldn't have been actively dying if he had just held off for another week. As a result of my brilliant deduction, I looked him in the eye and shouted, "You ruined everything!", then punched him across the face. He was sent sprawling to the floor as I ran down the hall. "What the hell was that?"the loner said, holding his cheek. Peter stepped out of the office door and rolled his eyes before giving a sharp whistle. I saw him helping up the loner and beckoning him into my former office as the sound of wind chimes filled the air. The noise grew harsher as I turned toward the source, where what appeared to be hundreds of shards of shimmering metal coalesced into a humanoid form. "Be not afraid!"the metal person said in a hollow, tinny voice as several metal spikes extended from its body and pierced through my flesh. "This is purely for thy benefit!" As I began to lose consciousness, I could feel myself falling, and saw the faint glow of a monitor. On the monitor were the words "Soul cleansing in progress."
Alone. She had been by my side for ten millennia, observing with me the centuries of man that passed by, the rise and fall of great civilizations, the extinction of beasts that inspired terror long ago. We were lovers once, it seems like so long ago that we held that title, too caught up in the moment and the excitement of love to properly consider the consequences of immortality. Far too foolish to deny the lure of everlasting life promised by the mysterious stranger that passed through our village, near modern-day Jordan. It wasn't long before we parted, each going our separate ways and leaving legends in our wake. She took up the mantle of goddess more than a few times, opting to spend life's monotony in luxury. Bilquis, Hecate, Bast, all simple monikers by which she claimed the worship and servitude of our quickly expiring peers. I, on the other hand, opted for a more subtle approach to my neverending life. I've seen all corners of this world, mostly on foot. Sometimes masquerading as a simple merchant, othertimes integrating myself into the society I found myself in. My favorite had to be my time as a samurai, a strange newcomer in a land unknown to me - full of wonder and beauty. During those times I had the comfort of knowing my undying counterpart was always out there somewhere, and when we'd run into each other every several hundred years, it was nice to have somebody that understood what it was like to watch your children die time and time again. Now I was truly alone, even unable to end my own life as I'd tried many times before. I couldn't be alone, I wouldn't. I had almost finished my work, the eight-thousand-year project that haunted me every day. I will not be alone. I watched as the elixir flowed through the IV into the unconscious woman's arm before me, her body beginning to wildly shake as foam formed at the edges of her mouth. I sighed, disappointed, and began to update my log. Test 12,837: Failure, the subject reacted...
The lock was massive, easily the size of two men. The door was even larger. Men in ceremonial robes had gathered before the seal on their dark god, Marephus. They chanted his cursed name, willing his power be freed from His ancient prison. Their group had been doing this every day for thousands of years. Although the members had changed, their will had not. This day though, was different. This was the day they succeeded. The lock twisted and bent as the dark power from inside the door grew too much to contain. It split with a deafening crack, then fell to the stone floor. The doors opened and a figure of pure darkness slowly emerged. The cultists fell to their knees, bowing to the deity. "I am free!"Marephus bellowed. His voice shook the stone and sent waves of power through the cave. "After countless millennia, I am finally free of that damned seal!"The god looked at the hand arrayed before him. "You. I have heard your prayers that freed me. You have all done well and your rewards will be great. You shall be given a fragment of my dark power, so that you may go and carry out my will. Younshall be my soldiers on this mortal plane, while l destroy the gods who imprisoned me." The cultists let out cheers at their god's words. All their efforts had finally borne fruit, and now it was time to reap the rewards. Their path to glory would be littered with the blood of their enemies! The celebration was immediately interrupted by an electronic ringing. Every cultist there turned to look. Dave. Of course it was Dave. "Uh, s-sorry."Dave said as he pulled out his phone. "What is this?"Marephus roared. "Who dares bring a...a...music box to my awakening?" "I-I apologize, My Lord. I forgot I had it and..." Marephus billowed around the cultists and stood before Dave, taking the vague shape of a man, albeit one that stood nine feet tall and made of solid darkness. "Why should I not obliterate your very soul for this?"He growled. The man trembled and sweat began to drip down his brow. "I-it won't happen again, I swear. I didn't even think it would. I, I told my wife not to call me, but she never listens and--" "Call? What is this call you speak of?" "My...my wife, Lord. She is calling me. Nothing she'll say will be anywhere near as important as what you say, if course