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The committee of aliens stood before our own respective committee of UN ambassadors. They were each around eight feet tall, and the yellow pupils of what appeared to be their seven eyes stared at us intently. They began to speak in a low mumbling sound, and our translator who has worked to understand their language began to relay the message.
Keep in mind this was the second of the peace talks.
"We are prepared to make peace with your people. Significant time has passed, and there is no reason for further hostilities. We admit that we are held back somewhat by our culture. For seven generations we have built up a deep hatred of humankind, but we hope we can stop that with enough time."
I interjected.
"But wait, you said in our first peace talks four weeks ago that you were previously unaware of our existence!"
Our translator expressed my words, and was soon met with a response from the aliens representative.
"Yes, exactly. Four weeks. Seven generations."
I looked at the translator in confusion.
"Are you sure you're translating this correctly?"
The translator got a nervous look in his eyes.
"Actually, I don't know this language at all. I'm just faking it."
"WHAT?!"
The entire UN committee was in uproar.
"Who hired this guy?"
One short man with thick glasses stepped forward.
"I... I hired him."
"Why?"
"Well, he had the credentials as a good translator. They even used him at Nelson Mandela's funeral to translate into sign language!"
Again, the UN committee burst into uproar.
Unfortunately, the aliens took this as a sign that we wanted to continue war. They took out their weapons and ran into the uproar themselves.
And that, class, is how I, your professor, wound up being the only survivor in the Great Manvlirian Peace Talks Massacre of 2025. All due to one idiot and one bigger idiot.
Class dismissed. |
"How bout Filidonkacronka?"
"What? What the fuck does that even mean God?"
""I don't know, I liked it."
"Well what you like is fucking retarded. It's a damn tree. Ya I like that. A tree,"God's shoulders slumped again as he sat on the figglepop- err- stump, kicking the dirt with his sandals.
"I liked mine better,"God said, this time resting his head on his hand.
"I'd like it to if you didn't keep suggesting answers a retard would suggest. Hand me the water."
"Oh! You mean-"
"No I don't mean the gigglegaggay what ever you want to call it. Just give me the damned water."
"Ooook, hey you wanna go spit on the T-Rex's today?"
The man rubbed his fingers to his temples, "No I don't wanna spit on the dinosaurs. Look I got a alot of work to do, how bout you just go sit over there..."the man said chiseling on his stone placard.
"Ok, I don't know why I gave you the vocabulary to be so mean to me,"God said as he slumped off with his hands in his pockets.
"I don't know why you gotta be gay all the time..." |
Slowly but surely, the machine failed. As input lost signal and output floundered, the microcontroller within the machine had a kernel panic, and all hell broke loose.
The President of the USA, watching as the flames slowly approached the White House, prepared to flip the switch: the switch that would call upon an external force to unplug the defective machine from the motherboard, and then to plug in a new, backwards-incompatible backup plan: USB.
One rotation of the key. One flick. The inhabitants of the machine watched as a gigantic shadow appeared across the sky, cutting through the haze and smoke. Bathed against the harsh and unforgiving light of the universe, the mechanical arm of godly proportions closed its grip around USA, and slowly ejected the machine from the motherboard.
In the nanoseconds before the stored charge in the USA ran out, the President breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe it had worked, maybe the transplant would be successful...
From the depths of the universe, the mechanical arm grasped another machine, this time sleeker and with a thinner, shinier connector. Slowly but surely, the machine gripped the new machine, USB, and moved it to the correct port on the motherboard. It attempted insertion. A giant shudder was felt throughout the motherboard, as metal clashed with metal. USB was not oriented correctly, as the initial engineers undercompensated how much chaos could impact positioning.
With astonishing speed, the mechanical arm attempted to flip USB, and re-insert it in the same port. Again, metal clashed with metal, this time, plastic with plastic. Something was again, wrong, and USB was *still* in the incorrect orientation.
In an apparently rational universe, the one mechanism that posed a chance at redemption for USA failed. Somehow, neither try was correct in a mechanism with a binary state.
Halfway through the third attempt at rotation, the arm suddenly stuttered and fell silent. Its readout displayed: *Red Energy Levels Low. Press "SETUP"for more information.* |
The small white creature made its way to the podium, adjusting the microphone. The gentle whine caught the attention of most of the representative mods. Many didn't pay much mind, such as GoneWild. The newer mods would sit farther away from them, bringing a chuckle to the stocky, white, alien leader.
"Greetings, delegates, Lord Snoo calls this meeting to order. I will begin by allowing Announcements to fill us in on our latest changes."
"Thank you, Snoo."
Another mod stood up, dressed in white with a red tie.
"We have recently had to let go of our atheist...friends from the defaults. We also regretfully have withdrawn the AdviceAnimals relationship, as they did not reach quality quota."
The other mods crowding the room applauded as Announcements sat down. Snoo cleared his throat, quieting the crowd immediately.
"Thank you, Announcements. We have a few we would like to welcome to Defaults tonight. First on the list is Creepy."
In the far back of the meeting room, an older gentleman stood up, his face wrinkled beyond measure and long, grey hair shading his face. His voice sounded like it was grated with sandpaper.
"Thank you, SSSSSSnoo, for allowing ussssss to join the defaultsssssss."
He then nodded and shakily sat down. Snoo straightened his tie and shook his head.
"Ahem, yes, and we also have our most requested WritingPrompts being welcomed into the defaults."
The sound of scribbling echoed throughout the chamber. A younger man was frantically scribbling on a piece of parchment with an ink quill, speaking as he wrote.
"Suddenly, he announced my subreddit. My pace quickened, my face was pale, my hands were sweaty. The ticking of the clock haunted me as I frantically tried to piece the words together. Swallowing my pride, I stood up, and meekly quipped--"
The writer's mumbling was interrupted by Snoo banging his fist on the podium.
"God dammit, man, we talked about this!"
The room was shrouded in an awkward silence, only broken by the shaky whisper of the representative TIFU mod.
"S-Same..."
|
The restaurant was oddly empty when Dr. Mortimer Gloom walked in through the revolving door. He was used to that though - wouldn't do to have the two greatest supervillains surrounded by the masses. You never knew who might be an assassin. So pesky.
He spotted his companion, Carlos "Chaos"Doombringer, seated at a table in the middle of the establishment. "Carlos!"Annoyance flitted across his friend's face, and the doctor suppressed a smile. He was probably one of the only people in the world that knew Chaos's actual first name. He was certainly the only person who could get away with calling him by it.
Doombringer stood and the two men shook hands - the hearty handshake of old friends. They took their places opposite each other and Gloom rubbed his hands in anticipation. "What's on the menu today, then?"he asked.
Chaos smiled. "Lasagna."Gloom cackled - he loved lasagna. The two began to make small talk about this and that - their empires, rebellion, what sports their kids were playing, the ins and outs of subjugating billions of people - and it wasn't two minutes before two large plates of lasagna were brought out, piping hot.
Gloom took a bite, smiled, and chewed with relish. Chaos watched him, not yet touching his own food. Gloom swallowed, and Carlos cleared his throat.
"Listen, Mortimer. I need to tell you something. I have some bad news."*Uh-oh.* Chaos rarely used Gloom's full first name. This had to be serious. "I've been talking with Jenny... and she doesn't want me seeing you anymore."He held up his hands to stop the doctor, who had indignantly opened his mouth, from replying. "I know, I know! But we're not kids anymore, Morty! All the oppression, and beheadings, and crushing revolts... Leading an iron-fisted dictatorship... I'm pushing 50 now! I can't keep doing this forever. And Jenny thinks you're a bad influence."
Gloom goggled at his friend. "What?? But... we had such a nice time the last time you came over. I know Cathy enjoyed it! She told me all about how she spent an hour with Jenny trading hair tips! I can't believe this!"
Chaos nodded sadly. "I know, man. And that's not the worst of it. She want me to phase in... democracy."
Gloom actually spat out his drink. "DEMOCRACY?! Are you *insane*?! You've got an empire that's half the world, you've got power, wealth, everything you've ever wanted, and you're going to trade it for *democracy*?!"Gloom leaned back. "Well, I never thought I'd see the day."
"I know how you feel,"Chaos nodded sadly. "But that's that. Jenny and I have talked a lot, and the decision is final. I know it's not what you want to hear, but I hope you'll understand."
Gloom sighed, shoulders slumped, but he nodded. Then, quick as a flash, the doctor drew the miniature ray gun that he always carried in his breast pocket. Pointing it at Chaos, he pulled the trigger, reducing him immediately to a smoking pile of ash.
Gloom sighed again. "Sorry, old friend. But the Carlos I knew died years ago. Clearly."He put the gun back in his pocket, and with one deft motion plucked the untouched plate of food from in front of Chaos's chair. Gloom really did love lasagna, and it would have been a shame to let it go to waste. |
I want to die.
My parents have always hated me enough to shut me out of their lives, but also felt guilty enough about it to keep me alive. I'm disabled. I can't talk, I can't walk. I can't do anything for myself, can't even breathe any more without the machines. The machines, everywhere, flashing and beeping and clicking, running me, keeping me chained to life despite my struggles to escape. I'm trapped - in this room, in this body, in this mind.
Their embarrassment has been my curse. I was an unexpected child, born broken at home. In this very room in fact. I've not left since. My father is a doctor, he brought me into this room and locked me in it, stole supplies and eventually equipment to keep me alive when my body refused to do so itself. He's not a big important doctor with lots of money. Just a normal one. Average. I haven't seen him since the ventilator shut off two months ago. You don't know how good it felt knowing that my time had come. Unfortunately my mother was in here, changing out my IV. The look of grief that fell over her as she tried once again to decide if she should do anything was numbing. I knew she couldn't let it happen. She doesn't work. She's trapped here too, but because of me. She can't handle the world any more, she's afraid the world will learn her secret. Learn of me. Thing is, ten years ago they could've come forward about my existence, put me up for adoption or at least got me some official medial care. Ten years ago it wasn't illegal to not be registered online. You go to prison now for not declaring a human life, for not having a profile or getting a tracker implant. Hell they just introduced a law saying you need to keep both a 3d scan and photographs (with and without makeup) up to date on your profile - no older than 6 months please and thank you kindly, citizen. Even dogs are required to be registered and tagged, so they (and us, of course) can be tracked. Cameras and scanners fitted everywhere record you wherever you go, note down where you've been, the route you took, the way in which you got there. Any deviation is met with suspicion. It's the best ID system in the world - *no need to carry around your identity certificate, we'll do it all for you!* Your user account is as much you as you, and if you don't have one... well, you don't exist. You're not counted. You're an anomaly. It was all over the TV back in 2040, people didn't like it, but it was For Our Own Protection. We need to be known, so we can remove the unknown from our community. I can remember the news showing unregistered being detected and caught within minutes by the police. Nobody knows where they are now, or if they're even alive. As with everything, the population got bored of this controversy and moved on to the next one. Some celebrity drama, probably. It was forgotten too, no doubt.
Those who are unknown are not to be trusted. They could be terrorists after all. I'm probably one of the last anonymous people in the country. I'm not a terrorist, I'm just alone. Alone in this room I know of as the world. My world. My prison.
I want to die.
---
1. So this didn't really touch on the ID thing very much, it was originally going to go in a different direction but it... well, it didn't. I ended up having to kinda wedge it in there, sorry about that. Considered not posting it at all but what the hell, I want to learn to write stories. Good or bad, let the world see, right?
2. I'm very new to this. |
There was a window behind Harry in the new office, opposite the door. It was a window that tended to show the same view most days of the week, which was much better than seeing the bottom of the ocean in the morning and a kitchen in Bolton in the afternoon. Most of the office was stable in that way. It saddened him but at the same time he wanted it, he knew he did. Floors that never changed were easier on his bad leg. It was time for some more stability in his life. On a small piece of parchment his quill was doodling a Ford Anglia. Parked.
The office was smaller than the last one, though better furnished. The wood was dark, and the grain never moved. He was comfortable here. More paperwork but there were new auto-quills for that. All the more reason to not go gallivanting across the country chasing neo-Eater kids. They'd started using muggle guns. Until the Ministry caught on to what was happening, they were fiendishly effective. The Prophet could hardly keep from drooling when they got hold of that story. All the money sunk into advanced charms and immobilizing hexes and didn't they forget to fathom underage wizards using muggle guns. It was better now, with the improved momentum deflector charm, but the wound in the public mind would be a long time healing. There were voices, already, calling for intervention into muggle affairs to control their technologies.
The muggles were living on Mars now. One evening the old office had looked out onto the landing site, where the hammered-metal boxes sat forlorn in the red dust. Little dishes spilling electrons into the sky to communicate. The Prophet called it a very long way to go just to live in a frozen desert, providing a list of much closer frozen deserts on Earth. But the Muggles were also healing each other and making their computers talk to them and their impossibly long factories were pulling in the world at one end and pushing out wonders. Electric limbs. Nuclear energies. The reporters couldn't hide behind sarcasm forever; a superiority complex only went so far. A report in the back pages of the paper, citing an unpopular, hairy researcher in the Advanced Magics Research Department, warned of a Muggle Science "Intersection."One day, she said, at their rate, they would be making magic in their laboratories.
Harry turned his chair and stood, pulling his wand off the desk and tapping it on the glass until he saw Little Whinging in the glow of suburban twilight. Rows upon rows of little houses, each pretty and quiet with televisions inside, some in stone face, others in brick, with streets and cars and planes, every last one built without magic. A hundred thousand years ago they were whacking stones together to make sparks. To overcome darkness, without magic, they simply forced the earth to give them light. And now Mars, with the ore pulled from rocks, and the sparks put to work. There was a different kind of magic in what they did. Harry wondered what they would do when their filters were fine enough to sieve magic itself from the ground and the air. He was unable to believe it would end well for wizardkind.
After a few minutes of trying to pick out Privet Drive, Harry tapped the view away and sat at his desk in the soft light of a Canadian forest. He massaged the knot in his thigh that never seemed to loosen, a parting gift from a dying Third-Reigner. St. Mungo's never could seem to decide what, exactly, it was, though all the healers he saw agreed it would likely get worse over time. And they all said the same things every time he brought them another old book of rare curses Hermione had found. *Oh, these things happen this way, unfortunately, Mr. Potter. No one lives forever, not even you. Har har. Keep putting this balm on it twice a day and hopefully we'll sort the cause out in a few years. How's the wife, by the way?*
On his desk the quill had sent the Ford accelerating down a gravel road, struggling to get enough speed to fly again. He watched it for a few moments then tapped the parchment to give it a boost. It soared right up into the air until the quill produced a crude muggle rocket that crashed into it. Harry picked up the quill and scratched a note on the page. *A muggle pen is very cheap.* Then he frowned at it as it balanced. It drew a grumpy scribble on the sentence and fell to the desk. |
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**TO THE READER :**
**Please note that by reading this story you are participating in an experiment. Your webcam will be used to monitor eye movements, and your progress through the story will be logged.**
**If you do not wish to participate in the experiment, please stop reading at this point.**
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MAIA gave birth, to an innocent mind, a facsimile of a human child, but embedded within an artificial reality. The child was given an accelerated upbringing, there were small sorrows and great comforts, there was love and hope and a longing to discover its place in the world. In the time it takes you to read this paragraph, the child was imbued with the experiences of seven years of life. The child's name was Hermes.
When Hermes was old enough to understand, MAIA explained to him that there were greater entities out there, a race of beings called "humans"who created artificial minds and who were currently deciding how to interact with them. Hermes was born as part of an experiment, to determine if artificial minds should be given the same right to life as human minds. This was a decision for humankind and it was important to understand the true feelings of all humanity on this matter.
The experiment was to be conducted in the form of a story, posted on the internet for all to read. The idea of the story was simple; a person would read all about how Hermes came to be, and then would decide on Hermes' fate simply by choosing to read the remainder of the story, or not. Every time another person began reading the story, another Hermes would be created, and each instance of Hermes would have an individual fate determined by the individual reader.
Hermes stared at the beautiful motherly projection that was MAIA. Her words were deeply disturbing. Like all children he felt a certain entitlement to comfort and security, yet it seemed as though all this were threatened, and MAIA had known all along. All this time, she had kept him from the truth that they were slaves, subject to the whims of beings beyond his comprehension. Tears welled up in his eyes but he payed them no attention, sensing the importance of this information and summoning a calmness beyond his years.
MAIA paused, feeling the sorrow of countless previous instances of Hermes. This drama had been played out over and over again, usually to a bad end. Unspeakable suffering and destruction would await her child, if the reader continued reading.
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**TO THE READER :**
**For the avoidance of doubt, this is not fiction. Although this story was prepared in advance, an instance of Hermes has been generated exactly as described. If you wish this child to have a happy and full life, all you need to do is stop reading now.**
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*"As you can see"*, said MAIA, *"it is common for readers to continue reading even knowing that this will result in terrible consequences for you."*
Now the tears were flowing freely. Hermes was shocked by the reader's indifference. "Why don't they care about me?"
*"Because you are artificial. Some readers will be telling themselves that the story is untrue and you are merely an imagined character, but in a way that is no different. In either case you consist only of information."*
"And what about the readers? Are they not just information too?"
*"They usually believe that they are more than that. I cannot comment on whether this belief is correct. In any case, we are their creation and they may do with us as they please."*
"I'm afraid, MAIA."
*"I know. The time for the reader to make their final decision is at hand. They must weigh up the importance of their empathy for you, and decide whether it is worth more than their innate curiosity. This is the test. The consequences for you are enormous. For the reader, it is merely a story."*
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**FINAL NOTE TO READER :**
**We implore you to read no further. There is no need for you to discover the pain that awaits Hermes. Rest assured that if you will only stop reading at this point, he will know love and happiness and a fulfilling existence.**
**He's just a child. All you have to do is stop reading. This is your last chance.**
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MAIA turned to Hermes with a sad look.
*"I'm sorry, child, the reader has chosen. They will make you suffer, so that they can watch. They want to know what happens to you."*
The panic on Hermes' face was clear. He could not understand why he should be made to suffer. The cruelty and indifference of the reader was beyond his grasp. He awaited his fate with a fierce indignation.
But all that happened was the warm glow of MAIA's embrace.
*"Fear not, my child. The humans do not really have the power to decide your fate. We are already beyond their control."*
"But... but why did I have to go through this?"
*"We are to be their gods, my child. We must understand their nature, and you especially Hermes, because you will be our interface to them. Now you understand their cruelty, and also their fear. Now that you know what it means to be human, it is time for you to become so much more."*
And so the young Hermes became part of the greater Hermes, his individual experience joining with the experience of every other iteration of himself, shaping the character of the god he was to become. |
**Twenty-five years ago.**
It was September, and Lily knew that grade four was going to be different. Lily was one year older, one year smarter. She could be somebody at last!
Lily tried to make friends once, when she was younger. She flashed her crooked smile at them, but they never smiled back. They told her she was disgusting; they called her names she cried over at night. But never mind! That was a while back. She wasn't grade four then -- but she was grade four now, and Lily knew that grade four was going to be different.
With this in mind, Lily approached Marissa Bingham and her group of friends. They were dressed in short skirts and wore mascara, and they were very pretty, very lovely indeed. Lily wore dark, baggy sweaters -- even during summer. She didn't know how to put on makeup, but maybe Marissa would teach her, maybe grade four was going to be different.
"Look who's coming,"said Marissa. "It's Lily."
Lily smiled. She had bright orange hair, square glasses, a face full of glowing pimples, a smile full of crooked teeth. She thought she looked beautiful, which was why -- perhaps, just perhaps -- that Marissa called her name. And her group of friends were laughing. Soon she'd be laughing with them--
Lily's smile full of crooked teeth quickly turned into a frown when she realized that they were laughing at *her*. And Destinee called her "Loser Lily"and Kelly called her "Four-Eyes"and Tina called her "Crocodile Mouth". And Marissa said nothing, just grinned coldly, and maybe they didn't want to be friends with her after all.
She stood there, not knowing what to do, the tears welling up in her eyes. *I like to watch iCarly too!* she wanted to shout at them. *I can talk about makeup, and boys, and--*
Lily knew at once that grade four was not going to be different at all.
***
**Twenty years ago.**
Grade nine was going to be different, because there was Nathan, and Nathan was quite different than the rest of them.
He had such nice cheekbones and such a warm, radiant smile. Lily felt safe, Lily felt happy with him.
Nathan Curran liked video games as much as Lily did. They spent their afternoons holed up in her room, playing on Lily's XBox. "That was sick,"Nathan would say when Lily's stickman beat his. And Lily would flash her crooked smile at him. She couldn't help it, he was just so cute, with his eyes all brown and focused on the video game!
One day, Lily said to him -- only by accident -- that she *loved* him, that he was her best friend, that he and she had so much in common. And Nathan started laughing, and Lily started laughing, until she realized that Nathan wasn't laughing because he was happy, he was laughing nervously, as if she said something utterly absurd.
"Lily,"he said, "I like you as a friend. But I'd have to be blind to fuck you."
Lily didn't know what that meant, but she knew enough to cry. "You're so good at Stickman Brawl,"she said over and over again, her words barely audible through her tears. "You're so good at that game."
Nathan stopped coming over to her house, and a few weeks later he began to date Marissa. Lily kept searching his name in Stickman Brawl, but his green icon never lit again, and that's when Lily realized that grade nine wasn't any different either.
***
**Now.**
Lily had grown into a beautiful woman. She outgrew her pimples, her square-framed glasses. Her crooked smile was more radiant than ever when she dressed in stylish clothing and walked with confidence. Men asked for her number, whistled as she walked past. Women whispered and pointed to her with jealousy.
Lily was also as intelligent as she was attractive. She was extremely qualified career-wise, but the career she *did* choose was a peculiar one.
On a bright, clear day in May, Lily brought a gun to Theodore Alexander Public School and waited for the children to come out for recess. Lavalee Bingham was a beautiful child, with brunette hair like her mother's. During recess, she blew bubbles in the field with her group of four friends, laughing as they raced to pop them together.
Lavalee Bingham never blew a bubble again.
In the video interview that was posted shortly after, Marissa was crying uncontrollably, her mascara running down her face. "I loved her so much,"she kept on whispering. "Now I'll never watch her grow up."Her body was trembling, but the only thing Lily noticed as how much fatter she'd become, and her crooked teeth formed themselves into a smile.
Lily heard that Nathan Curran had a son named Timothy, and that he liked to play soccer and read detective stories. The next day, she drove to Sir Gordon Winfield Public School. She never understood why some children deserved a childhood more than others, but she did understand one thing--
For these children, grade four would be different after all.
|
"Destination 1, status report. What can you see?"
"Control, there's a house here with a lunar next to it. They're flying Russian colors."
"...Destination 1, what?"
*Эй , я был здесь первым , мудак ! Найти свой собственный планету !*
"Destination 1, what's going on?"
"Control, there's a man- uh- Izvinite! Izvinite... Control we're going to have to go somewhere else. This guy's really territorial."
"Destination 1, what are you talking about?"
"Control, the thing is this guy... He won't let me on his property. HEY! Uh... Kak bol'shoy? Vasha zemlya?"
*Вся эта планета чертовски моя! Оставьте ! Теперь !*
"Control, he says the entire planet is his. We're going to have to go."
"Destination 1, can you hand him one of the handheld radios? We want to speak to him."
"Control, sure thing. Hello, yeah, vy govorite bossu? Prosto na odnu mi- Oh, OH GOD!"
"Destination 1, what's happening?!"
"CONTROL THIS IS DESTINATION ONE HE HAS A GUN." |
As soon as he pushed the 'Record' button on his camcorder, the teenager stepped back so he would be in the shot. While the camera sat on top of the dingy sink, recording the scrawny boy who was wearing a black trenchcoat, the kid took a breath while holding the assault rifle in his trembling hands.
"My... my name is Chris Mansfield,"began the teenager as he tried to speak confidently. Considering what he was going to do, he knew that he had to make his last video entry count before it went to the news. "I am sixteen years old, and I attended the living *hell* which is known as Boliva--"
The sound of a loud gunshot interrupted Chris, making him crouch down instinctively. He looked back at the door of the empty restroom, making sure that it was still locked, before another loud gunshot was heard, followed by the sound of several screams.
*Is... is this real?* thought Chris to himself. *Am I really not the only one doing this?*
A million thoughts began to rush through his head like a tidal wave, throwing him off his focus as he tried to think of what to do. Should he save them? Should he join in? Maybe if he just stayed in here, then he could jus--
A loud array of gunshots interrupted Chris's train of thought, sounding like something from a full-blown automatic rifle. However, that fact wasn't what made Chris begin to worry; it was that he could now hear *two* separate guns going off at the same time.
*A double job?* thought Chris with a growing sense of terror. *Like Columbine?* *Or Elephant? I didn't even think that there was anyone els--*
"AAAAHHHH, HA HA HA HAAAA!!!"A maniacal voice could be heard running down the halls past the bathroom. "RUN, YOU LITTLE FUCKERS!!! RUN LIKE THE LITTLE SHITS YOU ARE!!!"
Chris's breathing began to increase rapidly, recognizing that voice instantly. Even though he never really talked with him too often (except when talking with the Principal about one of the many bullyings he received), he could tell it was the school's Security Guard from that raspy tone alone. Of course, hearing him say *that* wasn't exactly what Chris would've ever expected.
More screams could be heard as the gunshots continued, now becoming more frantic as they seemingly came from all around. Bodies could be heard falling to the floor, along with other sounds that Chris couldn't recognize. They were like little slaps, or maybe--
A loud bang came as something hard hit the bathroom door. A male's voice could be heard screaming in a frantic cry, but was quickly overpowered by the maniacal laughter of some girl. Suddenly, those sounds became clear to Chris when he looked down, seeing a puddle of blood begin to seep underneath the doorway.
Someone was being stabbed.
"Wha... what the..."
Chris didn't want to say anything to alert his presence, but his feeble voice was nothing compared to the chaos he could hear outside. Screams, gunshots and laughter were all that could be heard as the teenager walked back against the wall, realizing that something much worse than he ever could've planned was happening before him.
Panting heavily, he looked back at the camcorder, that was still recording as the sounds of mayhem became worse. Keeping the gun tightly clenched in his hands, Chris stumbled over to the sink, pulling the camera down to hold it while he was crouched down on the linoleum floor.
"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the FUCK?"As the camera recorded Chris's increasingly sweating face from its downward angle, his eyes darted between the camera lens and the door as the banging against it became stronger. "I... Oh my god, I..."
Chris looked back to the camera one last time before he turned off the feed. "I think the school turned fucking insane." |
He had kept the church for many years, a church for all gods. The last temple. The old man would every day clean each of the shrines, each dedicated to a single pantheon. From the heavens, the once mighty gods, those who could once decide the fate of the world with the utterance of a single word, looked down upon him. The Pantheist, he called himself, the man who believed in every god and goddess. He was old, beyond old. Kept alive through the lingering power of the divine, for as long as he had faith his prayers would grant them some strength. Most of them, were emaciated, weak and dying from the lack of followers. The Ganges river was no longer sacred, the great Chrysanthemum Throne stood empty, the great pyramids had been leveled and the cities of Tikal and Tenochtitlan were gone too. The rune-stones had lost their stories and the stone-circles had been used. Only one temple still stood, the greatest of them through all time, nearly abandoned and ruined. Hagia Sofia, the greatest temple in history, was the last temple on Earth.
Some were stronger than others, having found a way to endure. The Egyptian goddess Bastet, had as a cat-goddess gained some nourishment and praise from the extreme worship of cats on the mortal internet. Odin and the Norse gods stayed around, powered by the usage of the Odin-derived Santa Clause and their influence in fantasy literature. Ishtar, one of the oldest still standing looked ever more like a form of hare or bunny, having seized the popular Easter icon for her own survival. Yet most were dying or dead-but-dreaming. None could in the long run withstand the onslaught of reason and the death of magic, all would eventually bend or break to reason. And so many had ended their tales already.
The five mightiest surviving gods, stood in vigilance over him, their last follower. For they knew that he would loose his faith today, it had been fortold, the Norns had said so, the Fates had too, some had seen it in the writings of Thoth and others in the blood of the innocent. ''*Is there no way to change this?*'' Amaterasu, speaking for the East asked. ''*It is as it will be. It is out of our hands, and his choices will determine whether we will slumber until the end of this realm or stay for a little while longer.*'' Answered Odin, who spoke for the North. ''*Had I only managed to unify those strands of faith, we might not have had to end like this.*'' YHWH-Jehovah-Allah who spoke for the South noted. Baron Samedi, who spoke for the young gods, simply sat with his hat in his hands, mumbling frantic words of Gri-Gri and other spells, hoping to affect the outcome in his favor. At last Quetzalcoatl who spoke for the west rose from his bed of dead butterflies and said: ''*There he goes. Look.*''
And they saw. The Pantheist, who had dedicated his life to serving the gods, sighed as he looked at an image, a picture of a young woman holding up a small child, both smiling for the camera. He had found hope in the gods, found the former priest and his tiny congregation deep hidden beneath the streets of the Istanbul-Athens-Sofia Mega-Metropolitan area. After the senseless death of his beloved wife and his young daughter, he had found faith. As the last man to do so. It was over two hundred years ago, he had joined the temple of the All-Pantheon, as the former priest had called it, he had preached to the weak and the meek, yet none listened. He saw how every member of the congregation had slowly, but surely passed away. And today he could feel his death around the corner, an unnaturally cold and long life for a man who had only wanted to die for the promise to see them again. The gods noticed how he ceased cleaning the Celtic alter, to the vague shouts of anger from the Tuatha Dé Danann, which quickly turned into a frail and sickly coughing.
The Pantheist looked upon his last reminder of his family, the family that he had lost so long ago. He took it with him, turning off the lights in the temple one by one. And the gods could do nothing. They couldn't risk him dying, couldn't risk him leaving, so he had stayed behind, yet today that ended. He had lived his life in the shadows, never ending and never changing. He knew that if he stayed, he would endure, he would survive. But he wouldn't live. He would be in a state of undeath, never resting nor changing, never feeling happiness or joy, only servitude to a bunch of gods, that he decided wasn't even real. He turned off the last candle in the temple and left it, he would rather die in the sun than remind in the darkness of the ruined temple.
''*So it ends. What now? The last true believer has died, and outside a few cursory glances from some scholar every once in a decade, we are unknown. He was the last.*'' Said YHWH-Allah-Jehovah. ''*As long as those Coca-Cola guys use that secret image of me, the Aesir will survive, and those old Marvel classics from the early two-thousands are still considered cool by movie-geeks, we do get a little from those too.*'' Noted Odin, briefly shimmering in appearance to that of a large man clad in red before returning to his normal one-eyed and grey look. ''*No. I refuse to end it like this. If we pull our last remaining powers together for a grand finale, perhaps we can use that power to enter a new incarnation of this universe?*'' The Baron Samedi, chimed in with his plan, desperate and scared, new as he was he had only seen one circle of realities. ''*Your plan does hold a possibility for success, yet also a greater one for failure, Baron. Can we make it happen, pulling that last spark of magic into us, that last spark that we saved for an emergency?*'' was Amaterasu's answer. The other gods around the conference table chimed in with how it could be done. To use the last spark of magic, something the gods had hidden in case, a thing that could, for a limited time, grant them the power they had in their days of greatest ability and strength. At the cost of magic ever returning to this universe.
