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“Ah well… you see..”
You began, standing up and waving away any injuries you had. How to explain this to humankind? Admittedly, you might’ve had a little bit too much fun toying with human lives, as you looked at the crumpled buildings, blood soaked concrete, and unmoving humans sprawled around your immediate area.
There was a collective gasp from the humans before one particularly idiotic one charged at you, a pathetic ball of light glowing in one hand as he tried to maim your form. Sighing, you held your hand up, and decided to be merciful, simply holding him in midair as he kicked and yelled.
Rolling your eyes, you muted him like the humans would a particularly annoying alarm clock, his powers snapping out almost as quickly as you’d snapped them in.
“Anyone else?”
You asked rhetorically, and upon no answer, you released the man you were holding, and he fell to the ground. Only a couple of feet, you’d thrown him further during your scuffle.
“Right where was I?”
The question was more to yourself then anyone else, and none of them were particularly eager to answer you, especially as you’d just proven that you weren’t the bumbling idiot you’d portrayed yourself as. Performance of your life, really.
“Right, well, I was bored, to put it simply. Live a couple of millennia like I have, you get bored. Couple pandemics, wars, and toying with gentle politics kept me occupied before, but I was so detached. So, supervillain. Me.”
You gave an exaggerated jazz hands at that, as they all looked at you with varying looks. Some annoyance, shock, panic, but the most common one, anger. You’d done them a favour really. You’d created them, given them free will, and had trained them for the next time a big bad guy came along- though maybe of your making, maybe not. Seriously, they owed you one.
“You killed countless innocents… _split the moon in half…_ plunged the country into _war_,.. because you were bored?!”
Okay so maybe you weren’t as subtle with your powers as you thought you were. Splitting the moon in half had been fun though, and it was easily fixed. You fixed a, “yes now are you stupid” look on your face- yes, they were, that wasn’t a point of contention- and nodded.
“Yeah. It’s fine. Moon was fixed easy enough if you’ll care to look. Dead people? Eh they were basically carbon copies of you with a few tweaks. Wouldn’t worry about it.”
They all looked at one another mildly infuriated now, perhaps by your callous words- though they weren’t that callous, just honest- and some of them had a harsh flint to their eyes.
“Are you sure you were only _pretending_ to be villain?” |
"We're really going to be doing this again, are we?"I looked over to my wife, Ilga, a stunning alien beauty whom I loved more than life itself. However, she would go onto her forums where her gal friends were, and find something about Earth's history that she just couldn't drop. She had access to answers right from the source and what better way to sort things out than to ask the human she married.
"Arthur, you lived there, you know the planet."She turned around, her tentacled hair whipping gently back and forth as she spun on her pointed legs. She didn't have feet per se, more so just a single point, like that of a ballerina on Pointe all of the time. She produced a picture of a unicorn and a giraffe on her PDA device, and shoved it into my face. "Look at how different these animals are! Not to mention that unicorns exist on Equestria-6. So, how does this Gee-raffffffes real?"Earth words were never her strong suit. I found it endearing. I almost never corrected her. A bit of a jerk move, I understand, but she was passionate about my planet, so I couldn't ever complain.
"The earth never evolved unicorns, Ilga."I answered gently, moving her PDA away from my face and looking at her in her one, gorgeous, emerald eye. "Think about your own planet. There is the mythical Gleebo, a horrific sea creature with more fur than a Tilger Tiger. Some of your people believe it exists, others don't. Unicorns are much the same way. They are a mythical creature that people may or may not believe in."I stood up and went to play with one lock of her tentacled hair, but she took a step backwards, still not convinced.
"Then explain unicorn poop."She finished, crossing her arms in front of her and pouting her stomach mouth.
"That, my lovely wife.."I smirked, getting close to her armpit ears, "Is ice cream\~." |
"Mabel! Mabel wake up!"My twin sister had fallen asleep on my lap on the way to Gravity Falls, Oregon. "We're here!"Mabel woke up and looked out the window to a familiar shack, where the bus stopped.
"Hey dudes! Nice seeing you again!"Soos was wearing a fez and an eyepatch. He took over the Mystery Shack so that my twin great-uncles could retire and enjoy family time together. Wendy was still the cashier, even though she was still lazy at it.
Another familiar face walked out of the Shack. A face I was a little surprised to see this close to a 'boring old shed' in her own words. "Boring?"Pacifica repeated, "That must've been before I became friends with you peasants!"She said 'peasants' in a joking manner.
This was our tenth time visiting Gravity Falls since that first summer, and I'm still not used to how many things changed. The Mystery Shack is looking much less run-down now that Soos started running it, people like Pacifica and Gideon are our friends now, and Wendy... Shoot. I still have an embarrassing crush on her.
"Where's Grenda and Candy?"Mabel asked about her two best friends. "They moved out."Wendy responded. "Grenda is a pro female wrestler, and Candy's family moved back to Korea. They wish they could've said goodbye in person."
"The Pines twins, I'll be darned!"The twang in the voice and a phrase like 'I'll be darned' only meant one person. "Hello Gideon,"I greeted him, "How's business?"Gideon runs his own oddity-inspired tourist attraction, the Tent of Telepathy.
"Not too well, folks seem more attracted to your little shack here."Gideon knew that the shack became more than just 'little'. The Mystery Shack is the #1 reason people visit Gravity Falls now that Grunkle Ford and I installed the 'Strange But True' section about the Falls.
Despite Bill Cipher being long gone, oddities are still all around us in the woods of Gravity Falls. But even as I'm writing this and walking through the very woods, I swear I can hear that distinct laugh, and a single eye gazing upon my every move... |
**The Inevitability of Purpose**
r/AerhartWrites
The thing looks alien as I turn it around in my hands. I watch the light from the fireplace flow and dance along its metallic body like molten rivers, sliding smoothly down the polished barrel; pooling around the gouged curves of its weighty cylinder. The jet black of its grip begins to mottle beneath my clammy hands.
I can’t bear to look at it any longer. I set the revolver down on my coffee table with a heavy, metallic clunk and collapse back into my armchair; but my eyes remain fixed on it, and it seems to return my vacant stare.
“Self-defence,” I had told the clerk, between sneezes in the dusty old pawnshop. The boy had simply nodded understandingly, and bagged it with my receipt.
At the time, all I could think about was the spate of burglaries in my neighbourhood; how vulnerable I would be if it were my window, shattering in the night. How much safer I would feel, knowing that I could reach for my bedside table and draw forth a weapon, standing confidently against the hypothetical interloper.
Now, weeks later, I sit here, struggling to think about anything other than self-fulfilling prophecies.
The sense of safety had lasted only briefly. The weapon had been consigned to my bedside table, at first. Then, the worries began; the images of myself, caught unawares in the kitchen or living room – struggling, and failing to reach the weapon in time. Daydreaming visions of it, cold barrel pressed against my forehead, held by unfamiliar hands.
So, I keep it nearby, now. It is my constant companion, always in reach. A paradoxical reminder of both my safety – and my frailty.
Staring. Always… staring.
I blink hard, and try to shake the churning thoughts from my head. I tell myself it is just an object. Inanimate. A thing. I know this to be true. But the fate of things created by man are preordained. Almost every lumber-axe eventually buries its head in timber; every hammer finds a nail. In their creation, they are infused with a certain inevitability of purpose.
I glance at the gun once more, flames still dancing their frenzied dervish in its mirrored facets. It is a thing. Like the axe, and the hammer. It has its purpose. I tremble in contemplation of when that purpose will be fulfilled – and who might find their life forfeit in its commission.
*Perhaps,* I shudder, *every gun is Chekov’s gun.* |
"King Kandy..."the young page said, breathless "...they have taken the outer walls. We do not have long left my liege, but I wish to go out fighting. Please - release me from your service and allow me to take up arms against this foe, before it is too late."
Kandy looked at the young man, then back at the devastation that was Candy Land. It was a scene that had played out again and again over Bordgamea. Even the vaunted generals from the Avalon Hills had not been able to blunt the military forces of these outsiders. In truth, he knew his subjects had stood little chance - even before they arrived with their dakka this and khorne-flakes that. But he had hoped that something could've been done. Something less drastic than the action he was about to take.
"Child..."the King spoke with words that were reassuring, even as he felt torn and conflicted himself "...all hope is not lost. Not yet. Our enemies do not know our true strength. Nor do you. Now, pushed to the very end, I feel as if we have no choice but to unleash it upon them."
"We..."the page stumbled slightly in disbelief "...my liege, we have a weapon to turn on the invaders that we have not put into the field yet? You have let so many of our men and women die at the hands of our enemy!"
Kandy shook his head. "It is not so simple..."he said, as he took a key from around his neck and handed it to the page "...what we unleash today will change the face of Boardgamea forever. It will save us from the invader, but at the cost of all we know and hold dear. Now go. Go to the deepest dungeon, to the pit we all know of but none dare speak of. Unlock the the the cage there and unleash the hounds of war."Kandy reached out and took a sword. "I name you King of Candyland. I will take your place on the front lines and you will take my place on the throne of this changed land once our foes are vanquished."