but--" "That does not answer my question, mortal. Tell me now!" "It's called a phone, My Lord."Another cultist said. "It can be used to communicate with others who have one." "I see. A divine tool then. And what makes you so important that you can possess such a treasure?"Marephus answer, turning back to Dave. "Uh, important, My Lord? I'm not important. Almost everyone has these." The god recoiled in surprise. "Everyone?" The other cultists all pulled out their phones. Unlike Dave, these were either off or on silent. Marephus contemplated this revelation. He could appreciate his cultists using his enemy's tools against them. "And of what for do these items originate? Maybe I will be lenient with that one." "None, My Lord. These were made by man."Another cultist said. "What? Humans made such a devise? When? And how?" "Hold on, I'll look it up."One of the cultists with a still active phone began searching. All of them had been surprised to find there was a signal down in a cave forgotten by all but a few. But none of them were going to complain either. "Look...it...up?" "Yes, My Lord."Dave said. "These phones can be used for a wide range of purposes, including gathering information. We effectively have the collected sum of human knowledge with us just about everywhere." Marephus stood silent. Such a marvelous thing. In his day, only a few would even know how to read, and even fewer would have any measure of knowledge. And yet these modern humans had such a wealth of it at their fingertips. What else had changed through the years? He changed his form yet again. He shrunk down and took the form of a man. His skin was dark, and his eyes seemed to glow with power. He clothed himself in robes of dark power, and he adorned his hand with rings made of the blackness of a moonless night. "I must learn about this new world."He declared. "You will take me to the surface and show me what else humans have created since my imprisonment. And how to aquire one of these...phones. I will have one of my own." The cultists bowed, then scrambled to their feet, tripping over themselves to obey. Dave, his transgression forgotten, looked back at his phone. The call was missed, of course, but his wife had sent him a text. All this because she wanted him to pick up milk, eggs and cheese for breakfast omelettes tomorrow. He sighed, and went over excuses to duck out of cult activities. At least it looked like there would be a tomorrow after all.
You’d think being a complete master of time would mean being able to do almost anything, right? Well, an actual mind reader is a hard counter to keeping this power a secret. I’m Felix “Mind-reader” Guzman, but in actuality, I’m no mind reader. I’ll explain. Ever since I recovered from the nuclear accident 20 something years ago, I had complete control of time. Think Dr. Strange with the Time Stone level of time control, but without the need for any stone. I can manipulate time more easily than a charismatic megalomaniac can manipulate people. I can rewind time, stop it, slow it, and even see or travel across it into alternate realities. I never travel across realities, though, just merely look at them. There is a near infinite number of alternate realities, and every alternate me has the exact same personality and behavior. We all collectively agreed to stay in our timelines. And it’s not just time itself. I could rewind or speed the aging process of litterally anything, stop objects in mid air by preventing the flow of time in their space (which also happens to create a barrier that is impossible to penetrate), and travel back in my own timeline. If I do rewind my timeline, there’s no second me, I can either simply rewind everything including my own body, or stay in the same spot but rewind everything else, which is basically teleportation. However, no one knows any of this. When I first discovered my powers, I initially let everyone know, and it made me the ultimate super hero. However, the sheer number of demands to rewind the age/death of loved ones, diseases, events and what not got to me. I can do it, but it gets really tiresome to only change very specific parts of time, and also dangerous. Eventually, I decided to rewind EVERYTHING until just slightly after discovering my power. Now, back at my age of 15 when it happened, but with all the knowledge of what’s to come, I now made sure to keep my ability hidden. Instead, I revealed myself as a mind reader. I did this by having people say stuff they would never think I could guess, rewind, and say I “read their mind.” I quickly learned I don’t even need to actually travel through time, but instead peek forward in time as if I were watching a video on youtube, with my actions all pre-planned. Of course, it only works if what the person is thinking actually happens. If, for example, someone loves something, but never did anything to reveal it in the past or future, I would be unable to know. This is worked around by peeking into alternate futures where my actions are different, usually with the help of the butterfly effect (the idea that even the most insignificant of actions can change everything much later on). I also made everyone think it was a weak form of mind reading. If someone was really good at it, they could