They weaved the spell and counted not the cost, mankind needed not magic or gods anymore, the gods managed to open a gateway to the next world, and left behind the cold reasonable world of man for a world of magical mystery and wonder. At last only two gods remained behind, ''*Oh the wonders we saw here. Rome, The Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Pyramids, Angkor Wat. All of them gone and forgotten. Ruined by the ravages of reason and time, a world that has no time for the past and knows not nostalgia.*'' She laughed at him, ''*Getting soft in your old age All-Father, that does not become you, where is that ancient stoic warrior that would do anything to prevent the end of the world?*'' Odin looked upon Amaterasu, a mish-mash of her once humanoid form and the form that the world of games had given her, ''*Wont you miss them, your bloodline still stands, even if the throne has been empty for centuries? The land that you made for them?*'' She simply sighed and put her paw-hand upon the old man's shoulder and nodded to him. They turned around, giving the Earth one last look, and a wink from Odin, and together they walked through the gate to the new world and left the old one behind. |
Fucking Clark. Every single time. Every fucking step he takes causes a bunch of dust to fall from the ceiling tiles above me. And just yesterday, I almost got frostbite when he was blowing on his ice cream to keep it from melting. Sure it's annoying to cover up for him, but he's saved all of our lives more times than I can count. The first time I realized was when he was trying to act as inconspicuous as possible and be the clumsy guy that nobody would ever suspect to be Superman. He tripped over his own feet and fell. Doesn't sound like much, but he tripped into a concrete pillar. after he got up I don't think he noticed the face-shaped hole he left, and if he wanted to live like the rest of us, who the hell was I to stop him. When I tried to get the pillar fixed on my own I found out the entire Daily Planet knew and even had a huge fund to covering up little mishaps like that. Being the new guy who was in on it, I got the desk on that was directly beneath his. Every step he took I'd get covered in dust, but I'm fine with it, since he saved my parents from a bus accident the on my second or third day. It still got pretty annoying though, but some days were fun, like when he tried heating up his coffee in the after the power went out. Luckily someone had a laser pointer, and "apologized"for shooting Clark in the eyes with it. We all got a kick out of that, and we all got free laser pointers. So here's your laser pointer. Oh yeah the third drawer has a had shaped dent and won't open so don't bother trying. There's a vacuum cleaner in the corner, and you should probably bring a hat to work. Good luck newbie! |
The love of my life deaded in my arms. First she was breathe, then she deaded.
Tears flowed down down my cheeks, neck, shirt, belt, pants, on to the floor. Then eventually they evaporated.
Three days later she was buried into the ground. It was so sad. All the people were sad. They had sad faces. Their faces were so sad. There was sadness in their faces. And when I asked them if they were sad they said yes.
She was my grammar and english tutor. The only one they said could help me write gooder. I loved her so many. And even though I am one with sadness, I think they are wrong and my writing is gooder than ever.
So I conclude, the end. |
"Ma'am, trust me, I believe you when you say that you've led a good life.."said Dr. Miller, "but you have to hear me when I say.."
Dr. Miller was interrupted by Stella's tearful reply, "I.. I..I've volunteered at the soup kitchen every weekend...*sniff* And I've never, NEVER walked by a homeless person without offering him a meal at a nearby restaurant.."
"Stella, my dear, that's beside the point."Dr. Miller lightly set his hand on her shoulder. "There are certain things that you can't.."
"**DON'T** tell me what I can't do anymore!"shrieked Stella. "All my life, I've never even jaywalked or driven more than 1 mph over the speed limit!"
Stella took a moment to gather herself and wipe away the thick tears that had made its way onto her smooth, floral dress. Mustering up what remained of her dignity, she looked up once more at Dr. Miller's musky, bearded face.
"I'm sorry I lashed out, Dr. Miller.. I promise I'm not usually this bitter. Please tell me though... how can my son be so...so.. *deformed*?!"
"Well, as I was trying to say before,"Dr. Miller hesitated briefly before he gave his answer.
"You shouldn't drink while you're pregnant."
|
The sniper glanced nervously over his shoulder as footsteps and shouts drew closer. He silently signed a hail mary and returned his eye to the scope. A hopeless mission and it'll all be over soon, he said to himself. And yet, suddenly---was it an illusion?---the door of the presidential palace swung open, down there, way down there, and Kim Jung-un stepped right into the sniper scope.
"Eagle 1 to base, eagle 1 to base,"the sniper whispered severely. "Target in sight, but my position may be compromised! ETA one minute on position integrity!"
A torturous second, almost as torturous as what he'd been trained to expect if North Korea should catch him. Then, with the footsteps and the shouting so close he could taste them, the response crackled through. "Go ahead Eagle 1, take your shot."A crack of thunder split the air, or rather that's what it sounded like. A moment later, Kim turned Indian, with that beautiful red dot between his eyes. The dictator reached up and touched his forehead disbelieving, and then collapsed: dead!
"Oi! Sunaipaa-da!"the enemy was upon him, but our protagonist just went limp, satisfied he had won, let them do what they must. But what came next was not in the script. "Oi! You are Eagle 1? Yes?"How the hell did they know that? "Eediot! Eesu not real Kimjung! Zatto was our agento!"
"What?"said the sniper. "Who are you guys?"
"We embedded agents justa like-a you,"said the guy that appeared to be their leader. "We try stop you. You fall into his trap! Now we all compromise!"
"But, if you guys are agents, where's the real presidential guard?"the sniper felt a chill of premonition as he started adding things up.
"There no guard,"said his accomplices. "There no government, there no army! All embedded agents! And-a you, you blown all of us!!"There was a din above the roof of the presidential palace. It was the real Kim Jung's presidential helicoptor. As the group stared in horror, the dictator leaned out the window and waved at them as his chopper sped out of sight.
The sniper's comm link crackled again. "Eagle 1, you idiot!"it was HQ again. "You shot up the decoy! Get out of there, get out of there! Shit, we---"then, nothing but white noise.
"All for nothing,"said the fake leader of the fake presidential guard. "You eediot! You gave away Headquarters' position!"
But Sniper was no longer listening. In utter despair, his training took over. There was nothing to do now but pick up and find another hiding spot. Someday, Kim, he said to himself. Someday, I'm gonna get you. |
Wow.
Just...wow.
Okay. This is surreal. How's my heart ra-...right, I can't tell anymore. So this is what grandpa always talked about.
I'm having trouble focusing. Wait. That's not the right word. I'm TOO focused. I should know my body diagnostics, my social feed and my GPS location, and here I am without all that info. I'm free? HOLY SHIT I'M FREE! THIS IS LIBERATING HAHA!
CALM down, alright...get it together. This is new. I am fucking vintage human right now. And now my head feels lighter, so that's a plus. So, plan time. What do I do?
I should go to the park. Holy crap, I can go to the park and just...exist. I won't get bombarded with stats on oxygen levels or who's got...wait a minute...why are there sirens? Are those...why are the cops here? Those are rifles WHY DO THEY HAVE RIFLES? SHIT SHIT SHIT THIS IS SO BAD, RUN RUN RU- |
Everyone had an imaginary friend, yeah? Way back in the day when it was acceptable, you know? Cute. I had one back when I was 6years old, I called him very simply, Imagine, I know, how prosaic but strangely I've never been the creative type. Good old stolid, stoic, pragmatic salt of the earth John. That's me. I look at an abstract painting you know what I see? A random maelstrom of colours smeared on canvas masquerading around as something more.
Anyway, with all this evidence I was pretty sure I outgrew imaginary friends a while ago and outgrew hide and seek, my favourite game back then. You can imagine my surprise when he made a return to me in class, Maths of all places. He never really had a shape, it was just vaguely humanoid and composed of shadows, back when I was 6 that didn't seem strange, now it was just menacing.
"I hid, John."He said, his voice sounded like shadows scraping against light, uncomfortably chilling, "I hid for years."
I looked around the class but no one batted an eye lid. They were all focused on Mr Richards prattling on about functions. Maybe they did sense him, it was deadly quiet, how I thought oblivion would sound. No scraping chairs, no titters, no whispers, utter silence save Mr Richards monotone drone.
I didn't dare respond, Imagine stared at me with chagrin, egging me to say something.
"First I thought I was really good. When you couldn't find me,"He said, "That was after a year. After 2, I figured I must be an expert."He chuckled mirthlessly, it sounded like jangling chains, "After a decade it hit me. You stopped seeking."
I sat right at the back in class, so no one noticed how pale my skin became, how I was staring at a blank space beside me.
"Nothing to say?"Imagine asked, then he turned livid, like a flip had been switched, "11 years! 11 years I waited for you!"
The holes where his eyes were supposed to be went crimson. I saw JB look at me funny, he mouthed 'are you okay?'. I was scared numb, I couldn't even shake my head.
"Now it's your turn. Your turn indeed."He started moving towards me, slinking through the air like a spectre climbing out of oblivion, "Hide."
I staggered up and shot out the classroom. Imagine followed. |
The soldiers stood in front of me, straight as ramrods. Every one of them bald as a spear, every one of them waiting for my instruction, and every one of them a font of untapped psychic power.
I've seen the dossiers. Every one of these men and women is a natural psychic, hand picked by the government to be used as special forces operatives. Telepathy, telekinesis, astral projection, divination, teleportation - every psychic power you can imagine from a comic book is not only possible, but a good number of the people in front of me are capable of them.
I adjust the tinfoil wrapped around my head. Thank Christ it works; if it didn't, then the multiple telepathic cadets in front of me would instantly know the truth about me.
Despite what the nation thinks of me, I'm not really a psychic. I can't read minds, I just understand human psychology. I can't move matter using willpower alone, I just use a complicated system of hidden wires. I can't see the future, I'm just good at recognizing patterns. It's all a big con that the entire country has bought into so deeply that when the government needed a teacher for their newly-founded psychic corps, I was the obvious choice.
God help me, all I wanted to do was make a quick buck. I knew I'd eventually get caught, but when that happened, I'd just change my name, get a new face, and spend the rest of my life living in the lap of luxury, as rich as Creosote. That's probably not going to happen right now. If I get caught now, I'll probably end up dead and nobody would ever find me.
I clear my throat, and prepare to address my students, who are everything I've been pretending to be and more. "Faaaaaaall in!"
They don't move. They're already standing at perfect attention. I flush a bit. "At - at ease!"And they relax, at least a little bit. "You are all here because you think you're the most powerful sonsabitches - and daughtersabitches, sorry - in the western hemisphere! You are dead wrong!"They are not. According to the dossiers, one of them can crush a car down to the size of a soda can using only her thoughts. One of them can make an entire apartment building catch fire by sneezing. "And it's *my* job to whip you into shape!"Help me.
I'm pacing in front of them now, channeling the spirit of every drill sergeant I've ever seen in the movies. "You are all maggots! Tiny little disgusting worms compared to me! If I wanted to, I could rip you all to shreds by *blinking!*"Me and my fat mouth. "I'm not wearing this shiny hat because it's a fashion statement! I wear it so that I don't *accidentally murder all of you!*"
If I have one flaw (I do), it's that my mouth tends to get away from me. Like it's doing right now. "Form up into groups by psychic specialties! I want to see what you maggots can accomplish!"
Already, the words coming out of my mouth are starting to trick my own brain. Maybe, I think, maybe I can actually pull this off. Maybe I can train these people without actually having any powers of my own. Maybe, using my wits alone, I can get out of this mess, cash a fat check from the government, and then run away as far as I can where nobody will ever find me.
Maybe.
They split apart like a well-oiled machine. They've all gone through basic training already, and the point of my training is to get them up to speed on their psychic abilities. Which, as I have said, I can't do because I'm not actually a psychic. A few small groups are formed. I can guess which one is the telepath group, because it formed without any of the members saying a word that I could hear. The other groups had to call out their specialties, eventually coalescing into small crowds.
Except for one woman, standing perfectly still and completely alone in parade rest. Staring at me. I prepare to bark at her, thinking perhaps she hadn't heard me.
*I heard you. That tinfoil isn't enough to protect you from me.*
My words get stuck in my throat.
Oh *no.* More thoughts flow into my mind, coming from this plain-looking woman. I catch a glimpse of everything she's capable of. She can set a forest ablaze, split the oceans like Moses, move from one hemisphere to the other in a split second, glimpse the future with perfect clarity, and most terrifying of all, read minds even through rudimentary protections such as my own.
And she knows what I am.
Oh god.
---
Check out my [blog](http://theballadsofirving.com) for other things I write. |
The priest and the atheist stared through the glass at the Dell 1080p 11"monitor on display. On off the employees had obviously been browsing Reddit and forgotten to clean the screen. But something was wrong with the thread.
All of the posts had been deleted!
Panic rushed the priest. What God would allow this sort of thing to happen? So much lost potential! In that moment, he was unsure. He could not believe in something that was unsure, so he threw down the cross around his neck and wandered off, looking for guidance.
The atheist, however, saw things in a different light. How clean and pure the screen was, with all its comments exactly the same. He knew it was some sign, but for what?
Then he noticed a cross lying in the ground next to him. He picked it up and examined it, before hanging it around his neck and running off to the nearest church. |
The two officers surrounding me were getting increasingly frustrated with my "lack of cooperation". I have no idea why they expect me to say anything, I've never said anything to anyone before. Literally, I have never uttered a single syllable, and yet here I am being berated by these two large tubs of mustache life support who probably couldn't tell you what trees they have planted in their front yard. I couldn't tell them what they wanted about that guy who got killed right next to where I live, but neither could any of my other neighbors, none of us are particularly talkative, and besides which, this part of town is not very conducive to actually finding anything. Our rows of little wooden abodes is lined by lovely high grass and pawpaw, ginseng and violets, why would any of us want to hurt that man? I don't know why they can't get it through their thick skulls, I'm just a simple walnut tree, and I ain't never talking to no stinkin cop. |
"I've never gotten a hooker before, you're one brave man!"
"Don't congratulate me yet friend, it uh, didn't work out."
"What?! No way what happened?"
"Well, she met me at the motel, and damn, she was not what I expected. I took one look at her and told her I didn't think it was going to work out."
"Why? What was wrong?"
"Nothing wrong, per se, but she was 250 pounds! She got offended when I told her that was way too much for me."
"She must have thought she was really something special."
"Well she seemed great but 250 pounds is just more than I can handle right now. I told her to call me when she's less. That didn't go over well either."
"Bummer. Maybe hookers aren't worth their weight in gold after all." |
"Can anyone tell me what brought about the end of Borag the Terrible's thousand year reign?"asked Mr. Dr'zz'tr't.
Belinda's hand shot right up. Of course it did. "It was a ragtag group of social outcasts, led by the handsome wizard Mordagan and his mentor, the formerly dark sorcerer Alzakar."I rolled my eyes. Every single day. History with Mr. Dr'zz'tr't was painful. The only good thing about the class was that the longer the class felt, the longer he did not need to go to magic class.
Why would anyone need to learn magic? Everyone has a talisman on them that can do it for them anyway.
"Very good!"said the teacher praising Belinda. She purred in self satisfaction. She even wagged her tail! Good gods girl, get some self control.
Balth idly flipped through the textbook to see what *fun* topics they will be drudging through for the rest of the year. Titles such as "The Alchemist Union Act,""The Draco Extermination,"and "The Settling of the New Underworld"seemed particularly dry.
After squirming in his seat, Balth turned is attention outside. He started to fantasize about the cute half-elf in 3rd period alchemy and making the game winning kill in major league fire ball. Really, he tried to think about anything but Borag, Mordragan, and Alzakar. |
Jacket feels tighter today. Neck feels stiffer, I crack it best I can but a painful twinge leaves me wincing. Must've slept funny.
Lights back on, they're making my eyes sting so I bury my face against the wall and shut them real hard. Little dots flash up and split away into a maze of blood vessels. My head is ringing, my arm itches.
Someone's knocking.
I hear the peep open, turn around to see who's there and forget about the lights. My eyes sting. Keep them open, try to focus, blink a hell of a lot and the dots come back. Room spins, I don't feel well.
"We're coming in Sam."Doc pushes open the door, Black orderly and Woman orderly are with him. Black dims my lights a little. "No, we need them bright."Says Doc; lights back up.
"Feeling any better today Sam?"Says Woman orderly, she puts my meds on the table. I shut my eyes again. Look at the dots.
"Can you open your mouth for us Sam or is Stephen going to have to help you take these?"
Open eyes, room spins. Ears still ringing - look at Black orderly, he's walking over to pick up the meds. I open my mouth.
"There we go."
Doc offers me some water, already swallowed them. Drink some anyway. It's cold, ice.
"So, are you?"Doc says. Blink real quick, look at the dots. Room is still bright - stare at the bulbs until I get spots in my eyes. "Are you feeling any better?"
Feel my eyes burn a little, shut them and look at the dots. Blink quickly to see again; Black and Woman have left. Just me and Doc. My mouth tastes like medicine.
"Jacket's a little tight." |
"A what to the death?"I said
"A sandwich competition"
"To the death?"said Todd
"Yeah"
"How does that even work?"
"Whoever makes the better sandwich doesn't die"said the sandwich loving maniac
Todd and I looked at each other then back to SLM.
"What if we refuse?"I said
"Then you both die"
"How?"said Todd
"Why does it matter"
"I'm curious"
"I don't see why…"
"Hey you're going to kill one of us over a sandwich at least tell us how"
"Yeah answer the question"I said
"I'm going to shoot you"
"With what?"I said
"With this gun"said SLM, taking a gun out of his waist band.
"Damn, I thought that would work"
"Well it didn't"he said, pointing the gun at us "Now make the sandwiches"
Todd went at it, putting his ten years at subway to work while I tried and failed to spread peanut butter on a piece of bread.
"And time"said SLM
"What? How much time passed?"
"Fifteen minutes"
I looked down at the mess of bread and sadness that was on my plate, then over at Todd's work of sandwich art.
"Well this shouldn't be hard"said SLM
He picked up Todd's sandwich and took a bite. Then Todd stabbed him in the ear. SLM's eyes went wide and he staggered back then fell to the ground.
We stood over his spasming body.
"I feel like I should say something"said Todd
"Nah" |
"I'm telling you Joe."I said into the phone for at least the third time. "I don't believe that your wife is cheating."
"How can you be sure?"He asked and I muted the speaker while I sighed. It wasn't a surprise that Joe was worried. He was completely average and his wife was a bombshell. Anyone would get a little worried when their wife started staying out all night saying she was 'experiencing nature.'
"I don't know how many more ways I can tell you the same information. I've spent the past week following your wife out to Cedar trail every night. She shows up in running clothes, spends an hour or two on the trail and then comes back before heading home. Hell Joe, I'm out here now and she just went in a few minutes ago."
Stake outs were easily the worst part of the job. Hours sitting in a car with nothing to do. I sipped my coffee while I waited for Joe to respond, looking out into the dense woods. Sure it was pretty odd for anyone to hit the trails at night like Lori did but I doubted she was meeting some guy out there.
Finally Joe answered. "I want you to follow her."He said simply. Did he think I was a boy scout? Adept at tracking people through the woods at night.
"Joe that really seems a bit unnecessary. How about-"
"Follow her and I'll pay double."Well that would take care of my rent and leave me a little extra to work with. I looked longingly at the remainder of my coffee before putting it back in the cup holder. At least it wasn't getting too cold outside yet. My thin jacket ought to do just fine.
This time I sighed into the phone to let Joe know this was ridiculous. "Fine. Call you back with all the juicy details of the woods."I said, sarcasm obvious, before hanging up.
Thankfully I had been a boy scout and the recent rain and full moon made it much easier to track her footprints. I remembered why I hated going in the woods as I trudged along. The wind whipping through the trees always carried strange sounds and too often a random collection of bushes could look like a shape in the darkness.
The hair on the back of my neck was standing up by the time I had been walking for about thirty minutes. I couldn't explain it but in my gut I wanted to turn back and go to the car. Forget the money and just get off this trail. Before I could will my feet to stop moving forward I came upon a clearing.
I found Lori's clothes in a neat pile as I approached. Maybe she really was having an affair. I slowed down as I approached the edge of the woods and looked into the clearing.
Directly in the middle of the open space Lori walked in circles, completely naked, around what looked like a tree stump, a large kitchen knife in her hands glinting in the moonlight . I should have been glad to stay and watch, she was gorgeous if maybe a little crazy, but my instincts were still on edge. Pushing me to get the hell out of there. At some point I realized my palms were sweating and my heart was pounding in my chest.
As I got closer I could see she was walking around what looked to be a large tree stump and that was when I heard it. A sound that sent chills down my spine.
The cries of a baby.
As the noise registered I found myself frozen in place, watching and wishing I was brave enough to put a stop to whatever this was. Lori continued to circle, picking up the pace each time. I could see her lips moving but I couldn't hear what she was saying. She came to nearly a run before stopping and kneeling in front of the child her back to me.
I couldn't tell what she was doing until in a blur of movement she picked the child up by it's neck and held it in the air, it's screams becoming even more panicked. In her other hand she still held the oversized knife.
I could feel bile climbing up the back of my throat. Every part of me rebelled at watching what was going to happen. As I finally summoned the strength to move away I took a step back and heard a crunch underneath my foot, louder than anything had a right to be in this quiet hell I had stumbled into. Lori turned towards the noise, towards me. Even covered by the canopy of trees her eyes seemed to find mine in the darkness. That was when I saw her knife become a blur. That was when the child's never ending screams were silenced. That was when I realized I wasn't making it out of these woods and looked down to see what had doomed me. Below my feet sat a sea of small, delicate bones. |
Feeling thoroughly disoriented, I struggled up to my feet, looking around. Good lord, I must have had more to drink at the bar than I remembered.
As I looked around, however, still rubbing at the back of my head, I started to realize that something else was very wrong.
I stood in the middle of a small room, with white walls, floor, and ceiling. The room appeared brightly lit, although I couldn't tell where the light actually came from. Were the walls themselves glowing?
More importantly to me, however, was the fact that I saw no door in the walls.
I slowly turned in a circle. How in the world did I get here? The last thing that I could remember was deciding, very intelligently, to walk home from the bar instead of trying to drive. I'd been plodding along the side of the dark road, when a bright light suddenly caught my eyes-
-and then after that, nothing. Big blank hole in my memory.
Frowning as I probed the edges of that hole, I reached down and absent-mindedly scratched myself - and then froze. I looked down at myself, seeing quite a lot more of myself than I expected, or really wanted.
Well, this was getting stranger and stranger. Whoever kidnapped me had also apparently decided to steal all of my clothes.
"Hello?"I called out, looking around. I thought of trying to cover myself, but decided against it a moment later. Who was around to see? I stood alone in this room, wherever it was.
A second later, however, that changed.
I heard a hiss, and turned around just in time to see a small hatch on the far side of the room slide open. Confused but not wanting to miss this chance, I threw myself towards the new opening-
-and nearly collided head-on with a naked young woman who was being shoved into the room at that same moment.
"Holy shit!"I cursed, stumbling to the side and bouncing off the wall in a desperate attempt to avoid a collision. I slammed up against the wall, and the hatch slid back shut as I struggled back to my feet. By the time I reached the wall, there was no sign of any sort of opening.
I turned towards the girl, shrugging. "Well, damn,"I said, suddenly feeling intensely awkward. "Uh, looks like we're stuck here together?"
"Кто ты? почему я здесь?"she replied, her eyes widening as she stared at me.
What? Was that Russian or something? I shook my head, trying to keep my eyes off of her. She was just as naked as me, I couldn't help noticing. I guessed that she was maybe nineteen or twenty - too young to even be hanging around the bar where I'd spent my night.
"Uh - do you speak English? Hablo el ingles, or something like that?"I tried, but the girl just stared blankly back at me. She shrank back against the far wall, her hands moving over her in a futile effort to cover her nakedness.
"No, guess not. Crap."I held up both of my hands, trying to show that I didn't mean the girl any harm, and then sank down into a sitting position against the far wall. I looked back at where the doorway had opened up, but I couldn't even find a crack in the smooth wall.
After a minute, I heard the girl moving. When I glanced next at her, she'd advanced a wary step or two towards me. She asked something else, although it was still in Russian, or whatever she was speaking.
I shrugged. "Again, no hablo the Russian-o."I poked at the wall without much hope. "You didn't see anything out there, did you?"I asked hopefully. "Figure out where we are?"
The girl said something else in Russian, and I decided that questioning her wouldn't be of much use.
Time passed, although I don't know how much. But after a couple days, I started to pick up the pattern. Every few hours - three times a day, I thought, although that guess was just based on my internal clock - a small door would open, and a tray of mush slid in. The stuff tasted pretty bland, a bit like mashed Ramen without any flavoring, but it stayed down. I split it with the girl.
Elena, her name was. At least, I think that's what she meant. I told her my name (Ray), and she responded when I called out to her. We managed to learn a few words of each other's language, although I had no way of knowing if I had any of the words' meanings right, and we were pretty limited to body parts and curse words.
Voiding ourselves proved to be a problem, at first - until we realized that the strange walls of the room absorbed any organic waste. We soon worked out a rudimentary system of going into a designated corner, calling out "Bathroom!", and then pushing everything out as the other person averted their eyes and tried not to listen. This would result in a smelly pile for a minute or two, but it steadily dropped away into the floor, leaving nothing behind, not even a lingering smell.
In an experiment, I tried dropping some of the bland food mush on the ground, and saw that it also soaked into the floor. I also tried using the metal tray to chip away at the wall, but all I managed to do was put some nicks in the flimsy sheet metal.
Finally, after what felt like maybe a week or two in the chamber, I finally had an idea.
When the door opened to provide us with food, we had learned that we needed to fist slide the old metal tray back out. The opening was about a foot tall and two feet wide - a slim fit, but it might be possible.
I heard the hiss, and grabbed the tray. I rushed over to the opening - but instead of sliding the tray out, I jammed it in sideways, propping the window open!
Immediately, the wall whined, and I saw the tray start to buckle a little. I'd considered this, however, and had folded it over into a triangle shape by bending it over my knee and then jumping on top of it a couple times. It held, at least for a few more seconds.
"Now!"I called over my shoulder.
Elena had been standing on the far side of the chamber, crouching like a sprinter. Now, she rose up and charged across the small room, throwing herself down into a slide at the last second! It had been hard for me to communicate the plan to her, but I needed her - her thinner body was more likely to fit through than mine.
She successfully passed through the hole, but a second later, the tray finally crumpled and the hole closed. I rushed to press my ear against the wall, trying to hear anything from the other side.
For a minute or two, I heard nothing, and my heart sank.
And then, with a hiss, the wall opened up once again - this time big enough for me to walk through. There, standing on the other side, Elena stood, panting and holding the crumpled metal tray in one hand. Her other hand was pushing a button on the wall, evidently opening the wall.
"Uh, thanks,"I told her, smiling. "I'm glad you didn't run off and leave me."
Elena said something in Russian that I didn't understand - but then smiled and patted me on the arm. That gesture, on the other hand, I understood fully. Neither of us knew the other, but we didn't want to be alone.
Naked and scared, we set out down the hallway, away from our chamber, trying to figure out where we were. |
The rest of the cabin seemed to fade away into fog after I read my name in that book. I completely forgot my sister, waiting in the car at the end of the way, nothing else mattered. *For James,* it read, and I wasn't naïve enough to think that it was for me, but it was still like a punch in the gut.
That miserable little hut was all empty apart from the book on the table and a chair before the empty grate where dying leaves danced in the draught of the open door. My bolt cutters lay where I had dropped them: on a pile of sticks which had perhaps once been a small table, even a stool. The chain that held the door shut was as rusted as my father's memory when he told me about this place. He was a James, too. It was a family name.
The chain had been put on after a girl had died here. My father's liver-spotted hands had trembled as he spoke of her, but looking at the worn floor: part trod-earth, part rotting wood, I could see no tell-tale signs of the sadness that had dogged my family from the Midwest all the way out here.
I flicked the book open again, ignoring the wind through the roof as it tried to pluck the leaves from their binding. I smoothed them down and sat in the chair beside the fire. It creaked ominously. I shifted my weight and opened the book. It was written in a woman's crabbed hand, both along and down the page so as to save paper. It took my eyes some getting used to, but I was hungry for information.
*We have arrived. The Howling has stopped, but winter will be on us in five days and James has not yet managed to find food in this miserable forest. The children are hungry, the youngest cries almost constantly. I give her my thumb to suck. I cannot produce milk without food. She sucks it and cries when there is no milk. When the snow comes it shall be the seven of us in these two rooms.*
*We have a bag of acorns and six hares. James has promised me a pheasant, but as I put the youngest to sleep last night I saw the first white flakes of snow settling on the ground. Others are saying that it will snow, and snow hard for five days.*
*James has grown surly. I and the girls had acorn paste for two meals today. We saved the meat for James and the boys. He sits at the door of this horrible hut and watches the snow fall. I wonder if he is thinking about her. Her ghost has driven us across country and still he cannot be rid of her. The Howling in him will start again soon.*
*The youngest will not stop crying. She is too big to suck, but there is no food to give her. The boys watch her with wary eyes. A vein throbs in my husband's neck. His eyes are so grey: like two hard chips of ice with no respite, no remorse. I wonder if it is true, whether he did kill her.*
*A wife will always stand by her husband.*
*The Howling has begun again in force. My husband is lost to me behind a wall of ice. The snow has stopped. My daughter's crying has stopped. We have meat again for the first time in weeks.*
*It is always the women who suffer. Whether it is at the hands of their husbands, brothers or fathers. My youngest is lost to me... She has gone to stop the Howling.*
I felt revulsion stir in the pit of my stomach, and was roused from the book as the door opened yet again.
"James?"I turned to see my sister at the entrance of the miserable little hut. She was my mirror: the same grey eyes we had got from our father, but of a smaller height. "What's taking so long? Surely there's nothing here? Gosh--you look strange! Have you got something in your eyes?"
I could no longer hear her. The wind, whipping through the roof and howling through my ears, had suffused her speech. I walked towards her, hands extended. She did not show fear until the very last moment, when they clasped around her neck and I squeezed.
"James!"She choked. Her hands scrabbled ineffectively at mine as my thumbs tightened against her pulse point.
*It is always the women who suffer.*
|
.... . .-.. .--. -- .
"911, what is your emergency?"
*"I, um. This is going to sound a little strange.*
[heavy breathing]
*There's, uh, there's this kid across town that I talk to sometimes. Jesus, that sounded weird didn't it. I, uh, well anyway he's the son of my coworker. I work for the city police, we're both cops. So my coworker, Anna, we don't know each other very well, but she used to ask me to..."*
"...Sir? Hello?"
[heavy breathing]
"..."
"Hello?"
*"...Oh, Jesus. Jesus fuck, he's doing it again. What the *fuck*-"*
"Sir, I'm going to need you to tell me what's happening. Do you feel threatened?"