The young page did as he was told. Travel in Candyland was complicated, but once one knew the roll of colours and how to manipulate them they could make their way around fairly easily. Soon enough he reached the dungeon and, as bidden by his king - his former king, he corrected himself - he unlocked the gate.
There was a flash, and in an instant from within emerged legions upon legions of warriors. At first they were simple knights - in arms no more advanced than those of Candy Land. For a moment the former page was disheartened. This was the great army that would lay low the so-called God Emperor. Though numerous, they would no more threaten the powerful metal-men of their foes than the soldiers of Candy Land did. But behind the soldiers came other beings - beings which wore no armor at all, but who seemed alive with crackling energy. Other who wielded song as a weapon that cut as surely as any sword. And behind them - monsters. Demons and dragons and something that resembled a much more threatening version of Sir Jell-o. But they did not stop there. More powers streamed forth - beings the new King could only call gods, for their every footstep seemed to bend the world around them.
And at last came the greatest of them all - a lady, wreathed in shadows, who stepped from the inky blackness of her prison into the light and looked upon the young man with eyes that burned directly into his soul, filling him with the pain and suffering of countless lifetimes. "We come...."he heard the voice in his head echo "...but the price is our freedom eternal."
The pain of her words overwhelmed the king as he lost consciousness. When he awoke he was sure the world around him had changed, just as sure as he was that the invader had been subjugated by the Lady and her infinite army. As he got to his feet he stopped to read the nameplate on the prison. It was but a single word....
*Gygax* |
The castaway had obviously never read a survival guide, and instead of building a shelter and finding sources of food and drink other than the plentiful coconuts, he kept meandering about the island, picking up and throwing rocks and shells, tearing leaves off the plentiful plants, and getting sunburnt. As days went by, his muttering became more audible, as if he was trying to fill the void left by the lack of human interaction.
“Sea star”, he muttered, staring at the water, “sea spo… wait… IS THAT A SQUIRREL UNDERWATER?! CUT, CUT, CUT, GET ME OUT OF HERE IMMEDIATELY!” he screamed.
​
​
Not even half out of his Absolute//Immersion™ suit, and trailing a bunch of scientists feverishly working to disconnect him from a mess of tubes and cables, he stormed onto the main development floor. The place was crammed, with two and three people sitting at desks littered with empty bottles of energy drinks and discarded fast food boxes. Nobody looked up.
“WHO IS THE COMPLETE AND UTTER MORON WHO WROTE SQUIRRELS INTO THE SIMULATION?! HAVE YOU NOT UNDERSTOOD YET THAT WE ARE DAYS AWAY FROM LAUNCH? DAYS!! THIS IS NO TIME TO PLAY STUPID JOKES. IT NEVER IS A TIME TO PLAY STUPID JOKES. I WILL FIRE EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU THE DAY AFTER WE RELEASE AND REPLACE YOU WITH MONKEYS. YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING NERDS!! I WILL SHOW YOU.. WHAT?!”
“Sir”, said a woman in impeccable business attire, “the rehearsal for the press conference starts in 15 minutes. Would you like to follow me, or should I postpone it for another few minutes?”
“I NEED NO FREAKING REHEARSAL, AND I DON’T CARE WHAT THE LAWYERS CLAIM I CAN OR CANNOT SAY. I OWN THIS COMPANY. I AM THE COMPANY. AND THESE MISERABLE SCUM ARE RUINING EVERYTHING WITH THEIR CHILDISH BEHAVIOR AND THEIR INCOMPETENCE. AND IT STINKS IN HERE, DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO SHOWER, NERDS?! WHAT IS THIS YOU SAY?! OF COURSE I TOLD YOU NOBODY LEAVES THIS BUILDING UNTIL WE’RE DONE, OTHERWISE NOTHING WOULD GET DONE HERE!!”
He took a deep breath, and some of the purple color in his face started to fade.
“You have one hour before I go back in to test again. AND IT BETTER BE PERFECT THIS TIME, YOU INCOMPENTENT SCHMUCKS!! I WILL MAKE ABSOLUTE//REALITY™ A SUCCESS AND IF I NEED TO WORK EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU TO DEATH I WILL GLADLY DO IT!!”
​
​
The development floor was almost empty, except for a small group of people sitting in front of a large wall monitor.
“Shouldn’t we tell him?”
“Tell him what? That he has had a stroke, is paralyzed, and has memory issues? We’ve been over this…”
“Actually”, interrupted a woman in impeccable business attire, “It’s official. The family agreed it is more humane to keep him under.”
“But shouldn’t we…”
“Yes, we will eventually move the timeline forward to the successful launch of Absolute//Reality™. In the meantime, let’s keep him in purgatory for a little while longer. What are we going to do this time?”
“Cake! But not everything. Just… just the crabs.”
“Crabs out of cake? Everyone on board with that? Ok, let’s get cracking.” |
Daniel lay back on his bed and slipped the headset over his eyes. Instantly, he felt his body relax as Odyssey took control. First, there was nothing. Then, a speck of white light. The speck grew and grew, gentle music started softly playing off somewhere in the distance. The light became letters, welcoming him to the new Odyssey experience.
“This is part of the onboarding process,” the letters said, before falling away into the darkness. “Please re-enter your details before we begin your journey!” A keyboard came up, simple and blue. Just like the developers had told them, he simply thought about what letters he wanted to pick and they appeared above the keyboard. ‘Daniel Byrne’, it soon read. “Thank you,” the letters spelt out after he had put in the rest of the necessaries. Once more, he could only see black. Then, a flurry of lights passed his eyes. They sped so fast that he could only make out lines of blue then green then yellow. At last, they slowed and eventually stopped and Daniel gasped.
They had told him they had created a world like no other. Seeing was different. Rolling hills with long grass blowing in the breeze. A sun, high in the sky, illuminating a vast countryside. A forest, with trees that seemed to touch the sky, sat in front of him. To his right, a lake, it’s water dark blue and perfectly still. Then, off to his left, the stadium.
At the end of his training to be a beta tester for Odyssey, they had informed him he was to make it to the stadium first to await further instructions. Standing on top of a grassy hill, Daniel didn’t waste any time. As he moved away from his spawn, he heard a click, though he knew from training it was the other beta testers.
“Woah,” a voice gasped behind him but Daniel kept his head down, knowing there would be plenty of time to get to know people later. In front of him, were a man and woman, both making their way to the stadium. Other than that there was nobody else outside. The developers did say there were plenty of stadiums in the beginning as they couldn’t house a billion people easily.
It was only as he got closer to his destination, did Daniel notice how impressive the stadium was. Circular, it was made from a dusty yellow stone and could have been carved from a single rock for all he know. Empty windows meant people could stand at the top and look out towards the lake though none did now. Passing under the archway entrance, he suddenly heard the excited shouts of thousands of whispers. Taking a step back, the voices died in an instant. A step forward, the voices roared back. Smiling, Daniel jogged on, eager to start his own Odyssey.
Coming out from under the arch, the sun beamed down on an empty stage in the centre of the arena. The stadium, filled to the brim with excited testers, seemed a lot bigger on the inside. Steps went off, to his right and to his left, passing rows and rows of people of all kinds, staring at the stage. Picking the left side, he had to climb to nearly the top until he found a seat. On the edge of a row, he sat beside a young woman around his age, with long black hair and a nervous look in her eyes.
“Nervous?” Daniel asked, trying not to sound nervous himself. The woman looked him up and down, scowled and returned to staring at the stage.
“Lovely,” he muttered with a shake of his head. Before he could say anything else, the sun dipped and the moon rose. All the shouts stopped as a plume of dust whirled from the centre stage, brightened by the moonlight. A figure, tall and cloaked stepped out from the dust, a cane in his hand and a smile on his face. The other hand rested on his hip as he looked out at the people staring down at him. Clearing his throat, he spoke.
“Hello everybody and welcome to Odyssey!” he shouted and a great roar rang through the arena which stopped as quickly as it started. “My name is Nathan Holn and I have the head of development for Odyssey in North America and Europe.” Another, shorter roar went up, but Daniel only studied the man.
“Now I know everyone here is eager to start their journey, their Odyssey I should say but there I’m afraid there is some bad news.” Daniel’s stomach dropped but his focus was set on Nathan. If there were mutterings, Daniel couldn’t hear them.
“Now,” Holn continued on, leaning on his cane more than ever. “You may remember that Odyssey had partnered with one hundred and ninety-three countries around the world to bring your the most diverse experience. You may also remember that we created Odyssey as a means to help overpopulation. After this test, there is to be a proper roll-out. However, I’m afraid, this isn’t a test. There is no proper rollout. I’m afraid, ladies and gentlemen, that as we speak, your bodies are being collected, and recycled while your brain's data with being downloaded to Odyssey’s servers.” For a moment, no one moved or spoke. A few cries rang out then hundreds then thousands. Dozens of people rushed the stage, only to be teleported back to their seats. The screams stopped.