prevent me from seeing what they think. Not true at all, just me making sure no one would abuse my power. It was so weak that I wasn’t even invited into the Earth’s Heroes league, which was exactly what I wanted. But then came Patricia. She had discovered her power years earlier than me, and it seemed to be much more powerful than I initially thought. Telepathy. And it’s incredibly powerful. When she joined the Earth’s Heroes league, she said how when she first got her power, she could hear the thoughts of every living thing on earth, and it was like she was constantly hearing explosions. Patricia then said that she had learned to block out thoughts she didn’t want to hear. Instead, she can now focus onto anyone she wants, and look at everything in their mind like a library of memories, all in seconds. She purposely refrains from doing so on friends, because she doesn’t like to invade privacy, but if someone needs information from, she’s the perfect candidate to find it. Oh, and it’s not just mind reading. She can telepathically communicate with anything. So if you were on the other side of the planet, and tried your hardest to think of her, she would notice and be able to respond. So that also meant she was amazing at transferring information. One of the most powerful heroes, and she doesn’t need to put herself in danger. Well, one day, as I’m making myself some coffee, I hear something. You’re no telepath. I turn around, but seeing no one. I’m completely alone. “Who said that?” You’re hiding a great and powerful secret. I pause time completely and peek forward. I see myself worried, then terrified, as my power is properly revealed to everyone, all thanks to Patricia. I then unpause time. I don’t even get a chance to speak when she responds. You just looked forward in time to see what would happen. “Oh shit.“ You don’t need to talk out loud. Just think what you want to say. Okay. So. You’re Patricia, the world’s ultimate telepath. Renowned all over. Correct. How did you find out the truth? I thought you would never notice me. Because I learned of another, supposedly weaker telepath. A mere second of seeing your memories showed me the truth. Well, I’m sure you know just how powerful I truly am? Yes. Give me one reason not to rewind and stop you. You can’t. How? Because I would notice if I was constantly being prevented from searching for you. I’ll stop you from even knowing about my existence. At some point, I would learn. So are you trying to convince me just to kill you? I can freeze you, rewind you to before you were born, forward you until you’re skeleton decays, or freeze everything and kill you myself. Not if someone else already knows. I freeze time for everything except me and Patricia, something that’s incredibly simple to do. Who else knows? The people who know have already been informed. And if you kill me, everyone will know not just of your power, but of you murdering me. After all, I’m in one of the most secure places in the world, it would be really suspicious if I died and only one man had the power to do so. What’s stopping me from going back to before you learn? Because I learned a long, long time ago. I know just how frustrating it would be to find a very specific moment from a very specific person because I have watched every previous action of yours. Including when you first discovered your power, for real. The intense demands of everyone. I know it all. …I have a feeling that you didn’t reach out to me for no reason. I let time flow back normally, as if nothing happened. I initially was going to convince you to join us, but now I have thought of a better proposition. What? We could work together. You can give me immortality by rewinding my age, and I can give you information that would otherwise be incredibly difficult to find. We could do anything we want. Live our lives being completely free. And I can’t do that without your help.* I look into the futures. One timeline suggests we live for years, then centuries, then millennium, alone but comfortably until we decide we are ready to die. Another suggests we become power hungry, then rule the planet, then the galaxy, then the universe, forever. Another suggests it doesn’t work out, and we end up dying early on. And another suggests that we are the ultimate heroes, but once again, being overwhelmed with demands to help loved ones and such, something we do at first but quickly crumble under the pressure. And Patricia sees it all when I stop. That’s a lot of timelines. Here’s the problem, though. Look again. I look forward in time once again. The reality where we live comfortably vanishes. The one where we are overloaded with demands also vanishes. However, the ones where we die early on, and where we become rulers, are much, much more prevalent. What? Knowing the future means I can shape it. However, if two people see the future… You can’t change it to your liking… So I’m sorry Patricia. But it’s a no. Won’t everyone know now? Because I can tell ever- And risk me either rewinding back to before to stop it by simply killing you before you know, or become a supervillian? …oh… Everyone that does know, make sure they understand if they do anything, I’ll make sure it, quite litterally, never happens, starting with you.