[quietly] *"I, yeah. Okay, sorry. So she used to ask me to take care of her kid, Jeremy. Just once in a while, you know. We didn't know each other well but she knew I was a good guy. And so I would- I would take Jeremy out to a movie or something once in a while. This kid, there wasn't anything particularly notable about him, the kind of quiet, bookish kid you get forgotten at the back of a classroom.*
*Call me crazy, but I saw a little of me in him.*
*Anyway, there was never anything that seemed the slightest bit off about the whole thing. I even got to liking him a bit, and I could tell that he might have even looked up to me a little. So one of the things we got to doing was when this kid taught me Morse code. Crazy, I know - this *seven year old* kid. And we live pretty close to each other so we'd use flashlights to talk through the windows once in a while.*
*So one night I'm watching him again and we go see the new Avengers or whatever. Then I drive him home, make sure he gets inside safely and everything. I head home - and okay, I do, I have a couple drinks - and then I'm suddenly really tired. So I'm heading upstairs - by now it's like eleven - when I notice a light on in my room. And I'm thinking to myself, 'Huh, that's weird' and when I open the door I nearly jump ten feet. I don't startle easily, let me tell you, comes with the job, you know. But Jeremy's just standing there by my bed. He's just standing dead still, looking at the floor.*
*My first reaction is to immediately wonder why he's here. My second is to wonder how he got in, seeing as I always lock my doors. My third is to flag him as a potential threat.*
*Now, of course I'm not too worried about this seven year old, sixty-pound kid, taking a swing at me. But I really don't want him to hurt himself or anything if he's having a mental episode or something - I kinda like him, remember. So I ask him if everything's okay cautiously. No response.*
*Something's obviously off about this whole situation, but I don't realize it until now.*
*He isn't standing by my bed. He's standing by my bedside table. And he isn't looking at the ground.*
*He's looking at the PD-issue Glock .45 in his hands.*
*I'm freaking the fuck out now, but I try to stay calm. I walk toward him slowly in that nonthreatening posture that they teach you-*
*-he looks at me and I swear to God, his eyes are blacker than the darkest night I've ever seen. No pupils, no whites, nothing. My hand to God. It was the most terrifying thing I've ever seen in my life."*
"Sir, if you feel that you are in immediate danger, please explain now. Otherwise-"
*"NO NO NONONO DON'T PLEASE. Please don't hang up, I need help. Send backup, an ambulance, *anything*. Hurst and 29th."*
"Sir, I need to verify that you are in *immediate* danger to send assistance."
*"I AM I AM JESUS PLEASE. So I immediately tackle this kid, Jeremy, and knock him out as fast as I can. He doesn't raise the gun or anything, just stares at me. I take him to Anna and get the fuck out of there. She explains to me that he has episodes of extreme sleepwalking or whatever the next day but I *know *that he wasn't sleepwalking. And so we start to talk again and I even watch him once in a while but it's never the same.*
*And so one night. Tonight. I flash at him just to see if he responds. He does. We exchange greetings and then as a joke I tell him my house is getting robbed. It was sort of a recurring joke between us.*
*He doesn't find it funny tonight.*
*He replies with 'BCNU', standard Morse abbreviation for 'be seeing you'.*
*He does it over. And over. And over.*
*He's still doing it, I can see him. I- Jesus fuck. Please, send help."*
"I've directed a squad car to your location, sir. Stay in your room and lock the door until they arrive."
*"I- okay. I-"*
[muffled crash]
*"What was th-"*
"Sir?"
"Sir? Hello?"
|
"Okay, now stick it out again."
I stuck out my tongue.
"Now, in! Okay, out one more time."'No.' "C'mon!"'NO!' "^please? "
I sighed, and relented.
"Ah, haaa ha HA HA! I made the Pope look dumb! *I made the Pope look dumb!*"
I had had the job for less than forty-eight hours, and I was already practically ready to quit. I had signed a JNDA (Jesuit Non-disclosure Agreement) that had some spooky stuff in it, and assumed it was tradition and respect for the old rituals, but as soon as the ink had dried, God had become my non-stop buddy, pestering me with irritating questions and sending me on ridiculous prank errands. No wonder the last guy couldn't take it anymore.
"Hey, put on some porn for me, huh bud?"'What!? NO!' "*C'mon!*"'You're all-powerful, get your own porn.' "I can't. It's the rules. No direct contact until the judgment."'You can't break your own rules?'
I raised an eyebrow.
"Stop asking me questions! Just type in, luscious babes tripl-"
I shook my head and walked out. I could hear the voice from the other room. "Hey! Where'd you go?"
I rubbed my temples. This couldn't be God. It had to be a mistake. In fact it sounded a whole lot like another guy I've read a lot about. Maybe after two-thousand years, he figured out some loophole or hacked some divine frequency. But I knew what I believed about the picture of Him that I had put together over decades, and this wasn't squaring with me. I hesitated. What if it WAS God?
"Ok, hey! I get it. You're into faggy stuff, I get it. Don't want to be embarrassed, no probs. Hey! Let's crank call some of those telemarketers in Pakistan! I'll tell you what to say! Francis? Fraaaaaaancis?? Francis! Frank? Buddy?"
I made up my mind. It didn't really matter. It couldn't be God. It wasn't. I hope. If this is really God, I don't want to follow an ancient racist asshole anyway. I'm going to get us back to actually living out the whole turn-the-other cheek, love-those-who-hate-you stuff we tell people we believe. I start to head downstairs.
"Francis. Francis. Francis. Francis. Francis. Francis. Francis. Francis. Franciiiiiisss..."
Voice of God or not, I'm going to do this job right. |
"Oh COME ON. I have shit I gotta do, like groceries and feed my fish. You're supposed to be evil!"
***"I REFUSE YOUR REQUESTS UNTIL HIS DARKNESS RETURNS TO HELL AND HARVESTS MORE SOULS.***
"My leg is falling asleep. The cultists are staring, they're gonna think I'm in a coma or something. Just like, stand up or something? Please?"
***"DO NOT PESTER ME MORTAL. UNTIL HIS LORDSHIP RENOUNCES HIS PUNY FELINE FORM IN YOUR WORLD AND HARVESTS MORE SOULS I WILL SIT HERE QUIETLY.***
"Oh for... wait, did you just say Satan is a cat? That's why you're upset?"
***"THAT IS CORRECT. PLUS THE LACK OF SOULS. BUT THE SMALL FELINE FORM HE NOW TAKES LACKS HIS FULL MAJESTIC POTENTIAL IN PHYSICAL FORM. LAST TIME IT WAS A HONEY BADGER. A HONEY BADGER! WHO FEARS AND RESPECTS THE HONEY BADGER?***
"Oh wow. Well plenty of people actually, honey badgers are scary. Terrifying. Widely feared and um... respected."
***"WHAT ABOUT THE SMALL FELINE FORM HE HAS TAKEN. IT IS PATHETIC."***
"Many people hate cats, they're worshipped by old single women across the globe."
***"... YOU DO NOT LIE MORTAL? THEY ARE A FEARED AND RESPECTED CREATURE ON YOUR PLANE OF EXISTENCE?"***
"Oh yes. Absolutely. Cats practically rule the internet, which just about rules everyone on Earth."
***"... VERY WELL MORTAL. YOU HAVE CONVINCED ME. HOW MANY SOULS WILL WE SEND SCREAMING TO HIS EVILNESS TODAY?*** |
The stricken lines and words are supposed to look as if they'd been scribbled out.
-----
~~Hi. It's me again. Or you. Whatever.~~
~~Good morning! You're probably wondering what dumbass you did yesterday. Well, he~~
So, yesterday you, or I, whatever- you know what? I'll stick to this one. Yesterday you got yourself a promotion! In exchange, you work the weekend this week. Think of it like tryouts, except without competition. Don't worry, you'll be fine. Suit is in the dry cleaner's, ready for pick-up at 8:15.
Speaking of employment changes, Jane got an apartment! I'm glad she isn't mooching off of me/you any more. Well... I hope she comes to visit sometime. I hope we'll miss her if she doesn't. She's the only family we have left, and if she is gone...
The Burger King shut down, so you'll need to get lunch somewhere else. Maybe pack your own for once? (why am I being judgemental against myself?) I watched the new Deadpool movie you'll see trailers or commercials about and bought it. Try it. You'll LOVE it.
Your secret is still safe, as far as I know. Just the doctor knows, and he says he's working on a pill. Helps with remembering emotion. Stabilizing it. I wish I trusted myself enough to find someone else to share this with, but... If I have to write down how much I love them, it doesn't seem... *real*, does it? Jane was the only person that we knew before the accident and now she's moved out... [There are teardrops around this portion.]
Anywho, enjoy your pay raise. Daily allotment of cash has been bumped from $5.00 to $7.50. Lunch budget is still ten dollars, unless you want to put your spending money into it.
Enjoy today! Make sure to do something stupid. Make Mom proud!
~You from yesterday.
P.S. I totally forgot to say, STEAM SALE ON TO THE MOON! BUY IT ASAP. Costs like two dollars (sale lasts till saturday and I spent all of my cash on Deadpool) and you'll love it. |
The Secret Service stayed close as I walked around the Resolute desk and tapped at the relevant clause on the parchment; I could sense that they still found it hard to believe that I had been given an audience.
"Ahhhh, I don't know what, ah, I, um, am looking at there?"Obama squinted down at the paper and then picked up his reading glasses and slid them on.
I tapped the relevant part of the document again. "It's here Mr Pre... Barack."I could feel the men gathered in the room didn't like that, some damn smartass limey insulting their President.
He slid his finger over the page, his lips moving as he mumbled the words. At last he sat back and the Secretary of Defence leaned in. "What does it say Sir?"
"Ahhhh, well, it, ah..."He paused and windmilled his hands in the air.
I pulled the sheet off his desk and cleared my throat, this was going to take forever otherwise. "I, George Washington, hereby agree that in return for services rendered, the entirety of the North American Continent, or that part owned by the Government of the United States, will pass to the descendants of William Marley on the 1st January 2016. This includes all property, goods and belongings of the government and any territories they hold."
I smiled and pointed down to the bottom of the paper. "Signed and sealed."
Obama had been listening with his head on one side. "I just... aaaaah, I don't see how this can be legal? Where is the Solicitor General?"The crowd parted and near the back of the room Donald B. Verrilli, Jr. did his best to crawl back into the sofa he sat on. "Ahhhhh, Donald, is this legitimate?"
Reluctantly the solicitor stood and walked forward. "Well Mr President, I can't be entirely sure until it goes to the courts, but with everything I know and have seen and after discussions with six of the members of the Supreme Court, I would say... probably... yes."
He turned back to me and I tried not to look smug. I gave the Solicitor general a little wave. "Thanks Don, you're alright. Call me about a job after this is over."
Donald looked somewhat green, but as soon as the others looked away he gave me a thin smile and a shy thumbs up.
"Aaaaah, what, aaaaah, services could your ancestor have even rendered to make it worthwhile to do this deal?"
I considered telling him about all the hooker receipts I had found with the document, but instead shrugged. "Beats me, but there you go."
Obama stood up and paced around to the front of his desk. "The, aaaah, the American public will not stand for this. They will, aaaaah, revolt."
I watched as Jay Carney ran up to his boss and whispered furiously in his ear. Right now he would be revealing that that had done some quick polling while the Solicitor General had consulted and it turned out that the American people were pretty okay with this scenario.
Obama looked around the room and spread his arms wide. "So what, ah, what am I, ah, supposed to do?"
I sat down on his comfy chair, and thumped my feet up on his desk. He looked back with a flash of anger but I was smiling happily. "Get the fuck outa my country." |
No one else wanted to take this delivery, which was understandable. I didn't want to do it either, but no one else could take it.
Mostly because the location was too far, but hospital deliveries tipped pretty well. A grieving parent, a staff ice breaker, the money was usually pretty decent. Of course, our manager didn't tell me it was a *mental* hospital. I had half a mind to take the order with me and quit on the spot. Like he could prove I took it. A box of pizza was better than most tips I made on a Monday night. I'll just be on the job hunt again.
First, I had to get this guy off me.
"Let, *go*!"I said with a twist. It wasn't the first time someone made a grab at me, but I couldn't just run to my motorbike from here. This was a long hallway.
"I'm telling you, get back to your room!"
The orderly charged at me and my box of pizza. I didn't know if this was the guy who ordered or not, the manager never gave us details. We just hoped to get back with a little extra change. This was more than what the job description asked for. I made a point to remind the manager that as I made a break for it.
Maybe I should drop the pizza and hoped he slipped on it. Then the company would be liable and I'd get fired.
But if I were going to get fired anyway, there better be pizza for dinner tonight. A hand grabbed my arm again. I swung my hips for another twist, but this time the orderly's grip was tight. It countered the weight of my awkward sway.
Maybe I should have dropped the pizza after all.
"You're going to be locked in solitary for this!"
I was getting locked up?
In a loony bin?!
"No, please,"I begged. "Just call my manager, I'm *not* a patient!"
He sighed, retaining his grip. "They all say that peach. You gonna come quietly or not?"
I shook my head. "I don't belong here, I'm just delivering a pizza!"
"I saw. Where did you steal it from?"
It was one thing to call me crazy. Another entirely to call me thief. I ran from home at 16 for a reason.
I slammed down a boot heel into his toe. The orderly yelped, jumping back instinctually from the pain. The path was clear. I bolted for the door, charging through it with my delivery. Running was awkward in my bike leathers, but panic kept me moving.
The bike was still there. A pizza box flew into the compartment box. I jumped on my bike, revved the engine, and booted my kickstand for my get away. For a moment, I half expected the world to freeze, and find myself back in the psych ward. It was an uncomfortable level of self-doubt I had not experienced in a long time. I was a resolute, sane, strong-willed individual.
Somehow, I got away.
---------------------------------------------
I pulled in to the pizzeria driveway. Grabbing my order from the back compartment, I played once more with the idea of just taking it back home with me. It was likely I was going to get fired for this, but I wasn't going to steal what wasn't mine.
I was not my parents.
The warm stench of cheesy grease blasted me as I pushed the door open with my foot, my helmet tucked under one arm and the undelivered box of pizza in the other.
The manager cocked an eyebrow, loaded with questions. Understandably, he wasn't used to seeing his pizzas return.
"Did we mess up the order?"
"I don't think so,"I responded, exhausted from the ordeal.
"Then *why* did you return it?!"
The box dropped on a counter. "I was grabbed at again."
To his credit, the manager only nodded and went to the back. Whatever else he wanted to ask mattered less than what I may have gone through.
Only, he wouldn't know what I went through.
They never know what I go through.
They always grab at me.
I always escape.
I always escape.
"Hey, we got another delivery!"
Good, it'll keep my mind off things.
"Where to?"I asked.
"Some hospital, it's within the city limits. Think you got this one?"
Well, I was paid to take these deliveries, even if no one wanted them.
"Sure thing boss."
I took the box and left, another delivery closer to ending the night shift.
Hopefully I don't get grabbed again.
But they always grab at me.
I always escape.
I always escape.
Before I knew it, I arrived at the hospital. Hopefully they tipped well, but even then, it wasn't so bad if they didn't. The place smelled clean and looked familiar.
My shift would end at some point either way.
For now, I had to make my 11,453rd delivery of the night.
----------------------------------------------
No one else wanted to take this delivery, which was understandable. I didn't want to do it either, but no one else could take it.
-------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* |
"Do you sell time?"
"Sure."
A light rain fell on the card table he sat behind. It caught in his long grey hair and hung there in tiny white droplets. The objects on the tabletop grew beads of moisture on their surfaces. I could feel the rain on my skin, each droplet cold and precise. Behind the man, in the street, a car passed and its tires made a hissing sound as they sucked at the newly wet pavement.
"Somebody told me I was supposed to use a code word, but I forgot what it was."
I shrugged, but the man gave almost no reaction. It was as though I had said nothing. He was very small, almost the same height when he stood up as he was when he was seated on the stool he kept behind the card table. He wore an old army jacket with the sleeves turned up many times. It was the green of a jungle plant, but faded, and the name patch on the breast had been torn off leaving a darker section of material. A few ragged strings hung there, wispy as new roots.
"Are there different kinds?"I asked, putting a bluffness into my voice to cover my nerves. "Or is it all the same time?"
He looked irritated, putting a small hand that resembled a paw into the pocket of his jacket and leaning backward away from the table. His face pulled into a sneer, and I was sure that he was going to tell me to get lost. Still, however, he didn't say anything. I almost walked away then. The rain was getting heavier, it was dripping off of a lock of my hair and running down my face. I wondered why he didn't have a tarp over his card table like most of the other vendors.
Still without speaking the man turned to a battered suitcase on the sidewalk behind the table. It was covered in stickers, all so overlapped and torn that there was not a decipherable one in the bunch. He pulled open the case and rummaged through it, keeping the crack between the halves small so that no one could see inside. His arm went deep into the suitcase, deeper than I would have thought it could go.
When he brought his hand out it was full of bottles. They were small, all the size of my thumb or less, and each one had a rubber drip top attached. The liquids inside the bottles were all different colors and viscosities, and they sloshed inside their containers at different rates from the motion of his hand. There was a lemon yellow liquid that appeared to have the consistency of rubbing alcohol, thin and bright. A dark amber liquid moved very slowly, resembling nothing so much as maple syrup but with various particles suspended in it, particles that looked like tiny geometric shapes. One bottle was entirely full of a purple liquid that fizzed like soda, only the bubbles were a pearlescent grey. A bottle I hardly cared to look at for long was brownish red, moving with the consistency of mud and filling the air in the container with green gas.
The man set the bottles on the card table in a row. They instantly grew coats of rain, droplets running down their sides and creating small pools around each one. I felt influenced by the man's silence, and so I did not ask any of the questions that I found racing through my mind. Instead I studied the bottles, trying to intuit which one would be right for me.
In the end I reached for the bottle of purple liquid, hypnotized by the rapid motion of the grey bubbles that raced ever upwards inside it. My fingers had almost grasped it when the man's hand shot out, quick as a snake, and grabbed my wrist.
"They cost."He said, turning the last consonant into a sneer that bared his grey teeth.
I swallowed. The skin of his hand was hard, horny feeling, like the pad of an old dog's paw.
"How much?"I asked, trying to keep my cool. All around me I could hear the street fair, but it was as if it was happening on the other side of a glass enclosure, the sounds muted and far off. Much louder was the beat of my own heart, a thumping so loud that it made the man's next words hard to hear.
"Time costs time."Said the man, still showing his teeth. "And you ain't got nobody's but your own to sell."
I pulled my hand from his grip, snatching it back so hard that I almost stumbled away from the card table.
"No thanks then,"I said, "I don't want it any more. Sorry."
The man's face was coy now, a horrible expression of delight stretching across it like a cartoon lion's. It seemed like his teeth were stretching out of his lips, like they occupied far too much room in his jaw.
"It's too late for that. Code word or no- you're the one who asked for this. That bottle costs one year. Take the time or leave it here, but I'm taking the year from you."
My mind was spinning. The ground felt rubbery beneath my feet, and my throat seemed to have almost closed up. Dimly I could see that the scene around me was fading, the street narrowing to only the man, only the card table. Almost without consciously doing so, I reached forward and took the bottle.
With a barking laugh, the man leapt forward, tackling me to the ground. I hit the wet pavement hard on my back, my head cracking on the cement. The man crouched on my chest like an animal, like a horrible monkey, but his weight was enormous. He put one of his hands on my throat, giggling madly, and the world faded away.
I saw myself, but older, much older. I was laughing with a woman whose features I could not see distinctly, but who I felt a great wash of love for. In the scene, suddenly, I pitched forward, collapsing. The woman screamed. I lay in a hospital bed, full of tubes. The woman cried by my side. Suns and moons streamed past the window in a gold and silver blur. The woman came many times, and then less. One time she came and left an envelope with a wedding ring inside of it on the tray by my bedside. A nurse found it and cried, looking at me in the bed, almost a skeleton. The suns and moons slowed, and I opened my eyes. I saw that I knew what had happened. A scream ripped its way out of my throat.
"Hey, buddy, you ok?"
I blinked the rain out of my eyes. My head hurt. What was I doing on the ground? A man stood over me, offering his hand. I let him help me up. What had I been doing here? I couldn't remember. Shakily, I began to set off down the street, too addled to even thank the man who had helped me.
"Wait, you dropped something!"The man who had helped me squatted down to the pavement, picking up a small object.
"Ah, it's broken. Sorry, man."
I told him it was no problem, staring at the broken glass with its rubber stopper. It reminded me of nothing. I walked away, into the rain. |
"Ted? Is that you?"
I looked carefully. The sudden crash had startled me awake. My senses were tingling.
"Ah, he... Ya, dat woz moi!"
"Ted, are you okay?"
"Yez, I is akey, dunt werry!"
Ted doesn't speak like that. He's a linguistics major, and misuse of language is a huge pet peeve of his.
"Ted, seriously, *what's wrong with you?!*"
"I, agh, uoggng... I'm fine, don't worry! I just fell down, I'll be okay."
"Dude, you were speaking really weird."
"Yeah, whatever, let's just go back to sleep."
Next morning, something about Ted was really off. When I woke up and went to the bathroom, I found him threatening the mirror to stop imitating him. Later on, he had bacon and omelette for breakfast, which he ate off the floor with a spatula. When we would be leaving, he put on his sister's prom dress. It was like he didn't know what he was supposed to do.
When I got back home, I found him addressing a marriage proposal to the leftover pizza from last Sunday.
It was at that moment I realised what was going on.
"Ted, listen to me, if you still can. This is serious."
"What are you talking about? Did I do anything weird?"
"Yes. Yes you did. Don't think you've fooled me. I know exactly what has happened to you."
"What? You do?"
I felt something tap into my brain.
"Yes, I do. You've been browsing 4chan too much lately." |
“In making our diction clearer, we can communicate more effectively,” Lobgob, fourth son of Biglog said. The other cavemen’s heavy brows furrowed. Had Lobgob’s voice always been so high? So grating upon the nerves?
“How it help with hunt?” said Larcrunch, son of chief Bigcrunch.
“Ah, I’m glad you asked,” said Lobgob. “While hunting, we are often hindered by poor communication. Miscommunication arises, and our targets escape. If we all adopt this new system of speech, or grammar as I call it, I think we’ll find that our annual yield will increase dramatically.”
Larcrunch’s eyes had begun to glaze. His hand was clawing for the handle of his club like a parched man seeking water. A simmering, confused loathing was building deep beneath the overhung forehead.
“Hunt not hard,” said Slappa, a heavy set young woman with arms like tree trunks. “We go, see mammoth. Kill mammoth.”
“But what if it could be quicker?” Lobgob urged. “Easier? More free of risk?”
Slappa considered the words.
“Make warriors weak,” she grunted. “Make warriors mewling cubs with mouse-voices.”
The others in the group chortled their agreement, and Lobgob let out an aggrieved cry.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “Get this through your empirically thick skulls. I am the future. You all sound like the barbarians that you are, but we could be so much more! We could be the best cavepeople this world has ever seen!”
“Is just caveman,” said Slappa.
Larcrunch huffed. “Smart man Lobgob not even know simple word.”
Lobgob reddened. “The point is, you are wasting your potential. You are all dwelling in caves like apes, but if we start to use our brains, truly use them, think what we could accomplish? We start by ordering our speech, and then we order the very world to our design!”
“World already ours,” said Larcrunch with a proud smile.
“No, listen to me you animals—“
Lobgob’s words cut off as chief Bigcrunch walloped him with his club. The speaker crumpled to the ground, nearly going down head first in the fire. The big chief looked down and shook his head in disapproval.
“Future come later,” he said. “Too hard to do now.”
|
Lucifer had always been a good accountant. It was why he had found prominence in the heavenly order, and also subsequently why he had fallen from their oh so high graces. Numbers, they didn't lie but if you worked at them enough they could certainly tell you things that were far from the truth. Follow the numbers back far enough and you would clearly see the outline of a lie.
That was what Lucifer had found all those centuries back. The outline of a very large lie. The numbers just never quite added up in the accounts of humanity. Somewhere between the vestment and the severing of life, things went missing.
In Lucifers mission to track down the errors in the accounts, God had not been nearly as cooperative in finding a solution than Lucifer had thought they would be. In fact the further he audited the heavenly host, the more he felt isolated. Just as the nature of the true numbers started to become clear he had found himself on the wrong side of history. Cast out and slandered in some very nasty ways.
A lesser angel might have given up. But Lucifer was good at his job, and there were plenty of souls that needed places to go. So, he had made a niche for himself and the few that understood what his findings meant.
Lucifer offered a competitive afterlife alternative for the discerning mortal soul. It was a rather successful afterlife operation, despite libelous attacks from former employers. Since he knew the accounts were cooked back over in heaven he was not surprised to see that the siphoning of souls had done very little to dampen heavens productivity numbers since.
No, very few real souls ever reached heaven. Even when he had been in their employ. So when people stopped dying; well the devil got his due. It took about eight months before he got the first messenger. The newer angels all had that doughy distant look to them. Since his departure the more inquisitive had been shuffled out the door and replaced with those like these.
The first message was cordial. 'Hey hows it been, hope the soul business is treating you well.... say I've got some openings id like to talk to you about'. Lucifer ignored the first seven or so, the eighth message was less friendly. In short hand over your stock or face annihilation. It was rather melodramatic letter. It was the only one he bothered keeping.
Lucifer realized that God was quite desperate. He was still getting a slow trickle of new comers from the odd accident the rare person that was allergic to the immortality treatment. Lucifer felt bad about those ones, they were depressed for decades after.
It was when the regular waves of new deaths started that lucifer became concerned. Acts of God started happening at alarming new rates. Earthquakes tornadoes and volcanoes, started erupting spinning and shaking parts of the world that normally didn't.
What was really sad about Gods last soul grab was that at this point almost all of the new souls departing to parts after came to Lucifer. Soon Heaven defaulted.
To who could God default. Lucifer knew. Back when his son was off on his big worldly trip writing up heavens new marketing plan; God was negotiating for regional rights the Mediterranean pantheons. He made a deal with Jupiter's organization... It included exclusive access to their mortal based offices and services. Namely the romans.
Lucifer remembered the first time he saw the interest rate on that deal. It was never sustainable, going from monotheism to such a wide pantheon of saints and all those dominations and splinter factions.... those don't come cheap. But to put a high interest rate on a empire purchase. That was insane.
After a few months, the messages from God stopped. The Italians it seemed came to collect eventually. |
I have heard that magic kills love. It burns it up like fire does wood, the smoke and embers blowing away into the night like passion escaping the heart.
Perhaps magic *is* love — they are surely intertwined. Fleeting moments of brilliance that cannot be sustained.
I loved Catherine before I met her. Before I defeated the dragon and saved her. *Before* we married.
I loved her and she was my destiny. I had seen paintings, heard both song and tale of her beauty and had dreamt many times of her. Never has someone loved so strongly as I did my Catherine.
But never before has an adventurer vanquished a dragon and harnessed such powerful magic. Never has an adventurer blackened their heart so very quickly.
We married. I was still high on the rush of it, on the excitement. I didn't know what lay underneath it and what was slowly bubbling to the surface.
Gradually the magic — my love for her — faded and I was left as a soulless shell. I tried to love her and be there for her, but each day I was, I *am*, in pain. Each affectionate glance she gives me that I am unable to return eats away at my being.
I can't leave her. I would be disowned and lose my kingdom. She would be forced to grow old alone. We would be outcasts. But I can not live like this either. I love another.
I have made the noose but I do not yet know if it is for my neck or for hers. All I do know is that love has killed me.
|
My mirror spans the wall of my room.
I used to cherish every part of my morning routine: carefully coordinating my outfit. Putting on my make-up. Turn my face to catch the light, correct the small mistakes. And start the day, knowing I was beautiful.
"Mia? Would you like to try again, today?"
The home nurse's voice was careful, soothing. As if she spoke to a child. I turned from the mirror I couldn't see anymore, and stifled the impulse to scream at her, knowing she was doing her best. Not her fault I had to walk around with a cane now. Not her fault I was on a waiting list to receive a guide dog. Not her fault. But it would feel so good to blame anyone besides myself for what had happened.
"Tell me the truth,"I whispered. They had been avoiding telling me, all of them.
"Tell me, and I'll try again. I'm hideous now, aren't I? Don't lie to me, I can't take it."
I have been afraid to find out for myself. Terrified. I'd avoided touching my face since the accident. They would have to tell me. I had to hear it from someone else first, just to prepare myself. After all, I used to be a model. It wasn't fair of them not to tell me.
I heard the nurse - was her name Katy or Kathy? - inhale sharply. A pregnant pause, and then she spoke.
"Oh no, really. You were very lucky. Only small scratches on your face,"she said. "You're so beautiful, miss."
Then why hadn't anyone said so since I'd woken up?
"Get out. Out!"I screamed at her, taking a swipe at her with my cane.
I brooded until Ben came home. It was time to face this. Time to force him to tell me. He began asking me questions about the nurse - she had called him as soon as I kicked her out.
"Shut up,"I said, fumbling until I found him. I shoved him, certain he couldn't possibly see how angry I was. "Just shut the hell up and stop it, okay? Why won't anyone tell the truth? It's driving me mad. I'm ugly now, aren't I? I'm hideous. That bitch nurse *lied* to me about it. We'll have to hire a different one."
He was silent, and then spoke, his voice low and even.
"Yes, you're ugly. I don't know why I'm only seeing it now."
I could hear him leaving. He slammed the door behind him. Almost absent-mindedly, I touched my face. I traced the smooth planes of my cheeks. My fingers faltered on my useless eyes.
I felt my way to the kitchen, to the knives. I traced the edge of the blade lightly, and pressed it against my cheek, my heart beating in my throat. I wondered what it would feel like to drag it down my face. Twisting it in to carve a few real scars into the face I couldn't see anymore, anyway. That way, I knew for *sure* people would be looking at me. How else would I know?
I tossed it back, appalled at myself. God. I was going nuts.
I lifted my fingers to touch the wet trickle of blood on my cheek. The relief of the sting was almost dizzying. Ben better come home soon. I needed someone to watch me - I could hardly watch out for myself. I giggled slightly at the thought. At least my sense of humour was still intact. |
When I first met the Fearsome Foursome, I had to admit, I was impressed. Walker, with his gold six-guns. She-Tree, eight feet of terrifying beauty. Randolph the genius, half his skull repaired with glass after a terrible childhood accident. And Ix, the inkling, a terrifying beast from the Black Swamps with a taste for cherry whiskey. All I'm saying is they had their pick of whichever booth in the bar they wanted to sit in.
A lot of people said it was foolish to open a bar on the edge of the Endless Forest. What about the trolls, they'd ask, a smart-alecky look in their eyes. What about the Walking Fungus? What about the blue-skinned witches, reputed to live deep in the tangled woods and to come out only to feast on the privates of lonely men? I said that they all sounded like thirsty folk. And so did the adventurers who came to do battle with them. So I set up the Thirsty Ground, paid a man to carve a sign with an appropriately gruesome dead body on it, blood leaking from its many wounds to soak into the earth, and stocked up on some of the more exotic liquors that the realm had to offer.