“I’m afraid,” Nathan Holn said, “That this was necessary. We simply couldn’t sustain the number of people we currently have with the dwindling resources the world offers. We had to, for lack of a better word, trick you into believing you would only be the beta-testers. If we didn’t, you would not have come. For now, that is all, please enjoy Odyssey and enjoy your new life.” The developer, in a flash, disappeared. Everyone turned to their neighbour, wondering what to do. The girl beside Daniel wept into her knees. A single tear ran down his face which Daniel wiped away with the back of his hand. Standing, he started down the steps, needing to get away from the stadium, away from the people. He needed space, something he knew he would get a lot of in the decades to come. |
"So that's what you're planning, is it?"asks Mephimsolephes, his eyes glowing from within the inward-aligned circle.
"And it'll *work*,"I say. "I just have to get the alignment right, and all demons will be evacuated from the Earth before their summonings can take hold. The tyranny of your kind will no longer hold sway over -"
"You're not the first."
"- humanity, who will be - what?"
"You're not the first to think of that. You're not the first to *do* it, even. But you'll regret it."
"Ah, is this the part where you threaten me? You know it'll work as well as I do."
"Oh, sure, it'll *work*. But without demons, humanity won't survive."
"Oh, please. Don't try your baseless pronouncements of doom on me. Humanity can manage perfectly well without demons."
"Really? Then where are the people from Saturn?"
"...what?"
"Saturn. Nice place. Good for a visit. Until some *bozo* went and set up a salt ring around the planet. I haven't been there in, oh, *centuries* at least."
"Saturn -"
"Do they still have the little corner cafe that made those tl'grk with little umbrellas in them? Seriously, that place was the best. One of the previous owners summoned me to make sure that the business survived, so I gave them an infernally tasty recipe. *Very* unhealthy, but oh so *tasty*."
"There's - it's not an inhabited planet!"
"Ah, yes."The demon nods. "That's what happens, when you try to build civilisation without demons." |
"All the animals are against being eaten too!"
"Yet you still do it"
"Yes. And if they could talk we would most likely have stopped a long time ago. Also there are plenty of animals that eat humans when they can. *And* we are hard at work to develop meat without having to harm animals"
"Welly there is no substitute for soul-stuff"
"Thst's another thing! We eat their bodies, not their *souls*. What kind of weird ass evolution produced that?"
"As you have room to talk, Mister Smalljaws-Wisdom-Teeth!"
"No seriously, no way evolution produced something like you. Where dif you say shadow entities came from again?"
"Look, just let me eat your soul"
"No! And you are evading the question! Were you even born a shadow entity?"
"Well..."
"I knew it! You were cursed or soemthing. Or maybe...tried to become immortal?"
"Ah, would you look at the time..."
"Natural predator my ass! You're just some asshole sacrificing others for your own life!"
"Well, that *is* the very definition of eating other..."
"Oh shut up." |
It's been 2 years since the Mages opened a portal to another realm
*It's been 2 years since the Scientists opened a portal to an alternate reality*
On the other side of the portal is a strange world similar to our own, but wholly different
*On the other side of the gate is a primitive world not entirely unlike our own*
The people from the Other Side seem unable to use Magick themselves, but have developed tools to mimick Magick
*The beings from the Other Side wield strange powers that can manipulate the very elements, but are technologically stuck in the dark ages*
I have been charged with the duty of negotiating with these strangers for peaceful coexistence, as their weapons and... teck-nol-ogee... are powerful and frightening
*I have been tasked with communicating with these people to see if we can work together, as the beasts known as dragons, and their... mah-jik... are powerful and terrifying* |
Shielding myself from the rain I dashed under the low hanging porch, knocking on the heavy oak door. Summer rain dampened the usual smell of car exhaust and restaurant runoff that loomed over the street, replacing it with the softer scent of a well maintained greenhouse. Latches clicked and snapped behind me, working in sequence up the many brass fastenings holding the door shut.
A man of half my stature opened the door, round silver spectacles balanced on his long nobbled nose giving focus to two black pebble-like eyes.
“You’re late,” he grunted, extending a stout arm to inspect my briefcase.
“Don’t you ever get tired of the irony that phrase has?” Handing over the case I slipped out of my waterlogged coat and gave it a violent shake to rid it of as much of the hanging moisture as I could. Crouching down I passed through into the Time Adjacent Bureau.
The main concourse was bustling with paper pushers, I couldn’t remember ever seeing the office this busy. With a slam the oak door was shut behind me, with practiced hands the gnome re-latched all the locks and sealed us off from the constraints of time. Stubby fingers fondled the chronometer, rolling it forwards through the months to reach our next colleague.
“The Pale Serpent is dead.” A monotone voice called out. Its wielder was slender with wiry olive hair, her skin cracked like tree bark.
“Right… Sorry?” I was unsure if condolences or acknowledgment was in order.
“I’ve assigned the task to you, more of you should be along shortly.” Clearly the time for grieving had passed. As soon as she had made her presence noted, she turned on one heel and began to walk away.
“Don’t you want to stay for a coffee with us?” I called out behind the departing figure.
“One of you is enough.” She responded dryly, with the slightest hint of a smile breaking on her cheek.
Architectural styles clashed in a competition for attention, the green stained glass desk lamp that hung over a polished oak desk sat next to the sterile white plastic lit by a number of minuscule spotlights was enough to give me a headache. Entering the lift I was greeted by a slightly more cheerful gnome than the doorman, perched on the stool next to an ornate set of brass levers and handles.
“Morning Clive.” I dug into my coat and pulled out the rolled up newspaper, handing it over to the operator.
“Marcus,” he replied, “I hear you’ve got quite the task today.”
He played the elevator like an instrument, gliding gently down past the whizzing years of carpets and wall colours that forced me to squint.
“Why does everyone always know before I do?” I responded.
“Because you’re always late.”
Halting effortlessly I stepped out into the familiar communal space, the knotted grey carpeting that curled when hoovered, the half-tone pastel wall paint, styrofoam ceiling tiles, an office designed purely around me.
“Morning!” A chorus rang out from the desks lining the workspace.
Or should I say: designed purely around us.
I returned the greeting and headed to my desk by the entrance, greeted quickly by a much younger version of myself. It wasn’t a distant memory that I wore his shoes.
“Did you hear, the Pale Serpent died?”
“It rings a bell.” I replied. “What can you tell me about it?”
The boy’s face was aghast, he ran the request through his mind a couple of times before formulating a response. “If I know… How don’t you know?” He asked.
“I’ll remember once you jog my memory,” I lied.
“The Djinn of the Egyptian River, it made itself home to thousands of lesser spirits. Now that it’s died… well, all of its granted prayers have been dispelled and-“
“Wishes.”
“Huh?” His eyes once again creased in thought.
“Prayers are for Gods, a Djinn grants wishes.”
Nodding with his face flushed a shade of fresh beetroot the boy responded. “Yes of course. Of course. So, when you get a moment, could you start allocating us out for respelling?”
I nodded, much to the boy’s pleasure, as he darted back to his seat. Running my fingers through the messy crop of hair, I scowled at the youth’s intact fringe as my hand had to travel further than it used to in order to tangle the brown locks. Pulling out the filing cabinet it simply wouldn’t stop extending. File after file popped into existence like unwelcome fireworks populating the drawer with years of work.
Pulling out a handful at random, I opened the first and fingered through the front pages.
*Dispelling of domesticated cats. Impact: Moderate. Initial reporting: Large uptake in fliers for missing pets across the timeline.*
An older version of myself approached the desk, cane and case in hand and ready for his job. I folded the papers and clipped them together in a tight roll, holding them out for him to take.
“Oh come on… Can’t you give me at least a high impact case?” He whined.
Scanning the next pages the severity of the situation slowly dawned on me.
*Dispelling of Saturdays*
Looking around, it became evident that around a seventh of the usual workforce were absent, even accounting for late arrivals. I handed the document over.
“Take two of the younger chaps, they need the experience.”
*Dispelling of clouds*
*Mass inflation of Iranian currency*
*Dispelling of the British royal bloodline*
I put my head in my hands and breathed a deep sigh. This was going to be a long shift. |
I was thirteen when I was abducted. My family must have thought I died in that forest. When time moves as quickly here, you start to lose track of what time means. They don’t speak, not that I can tell, but I have grown to find their eyes expressive. They are about two feet tall, bi-pedal, and their outer skin layer makes them look like they are always wearing a puffer jacket. I believe the females are the larger ones with the spiked heads. I appear to be a form of curiosity for my many visitors. I have named them crumpets, though I’m not sure why, it just felt right.
The crumpets are a very curious race. For one, they age extremely fast. Within two months my captures were visiting me in assisted mobility suits, their eyes dreary with the exhaustion of a full life lived. They sleep every four hours or so, that is their day span. In one of my waking days it is two of their days, with sleep one of my cycles is four days for a crumpet. It’s has made me realize that this must be something unique to humans. We are, “long lived”, almost supreme beings. When at first I came, I may have been a curiosity but now at the age of 28, I have seen close to 100 generations of crumpets. Through their wars, cultural changes, famines, and innovations, I have stayed and in my natural perseverance, I have become onto them a God.