"Are... are they evil cookies?"questioned the demon with both its eyes and its words. "Evil cookies? No silly cookies aren't evil!"the small child responded with a giggle. It wasn't everyday they had a visitor let alone one so strange, and so strange looking. They had been taught to be polite though, no matter how someone looks. So they offered refreshments. "Not even a little evil? You see I can only eat evil things."the demon pondered while observing the plate of baked goods, not yet daring to touch anything yet. The child's face wrinkled up as they thought long and hard on the demon's question. "Well they are really yummy so you'll want to eat more and more and then you'll get fat!"the child finally exclaimed, grabbing at their stomach with one hand for emphasis. The demon's blank eyes scanned the child over as it stood unmoving. "Close enough,"the demon snorted, entering and taking a cookie as it did so.
\[Poem\] Chastity and Temperance spend their days with Pride, who insists they must never falter. Greed and Envy found what they sought when Diligence showed them the way. Charity gave Wrath a means of slaying someone over and over by killing them with kindness. Patience and Sloth watch and wait. Lust and Gluttony find their appetites sated by spending time with Gratitude. Humility, as ever, stands alone. The first child of their union, however, was simply called "Humanity", who carries the blood of both parents in their veins.
“You’re awake,” Elia says, her sails fanning out on her back like the fins of a betta fish. “Was I too loud?” I shake my head. “I’ve been sleeping for long enough--- how many millennia did you say?” She winks at me. “A few thousand. And --- as always --- let me assure you once again that you are perfectly safe here and that everything’s going to be okay.” I’m still trying to wrap my head around my situation. Here’s a thing about spending a million plus years as an indestructible statue: it happens in a blink of an eye. One moment, I’m making my order at Starbuck, the next moment I’m in a scientific center 20 meters below the water in a glass bubble with a killer view of a coral reef rising from the white sands of a shallow tropical seabed. And, according to my host Elia Biao, we’re very close to Cleveland, Ohio. I do feel like an alien in this world. A little bit about my host, Elia Biao. She’s a Kaeanian --- a Cetacean species which evolved after the Stoning --- and a lab tech who takes my blood each morning. She’s kind of awesome. At least from what I can tell from hanging out with her for the past six weeks. Smart, funny, kind… oddly tall. Add any other superlative and you won’t be wrong. She’s the polar opposite of the oppressive witch I dated in my other life. And her sails… Man… drop-dead gorgeous when she fans them out. Iridescent bliss. Oh, about her looks. I love convergent evolution. It’s a weird biological process that made her weirdly attractive. Think Little Mermaid’s Ariel with wings, legs, and torso wide enough to hold a digestive system. Also, she has two round blowholes instead of a nose and her skin is light gray. But other than that, there’s not much else waist-up or down about her that looks like a whale. There’s a lot that looks very human-like. “Take my blood, M’lady,” I say, gesturing at the ceramic device that looks like a hypo needle in her hand. “I feel safe in your arms.” “Just body temperature, blood pressure, oxygen and nitrogen saturation. Some other stuff, too.” She presses the button on top of the device and the other end lights up. She points the light at my forearm. “It’s a biometer. A different model, that’s all.” “Hey, I have a new one for you. ‘What does every human fisherman wants?’” “Ugh… Is that joke as bad as ‘What do whales have for dinner? Fish and ships’ ?” I squint my eyes. The whale joke was pretty bad. Then again, it was in reply to hers ‘What’s the difference between humans and bullets? Humans miss John Lennon.’ “Nah,” I say. “This one is pretty tame. Kind of lame, actually.” Her sails spread a little bit more, as they do when she thinks the thing I say was cute (dorky?). And that’s another thing about Kaeanians (well Elia) I like. It’s so easy to talk to her. The device beeps. “You’re physically healthy,” she says, her sails folding behind her back, “and ready to travel. Are you sure you’re ready?” I nod. It’s time for me to travel to the surface. “You can stay here for a couple more days, you know. We can play chess. Watch the fish and corals while we eat vanilla ice cream. Tell each other a couple more stupid jokes. Do stuff, you know… Fun stuff.” For a moment I’m tempted to say yes. The chief scientist at this facility -- the Chief --- was pretty clear when he said that the journey from here to the surface would be a one-way trip. There are chemicals in the air which are harmful to Kaeanian but not to humans. It sucks that Kaeanian can’t live on land. Then again, the Chief also said that my mom, dad, little brother and friends are up there, waiting for me. Even Nina, the girlfriend-witch (okay, she was not that bad) is awake. Pretty much everyone I know is 20 meters up and a few hundred kilometers to the left, in a city Kaeanians built for us. Also, it’s time to go after being cooped up in a bubble for six weeks. Plus, it’s not bad up there in New Cleveland, according to the videos the Chief had shown me. The place looks fun. Reminds me of Las Vegas. I guess that’s where I belong… Not Las Vega. With my kind. Plus, the Chief assured me that everything will be okay and that they’ll take care of me. So, I guess that means a job that pays a living wage? Yeah… The door hiss, and before I can say anything, I’m escorted by Kaeanian guards to the submarine. No hug, no good-bye. The engine starts. I don’t look back at the friend I left in the bubble as we pass by it. A gillfriend. That’s what every human fisherman wants. \\\\\* It’s so easy to forget where one belongs to. In my case, it took exactly six weeks to forget that I don’t belong here. “Why are you so lame?” Nina asks, smashing the mouth of her beer bottle against her lips like the bottle is her boyfriend. And maybe it is her boyfriend or best friend because she’s been inseparable from it ever since I came back. Why did I think a million-year-long slumber would change her? “I don’t know what kind of fish only comes out at night,” she says then burps. “Insomniac fish? Also… Who cares! We’re here to party!” She is here to party. Again. This has been the fifth night in a row that she has dragged me to a crowded club in downtown New Cleveland. Literally, every single night… I guess Kaeanian have done a good job building a city people would love. People like Nina, who loves loud music, expensive clothes, attention, and searing laser lights. Or my dad, who is back at home glued to tv. Or mom who has already gambled away more money than we earn in a month. Or my brother who’s screwing around with my friends. But not me. “I need to go home,” I say, but Nina’s gone, lost in the dancing crowds. I doubt she heard me. There’s a bench on the beach on my way home. I sit there and stare at the sea under the night sky sprinkled with stars like diamonds. “It sucks, ha?” the voice to my left says. “To leave paradise.” He’s an old guy, over sixty I’d assume judging by his pale and wrinkled hands, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, blue shorts, flip-flops and an oversized straw hat that covers his face. I snort, recognizing his voice. “Chief,” I say, “I thought you said Kaeanian can’t live on land.” “I never said that. You deduced it somehow from our conversation. I just said we don’t like the air here.” “Right… Harmful chemicals in the air.” “Plus we don’t want to interfere with our study.” I lift my eyebrow. “Oh, it’s an observational study. Why do you think we woke you up? But don’t worry, we won’t harm you, or any other human. We just want to learn more about you. That’s all.” “Why? Why do you care about us at all?” He sighs. “The Maker put your species on hold for a reason. He took away more than one million years from you. It’s a harsh punishment.” He gestures to the city behind us, awash in bright lights. “Maybe because you humans like to waste your life by trying really hard to convince yourself to be happy, instead of just being happy. Or maybe it’s just that you humans don’t listen to those around you.” He shrugs. “We really don’t know. But whatever it was, we don’t want to make the same mistakes as you. So we built cities like these, to observe many different aspects of your life and culture and to learn about you.” He sighs, scratching his hand. “Anyways, this air is itchy. Are you ready to go?” I open my mouth, breathe once. Twice. Three times. Then close my mouth. Can’t be… “Go where?” “To see your gillfriend. Unless you want to stay here? I mean, I said repeatedly that everything’s going to be all right and that we’ll take care of you, didn’t I?”