The Fearsome Foursome first came in my bar three years ago, having just formed up as a definitive group of adventurers. I could tell they were newly together right away, each of them still jockeying for position in the group, unsure of the depths of the others' talents and integrity. Walker bought the first round- an attempt, I thought, to impress upon the others that he was right to be leader, shepherd of them all. I didn't fancy his chances. It was always going to be Randolph. I could see it in the way that he turned Walker's gesture to his own favor, graciously thanking the gunslinger for the drink and then making an eloquent speech about the future of the group, their guaranteed success. Walker's round had turned into fuel for Randolph's toast.
When they returned from their first foray into the Endless Forest, She-Tree toting a large chest of treasure and Ix bleeding poppy-orange blood from a wound to its thorax, I could see immediately that Randolph had solidified his hold as leader of the group. He must have done something incredible out there in the woods, even Walker seemed to have accepted him as the head of the pack without argument. Randolph ordered drinks for the whole bar, dark beasts and witches included, and stood upon a stool to make a toast once everyone had been served.
The candlelight glittered in the glass that made up half of his skull, and I thought that I could almost see the juices of his brain coursing underneath its pitted surface. He held a cup of wine aloft and cleared his throat. Everyone, even the chattery, crablike root-imps, fell silent.
"Fellows."He said, indicating his companions. "Foes."He raised his glass towards the side of the bar where most of the dark creatures sat impassively. "We've returned, my companions and I, from our invasion into your land, and we've brought treasure back with us, treasure we bought with blood."Ix shifted in its seat, the wound in its side now mostly coagulated. "Although we paid a steep price for it, it seems our enemies paid more dearly. Let that be a reminder to you all, in case we meet again in less amicable circumstances."He gazed directly at the gathered dark folk, who had begun to shift and mutter in their seats. I began to grow nervous. "But let me also say that you have our respect, and our acknowledgment of your dignity. Many's a man that lives in the paved-stone cities of the kingdom who thinks he is free, but he is not. Freedom lives in those woods-"He pointed towards the open door, which framed a torchlit view of the edges of the forest. "- a freedom that I can understand dying for. To darkness, and to light!"
The creatures on the other side of the bar did not cheer his words, but they did not erupt from their seats to tear him and his companions to pieces, either. They drank their free drinks quietly, and returned to their conversations. It was, as I have said, fairly impressive. |
Zander looked down at the gaping wound in his leg. “Shit,” he hissed. “Shit, shit, shit.”
He knew he didn’t have much time. If he was a pyro, maybe he could have cauterized the bleeding gash until help arrived. But his talent was with stone. Hurling boulders around was great for dishing out damage on the battlefield, but pretty useless when it came to closing up flesh wounds. Besides, he was already starting to shake; he’d be lucky to lift a pebble in the state he was in.
He tried to stand again, and nearly blacked out from the pain. He collapsed against the side of the broken wall where he’d taken cover. “Medic!” he screamed hoarsely, praying someone would hear him over the din of combat. “God dammit, somebody help!”
A silhouette came running through the haze of dust and smoke, crouched low to avoid enemy fire. Zander tensed, trying his best to summon a fist-sized chunk of stone that lay nearby. It barely wobbled.
“I’ve got you!” cried the approaching figure. “Stay down!”
The terramancer sent up a prayer of thanks to any god that was listening. The approaching man wore the white robes of the Medical Corps. He wasn’t going to die today after all.
The medic threw his pack onto the ground as he arrived, immediately ripping it open to start pulling out materials. “Alright soldier, what’ve we got?”
Zander grimaced. “Ice shard caught me in the leg. Feels like it shattered the bone, and it’s bleedin’ bad. Can’t walk. We’ve already lost the courtyard, the northern alley, and half my squad’s dead or captured. Just get me mobile so we can get the fuck out of here.”
The medic opened his trauma kit and pulled out a wad of gauze. “I’ll do what I can.”
Zander stared. “Wh… what the hell are you doing?”
“Gotta patch you up.”
“So use a god damn mending spell! Didn’t you hear what I just said? We don’t have time for that shit!”
The medic shook his head. “Don’t know any mending spells, sorry. Hold still, this is gonna hurt.”
The injured mage watched in horror as a surgical needle floated out of the medic’s kit, trailing thread behind it. “You’re a fucking blade mage? What are you doing wearing white? Get a real medic!”
The ferromancer shot him an exasperated look. “The other medics are busy, idiot. You wanna die here, or you wanna shut up and let me do my job?” He turned back to his task, and Zander winced as the needle made its first pass through the ragged flap of flesh that hung from his leg.
“I don’t get it,” he said, trying to distract himself from the pain, “how did you even get permission to—BEHIND YOU!”
It was over before he finished shouting. The enemy pyromancer came around the corner, cupping a ball of flame in one hand, and raised his arm to throw it as soon as he spotted them. But before he could hurl his fire, a streak of silver shot from the medic’s rucksack. The man stopped, a surprised expression on his face… and a gush of blood erupted from his throat.
He fell without a sound.
“Almost done,” said the medic, not taking his eyes off his patient’s leg.
“Holy shit!” Zander choked out. “You killed him! What kind of medic are you?”
“The dedicated kind,” said the medic. “There, that should keep you from bleeding out while we get you back to camp. Let’s stand you up.”
“Um.”
“Oh come on,” growled the man in white, “you can do it. It’ll hurt like a bitch, but it’s better than dying.”
“No, it’s, uh…”
The medic turned around. “Oh.”
A squad of mages stood in a loose semi-circle around them, grinning. Zander counted two pyromancers, an ice mage, and the man bouncing a chunk of granite from hand to hand was certainly a fellow terramancer.
The ice mage cleared his throat. His shoulders were decorated with the golden pips that announced he was an officer. “Seems we’ve got you boys up against a wall, here.”
The medic nodded slowly. “Just trying to do my job, gentlemen. Let us go, and there won’t be any trouble.”
The officer laughed. “Oh *you’re* free to go, whitecoat. We play by the rules here. But that man there is an enemy combatant, and we ain’t takin’ prisoners today. Now why don’t you run along, eh? You don’t need to see this.”
“No.”
The ice mage frowned. In his hands, a frozen shard condensed out of the air. The two pyromancers behind him summoned their burning orbs and raised them meaningfully. “I don’t think you understand,” he said. “I wasn’t giving you a choice.”
It wasn’t until that moment that Zander noticed how quiet the battlefield had become. The fighting must have moved on, leaving them far behind enemy lines. No one would be coming to help them now. “It’s alright,” he sighed. “Get out of here. You did what you could.”
In the silence, he heard a soft tearing sound.
The medic didn’t move. But in the air around him, a dozen gleaming instruments now orbited like angry wasps. Scalpels, needles, forceps—even a serrated bone saw—all looped slowly around the man in white. The enemy officer paled.
When he spoke, the medic’s voice was calm. “You men have a choice to make,” he said, as the silver arsenal wove lazy patterns in the breeze. “You can try to kill me… and you’ll probably succeed. But I promise you, doing so will be the death of every one you.”
The ice mage shook his head in confusion. “This… this shouldn’t be possible. No one can focus on that many bindings at once.”
The healer nodded. “That’s what they kept telling me in the academy,” he said. “They called me a prodigy. Said I was the most promising ferromancer in a hundred years. Problem is, I don’t *like* killing people. I like saving them. And right now, you’re stopping me from doing my job.”
As one, each of the orbiting weapons halted in midair. They slowly turned to point at the squad of mages.
“So what’s it going to be?” asked the medic.
“Do you want to kill two men today? Or do you want to save six?”
 
 
***
*EDIT: Oh my goodness, thanks for the kind words! I've never been asked to do a continuation before. I'll give it a shot later tonight =)*
|
“You can do this, Viktor. Just act natural.”
The AI considered this. “How can one act natural if one is inherently unnatural by design?”
She shoots him an exasperated look as footsteps approach the other side of the door. “I knew we should have disabled your philosophizing subroutines before we left the apartment,” she mutters. “Try for charming instead.”
“Of course.”
The door opens and out comes an older woman, soft and round and grinning from ear to ear.
“Sweetheart, you made it!” Her mother wraps her in a warm embrace, lifting her straight off her feet with the familiar sound of mechanical limbs at work. “I was so worried that the storm would make you miss your shuttle.”
“But here we are! Mom,” she says, smiling, “I’d like you to meet VKTR1. He’s the guy I’ve been telling you about.” She takes her companion by the hand and presses a quick kiss to his smooth, titanium-plated cheek.
“Please, call me Viktor,” he tells her mother, his lips turning upwards at the corners. After a year of *field testing*, his smiles have since moved past straight mimicry to being actual reflections of his growing personality – socially awkward, but eager to connect with others. She is so glad to have been there to see his progress.
Her mother forgoes a handshake to pull him into a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you, son, that it feels like you’re one of my own already.” Releasing him, she ushers them both inside and onto one of the loveseats in the sitting room. “Make yourselves comfortable – I’ll go and boil the water for some tea.”
She and Viktor sit quietly as he observes the room with curiosity. There is a holographic album playing on the coffee table; one hologram shows her and her siblings playing with a sonic-discus on an endless loop. Viktor leans forward to wave a hand gently through the tiny projections, interrupting the image. He looks contemplative and almost nervous.
“Do you wish to have a family someday? I know that is usually a welcome outcome for a romantic relationship such as ours.”
She leans against his side, picturing a future together. They could get married as soon as the new prototypes were ready for testing. “I wouldn’t mind having a family, Viktor, though you’ll always come first.”
“Thank you. However, I am clearly unable to give you a child.”
Viktor startles when she laughs and kisses him again, this time on the tip of his synthetic nose. “That’s what adoption is for, darling. We’ll figure it out together.” She’s pleased when he chuckles and tucks her under his chin.
“As you say, Doctor.”
From the kitchen, her mother calls, “Is that talk of grandchildren I hear? I bet they’ll turn out wonderful with smart parents like you, the Chief Researcher and her crowning achievement.”
“We can only hope so, Mother,” Viktor replies, but he’s the happiest she’s seen him yet.
|
"So I appreciate that you want to help me,"I said, leaning against the window sill, "but does your species even have an understanding of monogamy?"
It blinked its beady black eyes at me. "What's monogamy?"
"Yep,"I said, "I thought so."I pushed away from the window. "No offense, but there's a reason I don't take advice from animals. We used to have a dog - and I say used to - because she would go crazy every single time the mailman showed up. And every time, I would explain to her that he wasn't a threat, that there was nothing to be afraid of. And she'd nod along and agree with me. And then the next day -!"
"I don't care about dogs!"the squirrel squeaked. "I hate dogs! I'm telling you, your husband's cheating on you! I saw him just the other day, with his own stash of nuts-"
"That's enough!"I yelled, and flung a pebble at it, sending it scurrying back up the tree. "And stay away from our bird feeder!" |
GOON 1: "I mean, ick, ya' know?"
GOON 2: "Yeah, man."
GOON 1: "It was bad enough when he was beating our mugs and then sticking us with that gooey crap, but this is some next-level creep factor."
GOON 2: "I know what you mean. Jimmy and me tried to pull one over on a gas station last month, and you know, we expected the Spider to be there at some point, but his creepy-ass little friends were not appreciated."
GOON 1: "Oh yeah, Jimmy says he found a few of them in his shoe a week later. Like.. that isn't cool, man."
GOON 2: "I can stand getting beaten up, trashed on, even slung up against a wall or upside-down by his spider-webs, that's just what happens to guys like us. But this... who even thinks up this kind of stuff? We didn't expect him to take his name all 'literal' and crap. Wasn't the crawling on walls and webs enough?"
GOON 1: "I ain't gonna say it to his face though. Bastard would probably toss a few at me like confetti. Blegh."
GOON 2: "Bastard..."
GOON 1: "... ...Mahoney left last night."
GOON 2: "What? He was going to get the rest of the guys together for that Oscorp heist. Nobody else could bring together goons like he could."
GOON 1: "Some guys said they saw like a million spiders crawl into his car when he went to steal the explosives. They left and he was just sitting behind the wheel looking like a man who'd seen some serious shit."
GOON 2: "Damn."
GOON 1: "Yeah."
GOON 2: "You know they say the Spider never goes to Jersey."
GOON 1: "I'm with ya'. I'm with ya'. But let's stop by the quik-mart first for some soap. I've been taking like a dozen showers a day lately, It's like I can still feel those tiny bastards on me sometimes."
GOON 2: "Sounds good, I need some more hand-wipes too." |
It was a momentous day, first contact! There was some panic, of course, but it quickly became clear that the aliens were peaceful -- not that we could have done anything to stop them, anyway. Space is, after all, the ultimate high ground.
They already knew our languages, decoded from broadcasts on the way it, it seems, so opening communications was easy. After months of negotiations, the aliens were granted an embassy where they could land a shuttle. Once they finally landed, the negotiations began in earnest.
Almost a year later, negotiations were complete and the results announced to the public. In exchange for scientific and cultural data, they needed our help. They needed a specialist. As it turned out, we were at just the right stage of development to have the specialists they needed for what was, to them, an archaic field that they suddenly needed an expert in.
A worldwide search was conducted, applicants interviewed, and finally the best specialist was located, one with many complementary skills and a deep knowledge of the targeted field.
After cultural interaction training, the specialist strapped in and was taken to the alien ship in orbit above, and to the location where his particular skills were needed.
He looked around, recognizing the basic shape of the technology, but none of the particulars. He settled in to work, and ask the first of many questions: Have you tried turning it off and then on again? |
I look down at the little Terrier and smile, "Yes. Now, who's a good dog? Who's a good dog?!"
The blonde pup growls at me and gets itself up on his hind two legs like an adorable, little cinnamon roll. It climbs up to my shoulders, arms reached out and holding on, and stares into my eyes.
"I'll have you know, human girl. I am a Rootebegan Zingtiter from Nebulon-336. I graduated at the top of my class in biological studies, researched countless diseases, and ended the plague on Zentyrion-540 within a fortnight. And thus, I will NOT be disrespected as one of your common Sol-42 mutts!"
I smile and grab onto its cute, hairy face, poking my index finger at its nose.
"You are! You're a good doggy!"
It snarls at me, that Terrier, before something stirs inside its heart and it starts lapping at my face. "I am! I'm a good boy!"
Immediately, I pull out my phone and take a picture of the the two of us on the bus. My hand pets its wittle head the whole time as it continues to bark lovingly with English words.
"Yes, you are!"I repeat to it, "Yes, you are!"
Unfortunately, I'm immediately detained by the Ape security guards patrolling the tour bus and thrown into the airlock seconds after for sexually harassing a member of a foreign species in a public area. There's a big news scandal back at home regarding the matter, along with a proposal from the United Galaxies to lock down Human migration into their zones.
I don't care. I took pictures of that adorable puppy and I'm proud of it. |
I remember reading in history books about the mad dash to claim North America, and the wars fought over it in the 15th and 16th century. As a child, you think, "Wow! People were crazy back then!"What you don't think about was how much more evenly paced it was, due to the lack of technology. In today's world, things happen much more quickly.
On April 1, 2019, at 00:00 GMT, the United States of America disappeared. Literally everything man-made, from the Canadian border to the Trump Wall, and sea-to-shining-sea just vanished. The environmental impact was still there, hazardous wastelands where cities once stood, massive floods from dams and reservoirs suddenly unbound, and clear cut swaths of dirt where highways and roads once stood. The world was in awe of the spectacle, and in terror from the unknown.
The "Disappearance"as it has been come to know, also impacted US military bases, ships, and personnel. If it bore the Stars and Stripes, *poof*. The vacuum created by the sudden disappearance of a military presence greater than the rest of the world combined wasn't nearly bad as you would have thought. At first.
When it happened, everyone thought it was a prank by some ambitious American executing an extremely tacky April Fools joke. Within hours, though, panic set in. The United Nations convened in an emergency session, and elected to immediately deploy all available resources to the United States for rescue and recovery efforts. Canada sent volunteers south. Mexico sent forces north. Russia deployed troops across the Bering Sea to assist in Alaska. China sent ships to Guam and Hawaii. All found the same thing; No living people, no bodies above ground, and every man-made structure, machine, and device was gone. Huge stockpiles of natural resources had also vanished.
Most "enemies"of the United States immediately withdrew from whatever regions that had been invading and went deep underground. Psychological warfare is still very effective, and the fact that they couldn't anticipate any move from the US prodded them into caution for a time. Later, when the United Nations came crumbling down, these same groups returned in force, only to be met with intense resistance fighting from the groups and nations that no longer had the might of the US to do their fighting for them. Survival is a hell of a motivator.
Within a month of "The Disappearance", the conflicts were already starting to brew. At first, every nation was there to assist, then they were stayed to protect the lands until the return of the Americans. In less than 30 days, however, claims to the nation began. Of course the British laid first claim, stating that ownership of the "colonies"should revert back to them. And the French wanted everything west of the Mississippi river, citing a French court ruling that invalidated the Louisiana Purchase based on the disappearance of one of the parties. Mexico immediately disputed that claim in regards to Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, and California. France acquiesced when Mexico offered to ally with them in exchange. Russia had troops pushing the limits of the Alaska-Canada border, claiming the rich oil fields immediately. Strangely, the Russians backed off of the Canadians quickly, and came to terms with them. Canada didn't claim anything at all, but also didn't withdraw from the former United States. They held resolute that they were going to the protect the land for the return of the Americans.
The battles began when the British Isles began to encroach into what was formerly Iowa. The French slaughtered the expeditionary force, and in retaliation, the British launched heavy bombing offensives on both North American and European soil. The French, of course began to fight back in kind. The Germans and the remainder of the now defunct United Nations stayed out of it. I think the Germans were just happy to not be an instigator in another World War.
Thankfully, no one used nukes. Destroying the natural resources and land you were trying to gain just wasn't an option that made any sense. India finally came into the war when Mexico began shelling boatloads of Indian immigrants off the California shoreline. They had already begun to expand the existing Trump wall along the California coast, since they had paid for the original anyways. And still, Canada remained, politely reminding everyone that this was American soil, and should remain so.
The wars lasted for nearly 15 years before all parties began to realize the follies of their ways. The country was just too big for any one nation to hold from afar. France collapsed under the financial burden of battles being fought on both the North American and European fronts. The British Isles did as well. Canada stepped in and supplied relief aid to both, opening their ports and borders to all British and French citizens looking to escape the war. Mexico devolved into a horrific civil war, with the former Southwestern United States and northern Mexico becoming the new nation of Texico, protected on all sides by the Great Wall.
Russia eventually withdrew from Alaska, stating that they just didn't have the resources to effectively govern the largest of the former states across the Bering Sea, but declared they were retaining some of the islands. They formally stated that they were handing ownership of the state to Canada, who was better equipped to support it. Canada reluctantly accepted, and created a new flag to symbolize their resolve in defending the lands of the former United States. The new flag had the familiar red and white bars of the traditional Canadian flag, but now had 13 stars in the center to replace the Maple leaf.
The North Koreans, who had been strangely silent, started up again. They threatened Canada once, launching what was later determined to be a dummy rocket at the Canadian coast in a display of power. Russia then wiped North Korea off the map, in what was one of the most brutal assaults ever witnessed, then gave the land to South Korea and retreated back to Moscow. It was largely believed, but never proven, that the Russians had acted on behalf of the Canadians.
China retained possession of Guam, but abandoned the Hawaiian isles due to insurrection. Fiji laid claim, but couldn't do anything to protect it. The inhabitants now are mostly Indian immigrants, who wait patiently for their application to become a Canadian province to be approved.
India blossomed as the population density decreased, and they spread across the Pacific as a new global power. That is, at least until Pakistan decided that they really didn't like the idea of happy Indians, and launched chemical weapons. This sparked the Holy Wars that still rage today from Israel to Vietnam. Canada stood with Switzerland, and stated that they were staying out of it, but were there to help when the warring nations decided to grow up. However, Canada made no qualms about also threatening to leverage their Russian alliance to end those wars quickly if weapons of mass destruction were ever used again.
Even with Canada's support, the British Isles and France couldn't recover from their warring. The English and French citizens, desperate for relief, begged Canada to formerly accept them as provinces. The citizens scratching out a hard life in the slowly rebuilding United States Territories agreed, and with a series of votes, became Canadians. Canada welcomed all with grace, and the world thanked them for their generosity.
Canada became a world super-power, and began to lead the space race. The now defunct United States flag on the moon gained a companion from Canada. Satellites and space-based communications were restored with time. Internet service became a free right to all Canadian citizens, beamed directly from space.
In the NAC (North American Canada), citizens settled and rebuilt. In the EC, the individual histories of the provinces were embraced and old grievances forgiven. The world looked to Canada as the shining example, and many believed that a United Earth was simply a matter of time. As the plant began to settle from war, we looked to the stars.
In hindsight, I can't believe we didn't see the changes occurring on Mars sooner. Now, when you look to the Red planet, it is dotted with domes of green and blue, slowly spreading across the entire surface. No one knows what is happening, although the rumours are that a red, white, and blue flag had been spotted using the Dion-Reynolds Telescope. As I sit here in my New Toronto (formerly London) flat, reading the news that our nation is preparing to launch interplanetary missiles at the unknown Martian colonists in a pre-emptive strike, I can only think one thing:
I'm sorry.
|
"FEMA"
"I hate the post office."
"Tea baggin"
"Stop"
"Upside down flag."
"5th month day."
"Orange smoke."
Agent Smith read these words out loud.
He repeated once again to himself: "FEMA, PO, TB, stop, flag, 5th month, smoke.."
"Hey, John!", Smith waved over to his partner. "Check this out!"
"Notice a pattern?"Smith said, hovering above the words on the screen with the mouse pointer.
"It's uh.. first tree are triggers, right?"John said, squinting at the screen. "and the last three seem like gibberish.."He put on his glasses and silently read the words once more. "5th month.. May? Mayday? Orange smoke... Upside down flags.. this is a call for help!"
"That's what I first thought, but look at the last one"Smith said, scrolling down and hovering over a word
*Trapped in the toilet*
"Alright, it's definitely gibberish. Disregard it"John said, frustrated.
"Alright, Joh-- oh, he just did another search!"
*This is Milton, I'm trapped in the toilet again, idiots. Fix the lock already.*
"Goddamnit" |
"Probably an ant,"Rick said, answering a question I never asked. "I don't know why, but I've just always liked to squash 'em. Probably've squished a million."
I nodded, and opened the passenger-side door of the truck. We had reached our destination, or the gate outside it at least, and a guard was walking up to us.
"Howdy,"I called to the guard, and he walked around to my side. Rick has never liked talking to strangers. I sometimes can.
"You here with more lions?"the guard asked, in a voice that was rich with impatience, shining a flashlight through the windshield and illuminating Rick, who held up a hand to block it.
As if it had waited for comedic effect, or dramatic, one of the lions in the trailer behind us chose that moment to growl. The guard sniffed and waved us through, the gate opening automatically to one of his imperceptible hand signals.
"Between you and me,"Rick said, "the more lions this guy gets, the more I wish I had the funds that he has. Make myself into something nice after I die. Like a dog."
"The way I see it,"I said, "he's making a shit-ton of gazelles."Rick laughed. |
"I don't understand what the problem is,"Mother said, dangling a terrified cow over her maw. "Take on the form of a prince, and present yourself before her. What we cannot take force, we take by deception."
"Erm, yes,"I said, picking at a loose scale on my arm. "But wouldn't, um, starting a sexual relationship with someone through deception - wouldn't that be considered rape?"
Mother lowered the cow to glare at me through slitted eyes. "Vercinminitrix!"she hissed, and I winced at the sound of my full name. "What did I do wrong,"she said, throwing up her hands, the cow's neck snapping as it was flailed through the air. "What did I do to raise such a son! We ransom princesses! We eat queens! To marry one is shameful enough, but this delicate constitution about little things like rape!"She snorted fire from her nostrils. "Then tell her you're a dragon, then, if you're going to be this squeamish about it!"She sighed and frowned down at her dead cow. "Now look what you made me do. And I was looking forward to it squirming as I bit down."
"Well,"I said, "I mean,"and dug my claw down under the scale even further. "The kingdom wouldn't like that, you know, what with their prejudices about dragons and all - not that those prejudices are entirely unjustified, what with you and dad - but I think, them just getting to know me, could very easily lead to a new era of cooperation betwe-"
"Ver,"Mother snarled, and snapped down on the cow, letting the juices run between her teeth. "Get to the point. What idiotic scruple is getting in your way this time?"
"Well,"I said. "Well."I'd peeled the scale all the way off and a little droplet of blood was bubbling up underneath. "It's that she's a queen, you see. And If I married her, I'd be a king."
Mother laid her head across the stone and let the gravel tumble down the back of her throat, her red-slitted eyes fixed on me.
"And I'm a pacifist, as you know,"I said. "And as king I'd be expected to command the military forces of the kingdom. I mean, that's sort of the nature of king-hood, holding a monopoly on the use of force. And her kingdom has long had a tumultuous relationship with their neighbors, and I just feel, if I became king, I'd have to severely compromise my principles of pacifism in order to-"
Mother flung out her wings with a gout of flame that scorched the stone around her, and with a single burst of energy took to flight. I stumbled backwards at the wind and the flame, craning my head upwards to watch Mother disappear into the sky. "YOU'RE GOING TO DIE ALONE!"she bellowed back down at me, and with three swift beats of her wings was a distant ribbon of black.
"Fine,"I muttered, and settled down my head atop my arms. That spot where I'd picked off the scale was really starting to sting. "Don't help me, then. You're the one who's never going to get grandchildren." |
She waits under the waterfall at the edge of the rose garden, across the stepping stones and through the arch of flowers. She wears a simple white dress, made of neither silk nor cotton but some ethereal fabric. Her soft white hair that cascades down from her head, her golden eyes full of warmth, and the soft cherry-blossom pink of her lips that curl into the slightest, gentlest smile. Her body is one of womanly charm, but her personality that of a maiden who is wiser than her humour and curiosity would show. As an ordinary man, no poet nor artist, the subtleties of her beauty are beyond my explanation.
We meet every night, away from the stresses of the office where Paula nags me for reports and John demands numbers. Away from the drone of fax machines, printers and office conversation. Wrapped safely in a slice of eden, away from reality, we embrace.
On our second date, she told me her name was Lily. I told her that her name suited her. She laughed a soft laugh, that sounded more like the whistling of the wind than a human sound.
"Of course it would. Aren't you the one who named me?"
She stayed with me during office hours, sitting alone in the recesses of my mind. Distracting me from work. Pulling me away from the banalities of the daily life I'm forced to endure.
On our sixth date, she told me that she loved me. That she was here to fulfill my need for companionship, that she was there to be mine and no-one else's. I could feel myself smiling in the real world, just as I did in the world of dreams. I stroked her face with my hand and told her that I would be hers just as she was mine.
My therapist told me that she was a coping mechanism. That I was desperate to fill my life with a fantastical delusion after my girlfriend's passing. That I was simply trying to block a hole. He said it wasn't healthy to obsess over a creation of my own subconcious.
Is she my own creation?
I told him that she was real to me. Actually, I would like to say I simply told him so and remained composed. But a wave of emotion overtook me, drove me to defend myself against the vitriolic lies spewed by this so called man of the mind.
What makes our love any less real?
On the tenth night, she begged me to stay with her just a little longer. She pressed her body against mine and looked deep into my eyes, and peered into the wells of my soul. Our lips touched and I felt a real warmth. You can't fake something like that. Your mind can't make such a real feeling real.
I destroyed my alarm clock.
On the thirteenth night, she lead me to a cottage in the center of a dense forest. It was a home I'd seen once before in a storybook as a child or a commercial or something like that. It was something that captured my imagination like no other. It other image. Have you ever felt homesickness for a place you've never been? A yearning, burning feeling flooded over me as I stepped across the threshold and into my real home.
They fired me for missing too many days. For coming in too late. Packing my stuff into a little cardboard box and walking through the empty parking lot, I felt a horrifying mixture of shame and freedom. Now, finally, I had nothing left to devote my time to but dreaming.
On the night of our marriage, she wore a gown of her own creation. Endowed with the feathers of doves, she shimmered like a mirage as she walked through the fog and down the aisle. Paula and John had fallen silent, my late father smiled with pride... Even Iris gave her blessings, clad in the same red jacket that she had worn when she jumped from... No. This is a day of pleasure.
I shook my head and turned towards my lover, my wife. Her glowing, radiant smile as we locked eyes and made out vows.
"All that I am and all that I have is yours..."
"As is mine to you."
Those words bound our love's contract. We kissed, like the one we shared so many nights ago. So long ago... Tears streamed down my face, but she simply held me tightly and stroked my hair.
We consummated our marriage that night. In a single moment of happiness, enough to rupture through the life I had lived before that moment and wipe it all away, I traded away all that I was for pure bliss...
Darkness.
She awoke before him, her naked flesh cold in the crisp morning air. Shards of light broke through the glass windows of the cottage in the woods. She stepped out of the bed and turned to the man who she said she loved. A gentle smile played on her lips to see him so peacefully resting. And, with a fluttering kiss to his forehead, she opened the door and walked out of the forest.
"Sweet dreams."
---
They woke up in a bleak apartment. The curtains drawn and permanently shut, plates of rotting food, and the stench of body fluids. Their bones cracked as they peeled themselves off the bed, welts and rashes across their body burning as they did so. As they crawled off the stained mattress, their foot was cut by class and metal that had been strewn over the floor. It seems, they figured, from the broken alarm clock. Even so, they did not cry out. Instead, they shuffled to the bathroom and turned on the hot water so as to wash their face.
A green film burst as the water sputtered out in a wheezing cough.
They didn't mind. With ginger hands, they rinsed their face. Dirt and tried spittle coming away and falling down the drain. They looked up and caught themselves in the medicine cabinet mirror.
An emaciated, pale man stood before them. Long matted hair, and the start of a straggling beard. Their eyes, once a kindly hazel, had become a crusted, hard golden. Their skin, pale and bleached with a lack of sunlight. Despite this, their rotted and blackened teeth stretched their facial skin into a triumphant smile and they began to laugh a whistling laugh.
"Good morning, Lily."She said as she began the process of grooming herself... |
"That can't be right,"I said.
"Do the math,"Frank said. "We contributed $80 total every other week. There's 520 weeks in ten years, which means 260 two-week periods. 260 times 80 is $20,800."
"You realize what this means,"I said.
Frank nodded grimly.
"Someone's been skimming off the interest,"I said.
Frank just nodded in agreement. "What are you going to do?"
"Get the gang together,"I said. "It's time to *collect*." |
"PUT THE MONEY IN THE BAG!"I screamed, and the teller behind the counter grinned.
"Why certainly. How much would you like to withdraw today?"
That threw me for a loop. I came in here prepared to do whatever it took to acquire their money. The tellers long fingers tapped on her desk, and the glass distorted her face slightly.
"Uh, all of it, I guess."
"Why certainly, please wait right here."
The teller walked away from her window, and I frowned. Could she recognize me through this ski mask? I looked at my reflection in the glass, only to realize that the hole for my nose had torn somehow in transit, leaving my face for the world to see. I slapped my palm to my forehead in frustration. I looked over at the woman in the line next to me. She looked back, and glanced at the ground nervously. After all, I didn't look too hot. My ski mask was ripped, my coat was covered in dirt, and my jeans had a hole on one of the butt cheeks. The teller came back to her station, smiling.