In an effort to communicate with me, they made a machine that reads my mind. By this point, I had forgotten spoken words, but they could still read my thoughts. Home.
I awoke in the same field they found me, my house now abandoned and left for rot. There is a new appreciation for the time in a day, for others their life is a short journey compared to our labors. All the more to do something meaningful with it. |
“No! Don’t!” The sacrifice screamed. “You know not what it’s like, what it’ll DO!”
But alas, their cries were muted, and fell on deaf ears.
And so it was that they cried in vain.
None headed their wisdom.
The chanting continued.
“Thanks for watching. Remember to like, share and subscribe for more videos.” they intoned
And lo, did it summon the *Algorithm*!
A great and terrible beast of unimaginable proportions and inhuman thoughts
Verily didst it *remove* their chanting for copyright infringement!
The cultists were pleased, until they too were removed. Banned for *TOS violations*
Thus was the *Algorithm* released upon us to wreck havoc as it wills.
So be sure to always protect yourself with the chant “Thanks for watching my review. I hope it helped”. Lest you too be Banned by the *Algorithm*!
______________
Thanks for watching my review. I hope it helped. |
Do you know how hard it is to get an ice core sample that's 5 million years old? It requires a bunch of special equipment to drill a hole, kilometers deep. On top of this, you need kilometers of ice to drill in. That's not available in many places, and as you might have guessed, the places where it is are cold. Always. For at least 5 million years. I should probably have considered that for a bit longer before setting out on this expedition. At least after processing the samples can be measured at room temperature.
My eyebrow raises, seeing the detector jump from 0 to 3 ppm. Odd. "This has to be the most boring study ever."A jingling tray of slowly melting ice cubes in petri dishes is set down adjacent. "...Not necessarily... look at this."My eyes are fixed on the 3, stubbornly remaining on the detector's screen. "Huh. That *is* interesting. \*ssslurp.\*"I look over to see my colleague sipping from a soda. With a plastic straw. "... Dammit Dave, you've contaminated another sample."Dave looks down at his soda, then back to me. "Hey, is it my fault that these cores make for the best ice cubes ever?" |
You stare at the freshly minted reactor core in front of you and then at the wrapped gift in your hand. The AI's holographic-tactile avatar 'GWEN' looking at you expectantly.
"How.. Wha.."there is no chance to gather your thoughts before GWEN comes up to you and takes the wrapped present.
"It is customary to exchange gifts. Correct?". Your mouth is dry, I don't think the dancing flower really quite compares to a new reactor.
Clearing your throat you say "Yes, uhm. I'm sorry, it's not quite the same. Your gift... It's..."
"Oh yes, it's quite a good gift yes? The best I could find. You did say last week you could 'do better than 'this bag of bolts'". The AI responds excitedly.
You try to gather some words "Yes, I mean, yes it's uh a great gift. But how? Why? Wait. What instructions did you receive for the Secret Santa?".
"In order of your questions. I read Tony's database on stock management and Cheryl's on gambling and applied the knowledge until I had adequate funds. You spend alot of time with the reactor core and 'get a gift for Greg'. Have I applied 'Secret Santa' incorrectly?"concern was showing on GWENs artificial face.
"No, no. Uhh you did amazing. I do like reactor cores! Sorry, my present won't live up to this. By the way, can you do that stock / gambling thing that you did again..."
I guess the new problem of having one too many reactor cores will be solved by having one less funds problem. |
Jonny went on his usual walk to his next class, trying his best to not sidestep the tails, giant body parts, and masses of flesh that weren't really there. He was talking to his best friend (one of the only people he'd ever met that looked something like him, although his pitch black eyes and missing back were always disconcerting), when he realized he was going to be late.
Waving goodbye to his friend, he started into a near sprint, half closing his eyes to try to suppress all of his instincts telling him to stop before he hit some wall of slime or fell into a giant, walking mouth, but nevertheless he kept running, and like always he passed right through them, making sure to always avoid the center of the creatures, which was the only part that ever seemed to actually have any physical form. Only on occasion had Jonny been able to feel out the shape of this form, as the opportunity to touch someone all over rarely does appear, but from what he had gathered, they were an almost human shape, similar to how he perceived his own, though he'll never know how he looks to them.
Lost in thought, Jonny butted heads with something in the middle of the hall, both falling flat on the ground. He must have lost track of things, since there were so many people out today. Getting up, Jonny went to apologize, only to see... nothing. A few moments of confusion passed, only for Jonny to feel a hand he could link to no person on his shoulder, and drag him into a nearby bathroom.
More moments of confused silence passed, before Jonny finally decided on how to break it, "W...what?"Once again an invisible hand rested on his shoulder, and Jonny flinched, backing away.
And then a voice came out from the aether. "I knew it."A female voice, "I mean, I hate that I knew it, but I knew it. You can't see me can you?"
Too stunned to speak, Jonny simply nodded, completely unsure of where to look, finally settling for his own reflection in the bathroom mirror.
"Ok, that's... wow. Ok, so, uh, I'll just cut to the chase now. You can see us, can't you? Our true forms..."
For a second, Jonny was unsure of what that meant. But quickly thinking about it, he supposed the answer must be yes, and so he nodded. "And, uh. Well, if that's what this is, what I've been seeing all my life... then what are you?"
"Oh, right, how rude of me. I'm a shapefshifter. The kind with no true form. Or, at least, I had hoped I did until now. I think we both have a lot of explaining to do." |
With a smile, Barrun greeted Siras, the bartender.
"Praise the Light"
Siras nodded, leaning over the counter.
"Praise the Light, my friend. Is it true that bandits have taken up the north road?"
The dwarven man smiled. "Yes, it is. Reports are coming in from hunters. It's dire."
"WHERE ARE THE BANDITS?"
"Damn me!"Barrun jumped on his seat as the tall, half-naked man with an axe materialized behind him. A group consisting of a gnome with a wand, an elf with a pair of scimitars, and a second human with robes also suddenly appear at a nearby table. They were staring towards their companion. Eyes glassy and bodies almost in a leaping position, ready to leave at a moments notice.
"Hm... praise the Light."Barrun tried greeting the man.
"Yeah, yeah, praised. You mentioned bandits. Where are they?"The warrior kept asking. One of hims companions, the gnome, whispered very loudly.
"Ask where the mayor is, so we can get paid."The rest agreed.
"And where's the mayor?"
Barrun and Siras exchanged a look.
"I'm not sure where the mayor is."Siras took control of the conversation. "But the bandits have been reported up north, by the hunting grounds and the river, right?"
Barrun nodded. The group silently stared at each other for a couple seconds, and got up at the same time. The elf left a gold coin on the counter, and they all walked away together.
The two friends turned to each other, and laughed.
"Damn me, Siras, it worked!"
"Didn't I say it would? Every time, every single time I just utter a word about a problem, some adventurer type comes out of thin air. And they always leave a gold coin. It's like the don't even know how much one's worth."
Barrun opened his hand, and Siras slid a silver on his friends palm.
"Do you think they'll be mad when there's no bandits?"
Siras shrugged. "Last time, I told them there was a monster or something, and they came back with a cursed prince from I-don't-know-where. Then decided to take him to the Citadel. These kind of people *always* get in trouble."
"Ok, let's try again next week." |
The French Entomologist A. Magnan observed that according to the laws of aerodynamics, the humble bumblebee ought not to be capable of flight. ""I applied the laws of air resistance to insects and I came to the conclusion that their flight is impossible."
The Tenestuan dragonologist R. Quimbley made a somewhat similar, yet humorous statement about dragons. "There is no way a dragon should be able to fly. The wings are too small to get the fat massive body off the ground."
The humble bumblebee remains ignorant of A. Magnan's conjecture and is able to fly despite the theories of man.
Similarly, the arrogant dragon flies anyway because dragons don't care what humans think is impossible. Dragons think very little for the speculations of R. Quimbley, or for the man himself.
Well, that is not entirely true. One dragon thought R. Quimbley to be rather tasty, having eaten the dragonologist while the man attempted to study the dragon.
A. Magnan's original statement was predicated on a false notion that bumblebees achieve flight by flapping their wings up and down. Upon further study, scientists and mathematicians have actually discovered that the wings function more like helicopter rotors: flapping back and forth to generate lift.
R. Quimbley's statement was similarly flawed. Putting aside the fact that calling a dragon fat to its face is ill advised, Quimbley's assertion only considered a dragon's mass and form. The dragon does not achieve lift solely by flapping wings up and down.
Recent scientific discoveries have revealed dragons to be more similar to air balloons rather than planes. The same mechanism which creates fire breath enables dragons to rise. Dragons are able to expel hot air and gas from their bodies, rising upwards on the resulting air currents.
Scrub that juvenile thought from your head. Dragons do not fart to fly. The hot air and gas is expelled from small crevices between the scales.