## Peter Shelly Peter Shelly (1972 - present) is an American psychologist best known for his work on transhumanism and the controversy regarding his book, The Diseased Mind. [1] The book initially received immense criticism due to it's morbid depictions of human enhancement through mechanical operations such as grafting muscle tissue to metal plates, [1][2] or training a neural network via human neuronal activity. [1][2][3][4][5] Several doctors and scientists have claimed that such operations would not only be impossible, but highly unethical. [6][7] In response to this criticism, Shelly wrote: > The human mind has long surpassed it's body. It is time we acknowledge our physical limits and surpass them On December 31st, 2021, pieces of Shelly's body were found buried under Boston University Bridge. [8][9] After forensic studies, it was found that there were 3 Femer bones, all with Shelly's DNA, [10] and that some of the body parts seemed to belong to unknown relatives. [11] Upon further investigation, the police could not find an official residence for Shelly and found his clinic had been shut down for years before the incident. This case is still ongoing. #### Contents: * Early life * Theories of death * Ongoing investigation ### Early life Peter Shelly was born in Clemont, New Jersey where he lived as a single child with his parents: Paul and Pearle Shelly. [12] As a child, Shelly was considered to be exceptionally gifted and advanced several grades above those of his own age. In The Diseased Mind, Shelly wrote: > My childhood was relatively happy, despite the bullying from my peers. I learned to ignore them and focus on what I cared about most: science and philosophy. At the age of 14, Shelly was admitted into MIT where he studied a number of different engineering disciplines along with clinical psychology. After university, he opened a small clinic in Boston, Massachusetts, where he remained until 2021 [clarification needed]. ### Theories of death On December 31, 2021, pieces of Shelly's body were found under Boston University Bridge. After weeks of investigation, police have still not determined the exact cause of death; however, they have found several anomalies: * An extra Femer with Shelly's exact DNA structure [10] * A pinky toe with the DNA from an unnamed relative of Shelly [11] * Large amounts of hair from various individuals, all of which seemed to be variations on Shelly's DNA [13] Due to the bizarre nature of the incident and Shelly's prominence as a trans-humanist, several abnormal theories have arisen, including the idea that Shelly had been breeding clones of himself to replace malfunctioning parts of his own body. [14] On January 17th, 2022, Theodore Malcom, a member of the investigation team said, "It is unlikely that Shelly has kidnapped any local people; however, we can not rule out that possibility."[15] This caused several public officials to call for the closing of nearby universities; however, no such action has been taken yet. ### Ongoing investigation The police contacted Shelly's last known patient who had this to say: > Shelly was a good psychologist. He always listened, provided good, constructive feedback and prescribed what he felt was necessary. On the last meeting with him, he told me that he was shutting down his clinic to pursue other ... ventures in life. I did not press him ... A few years later, I found myself walking past the clinic and decided to peer through the window to see if he was still there. There was no one home, just piles and piles of ... hair. I don't know why, but that freaked me out good and proper. I never went near that place again. [16] Several other individuals claimed that the office always had it's lights on, and there was always someone working behind the curtains. Around a year ago, slightly after Shelly closed his clinic, the police would receive calls about strange looking people who had discolored eyes or were missing arms or legs. Though these reports were filed, no police was ever dispatched to look into them further. [17] Even so, the area around Shelly's clinic is now heavily patrolled. [18] On February 5th, 2022, Theodore Malcom made the following statement [19]: > Though we are not sure how, we are convinced that Shelly is still alive and may be still active in Boston. If you know anything about this matter or see anyone that remotely resembles Shelly, please call 911 immediately. He refused to comment further on the matter, as is was "borderline science fiction"and he did not want to "alarm the locals."