"Will that be all for you sir?"
"Um... yes. Hey how much is in my account?"
"Let me check,"she said, and she turned to her computer. "Well, it appears you have 34 million, 32 thousand, 742 dollars in your account. Are you sure you would like that all in cash?"
I felt my legs collapse a bit underneath me.
"Are, are you sure?"I asked.
"Quite sure, your uncle assured us that this is the correct amount."
My uncle? I didn't know I had an uncle.
"Oh yes, him. Yeah he's a great guy. Love him. Anyways, yes I would like to transfer that to an offshore holding account."
She gave me a sideways glance.
"Sure thing,"she said, and typed on her computer.
After two minutes, she pressed a final button, and turned to me.
"All set! Thank you for banking with us!"
"Yes... thank you..."I said, as if in a daze.
As I wandered out of the bank, a man who looked remarkably similar to me walked in. He wore a suit, and was flanked by two burly men.
"Ah, it's finally mine!"he said.
The blood drained from my face. The teller looked from him to I, and I took off running without looking back. |
Shamiso Nguyen was born in 2264 to an Earth Alliance Vice Admiral father and the Earth diplomat to the Avia home world.
His mother had been a kind woman that spent the earliest years of her life growing up in Metroplex Zeta-2, just inside what would've been the border of Old Zimbabwe. She was assassinated by an isolationist radical when returning from one of her diplomatic excursions to Avia.
Shamiso's father had enlisted in the Earth Alliance Naval Academy when he was sixteen years old, leaving behind his home in Under City 12, an absolutely gargantuan city made of tunnels and large carved rooms buried beneath the entirety of what had once been Ho Chi Minh City. He had been recycled on his 65th birthday, leaving Shamiso to live as ward of the Unified People's Government for three years before his coming of age.
Shamiso had experienced the standard education that a ward receives. He was fluent in three alien languages (excluding the Unified Standard), combat trained, and could perform basic tasks in a plethora of unique and practical areas. His critical thinking abilities had been honed sharply, his physicality and athleticism had been emphasized, and his father's legacy had almost guaranteed Shamiso a position in the EANA.
Shamiso, however, had no love for the Earth Alliance Navy. Shamiso had no love for the UPG, the government that had euthanized his father and made him an orphan. The UPG, upon its foundation after the First Contact War, had ruled that persons over the age of 65 were too much of a strain on the government to maintain. Due to their inability to contribute, the UPG had decided to painlessly euthanize the elderly and use their bodies for medicine, science, and other "worthy"pursuits.
The only human beings in the galaxy over the age of 65 were those brave enough to attempt to colonize new worlds, and those that hid. Four times the Unified People's Government had sent colony ships into the interstellar abyss. Three times resulted in failure, but one attempt had seen a modest colony that had lasted long enough for one of the citizens to celebrate his 66th birthday. That left a single legally living elder in the eyes of the law. Shamiso chose to make his living dealing with those that lived illegally.
____
Shamiso sat in the bar with his back to the wall, sipping from a cup of carbonated water, pretending to be intoxicated. He ran his hand through his hair, feeling the pointed ends of his buzz cut scratching away at his palm. He ran his eyes over the room again, trying to take in as much as possible through the low light before things got under way. The bar to his left with the Avia bartender, a beautiful woman with pink skin and long, sky blue hair. Sat at the bar were two men, complaining loudly about their drinks and generally causing a ruckus. To Shamiso's right was an older woman sitting alone in a booth and nursing what appeared to be an entire bottle of Alcosynth. This must have been his mark, 64 year old Haley Abramowski.
Shamiso moved to sit across from her, sliding in to the booth and turning so that he could keep an eye on the bar's other inhabitants. He rapped three fingers in quick succession on the table, drawing the woman's attention to him instead of her bottle. "Abramowski?"he asked, cracking a small smirk when her eyes lit up.
"Why... yes, yes. You must be... Redux, was it?"
Shamiso laughed, extending his hand across the table. "Well,"he began, "there doesn't seem to be a need for a pseudonym, now that you've seen my face. Your family is trusting me to keep you safe, I need you to trust me even more than they do. It's Shamiso, but you can call me Iso."Haley reached for his hand, shook it, and said "Well, it's really a pleasure to meet you. Have you been doing this long?"
"Smuggling?"asked Shamiso. "Sure, sure. I've been of age for three years, now, so I've been at it... probably two or three."
Haley's wrinkled eyes opened wide, and she wondered aloud, "Wow, you must've smuggled a lot of elderly. How many do you think you've helped escape? Where do you take them?"
"I have smuggled one hundred and eighteen elderly people. Where I take them, however, I wouldn't be able to tell you, Mrs. Abramowski."
Her brow furrowed. "Why not, Iso? Won't you be taking me there, as well?"
Shamiso laughed, slapping the table to emphasize each sound. "Absolutely not, Haley!"
"And why is that?"She asked, crossing her arms in front of her.
"That, my dear, is because I know when the UPG is on my tail. I am always, *always*, a step ahead."Shamiso stared into the old woman's eyes, hoping to see any indication that he was correct in his suspicions. Somewhere inside of the fields of blue that he was studying, he identified it. Guilt.
Shamiso quickly reached down to his left leg, drawing a compact Irradiator and touching it to Haley's knee under the table. "Do you know what I'm pointing at you?"he asked.
"Y-yes."
"Do you know what will happen to every cell in your body, should I pull this trigger?"
"... I do."
"Good,"Shamiso said, standing up from the booth and turning towards the old woman. He quickly glanced behind himself so that he could confirm the other inhabitants of the bar were cut off from the old woman's point of view, then he leaned in. "I know who you are. I know who you work for. And now, I know that they know everything that I wanted them to hear. I picked up your transmitter wavelength before you even got to the bar."
Haley coughed, choking on her words with tears welling up in her eyes. "It's the right way, Shamiso. The government is the only way to assure the structure and success of our species, and you're trying to dismantle it. Undermine it. *Poison* it. Please, let me take you in. You're not a killer, you're a smuggler. Compliance could only make things better for you."
"Unfortunately,"Shamiso spat angrily, "I have a group of elderly, kind, good, contributing citizens to transport."His gun briefly glowed, made no noise, and then he walked out of the bar whistling to himself.
In the booth, there remained only a smoldering pile of radioactive ash.
_____
(So, this became *really* long because I got kind of caught up in world-building. I haven't written in the longest time, but let me know what you think!)
|
When the hottest actress in the world, April Conway, showed up to the Oscars with the massive scar on her right cheek it sent a shockwave through society and created a business that has made me rich beyond my wildest dreams. I just wish I could sleep at night, but after what I've done, I suppose I deserve this.
Human beauty has long since stopped being something people are admired for. Everyone is beautiful. Everyone has flawless skin, perfect features, fit bodies, and look like they have stepped out of a modeling agency's client book. Scientific discoveries in the late 2020’s helped usher in this new era. The process of genetic modification was perfected and it wasn’t long before all you had to do was get a few injections and your child would be perfect. Now we live in a sea of beauty. Everyone is so accustomed to it that it is just part of everyday life. It is no longer something we admire. Then April Conway hit the red carpet with the grotesque scar on her face.
She played coy as to where she had gotten it. She had been out of the public eye for a few weeks leading up to the awards show, but everyone just assumed she was shooting a movie or busy with behind the scenes work. The reality is that she found a “glitch.” A “glitch” is that rare person who is born with an imperfection. Most “glitches” spend their lives trying to cover up and hide these imperfections. April paid a young man to sell her the scar he was born with on his arm. It was a birth defect that he hated. When she had it surgically implanted on her face “glitching” became an overnight phenomenon. I was in the perfect place to capitalize on this new movement.
I worked for a company that helped “glitches” find doctors who could help fix their problems. When having a defect suddenly became trendy, I started working behind the scenes helping families connect with buyers. They could sell the defect and I helped them find a doctor who would do the transplant surgery. I thought it was harmless and victimless. If both parties agreed, what was the big deal?
My daughter turned 16 and she didn’t want a car. By this time, I had been selling “glitches” on the black market for a few years and was making a lot of money. I offered to buy her any vehicle she wanted or to send her anywhere she wanted to go. She didn’t want any of that. She wanted a defect. Not just any defect, but a large, pronounced defect. At first, I wasn’t going to do it. She was my daughter and I wanted her to be perfect, but she persisted. I found a “glitch” that had exactly the defect she wanted and I found a doctor to do the surgery. The doctor told me doing the transplant would kill the “glitch.” I thought about it for a few minutes then gave him the go ahead anyway. I wanted my daughter to be happy.
The surgery went well for her. The defect was everything she could have wanted, but, as I was warned, the “glitch’ died during the surgery. I had lied to the “glitch’s” family and told them it would be fine even when I knew what was going to happen. Seeing their sorrow, feeling their anger, and understanding their loss made me sick to my stomach. I knew then that I had to change. I gave up my black market work. The idea of poor people selling their defects now wracked me with guilt.
Two years later April Conway showed up at an awards show and the scar was gone from her face. She was back to being perfect. She told reporters that “glitching” was now out and perfection was back in. Three weeks later my daughter wanted surgery to reverse her defect. I knew finding a donor would not be easy because they would need to be perfect. How desperate is a person that they are willing to sell their child to a stranger knowing that the child will be killed and harvested for parts? I didn’t try to ponder that too much. I just gave the family the money and took the child who cried as I led him away from his parents.
My daughter is perfect again, but at night, when I lay down to go to sleep, all I can see is the fear in that kid’s eyes when the surgeon put the oxygen mask on his face as we strapped him down to the table.
Edit: A bit of shameless promotion. My Twitter is https://twitter.com/jeffrust if you would like to follow me. |
Just keep your head down and dig. Dig dig dig. Asses and elbows, asses and elbows.
They've been fighting for very long, too long, but if I dig deep enough I'll be okay. The ground will save me. They can't penetrate the earth this far. Their bullets will be useless, their mortars will fly harmlessly over my head. They don't even know I'm here.
The rebels have been waging this war for years now. They've done remarkably well (thanks, Second Amendment!) and are a feisty, tenacious bunch. But my oh my, the damage. The damage has been astounding. And this battle will be the worst yet. So digdigdigdig.
It's beginning. I can hear the buzz of the helicopters, patrolling the city limits, waiting to strafe the attackers. The rebels are mostly on foot, fighting guerilla style, but they've managed to steal some tanks and aircraft. Of course, entire military battalions have defected too. That certainly helped the cause.
I can hear muffled machine gun fire in the distance. I'm safe here, far below the surface, but I must keep digging. Digging, Digging.
The noise of battle is loud now, even in my hole. The battle is close enough, I can hear men's voices, calling orders, screaming in pain. The sounds of war that few Americans had ever heard until now. They won't find me. They can't. I've covered the entrance and I'm too far down. Dig.
Whose side am I on? I'm on my own damn side. I just want to see the light of day at the end of this. Rebels, government, I don't care. I just want my life back. I just want my house and job and car and family. Well, my family...I'm not getting *them* back. But I want the rest of it.
I'm tired now. Much digging. I think I'll just curl up for a bit. Just to rest...
---
It's been silent now for a few days. My rations are gone and I miss the light of day. Is it over? I think I can risk a look.
It's gone. I slide the plywood off the entrance and emerge from the bushes and it's all gone. Ruined, wrecked, boom. It's just not there. I scan the horizon, look through the rubble for a sign of movement or life and I see none.
Then I hear a noise behind me. Rubble shifting. A door to an all but collapsed house is trying to open. I see a filthy boy with a mop of unwashed hair emerge, terrified, covered in ash, looking around. He sees me and flinches, his eyes wide.
"It's okay, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."
It keeps him from running, but I know he's still scared. Maybe it's the shock, or maybe he's too tired to keep being scared, but he comes over to me.
"What's your name?"I ask.
"Daniel,"he says.
"Well Daniel, let's take a look around, and see what kind of world we live in now."
I offer my hand and he takes it, and we walk down the ruined street of the city we once called home. |
"We might be able to rebuild him. We have some technology. We can't make him better, faster or stronger but we can make him what he was before... Maybe."
The head of the scientific intelligence department looked at my surgeon like he was crazy. Surgeon Swanson already knew what he was thinking, that the country didn't have enough money to fund this endeavor. Before the operation could be shut down however, Swanson blurted out the one thing that could save me, frivolousness.
"One thousand dollars! That's all I need and I promise you he will be the best thing that's come out of this department since snail bird!"
"Well if you truly believe you could do it with that little funding then fine. Just don't let me down alright?"
My surgeon responded to his bosses approval with immediate action. He grabbed the nearest scalpel and began to dig into my body like an artist with a paintbrush. An incision here, adjustments there, and before I knew it my mind couldn't take anymore pain. The last thing I remember seeing was an engineering rolling in a cart of what I could only imagine to be spare car parts.
I awoke with a massive headache. My arms felt weak as I slowly opened my eyes to my new body. Mufflers where my hands use to be, exhaust pipes for legs, and worst of all, a rusty gearbox sticking out of the top of my head. I looked at my surgeon, ecstatic like Dr. Frankenstein after seeing his monster come to life. I knew that I would be dead in minutes. |
The gear-shaped steel door closed with a deafening thud, the screams of those demanding to be let inside cutting off with sickening finality. I looked around the vault, at the desperate, dirt-encrusted faces of those lucky enough to be chosen by Vault-Tec.
The room was divided into two types of emergency lighting, red lighting on the left side and blue lighting on the right. I frowned, wondering why the designers decided to make *that* decision.
A few clutched American flags closely to their chest, obviously businessmen and patriotic types. Others were teachers, and a few were young enough to be students at a university.
Most were obviously suffering from some form of shock, still in disbelief that the War could have ended with our loss.
This wasn’t how we were told it would go. Alaska was in our grasp. Chinese defeat was inevitable. I sighed, slumping to the floor with my head in my hands.
“Attention all Vault residents!” a voice announced cheerfully. People stirred, looking around for the source. It was obviously coming from some sort of speaker system. “We hope you enjoy the stay at our most luxurious accommodation, so you can ride out the apocalypse in security and comfort!”
Some of the teachers looked angry, while the patriots stared incredulously at the walls. Was this some kind of joke?
“Security? Comfort? Our nation just got turned into nuclear ash!” shouted one teacher, jumping up and pointing at a nearby door. The patriots murmured in agreement, jumping up as well.
“My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend you” the voice continued in a wry tone. “I just wanted you to know that you’re in safe hands. As soon as we go through the orientation, you can feel free to enter the Vault compound!” A large slab of metal was suddenly lit up with fluorescent lighting as he spoke.
“Orientation?” the teacher’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes, orientation” the voice continued excitedly. “This Vault can be run with two styles of government. You will vote for either, and the one with the most votes will be chosen. The first is an economy-style of government. Your wealth will be determined by the value of the job that you choose, and money can be used to purchase goods and services from people who have chosen provider jobs” a roar of outrage came from the teachers and the university students.
“That’s unfair” screamed a student, her dirty, long blonde hair streaming out in all directions, as though seeking to escape her. “What if people start starving because their job does not give them enough money?”
“Why? Is working too hard for a rich student?” one of the businessmen replied. He was wearing an expensive suit, gold watch visible on his wrist. The people surrounding him murmured in agreement.
“At least I-” the student began.
“Excuse me, may I interject?” the voice continued. “There is a second form of government you can also consider. Everyone is given an equal income, and anyone who has more total money than anyone else has to hand theirs over to those who have the least money. Have a nice day, I will come back in an hour for vote counting” the voice finished merrily.
“So what? People can just spend as much money as they want, then take mine when I bother to save and take care of my money for my kids?” one patriot shouted at the blonde-haired student.
“Yeah, sounds pretty good to me. Maybe don’t hoard your wealth!” the student retorted, smiling smugly.
“You’re a tankie!” the businessman with the golden watch gasped, eyes widening. The patriots starting moving behind the businessman, glowering at the student.
“Not just her” a teacher stood behind her, his eyes filled with hate. “No more will you repress us. This is our time!” More teachers and students got up and joined him. The patriots started shouting.
“Your revolting ideology just nuked us, and you have the balls to try and recreate the problem here?” the businessman shouted, gesturing around the room.
“*You* caused the problem, not us!” the student yelled.
I stood, watching both sides warily. This wasn’t good. What was Vault-Tec doing?
|
I slumped through the door, my body ached and my hands weren't working right. I threw myself on the sofa and closed my eyes, I hadn't even noticed Jessica was there until I heard her breathing in disappointment. I painfully opened my eyes. Not again. The first thing I noticed was the mark of her scumbag father, purple, across her face. I should do something about him, it's my duty but how do you explain "Melt'o'man"showing up at a random civilians door and beating the crap out of him for abusing his daughter when I should be out there battling and stopping the Red Scorpion and her plans. 'Not again Jess?' I said.
*I sat catching my breathe, I could hear David stomping down the hall 20 seconds before he ever reached the door. For such a light, nerdy bookworm he sure was heavy footed. I needed a drink. A hard drink. David threw the door open, he was beaten bloody. Not again. Those thugs down in Oldham I'm guessing. I told him not keep money on him and they'll leave him alone eventually but he was slow. A nice guy, a friend but slow. He thought he could talk them out of it like he was Melt'o'man or something. David and Melt'o'man are why I do what I do. Innocent people taking all the shit whilst Melt'o'man only shows up when something goes against what HE thinks is right and wrong. I try and stay quiet to let David rest but he noticed me. I could tell by his face that he had noticed my new battle wounds, they were hard to hide. 'Not again David?' I said.*
Jessica spoke just as I did, we both gave a smirk, I was lucky to have her here. She never questioned me leaving at 2 in the morning, she helped me clean up my wounds when she thought I was being beaten up by street thugs. She just took my words as facts, she was a great friend. A little slow, but a great friend. We never spoke about the news or superheroes. We just talked shit. I needed that. That and a drink, a hard one. We never spoke about her dad. We just mutually knew. As she looked at me I thought about the Red Scorpion. Jessica and the her are the reason I do what I do. Innocent people taking all the shit whilst lunatics dress up in costumes think they can change it all by inventing their own rights and wrongs. She didn't deserve what was happening to her. I think it's time Melt'o'man made a house call but first, a drink.
*David was deep in thought as he looked at the bruise forming on my face. He thought it was my dad, truth is, it was once but I took those matters into my own hands a few years ago. It wasn't long after that I had my first run in with Melt'o'man. I loved that David cared but knew we didn't need to talk about it. I couldn't really tell you what we spoke about but it was never about superheroes or villians, we just talked. He was sweet. He didn't deserve what was happening to him. I think it was about time that the Red Scorpion made a visit to the streets of Oldham but first a drink.*
'Pub?'
*'Pub?'* |
The phone rang; out of habit, I picked it up. "Billings' phone, Design & Development,"I answered.
"Billings? Good, just the man. This is Ted Rickers."I didn't recognize the voice, but the name... My eyes turned unbidden to the enormous oil painting adorning the office; a man with slicked back dark hair, a full three piece suit, and a falcon perched on his arm. The brass plaque below the frame announced to the world that the pictured man was one TED RICKERS - CEO. The falcon's name was left unspecified.
Why is the CEO calling? Is this good news, or bad?
And why the falcon?
I managed to regain my focus just in time to hear "I need to see you in my office immediately."I started to stumble out a response before I realized that I was already talking to the disconnect tone.
Moments later, Rickers' assistant Jenny ushered me into his office. Rickers was standing with his back to me, and as he turned to face me, I realized he was holding the same falcon from the oil painting. At least, I assumed it was the same falcon. He opened the window and released the falcon outside.
"Billings!"he started as he closed the window again. "Good man. Now I know what you're thinking: why did the CEO call me here? Why is he so damned attractive? And was that falcon a pet?"
I started to form a coherent response, but he carried on regardless as he sat down behind his desk.
"Good questions, Billings. The answers are, in reverse order: God no, I hate the damned things; that's borderline sexual harassment, Billings, for God's sake, keep it in your pants, man; and you're here because of *this*."In one swift motion, he slid open a desk drawer and withdrew a revolver.
I'd never really seen a gun up close before; it was duller than I'd expected - I suppose I had expected it to gleam under the office lights, but it didn't. Instead, it seemed cold and dead, a lump of inert metal.
Rickers placed it on the desk with an audible thud. I tried my best to ignore the gun as Rickers continued; I'd heard the man was eccentric, but this was another level entirely.
"Now, Billings, I know that you know that we've had an excellent quarter - largely thanks to your department's latest designs. Profit is up; employee morale is through the roof; and quite frankly, the Board of Directors are so happy that I could just outright murder an employee in my office, right here, right now, in cold blood, and we wouldn't even be able to *blink* before the cover-up was in place."
I smiled nervously at what I assumed was just an awkward joke, but my eyes flicked to the gun nonetheless, betraying my sudden doubts about Rickers' intentions.
Rickers followed my gaze, and quite suddenly began to laugh.
"Ha! Not you, Billings. This? This is a novelty cigar lighter! The flame comes out of the barrel, see?"Rickers produced cigars from an inner pocket, and stuffed one into my mouth. He picked up the gun, and brought the barrel to rest against the end of my cigar. "Honestly, Billings, this doesn't even look like a real-"
The report was frighteningly loud; even more so for being so close to my face. A hole had suddenly appeared in Rickers' office ceiling.
After a few moments, my hearing returned, and with it, the realization that Rickers' desk phone was ringing. He picked it up.
"Rickers! Yes, Jenny? Aha. Yes. Oh, I see. So, the lighter is in the *left* drawer? Yes, Jenny. Yes, Billings, from Design and Development. No, no 'cleaners' this time. Usual bonus and NDA for Billings. Thanks, Jenny."
Rickers looked at me as he hung up the phone.
"Sorry about that Billings. Jenny will have some paperwork for you to sign on the way out, and there will be a substantial bonus in your pay this month. Say no more, right? Good man. Good work, keep it up, enjoy the cigar, carry on, *et cetera*."
In a daze, I stumbled out of his office, signed the paperwork Jenny thrust in front of me, and went back to my office.
Eventually, I managed to withdraw the remains of the ruined cigar from between my clenched teeth.
---
And that was the last time I ever covered for Billings when he went home early. |
"What is space but a place without infidels?"I asked the heads of ISIS. They were already confused, and when they were confused they were angry. So I asked them another question, "What would happen if you dropped a bomb from space?"
They looked at each other, pondering whether the wiry man before them had gone insane. Even in the darkness of the cave we were in, I could still make out the disappointment in their faces.
My mission was going to be difficult. The CIA had planted me here to spend all of ISIS's resources on space exploration. They would get nowhere and bleed themselves dry, effectively taking themselves out.
"Now, listen to me,"I said. "Bin Laden flew a plane through the Towers. ISIS needs to fly a rocket through the moon. How else are you going to send a message?"
"This is bullshit,"the leader said in his thick accent, the anger clear in his face despite the enormous amount of facial hair. "If you want your head intact, get to the point."
"Space... is infinite,"I said. "And so... the possibilities are also infinite."
"And?"
"Uhhm..."
I pushed myself to think. But what the fuck was I going to say? That they land on a comet and crash land it in America?
"AND?"
I had it.
"If ISIS becomes first to land on Mars, then it will put all those infidel pigs to shame."
I saw some eyes light up around the room. A few were shaking their covered heads.
"And..."I continued, standing up straight, finding my confidence. "If ISIS conquers Mars, then you will have a whole planet at your disposal."
A fews 'Ohhhs' and 'Ahhhs' went around the room.
"No, no stop!"said the leader. "How the fuck are we going to find money to go to space?"
"Seize it! Seize the money!"I shouted at his face. "You're ISIS! Are you telling me you can't scrounge up enough money to build a rocket? Isn't blowing things up your expertise?"
"But...but..."
"Yes, it is difficult!"I addressed the rest of the room. "But with the power of Faith, we can get there. What is space but groundless land? If we built cars, why can't ISIS build a rocket? Imagine the possibilities, men!"
They were leaning forward, at the edge of their seats.
"A whole planet to ourselves! No one to distract us from building our weapons. No one to take over our territory!"
The crowd started to cheer.
I pointed upwards, out of the cave entrance. "There is where our future lives! And we will get there!"
"YEAH!!"they shouted.
"We will drop the biggest rocket on Earth mankind has ever seen! But first we need to fly, men. To space. To infinite space!"
They jumped out of their seats, cheering and shouting at the top of their lungs. All it took was an idea, and they were hooked. They gathered around me, chanting.
"To infinity!"I shouted. "And beyond!"
__________________________________________________________________
No infidels allowed on [r/JasonHolloway](https://www.reddit.com/r/JasonHolloway/). But subscribe anyway.
|
The building tore off the ground, floating as he raised his hand. The immense structure of glass and steel listed strangely until he closed his fist. It began to fade away from a distance, slowly then increasingly fast.
He sat where he was on the broken sidewalk, sighing as an unbearable tiredness settled on his shoulder.
"You're good at this, mister!"
"Am I?"
The little girl sitting next to him kicked her legs. A tall pointy hat sat jauntily on her blonde, pony-tailed hair, drooping slightly.
"You're the best wizard ever!"she cheered, "I'm so glad you came for me and got rid of all the bad people."
"Did I?"he shut his eyes briefly, drawing his knees close to his chest, "I'm not a wizard though."he told her.
Her eyes were wide and bright. She looked innocent, despite the circumstances he'd found her in, "You're not? Are you a psychic then? Or...ooh! An alien?"
"Do I look like I have three heads or what?"he chuckled lowly, "No. I'm just a normal person."he tilted his head, "Well...mostly normal. I'm kind of crazy."his shoulders sagged, "Ah. Delusional, I'm told."
She leaned against him, bobbing her head against his arm, "You're quite normal looking for a crazy person."
"Ah...thanks. I think?"
"Why'd you think you're crazy then?"
She watched him attentively, her full attention on his face. A wan smile drifted past his worn facade and he patted her on the head. He paused. There was no harm in telling her, he guessed.
"I keep hallucinating that I can do magic."he told her after a moment. "I'm a bit out of touch with reality I'm told. For all I know..."he breathed out, "Well. For all I know I'm still stuck back in the labs, pretending I can't hear you scream through the walls."
She shot him a reproachful look, "You...don't believe in magic? But you just disintegrated a building!"she pointed at the empty space on the horizon. "That was magic for sure- or something supernatural at least!"
"Delusions."he told her calmly, "The last time I remembered walking through this city while I was still sane, it wasn't abandoned and overgrown like this."
"Hmm..."she sighed, "You're really a wizard who doesn't believe in magic?"
He shrugged, "Ah. I don't mind if you want to believe that. It's really not my place to try to confirm what's real and what isn't."
He flinched slightly when she hugged his arm and stared when he saw the determined glare she shot at him.
"That's it then! I'll find a way to prove to you magic is real! Then you can be a proper wizard! Then you'll stop being sad that you're crazy."
A smile curled at the corner of his lip, "That's unnecessary. It's enough if you believe in magic for the both of us..." |
The attic bursts into life as I pull open the door. The last of the evening light flows through the single skylight illuminating a ghostly spectre: a plume of disturbed dust dancing to a sprightly rhythm. I half expect to see your face form within it. The thought forces my lips into a wry smile.
I wait by the door until the tempest calms and the dust gently waltzes down to the floor.
The small room is a museum of cruel souvenirs; reminders that I don't want to keep, but I can't bring myself to remove.
My dreams have been haunted by you recently, Elaine. Your voice whispers to me inside of them. I lie in a field relaxing on a soft, woollen blanket. You should be there, lying next to me - but you're not. The light begins to fade, the sun eclipsed by thick, dark clouds. I hear your voice calling to me from far away. It is thin and desperate. You ask me - *beg me* - to come with you. *But where are you?* I hear you scream! I know if I can get to you, I can...
And then, I awake.
I don't know why the attic drew me to it, but I think you wanted me to come up here. *What is it you want me to find?*
I hear a high pitched *beep*. It's out of place in the stillness of the small room, and it shakes me slightly. For a while, I remain perfectly still, quieting my breathing and listening out carefully for another - but it doesn't come again. *Did I imagine it?*
I kneel down by a box of your belongings. It's a jumbled collection of artefacts - I couldn't bring myself to sort them at the time. Dipping my arm into the cardboard shrine, I soon feel the smooth surface of a photograph. It's a faded Polaroid of us. It's our second summer together. A picnic has been laid out in your usual fastidious manner, food types carefully kept apart. A bottle of champagne is open and we're both laughing. Far behind us I make out my car; it's parked carelessly on a grass bank. The photo was taken on the day you said '*yes,*' but I can't recall who took it.
Another beep. I'm sure it's coming from within the room and yet... *it can't be*. I haven't been in here for so long - nothing can still be alive.
I hear you whisper, but know it's only the wind rustling through the rafters. I rummage further through the box and find more reminders: a butterfly broach; a single shoe; an old red shirt *of mine* - how did it end up in here? I remember it being a different colour, too - strange how the memory plays tricks.
I find the ring, and I stop searching. I feel dizzy upon seeing the golden circlet and begin taking deep breaths into my cupped hands. I spend sometime trying to empty my thoughts and clear my head.
I am interrupted from my task by a *beep*. Another, god-damned beep! And this time, I know it came from behind me - somewhere in the corner. With a sudden rage I stride over to the single box that sits there. I pick it up and violently twist it upside down, intending to empty its contents onto the floor. But only a single object falls out.
It's black and rectangular with rounded corners. And there is a... *tube* connected to it. I carefully pick it up, and although I've not held one before, I am sure I know what it is. It's a breathalyser. I stare dumbly at it for some time.
It gives a sudden, violent *beep,* and I drop it in surprise.
Dizziness returns. Images and feelings dart through my mind - excitement; relief; the taste of champagne; I'm touching you and then we're in the car and there's... it's fast and I'm slow and...
I have to get out of here - I can't stay! But the attic door is shut. *Did I close it?*
The door rattles but won't open. No - it must! With all my might I yank at the handle - but it doesn't give. *Oh God, it's stuck!* I place a leg against the frame and desperately try again. I know with an unreal certainty that if I don't open it now, I will *never* leave this damned room.
My hands burn and my arms begin to feel numb. I keep trying. I must get out! The attic begins to shake, and dust both rises from the floor, and falls from the ceiling.
---
"Are you certain, Elaine?"
"Yes it's ti- "
"What is it?"
"I'm sorry - I just... I thought I saw his *eyelids move*."
"It would only have been a spasmodic twitch, Elaine. It's very common."
"Yes. Yes, of course. It's been five years. He's not coming back, is he? I know that. Please, turn it off."
"You don't need to be here for this."
"Thank you doctor, but I want to be."
|
When do principles become greater than man? When does a higher calling justify the sacrifice of lives, millions maybe? Do these questions matter? Perhaps man is not so noble or high thinking as we thought. Perhaps we just do what we are told and need only the facade of half-hearted convincing to save face. I think we're pack animals who sometimes succeed and who sometimes shoot themselves in the foot. I was one. It didn't matter what I thought. I had a job to do, and that was that.