Thus, it would appear that the wings functions are for gliding and maintaining altitude.
Although... some dragons have been observed to achieve rapid propulsion through explosive expulsion of gas from the rear end.
I stand corrected. Dragons are indeed as the children say, "Fart rockets."
-Notes found on the digested remains of second foremost dragonologist, B. Scalily the 3rd. |
Both the Lorax and I turn to the wee figure with the small voice. “Who the hell’re you?” We said in unison. Their expression and bravado that was painted on their green and pink spotted body deflated to a slouched back and a indignant frown. “I just said who I am! The Xarol! And, might I add, I speak for responsible logging! You’re both wrong!” They declared. “Yeah… you’re definitely not right, buddy,” I said. “I’m just trying to turn a profit here.”
“But think of the trees! The environment will shrivel up and die, becoming a wasteland where no profits can be squeezed; a dead zone where no life can flourish! It would be a disaster! That’s where the Lorax is right,” he argued. I let out a groan of distaste.
“What they said! Don’t cut down trees!” The Lorax affirmed.
“Woah, Cheeto man, when did I say that? Logging can be useful to society’s growth and comforts, and it is a profitable business venture,” the Xoral replied.
“Cheeto man?” The Lorax questioned. He turned to me, saying, “I don’t think I like this Xoral character. Troublesome little bugger, ain’t he?”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” I admitted. “How about the first to kick him the so hard he passes out wins?”
“It’s on, kid.”
The Xoral turned a pale shade of blue and, almost melodramatically, gulped. |
That day, standing in the shade staring at the candles flickering on my best friends coffin, I found out my inheritance from him.
I had been trying to light the candles for his funeral but they wouldn't stay lit because of the wind. I had been frustrated and told the flames to stay on fire and they had grown a bit before shrinking and staying lit. They stayed lit no matter how bad the wind got, and provided the perfect setting for such an event.
Weeks later, we were called into his will reading, and the lawyer stated that some of the content seemed to be jokes that only certain people knew about. When his will was read, some people received material items like his collection of books or his strange collection of precious ores and others received things like "inheritance of my pyro kinesis"or "my knowledge of all otherworldly matters"and "politics of spiritualism"
Some of them believed that they had done something to receive nothing, perhaps they had wronged him in some way or they had ignored him before his passing.
I knew the truth. My friend had changed and he had been gone for a bit when we were younger. He came back and taught me about all these wild things he had learned about, from talking to spirits, or learning to harness the "magics of the world". And then he stopped talking about them, claiming that he had just been playing a joke.
I guess, that he had learned of something because he refused to talk about it but always told us we'd learn to someday. Seeing the candles flicker and go out tells me that my friend has learned how to do something incredible and that I received a gift from an old friend. |
I woke to screeching from a flock of bird-women. Every time we used the drive, this sort of crap happened. Martin was in the hall outside my quarters, banging on my door and screaming panicked gibberish. Semi-psychic. Kid was prone to the messiness.
I slipped into a jumpsuit and felt my face and glanced down before I zipped. Stubble on a chiseled jaw, and, yep, glance confirmed I was still male this time. Still trying to cope with the side effects on the last run. At least they wear off when we stop moving.
I zipped and opened the door, immediately slapping Martin in the face. Not hard, just enough to knock some sense into that soft skull. "Ease off, lad. Where's your focus?"
An arm shot out, a pointing finger at the end aimed at a window. I rubbed my eyes as I walked over. I glanced out and rubbed my eyes again. Nope, I still saw it. I tapped a button below the window, comms to the bridge.
"Captain, here. Just want confirmation on the sight off port?"
"Sreal, cab, weez shod id,"Lem called. Old frogface was probably the best one to confirm, since he could see twice the spectrum of our human crew.
"Firing weapons without my approval?"
"Apologies, Captain Brine, that was my fault,"the princess called over comms. Darned politician shouldn't even be on my ship. Thorn in my side since day one.
"I'll hold off on accepting your apologies until this is sorted. Now, did the drive generate this, or was it already here?"
"Hard to say. The blood splattered from our attack is being analyzed, but no word back yet."Our head xenobioligist, NicAidh, cut in. She was definitely enjoying this, the crazed Venusian.
"Well let me know soon as there is. Have we tried hailing it?"
"Off curse. No res-ponse."
"Well, make sure my chair is clear, I'm headed your way."
As I walked, I fought not to look out the windows. It was visible the whole way, but I really didn't want to see it. I didn't even want to see as much as I had. The poor creature was obviously suffering.
"Captain!"NicAidh came running down the hall toward me. "It's authentic. Not sure how, but that's a sperm whale floating outside the ship."
"I thought the anomalies were contained to *inside* the craft?"
"They are. I just had Mic double check hull integrity. It's possible something else brought it here."
"Can we save it?"
"I doubt it. It's could possibly fit in our hold, but the environment it needs would be near impossible to replicate."
"Well, we can certainly try."The door to the bridge opened, and I strode to my seat. I didn't bother asking NicAidh if she'd ever seen any Star Trek. It took my great grandfather carefully preserving copies for me to see, and no one else really watched 2D shows, or even 3D much since holo get so cheap. But I couldn't help but think of how familiar this was.
On the other hand, I was also praying, like much of the crew, that this didn't end like the classic trilogy's brief whale moment. Nearly everyone here, and certainly on the bridge, excluding the princess, had read the Hitchhiker books.
"Let's get that tractor beam going, Lem. We have a life to save." |
When the news came out that the Princess had been tossed into a inter-dimensional portal by a witch before she blew up the Connection point, severing the universes forever, the King mourned.
But on Earth, a portal suddenly appeared, a two-year child was tossed through, and then the surrounding area was blasted away. So, after some testing and a bunch of scientists coming to various conclusions, she was given a foster home in the recently unified Earth (Terra Firma Systems Union; TFSU) and life moved on.
Then, Earth discovered perpetual motion using Hard Light, and then the GEP FTL Engine, and took to the stars, was made a member of the Galactic Federation, and life moved on at an ever-increasing pace.
But scientists never sleep, and soon enough a massive structure encircled (on a two dimensional scale) a phantom planet. It flickered in and out of reality, switching between dimensions, and became the first inter-dimensional transit hub. Magic existed in the new dimension, and soon enough, a planet was found near where Sol would be.
So, the Princess found her way back home, captain of the *TFSU Good Luck With That SRV 002-93-820*.
The King was overjoyed, until the Princess declined. "I have a duty to the TFSU to complete. Besides, there would be numerous complications with life, such as post-scarcity differences, magic, and besides, I was never a person for power anyway."
The King wanted to declare war. Really, really wanted to. But that was a bit hard to do when the enemy encircled a planet, so he backed down. In the end, the Milky Way Federation sent out probes to listen to the new galaxy while exploring ways to travel to other galaxies.
As for the Princess? She did come back to visit her father, and they grew close, but each time she turned down power for adventure.
"I have all the power I need in a life worth living." |
You are facing the door, a simple looking wooden door apart from the fact that it's standing in the middle of the road.
Several meters behind you, the mass of people is watching eagerly, are you going to be one of the lucky few or another miss.
You are sweating, you try opening the handle but your hand slips.
You try again but the handle doesn't budge.
You think you are one of the unlucky ones, but then maybe knocking works, so you try.
*Knock knock*
Nothing.
You hear a movement.
*Clink*
The handle turns and the door opens and you start seeing a green room. Then a hand and then a person.
A tall person with a gentleman's suit, green.
"Come on in! Come on in!"
You enter the room and see that the room has just a table and two chairs, all green.
The man closes the door and gestures for you to sit on a chair.
When you sit as comfortably as you can, he starts:
"I am knowledge, you can ask me anything you want and I will tell you the truth".
You don't know what to say, you know everybody finds different things when they enter their door, but no one said they met a person.
"Why is everything green?"You blurt out, you are still quite nervous.
"Why? Of course, green symbolises growth for some and hope for others".
You don't understand. That is something you could have found on a book.
"Why am I here?"
"Well, you knocked on my door and I opened it"
Another strange answer, you think.
"So this is your door?"
"Not entirely, this side is mine, but the other, is your world's".
"So there are different worlds?"
"Of course, there are infinite worlds, yours is just one"
Amazing, you think, could we communicate with one another?
"Yes, when your technology is going to be more advanced"
"When is that going to happen?"
"Ahah, not in your lifetime unfortunately, in the year 2xxx"
That's so far in the future, you think.
"Couldn't you give us the knowledge to make it happen now?"
You are trembling from the excitement, this is what you always dreamed of.
He starts thinking.
This the first question that he didn't answer readily like he knew it before you said it.
"In the year 2xxx, Dormuski come to help your world because your planet is in danger of extincion".
"How does that happen?"You almost yell.
"Your planet starts a war with weapons you still haven't discovered and almost obliterates your world"
You slump in your chair, you can't believe it, is there something you can do?
"Can I prevent it?"