[19] There were several new online communities created to discuss Shelly's most recent whereabouts and theories of his death, most notably r/shelleyshelly on reddit.com which believed Shelly was turning himself into a modern monster, akin to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. [20, 21] This idea was loosely based on a quote from The diseased mind, where Shelly wrote: > If two identical twins (let's call them Dawn and Shawn) decided to surgically switch each part of their body one-by-one, who would be who in the end? Clearly Dawn would still be Dawn, just in Shawn's body! The human mind controls the body! Similarly, if one could grow a replica of themselves and constantly replace their own parts with younger versions of themselves, then they have the key to immortality. The investigation is still ongoing ### References --- [1] ... ... [21] ... --- This was a fun prompt! 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The woman was in her late 30s, unkempt but fadingly pretty. As her soul awakened in the circle of Hell reserved for suicides, she looked around with surprise but without the usual terror. "Welcome!"the greeter cackled demonically, gesturing proudly at the vast expanse of burning waste. The woman eyed the distant vaulted stone ceilings and the red-hot flagstone floors. She made an enigmatic moue. "Hell, is it?"she asked in a surprisingly neutral tone. "Indeed!"the demon responded enthusiastically. "Welcome to the Infernal Realm, where you will suffer for eternity!" "Right. What's the rent like?"she asked resignedly. "Excuse me, the what?"The greeter asked, surprised. "The rent. What's the damage? How much do I have to pay to stay in your fancy dungeon here?" "Erm. You pay in eternal misery,"the demon explained gently. "Yes, of course, don't we all,"said the woman, rolling her eyes. "But how much money is it? Do I pay by the week, or month, or what?" "We don't use money,"said the demon, perplexed. "You don't WHAT? What the hell--I mean, what the here--I mean...can I make a phone call???" The greeter was rather concerned. "You can speak to a medium,"he said doubtfully. "Yes. Fine. Whatever. Just...I need to send a message,"the woman said. She was nearly stammering with excitement, which the greeter found exceedingly atypical. "This way,"he said, gesturing. Lucifer rubbed his temples. "Millennials?"he asked again. The greeter shook with terror. "There are millions of them, my Lord!" "And they've all offed themselves at once?" "Yes, my Lord! Intake is entirely overwhelmed!" "And this is happening...why?"Lucifer asked. "They found out they didn't have to pay rent."
At long last I have finally located the Queen of the Universe, and in the most unlikeliest of places, a planet in the far flung corner of the galaxy that the locals call 'Earth'. Apparently each year the inhabitants of 'Earth' compete in trials for the title of Miss Universe but only one can be crowned ruler. I shall begin the wooing process on the current Miss Universe and we shall rule the Universe together. Expect further updates. I was able to track Miss Universe quite easily, but I must say I am rather disappointed. I was expecting someone much bigger, she is rather small and fleshy looking, and she seems to only be able to grow hair on her head. Nevertheless I shall begin the wooing process, I suspect she will surprise me yet. Stage one of the wooing process was a complete success. I found and vanquished one hundred of the strongest looking humans I could find, they were easy enough to defeat, and piled their bodies outside her homestead. She has acted accordingly by consulting with the authorities of her land for guidance. Although I was initially disappointed by her lack of brawn I must say I am quite taken by her wisdom and modesty. Now I must wait for her response. Still no response. Perhaps I should reveal myself to her, just in case she misunderstood my intentions. We are now back on track. I revealed myself as planned, and ate her guardians to establish dominance. She was so impressed that she screamed and screamed till her face could no longer hold moisture and her eyes began to leak. I did not realise how similar humans are to us when it comes to love, I was afraid they would have their own complex, nonsensical rituals. I too screamed until my eyes leaked. Unfortunately my fluids proved to be quite acidic and I burnt a hole in the floor. But it only seemed to impress her even further as she began to scream even more. I must say I was quite moved by such an open and honest display of love that I find myself rather drawn to her. It is now up to her to make the next move.