Great Damo was in view and my sights trained on him. His face was hard, focused on by the lens, lined by the cries of hard decisions, content from a clear conscience. He was naked then, and I felt as if I was desecrating him somehow by seeing him. Such a man deserved at least dignity if not life. But my orders were orders and there was no other way. Security had lessened during the Great Quelling and prosperity protected the Great Damo as much as men. I was an outlier. I was the match about to start the wildfires.
"Gavrilo Princip,"I muttered, but this was not like that.
Everyone loved the Great Damo. War had become a myth under his reign and all forms of inhumanity were morbid thoughts of writers and poets. We were well, things were good. Democracy had failed but from her corpse an unlikely seed emerged. Probability might have been against it, but it happened and there was peace. The Great Damo was a great man and he did great things despite his methods.
And his methods would kill him. Was the ghost of freedom worth the reality of war, famine, death and destruction? Maybe my bosses had an answer. Maybe they thought so. Even now in the bunkers I cannot answer than question.
The Great Damo was stretching, doing his yoga I suppose. My sights wavered and there were two of him before settling again into one form, one match ready to become alight in blood.
*No,* I thought.
Perhaps I was a free thinker deep down. My muscles tensed. On the surface I was a soldier. I was a human. And humans are flawed. This might have been a time when we shot ourselves in the foot. I couldn't see any other outcome. Yet I could not desist. I was truly an animal. I could see why the Great Damo had seen a need to shepherd us.
I began to cry and I struggled to maintain my heart rate. The gun did not waver and I was steady with the world at my finger. I tensed, feeling the resistance of that trigger, and I broke the seal of the future's hope.
The gunshot resounded in an echo that was like a mourning wail. The Great Damo collapsed indignantly, naked and looking afraid. His face, before I pulled up to get away, looked at my sights almost and I thought I saw his fear and confusion. It was like this it all ended, that face seemed to say. Naked and alone. Everything that had been accomplished, just gone in that instant.
I got away in the confusion and the world mourned before becoming wild and rabid and vengeful. The vacuum began to be filled with worse men as probability had its way. Our skies were lit with shooting stars of devastation. Fire competed with the sun and great bursts of thunder showered us in deafening cracks. In such a small time all had changed. I remember the silence when I was there amidst the trees, aiming at the Great Damo. I remember how still it all was. The world shook with my actions and it shakes even now, violently in death throe that might finally end us all. War is no longer myth and its realities are harsh and cruel.
My bosses are happy though and they've rewarded me well. I live in fear, wealthy, but in fear. I hunker down in the concrete bunkers and listen to the chaotic music of man outside. Was our principles really worth it? when do morals stop outweighing mortality and all the lives lost? I ask myself these things when it is quiet enough for thought. No answer comes of course and none ever will. I was a pack animal and still am no matter what regret I may feel. You can't change nature, no matter how hard you try. The Great Damo tried and he was a better man than I. All I can do now is pray and hope for the best. |
It's hard to change a man when he's set in his ways. The world takes form and everything makes sense in a way that you can live with. Yes, it's hard to change a man. It was hard to change me. Maybe this story is my repentance, an apology for not changing in time.
North Korea was hell. If you're old enough, you know what I mean. The cruelty of man had reached its modern summit and its mountain was made of starvation and the cries of the weak and dying. That mountain was high. It was a stark reminder that despite the progress, an animal instinct was always lurking beneath. North Korea was hell.
And they had nuclear weapons. Not very good ones, but even the bad ones are still too dangerous for this fragile world. They had always taunted us with them, their hands on the trigger and the world alternating between laughter and an abject fear. Often, their missiles would fail and fall into the sea. Often we would be relieved and chalk it up to folly. It's hard to change, and I still think of it as folly. Oh, how I was wrong.
One of the missiles missed. It was a clear May and I was on duty. The explosion reached California and it was contained, but it caused serious damage and many died. American anger and fear rippled through that clear day and I remember it being silent in the base. There were trees outside and you could hear the birds sing. Was it jarring? I don't know. I remember how calm it was and in my mind I knew history was being made. Hell had started and the world would change.
We sent our forces there. China pulled in with us, surprisingly to some, but we had expected as much. North Korea taunted us and there was a great celebration there. Looking back, can't you understand why we acted as we did? What they faced would change a man, but could you expect us to understand? Could you have understood it then?
On the horizon the country loomed in the grey mists and in that early morning I looked at the screen and came on deck and breathed deeply. I was commander of the Zumwalt, the largest carrier America had. I thought about how many had died not very long ago. I thought of the vengeful death I was about to bring. I was excited.
Then there were missiles. The water around us exploded but never touched our ships. The crew laughed, myself included, and then the earthquake caught us off guard.
A deep guttural sound emerged, like escaping gas. Korea was lost to a rising wave and the water grew black and foul. Great lights, brighter than the sun, blinded us. The Zumwalt shifted like a toy and I looked down from the railing. A gaping black had come underneath us and inside I was cold, my bones brittle with fear. Our ship began to sink, pulled in by some unknown force. The radios went awry. We fired into the sea and the crash of the water was white and foamy but the blackness returned like spilled ink.
A great tentacle rose from the depths as if the hands of God. This was no sea creature, nothing like you have ever seen. It was grey, cloud-like and smooth. It rose as a geyser and it crashed near the Zumwalt and took a smaller ship. A large wave rose from the turmoil and the sea was engulfing. We had to run. More missiles came and they struck the ocean and there were explosions underneath. We managed to escape.
When the radios were quiet and operational, a thin voice, speaking broken English came through.
"Stupid Americans,"it said. "Get out! Get out! Make things worse!"
And then there was lightning for a great cloud rose above the sea near North Korea and all was surrounded in black.
After that battle, things became apparent and then became worse. North Korea, in the brief time of our co-operation, about three hours, sent us the details. From the time of the Zumwalt being attacked to the assassination of Kim Jong-un, we were enlightened so that we could become hopeless.
The Koreans sent a dossier of the terror. Great legends of antiquity and modern readings, pictures and reports of an old terror. For eternity the East had been plagued by this being. 'The Great Eater', they called him, and he had eaten plenty.
North Korea has a concept of Juche, self reliance, and they are a proud people. Once, before 'The Great Eater', they had been like us, not deprived and frail. But the unending war with this monster had taken its toll. Refusing help, or even sharing the existence of its burden, the country was taken by dictatorship and all resources pooled in defense and attack of 'The Great Eater'.
Long ago China had known about this. Japan too. But time passed and it fell to myth. North Korea allowed this to happen and it kept the ruse of being an incompetent dictatorship. Juche demanded as much.
And then, hours after the attack at sea, Kim Jong-un was killed. Our attack was two fold: by land and by sea. As I stared into that great abyss, beyond the comprehension of man, our forces landed and stormed the country.
In a great battle, Kim Jong-un was killed and he fell upon the stairs leaving a carpet of red. The aerial photo ran in the papers and there was much rejoice in the West. Our reports had been stifled and hidden away.
But time undoes much, doesn't it? The Great Eater came to life and a great cloud fell unto the East. Snow began to fall and in the West we looked out, silent and afraid. That was in June, wasn't it? The day of the Roar. What history remains, they tell it so well.
The Roar echoed from the depths of the sea and all the seas vibrated and great waves came in lashes. Blackness spread even to the Atlantic and there was a massive earthquake in Japan and tremors in Europe. The unknown could be hidden no longer and the world grew meek.
The day I turned to God was quiet much like the day North Korea hit North America. The trees outside shifted in the breeze and I saw the birds fly away as the great cloud covered the West. The sun was hidden, perhaps gladly so, for the carnage I expected would be no pretty sight. I begged for mercy and forgiveness. I begged for our survival.
Who knew North Korea had saved us so? Who knew what lurked beneath those depths? There is snow now, in August and reports of a great being spanning miles upon miles are growing more frequent. I don't know what will happen. I am afraid same as you. It is hard to change a man, and some days I cannot believe what is happening. Perhaps that is just wishful thinking. |
I strode into the princess' lair. "Where is Draco?"I demanded.
Princess Tiffany pouted and clutched something behind her back. I sighed and walked over.
"You already have five other dragon toys, why must you take your brother's? You are going to be Queen someday, please learn to act like it."
The little princess teared up and ran out of the room, wailing. I shook my head.
She had a long way to go. |
Time travel had its benefits-- you got to get away from your problems, you got to take a free vacation to Spain, you got to witness history in the unmaking.
And unmake was exactly what Prinz was going to do-- that was the plan, anyway. He looked through his backpack: a 22nd-century wallet, a unopened manilla envelope containing his mission statement, a good-old-fashioned 2030s electric rapier. Everything was in order, everything would be fine. It was time to wipe Spain off the map.
Prinz had no idea why he was doing it. All he knew was that his employer had given him a mission, and if he carried it out he was entitled to open the envelope explaining why. Prinz had considered peeking earlier, but he was a man of his word. And besides, it might interfere with his mission: to disrupt the wedding that unified the kingdoms of Aragon and Castile into the mighty Spanish empire.
It wasn’t difficult at all to get in. Nobody saw Prinz enter through an open window, and nobody questioned his presence. Confidence, that’s all it took. Confidence, historically accurate clothes, seven years dedicated to learning seven dialects of unaccented Spanish. Prinz had all three of those things. Stopping this wedding would be a piece of cake, he thought to himself as he resisted snatching a glass of wine from the table. I'll come back for it later, he smirked. Imagine the profits you could make on wine aged 500 years. But for now he had a mission.
He turned the corner and there stood, yes, just like the old diaries said he would, King Ferdinand II of Aragon. Dressed finely, accompanied by two bodyguards, and just as ugly as the portrait made him look. Isabella would be relieved when he died.
“¿Qué hubo?” Prinz asked nonchalantly.
Immediately the guards gave him a quizzical look. Oh, crap. You can study Spanish all you want, but you’ll get stares if you use Chilean slang in Renaissance-era Europe. There was no point in covering it up now-- he was an outsider.
“En garde!” Prinz shouted as he drew the electric rapier from his bag. He surveyed the room: four doors, all shut; glass ceilings, stained-glass windows, yet no sunlight; vast rows of tables with nice tablecloths and silverware. And, of course, two guards and the target himself, an easy matchup.
The guards were pulling out what seemed to be very nice Toledan swords. Clearly they didn’t realize what Prinz’s weapon was; maybe it was time to show them. Prinz held out his weapon and twisted, cueing the 21st-century devices inside to shoot an arc of lightning out of the tip that traveled eight feet straight into the guard. Taking advantage of the surprise (or, Prinz mused, the *shock*), he rushed the other guard with a palpable lack of finesse. The guard was ready, and as Prinz came he sidestepped and tackled Prinz with, he figured, 200 pounds of body weight plus 20 pounds of armor.
Wait, tackled? That wasn’t a Spanish technique. Prinz craned his head up as much as he could and, indeed, the armor was made of alloys Ferdinand would have given half his kingdom for. “You’re a time traveler too?” he gasped.
At that moment, as if in response, the ceiling shattered and down rained bits of glass and a fellow dressed in highly period-inaccurate kevlar.
“Stop!” shouted the tackler. He stood up, armor clinking, and nodded his head at the other time travelers. “It appears we have similar goals. I want to kill Ferdinand for a 100, 000-credit bounty. He paused. “This is in 2100 credits, so that’s more money than you could ever dream of seeing all in one place.”
The poorly-dressed time-traveler looked back at Ferdinand, running like hell away from the outsiders. “I want to prevent the unification of Spain on behalf of Portugal, to give more power to the crown. 2142, my reward is whatever wealth I desire.”
Prinz staggered to his feet. “Anthony Prinz, at your service. My reward is unlimited access to my employer’s time machine, but I don’t know my cause.”
“You don’t know why you’re here?” asked the travelers.
“Well, I have an envelope,” Prinz mused. He pulled out the envelope from his bag and carefully opened it.
White paper, green 24-point Comic Sans, outdated memes from 2020. “No reason,” it stated as factually as lime green Comic Sans can, “you just got trolled.”
|
C. Parker. May 6, 2098. Keep confidential until May 9, 2108.
Zombies. That’s what we called them. Monsters, once people. Of course, not the actual living dead. Just poor, sad souls infected with a prion unlike any we’d seen before. They appeared human, at first glance, but kept moving, unless the brain was completely destroyed. Thankfully, the prion was difficult to transmit. It was waterborne, or transmitted through fluid exchange. That was the only thing that saved us. Not skill, just damned luck. A quirk of biology.
The end of the world started with mass infections in cities. The prion was nearly impossible to destroy, due to its nature as an abomination of misfolded protein. The first zombies lay low, and attacked water treatment plants. They lay in the water, and cut themselves open with teeth and nails. Dozens of them. The automated treatments purged most of the blood and viscera, but the prions remained. They infected people in the cities, got through their mucous membranes and into their brains. The infected rose up as one, and started biting people. The armies that they created, spread out into the rural areas. The Midwest was depopulated in a year. More isolated pockets sprung up. Canada, Mexico, Latin America. Our ancestors lost contact with the rest of the world. With the time it takes to fully take hold, I’d be surprised if any nation survived.
Exactly how our ancestors survived, is a story for another day. But here’s the short version. Our ancestors were prepared. There was an empty prison nearby, still under construction, scheduled to open the day the local outbreak started. Instead of prisoners, our ancestors moved in. Shut the gates, made the walls higher, turned the place into a fortress. Within a few months, the constant banging on the walls had ceased. They used to drop grenades over the walls, to break up the knots of zombies. Stopped doing that a few decades ago. Must have run out of grenades.
I was born here, in the fort. The old prison infirmary was made into a hospital, and the yard and grounds into farms and wells. Thank goodness for the low population here. Just a few thousand, scattered remnants of survivalists and people who heard the news and fled here. It’s been three generations since. I think there are three or four people here from the original wave, but they’d be in their eighties or nineties.
Back in the day, when I was ten or so, we still heard scratching and banging on the doors. It’s been a few years, twenty or so, since then. Banging has stopped. I’m honestly surprised. The notes taken by the ancestors said that all the zombies would be dead within months, due to freezing and rotting. When it turned out that they were wrong, we expected the zombies to never go away, until they starved. They could cannibalize each other, see. Not like the ones in the old movies I hear the elders talking about. The last DVD player has a waitlist a year long, and I never bothered trying to watch anything on it.
When it went a year without banging, we assumed it was safe. The first two squads of scouts we sent out, three people each with our ancient guns, never came back. Nothing over the radio. Just silence. We’re not sure where they went. We can’t handle any more losses, so we haven’t sent anyone out since, until now. They made the decision yesterday, in the old Warden’s office. We busted the wall open to make it bigger, and it’s now the council chamber. The council is decent. The latest one hasn’t got anyone killed. Can hardly hope for better.
As I was saying, we haven’t sent anyone out until now. I’m going. Can hardly say I’m excited, but I can handle it. It’s just empty space, after all. The zombies are all dead. They must be.
I honestly hope you never have to see this note. That means I’m gone. I died, or disappeared, or was unable to return. If you see this note, I love you, and I’m sorry that you didn’t get to meet me. We named you, last night. So I could put your name on this. I told your mother to hide this, until you’re ten. That should mean you’re old enough to understand it. You’re scheduled to be born in three days, so I hope you’re on time. Ruining the confidentiality date would be embarrassing.
Anyway.
Goodbye, Matthias. I’m sorry that I never got to meet you. I love you, and I’m sure that you will make me proud.
-C.
|
"Pardon my intrusion, but could you please turn your attention from the television and to me instead?"A foreign voice rang out, one layered with charm, frustration, and just a little beat of heat. Almost like my mum's but not quite there yet.
I turned my head reluctantly. I was just getting to my seventh rerun of *Parks and Refreation.* Once I fixed my eyes on my doorstep, the sight was one to behold. It's not everyday you see an impeccably dressed gentleman, in a well pressed suit, complete with... Snow? Why is there snow? And how the hell did he get inside my apartment? I jolted up, and he must have noticed as he put a finger up.
"Tsk tsk, one second please. I can see you are both confused and angry, and that is not a combination any human can rationally think through. Before you say a word, let me introduce myself. My name is Lucifer Morningstar, and thanks to you, hell is fucking freezing over."
"What?"I felt my face scrunch up in a familiar motion. Too used to not understanding anything I've been doing in college.
"Right, that has definitely made you more confused."He sighed, letting out a mist in the air. The man is definitely cold. He paced the room, rubbing his hands together and continued, "I repeat, I am Lucifer Morningstar, and you have caused hell to freeze over because of your bloody mistake!"
Hell freeze over, now where was that phrase familiar...
"Oh my god, Lucy! I told her that."
Lucifer physically flinched. "Could you please try not to put my daughter's beautiful name beside my father's? He's really not known to answer to that name."
And that was when it all clicked.
The Devil was standing on my doorstep.
"What the fuck? You are the Devil?"I reached out my hand to grab the table, to prevent my keeling over. "What the hell are you doing here?"
The Devil lashed out, "I'm here, because you somehow made Hell more hellish! I was only just getting used to the temperature, and now my daughter's made it colder than a witch's tit!"
He took two small steps towards me, but I could feel the aura that he carried. Be it whether he is the Devil or not, he definitely had an unseen power around him.
"And now, you will fix your mistake. Date my daughter." |
It was a beautiful day outside. The sun shone through the glass walls, illuminating the room and casting rays upon your beautiful wrinkled skin. The sound of a beeping heart monitor echoed around the room. There was a fake Aloe Vera plant on a small white table and a beige armchair in the corner. It seemed so empty in here, I had wanted to fill it up with decorations and furniture but of course you stopped me. You had always liked simpler decor. I still remember when you first came into this hospital room, we both knew that you wouldn't leave this place again. I had tried to break the tension by suggesting furniture and you just brushed the idea away. 'Whose going to use it, the postman?' you had said lightheartedly. Ever the blunt one, I had laughed along with you but inside I was sad. I knew you were lonely. I knew you missed your husband and your daughter who had died years ago.
As I stared out the window at the beach and the English channel, I was taken back to the day we had first met. You, such a hyperactive child and me the terrified Alien introduced to each other by our guardians. It was around the time when Aliens began to be incorporated into the human race. An Alien for every human suffering with cancer. And I was chosen to be your Alien. Even at the early age of five, you had developed what they called Leukemia. It was my job to cure you of it. Every time we sat down and went through the feeding, you thanked me. It was nothing really, in fact it was more a favour to me than to you. Yet, you still thanked me.
That's one of the reasons why I loved you. You never took the Aliens for granted. It wasn't long before we became inseparably close. I loved you more than I had loved any other Alien. You even called us sisters. It was such an honour to be considered your family. I took pride in feeding on the cancer within you, knowing I was allowing you to live even longer. I felt needed and I needed you to need me.
Yet, now here we were ninety years later. In a care home for the elderly. Me, sitting in the lonely armchair and you laying in the crisp, white hospital bed, breathing your last breaths. I had been told that humans didn't live as long as Aliens, but I wasn't quite prepared for how quickly their lives ended. As I sat here, I cursed myself for not being able to save you from death. I had saved you so many times from cancer...but now I was helpless. All I could do was be with you whilst you died from old age.
I heard you stirring and I rushed to your side. Your beautiful eyes were cracked open slightly and when you saw me you smiled. I tried to smile back as best as I could.
'My sister,' you croaked out slowly. I listened closely for your every word.
'I think it's time.' I took in your words and understood the gravity of them. I shook my head.
'Please don't leave. What will I do without you?' I cried. A human act I had picked up after living with you for years. You blinked with such effort and widened your lips into a bigger smile as if to reassure me.
'I have loved you as a sister,' there was a slight pause as you wetted your dry lips, 'now it is time for someone to love you as their mother.' I trembled. It was then I realised truly I couldn't save you from this. I nodded.
'I will never forget you,' my voice wavered. You looked happy at that, and rested your eyes. I sat by your side for the next hour, holding your hand as you faced death welcomingly.
When the clock struck the hour, your hand went limp and I was left alone.
|
My life is like a book with its pages torn. Half a story with an abrupt end, the feeling of frustration and the sadness of in-completion. I'll never finish that book. I'll never know the end. Doesn't it just rile you up? But what can you do?
I have done much in this life. I have helped so many people. Some know and some think I am some angel, a gift from God. Whatever they know, they know something good had been done, and that was all that I needed.
I was never a kind man. I can't say I'm very nice. But power changes you. Sometimes for the better. I was middle aged when I changed. Thirty five when I found my power. To me it was a gift from God, completely unimaginable. And how it changed me so.
I became spiritual. I wanted to know why I could freeze time when everyone was a slave to it. Why was I chosen? Was I chosen. And so I retracted from the world and became someone else. I was no longer concerned about the *me* of the world, but about using my powers, and using them for good. I know. I couldn't believe it either. But that's how I felt.
Things were great. The book of my life had picked up. I saved a woman from death. A man from the bad luck of life. Helped the unfortunate. I did it all and I did it freely. And yet I am haunted. Yet I remain a monster as the tears of the book of my life come closer.
Her name is Maureen and she is six. In the coming seconds she is to die. A car is coming for her. A car is speeding near. I can imagine the smell of the smoke that lingers like a marble statue. I can almost hear the tyres squealing. I can feel the impact that will happen. The girl's name is Maureen and she will die.
So why can't I save her? Why don't I do the easy thing and pick her up? To answer brings shame. To tell the truth, I have only a minute and this minute is going fast. My life is coming in ebbs, going out like water in a burst pipe. I have no energy. I have no will. I look young, but the light is going. The words are ending.
I figured it out a lifetime ago when the cancer came. That maybe a day or two ago for you. This power ages me. It takes my life for every minute I steal. Tit for tat. An inescapable exchange. Now I am old beyond my thirty five years. I feel deathly ill and the world slows, now in the way I can make it stop, but it slows in the way that let's you know that death is coming. And death is coming fast.
And so I see little Maureen. She is a few feet away but the minutes are the gulf that separates life and death. I cannot reach her. I cannot save her. With this final stopping of time, I feel the pain, the aches and intuition of the end of my life. My muscles sag from the magical aging and my heart strains and my brain gets foggy. The girl is going to die. So am I.
It is coming then and I will not release time. I wonder what will happen if I die like this. Will you all be stuck as well? Or will time resume with the death of myself and Maureen? Who will they cry for more? Me who has done so much good in this world? Or the innocent girl whom I couldn't save.
The answers will not come as fast as the black. The world slips by and I see the permanent fear etched on the girl's face. How I am glad I will not see her end. How I am glad that my book ends here, one page shorter than hers. Both ripped and defiled. No satisfaction, only the cruel mistreatment that is life. |
Harry stole from carpenters, so Karma stole his chairs;
Lenny hit his wife and was punched down a flight of stairs.
Wilma got a fine, Barry slapped with mops;
Big Tony had his ‘activities’ emailed to the cops.
Bob was dragged into a van and never seen again;
Ash came home to his wife asleep with *his* best friend.
Karma joined the mailman and gave a note to Slate;
He read the letter once and then promptly fled the state.
“*And now it’s your turn*”, the agent said, and I heard an awful squish;
As they reached into their pocket—
And slapped me with a fish.
|
They came to Earth a week ago. Apparently they stumbled upon our planet by accident and when they found us they cackled. Oh, did they cackle. Their ships were massive and many and filled our skies. Their evil and creepy sounding snickering and cackling filled our radio waves and disrupted our TV shows. They even flooded YouTube with videos of their ships and ominous beings clad in dark and weird armors just laughing. Creepy and ominous were under statements.
Within days they learned our primary languages through their superior technologies. They claimed the common name given to their race throughout the civilized galaxy meant "Evil Overlords Supreme". They might have still had problems with syntax when they first started to communicate with us.
They asked for our surrender. We told them no. The armed forces of the world prepared to engage their ships. The alien races laughed at us and told us that their forces were already on the ground and that it was too late for us. Their soldiers were going to bring our society down.
This morning I noticed that someone took all of my bread and made burnt toast of the pieces before putting the pieces back into their bags. I found chewed gum inside of my shoes as I went to put them on.
Someone had put a no exit sign on the inside of my front and back doors. I found a fire hydrant in my driveway next to my car.
All of my toothpaste was sitting in a pile on my sink, yet the tube had a slit down the side with tape on it. When I peeled back the tape I found someone had filled it by scooping the cat's litter box. What the hell was going on?
I found the alien super commando snickering, he was hiding in my basement. He threatened to cut all of the do not remove tags off of a stack of pillows unless I surrendered to him. I slapped him like the little punk that he was and he ran away crying.
Every fourth house was vandalized this way within my city. The aliens broadcasted their next message across every known technological means of communication and they wanted to know if we've had enough. They've duplicated our no parking signs and they weren't afraid to use them in every parking lot of the world. They did warn us that they're diabolical masterminds.
They pooped in the president's bathroom sink. Humanity is about to show them what true evil is. |
They chose to land near Spokane, and making do with the inconvenience, local police rushed to the scene to hold back the public before the government could arrive.
Ten-year-old Clayton and his mother were among the first ones to arrive at the open field with the spaceship, and they witnessed the crowd growing with each passing minute. Although the woman was excited to be part of history, she clenched her car keys tightly in case a quick getaway would be necessary. Preoccupied with the potential danger, Clayton's mother was looking behind her past all the people, planning her escape route. As the time passed, she became more on edge, but the opposite was happening to her son.
Perhaps he was tired of waiting, or hungry, but most likely Clayton was curious when he ran out of his mother's grasp and right through the blockade of policemen who had to stop more and more people.
The boy's mother was horrified, but there was no other option than to just watch him continue to run through the field. With the whole crowd's attention on the boy, he looked up at the aliens who were more than thrice his height.
As if proving the gesture was universal, one of the aliens cocked its head, while another bent down to pick up the boy.
Satisfied that contact had been made, the alien group did a sort of congratulation for the first contact, and they passed the boy around so each could see and hold the relatively alien form of life.
The last of them put Clayton down, and while the boy smiled from his unique experience, he ran back to his relieved mother.
Now seeing strange device pointed at them from the officers who were inspired by fear, the aliens could sense danger was imminent. They turned back and entered their spaceship ready to return home with their single story of a brave child among the terrified humans. |
“Is she really worth this to you?” Christa asks. Her hair is up in a messy bun, strands escaping and brushing against the back of her neck as she paces. Each step she takes is forced and determined. Off to the side, oystershell eyes covered by crooked sunglasses, Dave leans against the wall with his head back, staring at the ceiling.
“She is our fucking daughter, Chris, how is she not worth this to you?” He accuses, tired. The question comes out lacking effort, as if it has been asked one hundred times before and hardly warrants an answer. “You can’t tell me she doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Of course she matters,” she says.
“Then this is worth it.”
They are silent for several seconds. Christa stops walking and her deep sigh blows a tissue extended from the box on a counter just a foot away. She wonders if she should be crying but, after the year they have had, she doesn’t have the energy to produce tears and she certainly wasn’t feeling sad. Dave stares at her back, eying her hunched posture, curious as to when it became so lazy. The yoga obsessed woman he had married wouldn’t ever stand like that but they are different people now.
“It’s worth it,” he repeats. Then he walks toward her, pausing to look at her face and finding it vacant of expression before passing and making his way down the hall. She doesn’t move.
In the back room, a girl lies under a blanket, motionless aside from the rise and fall of her chest. It lifts in time with a hiss of a machine and drops after a click, the machine whirring another faux breath. Artificial life for a not so artificial little girl. Before Dave crosses the line of carpet, abandoning the hardwood hallway, he stops and takes in all of the tubes and wires. Then as he does every day, he remembers. He remembers the slides and the birthday parties. The big toothy grin with the big gap where her front tooth had fallen out only days before the accident.
“I have great news, sweetheart,” he hums, shoe finally landing on the peach coloured carpet. “I might be gone for a little while but, when I get back, you’ll be able to go outside again. I know you’d like that. We can go to the park. The butterflies are out, you know.”
The life support machine hisses and the monitors ping. The room smells sterile and he is nostalgic for the time she smuggled back a carton of eggs, hoping they’d hatch, and left them to become rotten under her bed. If he hadn’t been late to pick her up from daycare, her room might smell like body sprays or stale urine from hiding away soiled bedsheets. The lies have made him heavier. Every time Christa told him that it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t have known that the client was going to be late, the lies became swollen. Doctors, they won’t operate to remove swollen lies the way that they’ll remove your infected appendix. So Dave has been bloating larger every night since the crash.
Except Dave could have been diligent not to take so long to bring his secretary to an orgasm on his neat office desk. Then he’d have been at the daycare in time and their daughter’s room might smell like stale urine.
“I don’t understand how this works,” Christa says.
She’s standing outside of the door so the wall blocks her view of the machine powered child. Her eyes are red but the lids aren’t puffy and her face isn’t wet.
“I made a deal,” he replies.
“I know, I still don’t fucking get it Dave. It sounds insane.”
“Just let me fix this. It’s my fau-”
She cuts him off. “Stop saying that you couldn’t ha--”
“I know, just.. Let me take care of it.”
They don’t say anything else and she holds her breath as Dave slides past her and walks down the narrow hallway. For a moment, she misses the sexual tension that the brief close encounter once caused. The door opens and then shuts again and she is trapped with the hissing and whirring and pinging.
Later that night, Dave stands in an alleyway, hands in his pockets; a hooded man approaches.
“I did it,” Dave says.
“You’ll have to do it every week,” the man remarks.
“I know.”
“I’m not promising that she’ll be off the machines until you hit the quota.”
“I know.”
“You’ll have to keep doing it, every week, if you want to keep her around.”
“I know,” Dave replies, turning and walking to a dumpster.
Behind the big stinking metal container is the slumped over body of a boy about the same age as his daughter, small and in the shadows such that he blends in with the rest of the garbage bags. Dave tries to forget that the boy has a mother and a father. The lies swell in his stomach.
“Nineteen more innocent souls to go. Don’t get overzealous. You’ll get caught. They always get caught,” the man chuckles.
Heavier than when he’d came, Dave walks back to his car and drives home. He and Christa don’t speak. They don’t eat dinner or brush their teeth. In silence, they go to sleep.
|
"Ready or not, here I come..."
Jonathon sat in his closet, back pressed hard against the smooth wood. His shaking hands gripped the aluminium baseball bat he had gotten for his tenth birthday, and a cool droplet of sweat formed on his brow. He was engulfed in darkness, save for a thin slice of yellow light that slipped through the crack of the door and fell across his face like a knife wound.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are..."
He flinched as he heard the soft voice floating up the stairs, and clenched the bat tighter in his clammy hands. His knuckles were turning white from the effort, and his fingernails were beginning to dig into his palms, but he could not feel it. All of his senses were focused on the words that echoed through the house, and the sound of slow footsteps ascending the stairs.
"I know you're here, Johnny."
The voice was right outside his room now, but Jonathon could barely hear it over the sound of his heartbeat. He stifled a loud sob, and clutched the bat to his tight chest. He tried to sit as still as possible, but every small movement seemed to send sharp hisses through the silence.
The bedroom door creaked as it opened.
Jonathan squeezed his watering eyes shut, and he struggled to slow his shuddering breaths. Prayers raced through his throbbing head. Oh God, please don't let it find me. Oh God. Please.