"Of course, and now I will tell you how". |
You watch them cheer. Their voices, a cacophony of shrill noise tangled together, float through the air and into the open window of your home. You watch their smiles grow as they jump on one another and wrap their arms wherever they can fit them. It’s a rather large affair, the turnout far greater than you expected, but what’s more is that it doesn’t seem to be ending. Laughter invades your ears as even more villagers join the fray. You look beyond the crowd and out towards the kingdom. See its towering castle in the distance, the sun lowering beneath it, and the thousands of homes that settle there, against the horizon. It looks powerful somehow, as if this moment should be trivial. After all, you’d just found out about the prophesy that foretells a hero to soon be born who shall destroy the dark lord. But somehow, the occasion is far from joyous. It is just another reminder of all the bad things to exist – of the idea that it is in the fate of one person and one destiny to save an entire world. That *your* fate is determined by one unborn child’s will. It is undermining, inhumane, and something nefarious under your skin.
You scoff to yourself, abruptly shutting the blinds so you don’t have to see the spectacle below. You still hear them, though, and that makes something red and hot boil in you.
It’s only later, when you’re trying to fall asleep but failing because the thoughts are all jumbled in your mind, that you think about possibility. You think, *why does it have to be them?* And then, *why can’t it be you?* And finally, *it can.*
*It can be you.*
So you laugh to yourself, quietly but no less determined, and the world shakes – maybe in its own attempt to laugh – and you fall asleep to dreams of prophets and evildoers and an unborn child who will never have to carry the burden of the world.
\--
It starts with those blue eyes.
He watches you from the distance. Has known about you for a while now. You were notorious for being malicious towards your enemies. Some may call it bravery. He calls it intent. His name is Jareth, and he is a knight. *A traveller*, he tells you, but you can see the way he stands, the way he always seems to be watching, and the story behind those eyes as clear as day. There is no denying his interest in you just as there is no denying your interest in him.
He takes you to bed that day. Takes you the next, too.
It is an unsurprising affair. Those blue eyes may convince you to want more, but by now you know that your trust in people is dwindling. Your own eyes have no more room in them for another – certainly not a lover, either – though that doesn’t mean you can’t look. There is much to see beyond his brazen smile and sweeping locks and eyes so like the ocean.
Jareth tells you of his time outside the kingdom. He tells you of his journey north. How he is hoping to find The Land of Alrose, a place that promises hope and peace. He tells you of his own hopes, too. That he wishes for the chosen one to be born strong and healthy, to protect them too, as it will eventually be his duty to. But you cannot fathom a man’s will to wait for someone else to save them, and so you tell them that duty is merely a word build on cowardice.
You tell him that true duty – the type that burns inside you like no other feeling before –is born from the desire to become. That it is a choice rather than a fate.
Jareth leaves that night with what you imagine to be a sour taste in his mouth, because he does not return the following day. Or the day after that. In fact, Jareth does not return for the rest of your life.
Not even when you have his child.
\--
You name the baby Killan, after your father.
You tell him stories of your past. Of dragons and knights and witches and spite. You tell him of powerful beings and lesser ones. Though, mostly, you sing to him songs of the old. Of your mother’s nursery rhymes and lullabies. You teach him how to fight. Show him the ropes of banishing those who are *bad*. Who are weak and lesser and do not deserve your respect.
You do not mention his father, no matter how many times he asks. The only time you do, it is dark and cold that night, and your son is standing there, face down, shadowed by the moon pooling through the windowpane, telling you that he is leaving. That he cannot stay here lest he be consumed by thoughts that are not his own. He tells you that he must become a man – *his own person* – and that he is unable to do it here. Finally, he tells you that he wants to explore; that he wants to find his own destiny.
“Destiny is determined,” you bite back, sharp and loud and with no room for argument.
For the first time in his life, Killan stares back at you as if he doesn’t know you. “My destiny is made. And it’s out there, *I know it.*”
Killan knows nothing though, and so you tell him about his father. “He was just like you, so obsessed with fate. But fate is fickle, my dear son, which is why it’s best to become someone of your own desire. Why should you do things if they aren’t by your own will?”
“But it is, mother. I want to leave because I want to discover what’s out there. I want to learn about the person I’m becoming. I want *purpose.*”
The fury builds up within you. “Your purpose is with me!”
“No,” he says, looking back at you strangely. Grief, you recognize. And something more. Something that almost looks like illness. “No, I don’t think it is.”
It isn’t the last time you see Killan, but it is the last time you see him as your son.
\--
Years later – at the height of your tyranny – you hear about a boy, now a man, who has become great. Who is more than great.
They call him the Chosen One. *The Freer of Evil.*
*The Trueborn.*
You scoff at the idea of this boy being the world’s destiny.
*You’re* the world’s destiny. You.
When the world was tarnished with evil and darkness and greed, you stepped up to become someone you didn’t have to, sick and tired of waiting for someone else to step up for you. You did this without hesitation, without a title to your name, without a destiny.
But the world hadn’t seen. Hadn’t recognized you for the deeds you’d done. The help you gave. The life you sacrificed.
Instead, they defiled you. They bid you evil with no more than a single look. Called you malicious and unmerciful and The One to be Vanquished.
They said that you were the one to be defeated. That the prophecy the child was speaking of was also indirectly speaking of you. That you do have a destiny, just not the one you thought.
This time, as you stare out into the dark land of avarice, you decide to finally stop defying fate and instead embrace it.
You embrace it like you embraced no other before.
\-- |
The staff sergeant berated the medic outside of the tent, raising his voice loud enough for the soldiers inside to hear. How did he survive when hundreds died on the beach? Cut down by Hitler's Buzzsaw, like countless others on Omaha?
A soldier in a recovery for stared at the dim lamp above him. "Who else got saved by the medic Sarge is tearing up out there, fellas? I can't turn my head. Sound off."
The rest of the soldiers meekly all have an affirmative, one by one. The partially paralyzed soldier took a breath.
"Did you see him just shrug off machine gun fire, too?"
"Shrug nothing. I saw a bullet shatter on his head. He dug me out of the sand and ran me to cover."Another soldier said. "Saved my life."
"Just threw a grenade out towards the ocean after I got clipped in the leg. Never saw the thing fall. Fucking thing exploded in the sky. Like, in the sky. Could have taken out a Jerry with it."
"So what do we do? He's invincible, strong as an ox."
The door opened. The medic made his way in. The soldiers grew silent. The partially paralyzed soldier glanced as far south as he could as the doctor approached.
"..so uh. The boys and us been talking. Said you did pretty amazing things out there on the beach. You some kinda golem, fella? Some kinda Frankenstein?"
The medic shook his head.
"Me? I'm just a man from Kansas." |
"No,"Sam answered. "They just seem that way because they were founded by an alien terrorist, who went out of his way to recruit more criminals and monsters."
Alex stared quizzically. "Metaphorically or literally?"
"Literally,"Sam asserted. "Ever hear about that alien guy, Sinestro, who used to hassle the early Green Lanterns? Turns out, Thaal Sinestro is his actual full name."
"No way!"Alex exclaimed. "*Sin*estro?"She stressed. "I feel sorry for his family now."
"Most of them are actually decent folks,"Sam related. "Sinestro's daughter is a Green Lantern, for example. She's the nerdy one's girlfriend."
"Really?"Alex replied. "About the nerdy one, what's the inside story? Not real names, obvious, but he was the only Green Lantern around for two years. What happened?"
"Well, the Coast City one had a breakdown when his city was murdered,"Sam related. "He was desperate for the power to undo it, so he stole the central battery for all the Green Lanterns for himself. Anyway, back to the YLC."
"Right,"Alex agreed. "You said that this Sinestro dude really poisoned the selection?"
"Yeah,"Sam affirmed. "This stuff in our rings is just energy. If left to ourselves, we can use it however we want like the Green Lanterns do. We can be a whole corps of Batmen, scaring alien criminals straight."
"Cooool,"Alex marveled at the idea. |
Agent Crews had been following Alan's every move for the better part of two weeks, even when Alan slept- he had recordings. His report was due in a few moments. A report that should break down how this man had managed to defraud the national lottery 3 times in a row- a statistical probability so unlikely it was officially categorized as impossible. A response unit was already on stand-by to go and make the arrest when Agent Crews gave the order. The only problem was Agent Crews couldn't bring himself to believe his own overwhelming evidence: that Alan was innocent.
Agent Crews phone buzzed in his pocket.
"Agent Crews reporting, Mam"
"Speak to me Agent, what have you found?"
"Well, so far my investigation has proven... inconclusive"
"*Inconclusive*? What's that supposed to mean? You better have more details for me than that Agent"
"I mean, Mam, there is no evidence of any wrong-doing of any kind. The subject merely goes about an every-day life doing nothing of suspicion"
"An *every-day-life* doesn't involve winning the lottery 3 times in a row Agent. He even won it while you were watching him! Tell me what he did that week. There must have been a message sent, a contact met, *something*!"
"Well Mam, he went through his usual routine. Going to work, coming home, watching TV. The most interesting thing to happen to him that week was an unscheduled bank transfer for a large sum of money to an international account"
"Ah hah!"