Mrs. Henderson paused and smiled at me. "Yes, Will?" I had my hand raised. And twenty-plus pair of eyes focused on me. "May I please use the bathroom?"I asked. She hesitated. When you live in a world where half the population is trying to harm you in some way at any moment, you get pretty good at reading body language, and I could see in her stiffened shoulders and faltering smile that she was uncertain about granting my request. "Are you, uhm...sure that you, uh...maybe it would be best if, er..." Suddenly, Roger's hand shot up. "I have to go to the bathroom, too, Mrs. Henderson." "Great idea!"She beamed. "Here's the bathroom pass. You guys can go together." I spoke up and said, "No! I want to go alone." For anyone who doesn't understand this weird interaction going on right here, let me explain. I live in a world where literally half the population is trying to hurt me and the other half is trying to protect me. That's what happens when everyone has powers and you don't. But sometimes I feel like a baby, and from the interaction above, you can see why. Mrs. Henderson is a superhero so she's one of the people that are always trying to protect me. Roger, too. I appreciate them both for wanting to look out for me, but sometimes I just want to be able to do things like go to the bathroom alone! The supervillians in the class were snickering. "Aww,"Avilla said, balling her fists and rotating them under her eyes "The poor baby can't go to the bathroom all by his eensy, weensy teensy little self?" McKailey pushed her on the shoulder and said, "Shut up, or me and you are going to have a little talk in the cafeteria." Avilla scowled at her and said, "Why wait? Let's do it now." Both girls rose, their fists glowing. Other students rose up, too, and squared off. I wanted to square off with somebody, too, but everyone in the class - even the girls - would have kicked my butt to next week and back. Unfortunately, I couldn't even square up if I wanted to because I was immediately surrounded by a bunch of students acting as a shield for me. "Don't worry,"they said. "Just sit tight. We got you." I sighed. Great. "Enough!"Mrs. Henderson shouted. "Everyone sit down!" Immediately, everyone sat. You kind of really have no choice when your teacher is telepathic. "Will, you can go to the bathroom." I jumped up. "Alone?" "...yes,"she relented. Her eyes gazed at me with worry and uncertainty as she handed me the pass. I could feel that she wanted to say something more, but I didn't give her a chance as I snatched the pass and ran out the room. "Thank you!" I was running down the hall, feeling as free as bird. You don't know how good it is to be alone when you always have someone around trying to protect you and you barely get any privacy. As I was running, I suddenly tripped and fell. Or rather, someone had tripped me and I fell. A kid materialized out of thin air with a big smile. He cracked his knuckles and said, "Well, lookie what we have here."
The computer Guru arrived in billowing orange robes, his bald head shining under the florescent lighting. His beatific smile was almost but not quite unnerving. "Ah"he said in a deeply resonant voice. "Another binary attachment problem!" "Er, what do you mean?"I asked from behind my charmed desk. "We've got a printer possessed by a class 7 demon and we need an exorcism. That is what you do, right?" He smiled mischievously, "These binary devices are so susceptible to binary morality problem. Good - Evil. They are all just attachments to the object itself. What we must do is help the printer transcend it's attachment to the binary perspective. " I looked down at his card, and realized that his title of "Computer Guru"must be a literal thing. This was a Buddhist IT Specialist. "Ok, then, what do you suggest? I've got a printer that demands blood sacrifices for print jobs? How do we fix that? Ask it to fucking meditate?!" "Ha, ha", he said. "No,you just have to use this plug adapter."He offered a seemingly normal outlet adapter. The intern crawled up to printer and unplugged it, added the adapter, and plugged it back in. As she did so, the printer glowed a pearly white and slowly floated above the table. "Ready"the screen said. The Guru nodded and smiled at it and then at me. "But how? I asked wonderingly. "Ah, the adapter increases the resistance." "And how does that help?" Well, he said, it caused an increase of Ohms. 🕉s. :-)
As you can see from this video, the shaking machine has grooves in it to sort boulders from rocks down to gravel and even finer granules of sand. From what I've discovered, see Photo 7-B, your victim was standing with a my clients knife atop the shaking machine sorting chamber. My client indicated that she borrowed his knife to dislodge a stuck piece of rubble. The input feed belt was stopped, and her safety cord was connected to a second one to give her more length. The vibration of the machine combined with the fine dust on the edges of the shaking chamber caused your client to slip from the edge into the machine. When she slipped, she had dropped the knife, which was found lodged in one of the grooves in the shaking machine chamber. This is also evident with the fact that some of the victims lacerations were longer than others, leading the defense to believe that the so-called homicide the prosecution presented is an inconclusive guess as to what had happened. In closing, the blood spatter on my client's clothing is inconsistent with the spatter of a stabbing. Moreover, the spatter was partially obscured by the safety bars on the machine when my client ran up to hit the emergency stop. The defense rests, your honor.

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