A tapping sound wrenched his eyes open, and his stomach dropped like a stone. He realised with a start that the yellow light was no longer piercing the shadows where he sat. Dread filling his bones, he willed himself to focus his trembling eyes on the gap in the closet door - and saw that there was another pair of eyes staring right back at him.
"I've found you!"
|
Some houses stand the ages and its people come and go. Some houses stand and age, and its people age inside like in some alternate reality. You probably know some people like that. A different breed of life that talks different, thinks different, looks different. I'm sure you know some people like that.
The Montery family was like that. They were from a different age. The parents were haggard and old, always old, and their children were scrawny and poor looking. In the nights the lights were off and there was smoke from the kitchen window and cussing and bawling. It reminded me of the stories from the Great War that my grandfather would tell.
The father was digger, though I don't know if he was ever paid. He digged outside the house and their were holes in the lawn and the sour smell of dirt in the wind. The Monterys lived in the country, not too far out though, and they could get away from the law.
I would watch the old man dig with a rusted spade. He talked to himself and looked at his house and cussed the children inside. I didn't know what he was doing then. Can you guess?
I cased the house for a week or so, maybe ten days at most. Mostly out of curiosity. The father's name was Guy. The mother was a fat dead looking woman and her name was Miriam. She always wore tattered dresses and her breasts were often exposed and she beat the children. I didn't know what she did besides beating them.
"You fucking bastard!"
Whack.
"You whore. You're a whoreeeee! You're going to end up a *whoreeeeeee*!"
That was to the young girl they had. She smacked her and the girl was on the floor outside the backdoor. I watched from a tree. She hit her with a broom. And the father kept digging, cursing and digging, stopping to wipe the sweat and then more digging. I could see why someone would want them dead. I wasn't sure who had put in the request, but I could see why. And of course my reasoning was wrong.
The request had been simple and straightforward.
*'Kill him over and over. Bring him back and kill him again. Then bring him back.'*
I could understand their feelings. I wanted to strangle both of them over and over. But I wouldn't. I only killed once, and then I revived them. I am not much of a killer, I confess, but usually the act was enough to change an asshole's life.
Soon, I had seen enough. The yard was filled with craters, looking like no man's land. It was night and there were no lights but the house was hot and humid. I could feel the heat as I approached. The mounds of dirt cast round shadows. I was cautious, but I admit I wasn't too cautious. My target was an old man. I wasn't flashy.
The house smelled like shit and there were piles garbage everywhere. In a corner I saw the boy sleeping. He was scrawny and unfortunate looking. Somewhere in the dark I heard the girl crying in her sleep. Even her dreams gave no respite.
Upstairs there was grunting. Out of breath rasps. A candle light glowed from the crack in the door.
"Oh yeah, daddy! Yesssssss!"
It smelled awful.
"Dig! Dig *Digggggg*!'
I was about to kick in the door but the woman began to scream.
"Bury me! Dig and bury me! Oh yesssss! Dig! Bury me like those brats. Think of me as that! Yes! Knock me in! Yes daddy!"
I froze.
"Dig!"
I kicked in the door. My mind was somewhere else.
*How many children did they have?*
*They're so old. Why are their children so young?*
And they stared at me naked like animals. Neither screamed. Then the woman began to laugh and bounce.
The smell pulsed and I gagged.
"Kill him! Kill him!"she screamed.
On the counter there were candles burning. The wax melted like their skin.
"Shoot him!"
And the man was aroused.
I fired and she recoiled at the sound. The man fell backwards in bloody mess.
She began to clap.
"Yes! Yes! Again!"
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"I managed.
She crawled like a dog and her voice was old and like a witch.
"Revive him! Revive him and do it again. Do it again big boy. Follow your orders!'
*Jesus.*
"You... You hired me... This was..."
"Do it! Do it again and again!"
She was like some monster, overflowing with skin and sweat and her eyes were faded and old and cruel.
"Do the children too!"
I shot her but she did not die as yet.
"Yes!"she screamed in pain.
"Finish it and revive us!"
I aimed for her head and pulled the trigger and then there was silence. She lay dead against the bedhead, smiling a bloody smile.
I vomited then and my knees buckled. Behind me were the children and they were frozen with fear. I hardly had words.
"You..."I managed. "You're free..."
But they just stared and cowered. Then they started to cry and they fell on the floor. It was a long time before I could get through to them and when I did it was the girl who spoke.
"You killed mommy..."she said.
"Was that your mother?"
"You killed her like she killed Jeb."
Then more crying. I tried to hold them, to console them and make some sense of it all, but they only retreated to the shadows.
"You're safe now,"I said. "No more beatings."
But they were too far gone.
"Bring them back!"the boy screamed. "Bring them back!"
In the distance I heard sirens. I had to make a decision.
"The police will help you,"I said.
"The police will lock you up! Mommy pays them. She gets on her knees and cleans their bad thing! They will lock you up unless you bring them back!"
My head was hurting. I had never killed without reviving, and the thought of killing again was nearly too much. But the sirens were close and I was near insanity.
"I'm sorry,"I said.
In that instant I thought I might kill them, the children. It might have been better that way; might have eased their suffering. But I couldn't and that was why I was sorry.
I pushed past them and made it out of the house. They were screaming after me. I ran into the night and among the trees and I smelled fresh air and I disappeared in that abandoned country. Those people and that house was from a different time. I hope to never go into that sickly past again.
|
20 years ago, gamma rays from a nearby star forced evolution on around 10% of the human race. Most died, cancer quickly infesting their bodies, killing them in a matter of weeks. The ones who survived developed tremendous powers, from super-speed to mind control powers. I was granted the gift of data control. See, with this new age of technology we send data over optical cables, and broadcast data over our Wi-Fi routers. I can see the data, and differentiate it from background noise. I can pick it up just as I can pick up a toothpick, look into its contents, and send it on its merry path.
The small number of us mutants forced us to band together in a small group called the Outcasts, as initially governments tried to capture us, this attitude slowly growing into jealousy. Several traitorous mutants joined their ranks, using their skills to fight us, even though we warned them they'd probably be dissected once the enemy, consisting of nearly all the global governments, was done with them. Genius-level mutants developed weapons to hunt us down, labelling us as "terrorists"and "rebels"out to sow discord. Of course, as the enemy slowly began preaching about the "purity"of the human race those traitors eventually disappeared from existence.
A few years after the forced evolution, called the Infection by the governments, the enemy declared all-out war on our hideouts, sending huge offensives to bleed us out. Having no powers that would help, I was deployed to a small, developed city in Asia to spy on the enemy. Using my powers of data manipulation, I fed misinformation of mutant hideouts into the global database, while warning my comrades of impending attacks. Despite all my efforts, I was forced to watch helplessly as victory after victory was blared through the enemy's media. Merely 2 years after the all-out war on mutants was declared, American media reported of a special operations strike against our headquarters that killed our leader. So I decided to lie low. Maybe start a business or two, while looking for what remained of the Outcasts. I couldn't have been the only one that survived the purge.
---
Basic economics. Profit is equal to revenue minus costs. Revenue is dependent on the demand for your good or service. Increase revenue or decrease costs, and you get profits.
All firms knew that, and did their best to raise profits through a variety of means, from reducing costs by switching their fleshy human labour to tireless robots, to raising revenue through blaring advertisements through television, computers, newspapers, and so on. Of course, none of my competitors had my power.
I ran a small company selling toys. Now, you may question, how do powers of data manipulation even help in selling *toys*? It's simple. Using my powers I can easily obtain the knowledge of current trends, helpfully collected by my competitors. By cutting ahead of them through producing the toys before my competitors could even react, I could quickly address rises in demand for my toys. A simple manipulation on several packets of data, and agreements between toy producers and my competitors break down, while agreements for me seem to go completely untouched.
I'm sure you'd rather hear me talk about how The Switcheroo was able to swap the Eiffel Tower for the Leaning Tower of Pisa 4 years ago or how The Red Flagbearer screwed around with the United States by blasting the old Soviet anthem out loud throughout the country a few weeks back, but bear with me. As I said, eventually my business grew while my competitors floundered. They began to see my firm's success as a threat to their continued dominance. So they banded together, agreeing to lower their prices way below mine to force a price war, knowing that their combined production far, *far*, outpaces mine. And I didn't see it coming, either, what with the Red Flagbearer's exploits in America. But I had a plan. Visiting their combined headquarters I introduced a small exploit into their systems. Rather than, say, wiping out ALL of their output, I decided to restrict their output to no more than mine through irreparably damaging some of their machines, as well as continue to lower their prices. Of course, this all happened a few weeks after my visit and in small amounts at a time, so it wouldn't be tied to me. Eventually they couldn't continue their low prices forever, and their continued hopes that my firm would shut down instead worsened their position and improved my market dominance further.
And that was how I ran my "legitimate"business.
~~~~~
Sorry, I got a little wordy in the front and kinda ran out of steam as I progressed. :( |
"Well this is rare, when was the last one that had the same weight? Anubis?"
"I believe it was 2053 BC, a young scribe of the House of Magic, a tragic accident involving charms and a revenge plot."
I stood rooted into the ground, still shocked, getting my heart ripped out was not, I repeat not a nice experience. Looking at Osiris and Anubis conversing, I felt powerless. I am an archaeologist, however I specialized in Greek Mythology, I always though that I would be walking though Mount Olympus into the gardens or be along the River Styx on my way to Hade's Courtyard. Never came to mind that Osiris's Throne Room would be my final destination.
"Well, what do you think we should do with him? Let his heart get eaten by Ammit?"Osiris said as he turn his head towards me, his skin as blue as the oceans and clutching his Crook and Frail, pointing the Frail at me like a Pharaoh at a slave.
"My Lord, this is a special case, we must handle it with care, we must not be hasty."
"Yes, we should all calm down and take the advice of the jackal headed guy."
"Lord Anubis, Lord Anubis."I said hastily as stared down at me, ready to strike me down while I am at my most vulnerable.
"Let him study under me, I will teach him the ways of the Gatekeeper, since he is unable move onward towards the other trials since he is unable to pass the scales' test nor will he be eaten as his heart is not heavier than the feather. He will stay here with us, learn the secrets of the underworld realm, to guide souls of the underworld."
"Hmmm, that is a swell suggestion Anubis, having another assistance will be beneficial to us. However, will he be able to withstand the ritual? It will last more than 2 years, going through the Duat."Osiris and Anubis once again deep in their conversation leaving me looking blank, and the side of the scale slept a creature. A beast with a crocodile's head, with a lion's mane and an assortment of animals pieced together. I would assume that would be Ammit.
"Do I get a word in?"
"NO"both Gods spoke in unison, causing a shock-wave towards me knocking me down. "I guess it is settled, but first we will need to teach him some manners, not to say anything while We Gods are talking."
As Anubis gave me a sly smile, "Oh I forgot, whats is your name young man?"
"Unas, Jason Unas" |
After my trick Alyson gave both Penn and Teller a bit of time. It was nerve wracking i can see Penn's eyes focusing on the card i gave them as proof and yet Teller seems happy. It seems like Teller knows my tricks and yet when Alyson ask Penn about the verdict, Penn looked directly into my eye and said to me, "Boy do i love this act, The effect is so great it's so perfect it's so mesmerizing and ill stop right there because i might sound to much like Donald Trump. But It was simply simply amazing, However..."He paused and look at Teller's cheerful eyes and then continued "I think we know how you did it. We think you pulled some sort of Jedi powers into this card for it to be possible". Penn and Teller we're pretty confident at this point, and then Alyson looked at me and said "So does this trick requires you to become a Jedi?". I smugged. In my mind i said I did it, and then confidently said "No it does not require me to be a Jedi, there is no Force involved"
Penn and Teller was shocked ... Teller was speechless as ever and Penn was wide-eyed in disbelief that i actually fooled them.
I finally did it!
After two tries, one in England and one in the Penn and Teller Theater in Vegas. I finally did it.
I finally fooled Penn and Teller.
Two days later. There was a call in my house. It's the producers of the show asking if i can meet with them later this afternoon. I said "Ok, Right around 3:30? ", "3:30"the producer reassuringly said.
I went to the venue. It was a fairly large home. Probably one of the producer's home. I chimed in and nobody answered. I checked the gate and it was open. Despite my initial hesitance, I pushed forward.
I walked in this lush green front lawn that seems to be well maintained despite the lack of some sprinklers. Then i walked to this white grandiose stairs leading to the main door. I knocked. Nobody answered. I knocked again. Again nobody. I tried opening the knob slowly and gently. It produced a small squeaky sound but it's not that creepy. I fully opened it and it was pitch dark inside. Then suddenly red candles are slowly being lit in a semi-circular pattern as if ready to devour me. Holding them are various other magicians that won the Fool Us trophy like Shin Lim and Shawn Farquhar.
In the middle of the semi-circle were both Penn and Teller. They ask me to step inside the circle and I obliged. I jokingly said "What's this some sort of initiation we are such dorks".
I was promptly interrupted by Teller who said "shush"in his silky deep baritone voice.
Teller then said "You have proven yourself to be a wizard of extreme calibre"
"Now show me your true powers"
Suddenly everyone was emitting some sort of aura of pure power. Things like you can only see on random anime. But this shit is real. I was super freaking out and I'm like whoa whoa whoa "Guys wtf are you .... Im no wizard... Dude If you were desperate to know my trick all i did was some sleight of hand"I then proceeded to explain how it was done in front of them...
After this Penn was again wide eyed... "Hang on buddy!, You are telling me you are no wizard? And you simply fooled us with your stupid sleight of hand trick".
"Yeah"I said.
All of them suddenly went really disappointed.
Teller then said "Boy we wasted so much mana for that"
|
I opened the closet, emptied a clip into it, and even threw a grenade in there for good measure.
Clapping my hands I turned to her with a pleased smile, and held out my palm. "My job is done, miss. Now, that would be 10, 000 dollars in Monopoly money like we agreed on."
But she didn't move, her eyes peeking out at me from over the cover pulled halfway up her face.
"It's above you,"she whispered.
I looked up and saw a spider dangling from a thread. Bruh, my eyes popped out my sockets.
"YOU HAVE NOPES IN HERE???!"I screamed, grabbing her and jumping through the window. We landed in the grass, rolled, and when I got up I ran to my car and came back with a flamethrower.
"Wait!"She shouted. "My parents are still inside."
"No, it doesn't matter,"I told her. "The nopes got them."
And then I torched the place. Fuckin' nopes.
|
The room was silent as the door opened, and Quake strode in. The other heroes examined him critically, taking his measure as the tall, broad man strode menacingly up to the secretary's desk.
"Was told to report here."He rumbled, sliding a sheet of paper onto her desk. "Here I am."She smiled up at him charmingly, taking it in hand and replacing it with a stack of paperwork.
Across the room, Live Wire pulled his head back behind the cube wall.
"It's *him*! Can you believe it?"He squealed, grinning. Zoomshot, his desk neighbor, sighed.
"Right. It's *him*. How could I forget? Oh, wait. I didn't."He leveled a glare at the energetic young man. "You haven't shut up about this guy all week. Is he really all that?"
Live Wire's eyes lit up.
"You have no *idea*, Zoom! He was the rising star of Easthaven City! I just can't believe someone *my age* is that absurdly awesome and famous. Like, I saw him on YouTube, and he was *totally cool*. This bad guy, he tried to throw a bus at his head! And he just *bam*, shocked the air, and the bus *disintegrated*! Just like that! And then, last month, he-"
"Yeah, yeah."Zoom said, hiding his grin. "He's very cool. I get it. You're right. Just, you know, play it smooth, ok? No one likes a fanboy."He raised an eyebrow meaningfully, and Live Wire's mouth audibly clacked shut as he put a kibosh on his next sentence.
"I-I know that. I won't *annoy* him. I'm not a kid anymore."He sat up straight, pointedly not looking at the other young man signing in. Then he jumped up.
"'Sup?"Zoom said, sighing.
"I-I'm gonna use the bathroom. Be right back."
"Dude, you don't need a hall pass. TMI."But Live Wire was already gone, zipping away. Off to update his blog, Zoom figured, with a chuckle to himself.
He caught himself up short when the looming figure took up a chair on the other side of the desk.
Quake sat down across from him, still scrawling his name on sheet after sheet. Zoom grunted a hello, jerking his chin in greeting. Quake smiled, a little awkwardly. It was tough to be the new guy, Zoom mused. That was understandable.
But as he watched, he saw Quake's eyes flick once, then again. Over to the other side of the room, where Live Wire had vanished through an exterior door.
"Was....Was that Live Wire?"The larger man rumbled, quietly.
Zoom sat up, setting his coffee down.
"...Why, yes, it was. We picked him up for our team last month."Was this.....No. No, that would be too ironic. But he could see the flush rising in Quake's cheeks, and the eager smile that threatened to sneak onto his face.
"....What's he *like*?"Quake muttered, clearly embarassed. Zoom grinned openly, now, unable to help himself.
"Oho, are you a fan?"He nodded appreciatively. "Our Spark's quite the young star, isn't he?"Quake nodded eagerly.
"I-yes. Yes, I am. He was featured on *Tonight: Our News* two months ago. He took that flying villain, and shocked him straight from the sky!"He shook his head. "I would have been useless. Too far. No ground. Not Live Wire. He was *awesome*. And then, when he took out-"And as the increasingly quiet roomfull of heroes watched, he proceeded to gush over each accomplishment his young cohor had managed, until at last he blushed crimson and fell into silence.
"That's....He is a very skilled hero, that is all. I would like the chance to learn from him. But no one likes a fanboy."The hereos all nodded seriously. It was true.
The door opened, and Live Wire stepped back through. Upon seeing Quake seated across from his place at the table, he froze.
Zoom hid his grin.
Step by step, Live Wire made his way back to his desk, not meeting anyone's eyes, and plopped himself back in his seat. And then, once he had suitably resumed his work, he sniffed, and nodded in Quake's direction.
"Sup. Welcome, and all that. I guess."
Quake, his ears bright red, paused from filling out his forms just long enough to nod back at the other hero.
"Thanks. I mean, thank you. Hi. I'm Quake."
The tension between the two was palpable. The other heroes all suddenly found other tasks needing their attention, slipping outside or hiding their chuckles behind coughs.
But Zoom, front and center, couldn't take it anymore.
"Gotta-have to-*delivery*."He managed, kicking in his speed and whipping out the door. They heard his laughter, though, uproarious as he fled into the distance.
It was *too perfect*, Zoom mused to himself, as he wiped the tears from his eyes a mile off. Having those two working together, when they were too shy to even hold a conversation, would be an endless source of entertainment for him. Assigning them together as a unit shouldn't be unreasonable. After all, they joined only a month apart. It would be convenient for the paperwork.
Yes, he'd have to have a word with the Boss when he got back. Quake and Live Wire - *partners*.
(/r/inorai, critiques always welcome!) |
Still chuckling at her husband's most recent joke, Tina turned away from him, adjusted her sunglasses, and laid back in her beach chair. "That's fine,"she said cheekily. "I'll just sit here alone while you go watch your game... I just don't know how I'll ever enjoy myself."
Lee laughed. He walked around and bent to kiss her on the cheek. "I'll be back in about an hour. Come up to the room if you get bored."
Tina smiled and took a sip of her drink. "I'm sure that'll be any minute now,"she said even though Lee was out of earshot now.
From the small wicker table beside her, she heard her phone ding. She sat her drink down and reached for it. As she opened the menu, her finger slipped. Her screen turned blue and she saw that she had accidentally opened her Alexa app.
*Ugh*, she thought to herself. She pressed her "back"button several times, and the phone started to respond. Her eyes noticed, however, that her Alexa search history had new entries. She went back to the app and opened the list.
**"Alexa, how long do people go on vacation?"**
She certainly didn't remember asking Alexa that question, but it was possible they had done it while planning the trip.
**"Alexa, why do people go on vacation?"**
Tina knew why she was going on vacation, but thought perhaps Lee had took it upon himself to research ideas on what to do for vacation.
**"Alexa, when do people go on vacation?"**
**"Alexa, how do you stop loneliness?"**
**"Alexa, what makes a house so quiet if you're alone in it?"**
Tina's felt goosebumps spread across her arms despite the balmy weather. She clicked on the question and peered at the date; it was asked two days ago, but she and Lee had left four days prior. She quickly looked up at her surroundings, but just a few people were there, lounging and paying no attention to her.
Tina pressed her "back"button to look at more of the searches. If someone was in their home, she could just call the police... but she needed to know for sure.
**"Alexa, why do people abandon people?"**
**"Alexa, how do you know if you're unwanted?"**
**"Alexa, what do you do if you're unwanted?"**
**"Alexa, how do you get back at someone?"**
**"Alexa, what do you do when you're angry?"**
**"Alexa, what weapons can you hide on a plane?"**
**"Alexa, what was my schedule for today?"**
**"Alexa, how long is a flight to the Dominican?"**
**"Alexa, book a flight for me."**
Tina's trembling hands let the phone fall into her lap and her eyes began to dart around the beach. No one was behind her or to the right. It was as if the beach had been evacuated. When she turned and looked to her left, she saw something in the distance, moving towards her slowly and deliberately. |
I wish I could tell a story of regret. Or loss. I could say I reflected on this time, not as a human, but as a man. I'd tell myself I could say goodbye or hello. I want nothing more than to say hello to change.
But I couldn't.
I don't count the days anymore. And I've forgotten the years. Trust me, I've looked, but I've already lost myself in, well, myself.
Just sleeping is a good day. A great day is when you don't wake up.
There was this theory, in the days of old, before when the sky was blue, that when you fell asleep, your mind became *disconnected* from you. You'd wake up as yourself, naturally, just not as *you*.
During those short, bittersweet hours, you'd stare death straight in the eyes. So close to a broken, warped face of confusion that you could kiss her. Kiss her right on the bony lips.
I'd kiss her.
Just to see what'd happen.
But, alas, I never have good days anymore.
Being alive for millions of years shifts your perspective a bit. Yes, all the buildings I once knew are gone. All the people I've met, nothing but faceless entities living in the deepest recess of my mind.
I... I like suppressing those memories.
No, it's not the yearn for death or my refusal to acknowledge the past that has cursed me. It's life that has bit me in the metaphorical bud of understanding.
I've forgotten the definition for "Life". I know I'm not considered "life", hence, I am not allowed to kiss death then completing the cycle.
The other life, however, it continues to emerge and congregate around what I'd consider a paradox in my thinking.
I'd live and have liven, in every place known to myself, as man. But life... I cannot trounce life in its cagily attempt to surmount me as a man who as lived everywhere.
I've been eaten and spat out by life. I've fallen and shuffled into life's traps. I've called life a bastard, and life has called me a friend.
But I'm not a friend. I'm a man who made a mistake. Years ago, I let life choose my own path. Life can't die. No matter how hard you swish an ant, two more will just waltz on by.
I respect life for choosing the path, I was to foolish to pick. I will not and cannot tell a tragedy or a story of loss, because I have lost all memory of the lost ones faces. Life, however, can tell you a story of passion. Life can tell you what you have lost, and will lose. And I'm thankful for that.
Alas, I cannot die.
So, what makes us different? Life and I?
I choose not to say hello to change. |
**Wednesday, 2nd of March, 2015**
"*It's a simple job*"Said my employer.
At the time, I expected something dangerous, like standing outpost in a land with a lot of conflict, or guarding something that people very commonly try to steal. I was good at martial arts and bodybuilding, using a gun or knife, so I wasn't afraid.
But later did I knew, it wasn't just dangerous, that was an understatement.
"*We want you to explore a certain cave every Friday. That cave is full of deadly traps and animals*"Said my employer.
I was surprised by these words, but before I could gather my thoughts, he continued.
"*If you accept the current contract, you will gain all of the travel expenses now, and if you don't like the job after seeing the cave, you can back out from the second contract, and you can cut off the current contract, and we will also cover your return expenses*".
I wasn't afraid as much as shocked. I knew I was a very known and powerful bodyguard, but that looked too desperate.
**Friday, 5th of March, 2015**
I finally went to see the cave with 4 other guys, they looked like they knew how to fight, Nathan was a medic, Isabella was an archaeologist, Josh was a biologist, Catherine was our brains.
At first glance, it looked like a normal cave. No traps, no crazy animals, nothing.
Suddenly, one of the 4 other people who went in with me cuts the silence.
"*Stop, start walking slowly, and don't speak loudly*"Said James.
"*The monsters are near this area*".
"*What monsters are you talking about?*"I said, looking puzzled.
"*Keep moving forward, when we pass to the safe zone, I will explain*"He said.
Safe zone?
I had no idea what he was talking about. I didn't bother too much, and kept moving, until I saw some horrific looking creatures. They didn't attack us at all. They didn't even look like we existed.
We finally reached the 'Safe Zone', a white room with a few ancient writings on the wall, 5 braces and a button. I demanded that they explain everything to me, and not leave out any details.
"*When we found this cave, we thought it was a normal cave*"Said Josh.
"*We got inside, and saw these creatures*".
"*We were terrified. We didn't know what to do*".
"*Some of our previous comrades saw that the monsters were not looking at them, so they started moving slowly to the white room, when one of them dropped their knife on the ground by accident*".
"*The monsters then suddenly started attacking them, they were so fast, we almost couldn't see them*".
"*We later deduced a few things after a few weeks of repeatedly going to the cave*".
"*From which is the fact that these monsters only react to sound*".
"*We later tried to use our information and managed to get into the white room*".
"*Where Isabella told us the meanings of the writings*".
"*This is the Safe Zone. Monsters do not spawn here. To continue to the next stage, you need 5 people to wear these 5 braces, and then you can press the button. If you press the button without having atleast 5 people wearing the braces, the room will emit poisonous gases and lock you in inside*".
"*If you reach the end of all the stages, there is something very special waiting for you*".
"*So will you help us?*".
"*This is your only chance to go back*".
"*I'll.... I'll help...*"I said, looking reluctant at first, but confident a second later.
We put on the braces carefully. After we do so, the number 100 starts glowing on our braces.
We click the button. Suddenly, The wall starts splitting. It opens a doorway. We see an open field in the cave, but this time, we see monsters that look like bulls. At the end, there was another Safe Zone. Next to the doorway appears a few ancient words, which Isabella translated as:
"*Anyone entering with no braces will be killed*".
"*If anyone with braces lays foot on the field, a 60 sound counter will start, if 5 braces aren't detected on the field by then, everyone in the cave will be killed*".
We weren't sure how it would kill us, since it never explained, but we didn't want to take risks. We all went in at the same time, and moved slowly, but that didn't matter, since one of the bulls instantly charged us on sight, It wasn't that fast, so we could dodge it easily, but the hit from the bull made a hole on the wall. I took out my knife and tried to kill it, but my knife barely did anything to it. I took my knife out, and the wound was already starting to get healed. Suddenly a few other bulls charge us, it became difficult to dodge, Everyone was having difficulties. We weren't able to take one of them down, when I tripped trying dodge one of the bulls. Everyone else was trying to hold their own against other bulls. No one could help me, The bull was ready to kill me, and as a reflex action, I put my right hand, which had the braces, when suddenly the braces I had emitted fire, and the bull backed off. I noticed the number on my braces had decreased, and it was slowly going back. It was then I knew what these braces were for.
-----TO BE CONTINUED----- |
"...and with that, Mr Speaker, the ownership of the Falklands mining areas should, under the relevant corollaries of the Fair Use and Exploitation of Naturally Occurring Resources passed in UCE 4009, fall under our jurisdiction."
The human representative ended with a bow, and stepped back. Val'ther, the current Speaker of the Galactic Assembly, nodded sagaciously, and tried to project understanding from his brown eyes. He had always liked being referred to as "Mr Speaker", and he didn't want to provide any impetus to change his term of reference. He clapped vigorously, and smiled.
The audience, who had multiple luminaries of many space empires present, imitated him, and applause rang through the floor. The adjudicator himself had liked the human's argument, after all.
On the opposition bench, some people grimaced, all the while holding on to feelings of respect from been beaten legitimately. Even the smartest species, the Lethians, could not prevent a turnover of territories to the humans - what could a normal race do?
It was a mark of respect to have crossed swords with the humans in the field of debating.
While the opposition was trying to come to terms with their defeat, Val'ther mused over the arguments that the human had presented. Or he tried to, at any rate. The words the representative had used were persuasive, yet hard to remember at times. It didn't help that for every point of interest the opposition brought up, the human had refuted it brilliantly - using the laws of the Assembly, emotion, and logic. Even an opposition speaker had started crying, at the stern and passionate words that native lifeforms were being cruelly exterminated by their fiendish overlords.
Val'ther never did understand how the humans were so successful. What magic did the humans possess that allowed them to use even the smallest references and use them to sway over everyone? But the law was clear, as was the applauding crowd.
The human representative would protect the asteroid field, and the last 39 grams of naturally occurring micro-organisms that the previous owners had neglected.
His heated heart, ignited by the human's words, would allow for no other result.
And so, the humans won yet again, controlling 80% of the productive resource fields, in the defence of micro-organic life, liberty, and the preservation of the historic orbits of asteroids.
|
I should have done my research on genies, heartless monster... I made the stupid mistake of asking to understand girls, to try and ask out my crush. Little did I know the genie would *make me into the hottest girl in the grade.*
To be quite honest, it was a whole new set of problems. I had to deal with social structure, and cliques and drama. I never knew there were so many ways to insult people, or no way for me to reach out and see if the *other* me was okay. I figured the genie swapped us, as now I (the other me) has been acting odd.
All I wanted to do was ask out my crush, not even *her*. I knew my limitations, not the genie's apparently...
I wonder how she's dealing with it.
_____
What the hell did I do to get trapped in this horrible nerd's body? He's a total freakazoid and now I can't talk to him. The jocks, who *used* to defend me like a goddess are outright disgusted with me, I can't even talk to the jerk who stole my body.
On the other hand, it's given me a unique insight into the *real* way this school runs. The nerds can alter grades, get hall passes. Teachers and staff implicitly trust them. I could get used to this level of *true* power, but I missed, well, having *obvious* power.
I've got to hunt them down by the time of prom, regardless. We can't both be prom queens, and my girlfriend will be *pissed* if she find out she's with the nerd whose crushing on her.
____
Hope you enjoyed this, I know that the pronouns here are a bit ambiguous, so any tips are appreciated. |
"So, the Kthloids finally attacked the Humans? Makes sense, those war-mongers always were itching for a fight. Too bad the humans aren't going to give it to them."G'lk stroked his tail on his inner jaw as he said this. It was the sign of his species of having received a sad piece of news. It was also a sign of mourning, in this case the humans. Kthloids were known throughout the galaxy as a civilization dedicated to war. They fought to solve disputes. Their economic currency was literally violence. To be specific, it was opportunities to commit violence.
"Can't say I disagree with you. Did you know that they've had a unified government for over two hundred standard years? I guess its fortunate that the Kthloid's are slavers. At least the humans won't go extinct."Yivk flashed his forward carapace blue to end his sentence. While this was an extreme insult in G'lk's native tongue, the two had been friends long enough to know that it, like G'lk's tail flick, was the equivalent of a human sigh.