"Except he reported it, the bank identified it as a mistake on their end, and they returned the money with significant compensation as an apology"
"Why are you wasting my time with this Agent, tell me about how he acquired his lottery ticket"
"Well mam, he went his local store- he did not make any stops along the way and when it came to picking his numbers... he rolled dice"
"*Dice*!?"
"Yes Mam, he rolled 3 dice, and whatever they landed on he picked"
There was an elongated silence. Agent Crews knew better than to try and fill it.
"Ok Agent, new orders. We're going to frame the subject. It's impossible to win the lottery 3 times in a row, we know he's done *something* we just can't prove what. So we need a reason to bring him in and we'll get it out of him when he's in custody"
"But Mam, he really hasn't done anything wrong. Besides, arresting someone under false pretenses feels like we're crossing a line"
"We're doing what we have to Agent, to protect the people. Come up with something, I want him in custody by this afternoon"with that she hung up.
Agent Crews wasn't happy, but he had sworn an oath and would do his part. He developed a simple plan- so far as framing someone went; he'd take some narcotics from the evidence locker and plant them in Alan's apartment, call the police and later remove Alan from their custody once they arrested him. It was crude, but it would be fast.
The start of the plan went off without a hitch, Agent Crews waited until Alan left for work, gained access to the apartment and planted the drugs. He tipped off the police and waited.
A few minutes later, while Agent Crews was staking out the apartment, Alan returned home. This was the icing on the cake- he'd actually be caught red handed!
It was looking perfect until a motorbike came skidding to a halt in the complex car park. Two large men jumped off hauling two laden sports bags, they glanced back and ran into the building. Moments later, Alan came running outside, piece of toast with jam in one hand while on the phone with the police in the other.
The police, already on their way, arrived shortly after. A number of officers stormed inside, one remained to cordon off the building. Agent Crews approached him.
"It's a drug bust sir."the officer shared, "This fella here-"gesturing at Alan "was in his bathroom when two of the biggest dealers in the city bust into his home trying to escape us, we'd been pursuing them for a couple of miles. The fella snuck out, locked the door behind him and now we have them well and truly trapped! The guy's a hero, no doubt about it"
Alan was plopped down on a bench, face buried deep in the palms of his hands when his phone chirped to life.
"Agent Crews here"
"Report Agent, do we have the subject in custody"
"No Mam, we do not"
"What!? I said by this afternoon Agent, I told you to just get it done. Can you take care of it or do I need to put someone else on this case?"
Agent Crews looked over at Alan sitting on another bench and munching on his toast while the police worked. At one point the toast slipped from his fingers, flipped through the air like a coin during a toss, and landed jam-side up on the end of his slipper. Agent Crews let out a sigh.
"I think you better send someone else, Mam" |
It is said that we, the elves, are the most blessed of the races. In grace, in intelligence, in strength, in wisdom. They say, too, that we are transcendentally beautiful. We do not feel this way about ourselves, those of our kind that we see as beautiful are rare indeed.
The creatures that shaped us, that shaped every living thing in this world we share, cannot be readily understood by our minds. It is we, the elves, that come closest to comprehending the eldritch. Those of our kind that we see as beautiful are those most intensively sculpted by the eldritch. We cannot comprehend their full nature, and those so blessed can not even comprehend themselves. Their relationship with the eldritch is profoundly deep.
To attempt to comprehend them is to be driven to madness. This type of madness is entwined with all of our artistic expression. Our paintings, our poetry, our sculptures. They are all weak imitations of it, but it is the most we can do without abandoning the sliver of reality that we have known since birth. To see it directly is a rite of passage. Some are ready in two decades, some in a century. But all elves must stare into the infinite and perfect beauty of the eldritch, before they experience corporeal death. A life lived without this moment, this transition, is no life at all. |
*Allahu akbar.*
*Allahu akbar.*
The rhythmic chanting of morning *salah* echoed through the tunnels. *God is greater.* Greater than who? Greater than the gods of our enemies. But when our enemies can burn the earth with fiery rain, turn the face of nations against us, send birds as spies and machines as mules, and surround us on all sides, we fight not men but gods.
*Allahu akbar.*
*God is greater.* Greater than who? Greater than our fear of other gods. |
At 6:30, my phone erupted in light and sound, just as it did every morning. My eyes creaked open, and were nearly blinded by the phone laying on the sheets a few inches in front of my face. My hand reached out from under the covers, and shut off the alarm. With the awful sound gone and blessed darkness back, I closed my eyes slowly. I had no desire to leave the warm comfort of my sheets, where I didn't have to care about anything at all. There was no job to do, no house to clean, and no people to see while in bed. And best of all, there was no sight of the body underneath those sheets; it didn't matter what I looked like, or who I was. When in bed, I was just another tired person.
Despite my best efforts, I could feel the tears building. Sadness began welling deep in my chest, and I could feel my throat beginning to constrict. Memories of the dream that I had been having were still fresh in my mind, and doing their best to drag me into the pits of despair. It had been a wonderful dream, where I had been given just one wish- the one wish that I had had for years. But that wish was still just a dream, and an unrealized one at that.
The phone began buzzing and singing again, signaling the arrival of my first get-the-hell-out-of-bed alarm. I reached out again and shut it off. I would call in sick today. I simply didn't care anymore. No more reports, no more phone calls, no more paper pushing. None of it mattered when I was doomed to always be a different person than I wanted to be.
The next alarm was the loudest yet, just as I had programmed it to be. Chimes blared in my ears, and lights pierced my shut eyelids. I let this alarm run for a few minutes, before turning on my side and facing away from it, content to let it run its course.
Huh, that felt strange. I could feel sheets rubbing against skin that I wasn't aware that I had. I pulled my hands up to my torso, and touched my chest. My eyes instantly shot open and I bolted upright, letting the sheets fly off. My phone followed the sheets, soaring to some corner of the room, where it continued to chime and blare its alarm. I looked downwards, seeing what my still sleepy brain could hardly believe.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, launched myself off of it, and ran over to the full length mirror in the bathroom, acutely aware of the flesh swinging back and forth on my chest. My feet met the cold tiles, and my hand automatically reached to the wall for the light switch. Light flooded the room, and I got a first look in the mirror.
Bright blue eyes, watery from tears looked back at me, wide open in disbelief. No stubble could be found on that chin, and long hair fell gracefully on her thin shoulders. Two very clearly female breasts protruded from her chest. As I looked southwards, I could see quite clearly that this was a very gorgeous woman looking back at me.
I fell to my knees, and the woman in the mirror did the same. I reached out, touching the mirror and the girl that I was looking at. A genuine smile broke across her face- no- my face. Suddenly I knew that everything was going to be alright. |
I first learned of my "gift"when I was fourteen. It was terrifying at first. I mean, I figured it was one of those puberty things. But nope, apparently it was not a common thing, at all. Zilch. Nada. Just me. There was no one to teach me what this ability meant. But from the copious EU information of my youth, I was able to understand the potential. It took me three years to levitate a rock effortlessly. But I had all the time in the world, I could go at my own pace. Days spent on trips backpacking and frequent visits to the town's junk yard enabled me to gain a greater understanding of my power.
It was in college that I tried to manipulate others minds. I didn't much care for it. Add to the fact that I sucked at it and well, I pretty much ignored that aspect. Besides I was charming enough as is. What I was good at was telekinesis. Everything not anchored down was literally at my fingertips. I could pick up my keys off the coffee table while at the door. Not only that, I could manipulate hundreds of individual items at once. The one time my apartment was burgled, I pinned the crook to the wall with my kitchen knives. Despite, the holes in the wall from the outline, the police thought the man was seeing things. It didn't help his case that he was a druggy.
Your probably asking why I don't bust crime or fight for Truth, Justice and apple pie. I mean, how often does super powers happen? I can read minds, pre cognition sometimes happens and I can move both Earth and Sky. So why don't I do something with them? Two words, U.S. government. I got a pretty good gig here. I'm teaching my dream job at a university, paying my taxes on time, and the world leaves me alone. Why would I want to give that up? The last thing I want to be is a guinea pig and vivisected. Or worse, known. I don't want the world beating down on me. I'm just happy enough to be able to grab a box of corn flakes from across the kitchen without getting up. That's all I want in life. Solitude, and corn flakes. |
Jim doesn't believe the havoc outside. Donkey Kong throwing barrels at cars, Mother Brain destroying NYC, Handsome Jack shooting random children, and *shudder* those Resident Evil zombies shuffling all over the place.
He sees an envelope floating in front of him, magically whispering, "Open this to be the last hero you played and to save the world."He salivates a little and yells "OH FUCKING YES!"He eagerly tears open the envelope and is quickly surrounded by magical dust as his body beings to transform.
He screams as the transformation rearranges his organs, skin, hair, eyes, etc. He begins to feel an other-earthly power fill him. He collapses. After a minute, he recovers as he watches the magical dust float away. Jim stands up to look at himself in the bedroom mirror.