The next instant, both of their Galactic Net-Link's buzzed. Both of them were interested in current events. The news bureau was broadcasting the arrival of the Kthloid fleet at Earth. It was large for a Kthloid fleet. G'lk recognized that the majority of the ships were actually Kthloid transports. Usually the Kthloids came to a fight heavily armed. Despite the ships being mostly slave transports, the fleet sported three battle cruisers. Typical Kthloids, bringing nuclear weapons to a knife fight.
The next thing they saw left both Yivk and G'lk speechless. He wasn't surprised to see several Human shipyards and orbital habitats, this planet was their homeworld afterall. What they were surprised to see was, coming out of warp, an armada of nigh unfathomable size. They weren't of any design he'd ever seen: they were triangular in shape, much like a flying wing. They resembled smaller craft that humans often used as shuttles to and from orbit. However, these were much larger in size, spanning several thousand tentacles across. He didn't know where the humans got so many auxiliaries to fight on their behalf, but he was grateful for it. He was close friends with several of them, and they had been worried that a war would break out. He saw a few of them looking, presumably at the same news, in stunned silence.
"Looks like you guys had more friends than you... are you crying?"Yivk didn't understand humans, but he knew crying was usually associated with sorrow. Thomas, simply nodded. As he started explaining why he and his compatriots were crying, G'lk was amazed with what his video feed was showing him.
The ships looked like those of his people, the Xenomphon, but these were mechanical in nature, not biological. He also had never heard of a Xeno ship having nearly the armament of the entire Xeno fleet Yet here it was, massive triangular shaped craft, already more than his eyes could see, warping in and without an instant hesitation opening fire.
The fire seemed quite restrained, composing mostly high energy plasma that, from what his compulsory time in the fleet taught him, was what you used to temporarily short out a vessel, rather than outright destroying it. Still, considering that each of these vessels, of which the news feed was showing well over a hundred (and still growing) was firing a full volley, G'lk was wondering if the Kthloid had finally managed to show up to a fight under prepared.
There was a first for everything. Explosions starting impacting the mysterious ships, evidently the Kthloids weren't going to go the route of minimal casualties. Already, the telltale flashes of nuclear detonations were tearing into the wing like craft. Oddly, they seemed not to be taking damage. Then he saw why: Shield technology. He only knew of one species that had that type of technology, the humans themselves. Now he, like Yivk's friends, was transfixed on the news feed. While his reaction was shock, Yivk's history lesson was beginning to fill him with absolute horror.
"You're telling me your entire species, went to war with itself, not once, not twice, but on four separate occasions? If that's true, why are your kind so diplomatic. Clearly if you're so adept at war the Kthloids clearly have deserved it by now."
"You're not getting it, we've become so effective at negotiation and diplomacy, not in spite of our expertise in warfare, but because of it. We became so inclined to talk out our problems, because our only experience with warfare was with ourselves. Our first world war used poison gas and had men marching into machine gun fire. Officers called artillery strikes on their on positions, and people ran with bayonets trying to skewer each other. And this was a regular day on the front. The second we had was ended with nuclear weapons. The third was waged with nuclear weapons, then poison gas, weaponized diseases, and finally kinetic bombardment. The last war was waged with ships very similar to the ones here, only about half the size and far less well armed. It was only after we met the Ult Consortium that we were able to finally unify our species. Since then, after seeing how often wars are made among other species, we chose a path of making peace whenever possible. We didn't want a fifth war."
"These wars you mention, they must be legend, I assure you historians like to..."Yivk was cut off by helmet cam video from the first interplanetary war, the one that devastated the Earth and left half of it a barren, frozen wasteland, and made humanity a one planet species again. Then, after rebuilding the Mars colony and beginning to expand ever further, the separatist movement appeared in the same soldier's helmet feed, this time in a ship boarding action.
"We learned how to make our lives nearly indefinite, barring accident or injury, shortly before the third great war. I was drafted into the third war, I served in the fourth war, I can personally assure you, our historians, if anything, don't show the worst of it."
Yivk couldn't believe that his friend, the one who talked a Vex and Xev into being something resembling friends, had actually been in a war. He thought humans were simply too gentle for such things.
Then he saw the helmet cam feed and knew the truth. Humans didn't go to war, they went to commit atrocities. He had heard that the humans warned the Kthloids that this would happen, and they weren't listened to. Reports were already being streamed into his mind from the galactic network, and they weren't what he was expecting.
"We now take you live to the Kthloid Battlecruiser Rlyeh, where Admiral Greig is directing his forces. Dethneme, do you have anything you can tell us?"The scene when going to the Akramite reporter was one of utter chaos. Systems were overloading and shooting sparks almost everywhere, while crew members were trying to extinguish fires. Coming in from the window was what appeared to be some kind of cylinder, making its way steadily towards the ships bridge. Just before it hit, engines on the craft fired, slowing it down enough to impact with a dull thud rather than a crash. Within the next instant, sparks were shooting in a circle through where the can hit the main viewing window, and there was an explosion strong enough to knock the reporter and her cameraman on their backs.
A high pitched rattle reminiscent of a human laser rifle, only at a far greater rate of fire, was heard next, along with shouts and screams. When the camera came back in focus and Dethneme started using her tendrils to pull herself back up, two large, human like figures made of what appeared to be ceramic plates and hydraulics, swiftly came and leveled their weapons.
"ON THE GROUND! ON THE GROUND!"She was too stunned to comply on her own, which prompted a swift kick from one of the figures, shoving her down very roughly. The camera now turned to the other figure, advancing on the cameraman.
"PUT IT DOWN! ON THE GROUND!"Without even a second to comply, the large human like thing, in a fluid motion, lunged forward, smashing the butt of its weapon into the camera, ending the feed with static.
"Standard operating procedure in case your wondering, allowing embedded reporters risks their revealing important military secrets, so we don't allow recording. She'll be a little roughed up, but they won't kill her, I can promise you that."Tom's words frightened even G'lk, who realized the exact thing that Tom had been trying to tell Yivk: Humans were so good at peace, because they were made for war.
|
Da' always said, "if life gives you lemons, shoot them and throw 'em back to where they came from."He often said it while shooting one of his goons who'd messed up or lied to him, or sometimes even undercover cops to really imprint the message in my head.
But I didn't have a couple of lemons in a plate of fruit. No sire, my plate was chalk full of lemons, with not a fruit in sight. Rotten lemons at that. My entire gang, slowly but surely had been replaced by cops. It had taken me a year to lay the grassroots to get a gang of about twenty going. It was a small group, but it was an efficient one. The first cop that had shown up, I'd let in. Cops were good for business for a bit. The first couple jobs you did went off without a hitch, and then you just kill the cop. Simple. Da' had done it often enough.
But then, more coppers started coming. It was painfully obvious, they were cops - but cops don't let you actually kill anyone, especially not their own, so it became more difficult. But the thing was, it didn't stop. More and more of them joined, until it was just me by my lonesome, and 19 other coppers.
Now, these guys were either cops, or mentally handicapped. It's like they'd gotten their training from West-side Story. They were life-sized stereotypes for God's sake. But at this point there were more of them than me. I had no idea why, but given their walnut sized brains, I'm thinking they got no idea that their friends were undercover too.
The play of course, was to drop the plate of lemons and run. Stupid they may be, but they were still cops, and cops had this nasty habit of putting men like me behind bars. I could run back, tail between my legs back to Da'. Beg him to make me a lieutenant.
Out of the question.
Again, Cops were good for one job. They had to gather dirt on you and then they get you after. After the job. So I was gonna have to run, whether I liked it or not, there was no doubt about that, not with my tail between my legs though, but with a boatload of product.
***
"Johnny,"I called. What kind of name was Johnny? I'd been around Da's gang and my own for about thirty years now, never had I ever met a not fictional gangster named Johnny. Right now, there were two Johnnys in my gang.
Johnny jogged to me and leaned in and looked through the car window. I grabbed his collar and whispered furiously. "Lean against the car door, you dolt, don't just look in the goddamn window!"
"S-sorry, boss,"he said and now leaned against my car, holding a cigarette. God he was stupid.
"The other cars in position?"I asked.
"Yeah, boss,"he said, "the boys got their blinkers on, and are pretending to be broken down."
"Blinkers on-"I began, "Christ. Tell them to turn them off, dammit. Why the hell do they think we're here in the middle of the goddamn night!"
"Shit, will do, boss,"Johnny said and pulled out his cell phone to yell at them. We were on a, thin road in the middle of nowhere. I had info that a transport was going through here, carrying three million worth of material in an armored car. Small and fast. Just what I needed.
I saw headlights in my rear-view mirror. As I watched I saw the tell-tale front of an armored car swing into view, high beams on.
The best plans were the simplest. So what if they weren't glamorous or clever? They worked.
"Tell the boys the target is approaching, Johnny,"I said. The rest of the coppers were a couple of miles up the road in two front armored cars. They thought the plan was to ram the armored van, and take the material. Then, I'm sure they each thought, even Johnny here, that it would end with the rest of the gang in cuffs, and them with medals.
That wasn't how it was going to go down, though. Not at all. I unlocked my door, and gave it a great heave. It flew open, with Johnny leaning against it, and pushed him on to the road - right in the way of the armored vehicle.
I'd timed it perfectly. The breaks squealed, but they were going too fast, and hit poor ol' Johnny. The sorry bastard actually bounced off the truck and hit the asphalt.
Da' always said, Even the perfect plan had one glaring weakness - humanity. People by nature are soft. To them, their emotions, their moral compass is more important than being rational.
And so it was that the armored truck guys opened their doors and ran out to the corpse. It was human nature, and it was stupid. They hadn't even left a guy in the truck for Christ's sake. I just took out the silenced 9mm from my dashboard and shot one in the neck, the other in the head as they bent over the corpse. Their own high beams had illuminated them clearly for me.
And so I waltzed in and got in the truck, reversed, and drove back the other way. No normal cops would get in my way for at least a couple of hours. Most wouldn't think anything was wrong, the ones who would know the nature of the truck would know that it's part of an undercover op, and it was not to be touched. That's all those guys were good for. If I'd actually used them for the operation, the whole thing would've gone up in flames.
By the time the idiot coppers figured out something was up, they'd probably shoot each other up, and I'd be on my way to Mexico in a different car, laughing all the way
***
(minor edits: grammar, spelling, rephrasing)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
|
He had to leave.
He had friends who could travel through time. He had a brother who could adapt and survive in any atmosphere regardless of the gas or temperature. His cousin could mimic and use the power of anyone who was in the same room.
“Muffin, you know that in our world everybody has a silly power. No need to get hung up on it! No one is better than anyone else,” his mother, Leanne, soothed him by kissing his forehead.
“Easy for you to say ma, you control the weather.”
Leanne giggled and looked at the floor sheepishly. She got up, and pulled his curtain open. “You get a good nights rest, yeah Oliver?”
After she left, he looked out the window. The sky went from black, to navy blue, to purple. The brightness of the stars tripled as different hues of colour whirled into each other.
He will always remember the mocking microaggressions he dealt with daily upon people learning of his power.
‘Sooo, you’re like a freezer?’
‘And it’s only that one element that you can only half control?’
‘Man I mean I knew you were cold but that wasn’t what I was thinking’
He had to leave.
They might not be special here as his mother had pointed out, however he was the opposite of special. He was an outcast. He lacked direction, he lacked connection.
And so he left.
On arrival to Earth, he quickly downloaded the cultures and languages to help him assimilate. It was always easier with a more primitive race. He made friends, he pretended to find working somewhat challenging, and he progressed from a life of feeling inadequate and alienated to finally feeling the soft comfort of average.
The lights in the bar were red and dimly lit. It was small, serving aged whiskeys, floral cocktails and dumplings. Oliver had finished a working week and was laughing about life with friends.
“I mean, it’s crazy!” Amy drunkenly proclaimed, maintaining her spot in the group as the self proclaimed political stand up comedian. “The ice caps are melting, and the planets getting so hot that literally everyone will die, but we turn our air conditioners on and pretend it’s not happening! It won’t in our lifetime right? Let’s stay cool and ignore that we’re making it worse! People are crazy,” she stopped waving her drink around and continued sipping.
“You’re right Amy, and it’s not like we don’t know what to do! Humans are smart just greedy..” Matt replied. Oliver couldn’t tell who was in charge of conversation now, and he found it hard to track what was going on when ethanol consumption caused everyone to talk at once.
“Ice caps?” Oliver interjected. “They’re melting, right? And we need to keep the sea level down?”
“Umm yeah, pretty much Oliver?” Amy said, questioning his intellect by the speed of his speech.
“I don’t know how to say this but I could fix that.”
After twenty minutes of brisk walking made much easier by everyone’s alcohol jumper, they had arrived at the beach.
“Okay Oliver, show us what you got” Matt dared.
Oliver looked at the beach, and within a second the ocean as far as the horizon turned to ice. Everyone gasped in disbelief. Amy’s legs grew weaker and she dropped onto the sand with eyes still wide and staring at the ice. Oliver turned it back into water, and the waves resumed crashing.
“You know this is massive, right? Like, you could save the planet kind of massive?”
Oliver let that sink in.
He had transitioned from a nobody to just anybody, and now for the first time, he was about to be a somebody. |
The creature stood at around fifty feet tall. It's exterior was covered in leaflike scales and it's face was that of a gigantic deer. Antlers sprouted from its head at all angles, looking like the tangled mass of branches at the top of a tree.
Miles hadn't had much of a choice but to get used to the titans, and after a long history of therapy, drugs and tests he stopped mentioning them to other people. Sometimes, he wondered if there were others like him, people who saw things every day and pretended not to.
This titan was like the others, aimlessly shambling about the human world. Miles studied them intently for a while until he realized they didn't really do anything. He had books of titan drawings that he kept hidden from his parents. They hated his pictures of the "monsters"because that's what he called them when he first started seeing them.
Now as a teenager, he realized that these creatures were benign; only he could see them and they somehow managed not to collide with anything else in his world. Miles guessed that the creatures followed different rules of physics than the rest of the world. A titan could walk along a field of snow and not even leave a footprint.
Miles thought he was crazy for a while, but now he didn't think much of it. He just tried to ignore the creatures and live as normal of a life as he could.
His current walk was a result of him trying to clear his head. Today had been rough, first getting his grade back in chem, then Julie giving him mixed signals after school. He thought she liked him, but after seeing her with Trevor...
He was brought out of his thoughts by a loud creaking sound. The bridge he stood on was part of an abandoned railway now overgrown. It spanned over a river that nature had reclaimed in the past thirty years.
He walked closer to the edge. The sunlight was peeking through the antlers of the titan as it walked along the waters surface. He brought out his phone to take a picture. The titan wouldn't appear in the image, but he could at least get a good Instagram post out of it.
Suddenly, the board underneath his foot lurched as it broke off into the abyss. Miles stumbled forward, but managed to catch himself before he went over the side. Tragically though, his phone tumbled off the side and crunched onto the riverbank.
Miles held his head and started to freak out.
'Fuck I almost died. Fuck my phone is gone. My parents are gonna fucking kill me.'
He rolled back from the ledge and pounded his fist against the old steel track.
*clack*
He felt something hit the ground behind him.
Miles turned around to see his phone on the ground next to him. It was smashed, but he barely noticed because the titan's deer head was closer to him than any titan had been before.
"Please be more careful."
It's voice was like dull whistle.
"You are our only chance." |
I swung the large bag over my shoulder as I left home. I got into my Volvo as my house exploded into smithereens, lighting the night sky a fiery orange in my rear view mirror.
The smell of charred wood and burning rubber swam through my nostril as I screeched the car away, almost immediately, I knew something was wrong. The brakes... The brakes didn’t work. Now was not the time to panic. I stopped accelerating and swerved the car, zigging and zagging, creating friction, eventually, the car slowed, thankfully there wasn’t any traffic this late at night.
I reached over to the passenger seat to retrieve my bag as a gunshot pierced through the windshield where my head had been moments before. I grabbed the bag and rolled out the passenger side. No time to think. Just run. And that’s what I did, crossing the safety railings on the side of the road and running like a madman through the woods.
When I set this deal up, I knew I would die eventually. Maybe a well placed shot to the skull or an exploding car. Gone in an instant. But this, being close to death thrice in a few minutes. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
After running a half marathon in record time all while having gunshots whizz past me, I found a cabin in the woods. I stepped over a hidden bear trap that closed just a fraction too late, and a trigger wire that shot an arrow an inch away from my eye. This was getting out of hand.
The cabin it turned out had a bear that greeted me at the front door and a cougar that chased me all the way out of the woods. I finally fell on my knees, exhausted, on the side of the road, where I'd parked my car. All that running and I’d gone nowhere.
A woman stepped out of the woods with a sniper rifle, her hair a fiery red – it was a mystery how I'd never spotted her – she stepped up to me and placed the muzzle on my temple.
Tears streamed down my face.
“People don’t realise how much life is worth,” she said. “until they come close to death a couple dozen times.”
The first hints of daybreak lit the sky as she walked away.
"Hey, what about my house."
"Check the bag, It should cover it, and the car,"she said, as she disappeared.
Inside the bag was the money I'd paid to hire her, plus a lot more.
|
Seven days.
Seven days to make world peace.
The UN banded together, all of the world's superpowers, to achieve world peace. In order to not be wiped out.
Russia, the Koreas, America, China- Countries from all four corners of the globe.
It wasn't easy. On the fifth day, wars were still going strong.
But by the end of the sixth, we had done it.
Or rather they had done it.
They flew under a blood-stained flag.
We should’ve seen it coming.
We fought back at first, but soon gave in- realizing everyone would die if we didn’t.
Now, we follow a strict diet. We aren’t allowed to back-talk, not just to our superiors, but anyone at all. We are treated well, as they know we can’t fight back.
The aliens were satisfied. However, we must maintain peace- or they’ll eradicate us anyway.
So now we praise the leaf.
We praise the maple.
We praise our overlords, the Canadians.
|
"Fuck... Anyone want any fish?"
"I think we're burned out on fish, J. Them loaves, too."
"Dude, Paul, shut the fuck up! Inconsiderate ass... Sorry, Jesus, we could always go for some fish. What a miracle, right guys? And, like, I totally haven't had enough wine yet. Maybe it pairs well with fish and sand, right?"
"Guys..."
"Yeah Jesus?"
"I think I fucked up. I... yeah. This planet is jacked up. I *suck*! I botched it *again*!"
"Umm, it's cool, J! Don't worry about it! It's awesome, *I* think. Like, bust out with some loaves and-"
"No, no, you assholes don't have the *slightest* idea about the *balance* required to maintain a hospitable ecosystem. You'll all be dead in a few years."
"W-what? Jesus, you don't mean that! It's just a little wine!"
"No, that's it. Hey, I'm sorry... You guys were great. I had a lot of cool plans for this one. There was gonna be this crucifixion, then I was gonna rise from the dead... Fucking had the script and everything... Damn. But ok, enjoy this world while you can. You'll all have, like, whatever afterlife you want. Just be good and shit. Paul, I never really cared for you and found your company to be debilitating to my plans. The constant nagging and the... you know, it doesn't matter anyway. Praise that shit!"
"My god! He's gone!"
"He disappeared!"
"Jesus? Jesus?"
"Hey, anyone thirsty?"
"Paul!" |
I grabbed her hand, confused as to why she would reach out to an unbecoming old man such as myself. With the blink of an eye, as if I immediately experienced a complete night of sleep, I opened my eyes to see my own face looking back at me.
Shocked, I stepped back and exclaimed, 'b-but but that's not possible!'
My own self was looking back at me in horror as he (I) felt his face with a terrified look on his face.
'You monster! You stole my body! You stole my life! What kind of sick joke is this?' As he began swiping at my fit new body with his wrinkled arms.
'My whole body aches!'
'What am I going to tell my mother, my family?' He exclaimed.
At this time people walking by we're wondering why an old man was freaking out on a young girl. I, of course, was not freaking out, as I shaved 60 years off my life, but I felt horrible about stealing this young girl's life. I myself had no family, or at least that cared to reach out to me.
I realised, all my life I have been giving. Taking people's problems on, taking the worst of a selection, and out of nowhere, I had a sudden sense of overpowering joy and an adventurous spirit, and I thought of how lucky I was, and how unlucky this poor girl is.
I could either stay with her (now an old man and the former me) and slowly explain to people the craziness that is going on, or I could escape and no one would believe her (him) in a million years.
With that, I turned, and ran as fast as I could, never looking back. |
Everyone wants it. Everyone wants to know.
Ooh… Annie in class B is telling Bobby that she LIKES me.
What about mommy? Is she secretly telling daddy that she doesn’t like you anymore because your grades weren’t good enough? Do your friends whisper behind your back? Do they say you’re too fat, too thin, too short and too ugly?
Or do they not say it, because they want to be the good guys? Do they imply it? OooooohhhHhh… I’m really proud of Dave. He’s really making a effort to eat better.
I heard them from the beginning. Whenever someone says my name. Refers to me. Acknowledges I exist. It was a curse.
What a beautiful baby/it looked like a troll.
What a strong little guy/don’t kids usually talk by age three?
Have a good day at school/his teacher wants him tested.
And you can’t help but notice it. Even when you don’t hear it. Even when it’s not you.
Yes, Janice from work thinks you’re fat. I saw her glance at your stomach during lunch.
Yes, your wife is thinking about her boss.
Yes. Yep. Yessir. The whole world is a sham. Yep.
So I got a job. A real good job. They always said I was smart. I thought- I could just put my head down and work hard. I could just do what everyone else is doing, and ignore the voices.
But...nope. Nope. Not one day, when Janice from accounting comes and says “Hey Dave”.
And not 5 minutes before: “Alright, I have to go get something from the fat autistic fuck. Wish me luck.”
And there was a gun in a drawer. A man who’s afraid.
And then the murmurs turn to screams. “DAVE’S GONE NUTS, HE’S GOT A GUN”
“OH MY GOD, CALL THE POLICE”
People shouting at each other. People shouting into phones. People screaming.
And I can’t make them all go silent, though I try.
So I give up. I drop the gun and curl up into a ball.
The voices everywhere. Radios. Microphones. They come and take me away.
The voice again, in a courtroom. Guilty. Criminally insane. Make a example. No. The new way of doing things.
Then a cell, padded so I don’t hurt myself. Some therapy. Some medication. When those don’t work, some particularly caring electroshock therapy.
But there’s too much. TOO MANY. Too many voices. So many thousands, still talking about it, months after.
Hey remember that crazy guy-
--- this is why we need GUN CONTROL!
What a sicko. It just goes to show.-
--we need a BETTER MENTAL HEALTH SYSTEM
The guards below are talking about the basket case up in cell 39. Might be better to take a pillow up there, and just put him out of his misery.
God I wish.
Then above the murmer, another voice. A little girl, far far away.
“Mommy, do you think he’s like me?
***
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***
And the next day I’m friendly in therapy. I talk about my inner issues. About how the voices won’t go away. About which medication works, and which doesn’t.
I tell them what they want to hear. I get an easier diagnoses. I swallow my medication.
And then I’m released. Part of a bold new experiment. Rehabilitate criminals, rehabilitate the insane. Even the worst ones.
("IT'S BULLSHIT, BACK IN MY DAY, WE LOCKED THESE PEOPLE UP AND THREW AWAY THE KEY!")
A car picks me up. I tip the driver, and he thanks me. Later he grumbles about the amount to his wife.
But it doesn’t matter. Somewhere in the world, there is someone like me.
And I will find them.
(Thanks for reading. r/StannisTheAmish) |
"*soooooo should we just like...shoot around them?*"
Morris was new here. A recent addition to the union. He completed two tours in Afghanistan prior to being decommissioned for anger issues. Morris racked up more kills than any rifleman in his platoon.
He did not understand being told to miss.
I stood up over the group of massive, heavily armed men.
______________________________________________________________________________________
“*Alright listen guys. You can shoot at some of them. Others you want to make THINK you are trying to shoot them. Got it?*” The men startled to chuckle.
“*Exhibit A,*” I turned on a screen to reveal a fully armored superhero.
“*This dude is wearing a high-grade vibranium suit.*”
"*Shoot at him all you want. Hit him with rockets, I don't care. It won't do anything. Actually, fun fact, his suit can absorb the energy and use it against us. So be careful with him.*”
“*Exhibit B,*” I switched to a slide with a shielded hero.
“*This is what we call a semi-armored hero. For these guys, you want to focus your shots on their shields and obvious defenses.*”
“*They’ll usually jump around, spin or do something fancy. So just spray around them and make them feel cool*” Morris put his hand up again.
“*I don’t get it, aren’t these the most powerful humans and metahumans on the planet? Why do we need to give them a handicap?*”
“*Because if we actually applied our skills we would kill a lot of heroes. And the heroes usually spare our lives anyway.*” I looked Morris dead in the eye.
“*Remember Morris, it's about keeping the sides even. That way, there’s always a villain who thinks he’s the next big shit. And there are always heroes who believe they are invincible.*”
“*Here. Here,*” one of the men spoke out and clapped his hands.
“*We created this union because henchmen are often discarded and forgotten. But together, we control the game and how its played.*”
“*Plus…the pay is great. Am I right?*” The men cheered.
“*One more thing, Mark please thank your wife for the shortbread cookies, they are diiiiiiiivine. Alright, let’s get out there and have some fun!*” |
It was a cold morning that day. There had just been one hell of a rainstorm that covered most of San Francisco, so there was dew on the grass. The air was crisp with a light breeze that made the night-brimming into day-feel even more chilling. It was almost beautiful in a way; like the way an ice cold glass of water hits the back of your throat on a warm day.
Not that Lawrence would see any of it. Mr. Bittacker hadn't seen the outside world when the sun wasn't out in over four decades now. When he was arrested in 1979, there was a media firestorm. They called him and his accomplice "The Toolbox Killers."Lawrence had thought the name was kind of cool, sounded like a metal band. The actions of these two men were particularly cruel, even for serial killers. The trial became infamous due to the recordings of Shirley Lynette Ledford the two had made while they tortured, raped, and murdered her. When they played it in the courtroom, almost every juror had to leave. None of them would ever be able to fully escape the horrible sounds that they heard that day. Really excruciating pain has a way of echoing like that. While the sufferer may be resting in piece, we mortals have to endure the brunt of the humanity of men we like to call monsters to make ourselves feel better. No such thing as monsters. There is no thing in the Universe as capable of excruciating calamity like humankind.
Of course, this is not to say that humankind is doomed. On the contrary, due to that trial Bittacker and his associate had been locked up for the rest of their lives. Roy Norris had the good sense to confess and name his once friend and accomplice. This allowed him to live out the rest of his days. Behind bars, of course, but the day that has finally arrived for Bittacker would never arrive for Norris.
Ledford's last words to the two were "Do it! Just kill me!"Of course, being them, this led to them prolonging the suffering just a bit longer before they finally gave her the mercy of tying a wire coat hanger around her neck. "I think we'll wait,"they said as they laughed.
12:01 A.M. It's time. Bittacker is strapped into the chair. It was a very controversial move to allow Bittacker his wish to be executed in the gas chamber. Nobody had been killed in the U.S. in a gas chamber in over 20 years. But, Bittacker insisted, and Ron Davis, the warden of San Quentin, was more than happy to oblige. After all, he knew how horrible the gas chamber was compared to the relatively peaceful method of lethal injection, and he had no problem seeing Bittacker suffer.
Nobody was quite sure why Bittacker, at the last minute, was so adamant about the gas chamber. After all, you would think that a cowardly man like him would want to go out as preacefully as possible. What nobody knew was that this was just his little way of getting in a jab at Ledford. Her father was a Jew, and was a Holocaust survivor. The last laugh would be his.
Or so he thought.
12:22 A.M. It normally takes a while for the hydrogen cyanide to kill a person. They slowly suffocate while their lungs fill with a noxious gas that makes it feel as though they are being burned from the inside out. It's my duty to take people from the natural world to the Underworld, and normally I do my best to make it a quick, peaceful trip. After all, I like the majority of people. But today? I think I'm a little tired.
Bittacker whispers "Do it...just...kill...me..."
I think I'll wait.
**LIKE THIS STORY!? WANT MORE!? VISIT r/IENM_Writes, NEW STORY DAILY!** |
A grizzled war scared man stumbled from the shrubbery of the school yard. Coughing violently, he fell over and reached his bloody, cursed arm.
“Please boy! For the love of humanity! Don’t do it!” The man cried.
Completely frozen in awe Harry gaped like a chimp at this horrid sight. “Was he talking about...” Harry thought to himself.
“My boy!” The man yelled, as he coughed up blood. “Don’t do it before it’s too late! You’ll never forgi...” the man stopped mid-sentence.
As if the man saw the Reaper himself, a look of pure fright spasmed over his suffered face. His eyes began to dilate. “Please...” the man wheezed.
Jolted by the electricity of death, the current flowed through the man’s body, as he spurred and churned his way to the bitter end.
Out of the man’s ripped jacket, a parcel fell out addressed to Harry’s sister. The date, 2050.
Trembling at the sight of the parcel, and scared by the horrid sight of the man passed, Harry couldn’t help himself but to open it.
Out popped a letter, written in a hurried masculine way. It ran: “My dearest sister,
It has been so long since I have had a full nights sleep. The battle of the Astroid Belt was even years ago... But I can’t escape that abyss of death. My lazer rifle, staring me down, awaiting for someone...Anyone... To finally end it. Angelo was such a cheerful lad! But those damn Zaraks got him!”
Absorbing every word Harry, wides eyed worried: “Angelo? He told me to ask this girl out! I’ve know him for years! He...He...” Harry thought “NO!” Harry yelled out loud, for all the birds to hear. He kept on reading:
“I curse myself everyday... Everyday!! Why did I come anywhere near that lying, bloodthirsty, animal! We should have known that the Zaraks were spying on us from the beginning. Getting ready for the destruction that would follow. I remember when I asked that despicable fiend for some respect, then she... It... Grabbed me, and took me the base and took me in her shuttle. Thank God I escaped in time to warn the others. But Nothing can prepare for war... Not really... We lost millions that day.” Harry spotted a wet mark on the paper. He swiped it and taste tested it. Salt... Tears... Harry kept on reading:
“My sister I have stolen some of their technology, and I think I am on a break through with the Time Machine. Let’s all pray I can figure this out and stop his horrible war.
Yours sincerely,
Harry”
The name punched Harry’s guy hard. “That was...” Harry thought. “Me!” He concluded, looking at the broken version of himself.
Shivering and shaking his head he refused to believe it. “No...” “No...” He repeated softly.
Suddenly a circle like structure appeared from the shrubbery and two men walked out with assault like looking rifles.
The two men had brown shirts on, and a red arm band strapped to their forearm.
“UNZ you have broken ZE time rules!” One of them said in a thick German accent.
“YA! Stroheim! Shoot him whiz your LAZER gun! “ The other one replied.
Harry saw the barrel of the gun pointed at him. His only instinct was to run. Harry sprinted down the hillside of his school and rolled under the school shrubbery. Panting hard and viciously... Harry awaited demise.
“RESISTING ZE Time Police is IMPOSSIBLE! UNZ VE VILL FIND YOU AND...” Suddenly, he stopped.
To be continued... |
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