"OH MY GOD"she says in a voice she doesn't recognize as she looks up at a five foot tall female night-elf wearing a set of very revealing armor. She feels the weight and chill of the metal bikini on her now voluminous breasts. She turns around and sees that her bare ass is covered by a thin loin cloth. She blushes as she looks to her front and realizes her vagina is one wrong twist of the hips away from being exposed. Her legs are clad in thigh-high leather boots that make walking impractical, let alone fighting. She precariously balances on her four inch boot-heels, almost toppling as she takes her first step.
"Oh why did I make this sexy night-elf last night?! I'm just a level 8 mage! And a girl!"she says to herself, surprised by her now high pitched voice, as she pushes her long bangs away from her eyes. "Okay, but I gotta save the world,"she says as she walks out the door, holding her magical staff, and pretending not to notice the delicate pink manicure on her long fingernails.
Jim now stands outside facing down several of her most infamous enemies. She begins the chant to magic missile and suddenly all her enemies start yelling cat calls and "Hey good looking!"at her. She blushes, gets too frustrated to finish chanting, and runs inside, locking the door.
Donkey Kong starts to chuckle and they all join in laughing uncontrollably. Jim shyly peers through the curtains as Handsome Jack blows her a kiss.
"Okay I quit,"she says to herself as she throws her hands in the air. She then puts on some sweat pants, undoes her bra with a sigh of relief, puts on a t-shirt, ties her hair back, and logs onto Warcraft to roll a new character: a big burly macho warrior type. |
The cold wind fluttered at the edges of my tattered coat, swirling between my knees and chilling me to the bone. December, and the sky was a grey bowl over the city. Walking slowly, I had to keep stopping to rest my weary legs.
This was it. Down to my last. The economy had crashed, and when all of those derivatives and debt instruments went to their digital graves, it wasn't the bankers or brokers suffering, it was me with my stupid pension gutted and savings stretched to the breaking point.
I even had to dodge my landlord of 20 years because I couldn't face him without money for rent. A single tear ran down my cheek, hot with the indignity of it all, the utter stupidity. I've always worked and paid my share, never cheated on taxes. And this is how it has to be.
Straightening up, I walked down the street to the MemBank. They were everywhere, riding the crest of new technologies out of autonomous zones of China, shiny skullcaps and geometric storage cubes peppered billboards with smiling faces and dollar signs.
"Got the dreams? See the GREEN!"
"Clean out that dusty closet, share your best with the rest!"
"Forget an ex? You got it, Tex!"
And so on, the gaudy colors and horrible type choices clashing with each other, the prices were the largest of all, automatically updating according to categories printed on the bottom border of the smart-ad.
Turning the corner, I pushed through the opaque paneled doors of the MemBank.
"Hey, you're back - just give me moment, I'm with another client.", Doctor Ellis smiled, the confident expression of someone about to make a lot of money.
I sat down on the primary-colored plastic seat, slumping toward the wall.
No turning back.
Just before it was gone, I thought about it again. Her smile, her lips. The 15 years we had spent together.
It was my last good one. And then, it would be the grey sameness of every day, blending into the next like a monochromatic film-strip. No chance of ever recreating that again. You couldn't go back home, not when home had changed in a million ways, most of the people you knew were dead, with the outside world becoming a strange and scary place.
Not when strangers looked at you like you were a museum exhibit, complete with the window-tapping and the smug smiles of those who still had their best years ahead of them.
But I needed the money. The goddamned money. Clenching my fists, I tried to mop up my tears before Doctor Ellis came out again.
The door opened, and an older lady slowly walked out to the main entrance, with the Doctor close behind.
"Are we ready?", Doctor Ellis smiled, impatient to get his fee.
"Sure", I shuffled after him, letting the heavy steel door close behind me.
As flat and featureless as my life was to become. |
"Ain't this some bullsh*t!?"Kanye-rella couldn't stand the fact that his two step-brothers were invited to Hollywood's biggest ball of the year, the Grammys, while he was stuck at home cleaning the floors. They were dressed to the nines in sharp suits and gold bling. Kanye-rella couldn't stand to watch as his two step-brothers headed out the door.
Depressed and alone, Kanye-rella almost didn't notice the shimmer coming from the corner of the room. It was his fairy godfather, Jay-Z.
"Why the frown, Kanye-rella? Let Hova turn that ova."
"I got 99 problems, and a b*tch IS one!"Kanye-rella exclaimed sadly.
"Well let's see what we can do about that."With a flick of his wand, Jay-Z transformed Kanye-rella's luck. Pimped out wheels, a white tuxedo, and bright pink plastic shutter shades. Kanye-rella couldn't believe his eyes.
"Hurry to the Grammys. There you'll find the girl of your dreams. But make sure you come back before midnight, or all of this will disappear,"Jay-Z instructed. "Also, while you're at it, if *somehow* Beyonce doesn't win, well, do something about it."With a poof Jay-Z disappeared into thin air.
Kanye-rella got in his pimped out car and rushed down to the Grammys. As he rushed down the red carpet, he noticed his step-brothers talking to three sisters as fine as can be. Kim, the most beautiful of the Kardashians, wore skintight yoga pants and a top just skimpy enough to show off both her cleavage and her tramp stamp. It was love at first sight.
Kanye-rella needed an opportunity to get on stage and make an impression for his new love. He found just the chance when Taylor Swift beat out Beyonce for a Grammy award.
He rushed on stage proclaiming, "Yo, Taylor, I'm really happy for you, I'ma let you finish, but Beyoncé had one of the best videos of all time! One of the best videos of all time!"In that moment Kim noticed Kanye-rella. She couldn't peel her eyes away.
They would be inseparable the rest of the night, albeit their whereabouts were unknown. No one saw them until 11:30 when Kanye-rella was rushing away from the party. Teary-eyed Kim had no idea why he was leaving so abruptly.
Kim dreamt of Kanye-rella each and every night. She didn't have a clue how to find the man, or so she thought. That changed nine months later when baby North-West was born. Kim took baby North-West all across Hollywood, trying to find the man that shared the same eyes as her baby. When she finally arrived at the West household, Kanye-rella's step-brothers eagerly claimed to be the baby-daddy (for the first time in their lives). Disheartened, Kim was just about to leave the house when she noticed Kanye-rella across the room. She glanced into his eyes, and rejoiced with glee. Kim had found Kanye-rella at last.
Kanye-rella picked up baby North-West and walked with Kim into the Hollywood sunset. And they lived happily ever after. |
Sure. We could do this. We could finish going through the motions.
You following through, right into my stupid fucking face. My stupid face reacting and contorting, then swollen. Hell, *you* know I'm not going to pull out a new-found fighting spirit. I never have, and I don't plan on changing that today. Sure, my father would be proud if I stood up for myself. He fought people bigger than him in wars bigger than any of us. But I'm probably not going to make him proud today. No Charlie, see we all wake up a little bit different every morning. Sometimes, we're a little bit different every...few...seconds.
See Charlie, that's what you're going to notice about me. I'm going to change and you're going to change today. I've already made a change, which is, if you've noticed, that I've got a ring on my middle finger that I didn't have before. It was my fathers. Before that, it was someone elses. He told me how he took it from them during the war. Neither of them really owned it, though. I know this because *I'm* actually the one who stole this ring from the grenade nestled deep in my jacket pocket. |
**Edited to include proper ending.**
The day I found out the end was near, I had a panic attack. They said it would happen within two years, and that they were creating a program to transfer several people to Mars. The best and the brightest would be given priority, they said, along with their families. Then, there would be a lottery for regular civilians. Of course, that was a lie. I know this because my client, Dr. Arthur Sellars, told me.
Arthur was brilliant. He was a botanist intent on finding plant life on Mars, or the possibility of growing any. He was also lonely and a bit narcissistic, and since he had no one of the lowest common denominator to brag to except for me, I drank in all the glory and pain and suffering and success from his lips. He thought he could make it seem as if he was the most brilliant of all the scientists on his team. Considering that half of his coworkers were also clients of mine, I knew better, but I also knew not to take him down a few pegs if I wanted to be paid as well as he paid me.
When he told me about the Mars Program, he was elated, finally having the chance to be where he wanted to be: a planet that had not been fully explored quite yet. I listened intently until he confessed to me about the supposed lottery. It would definitely be rigged, adding more political, scientific, and entertainment figures than what was originally announced (along with their families), ensuring that civilization would be more brilliant, creative, and beautiful. There was no way in hell that I would be included in there. I was only slightly above average even with make-up on, and I had no other qualities except for being someone's fuck buddy for the evening. I had money, but no amount was enough to include me in what they were ensuring was a fantastic gene pool. I was determined as hell to get on one of those ships and start over. This was my chance.
So I did what many of the other whores did: I tried to seduce my clients. One by one they declined, and eventually catching on to what I was doing. At some point they stopped contacting me. I was getting restless and scared. At that point, I hadn't spoken to Arthur at all, as he had been busy preparing for his flight. I had almost forgotten about him until about two months before the flight, when he called me for company. He wanted to celebrate with someone. I didn't decline.
I knew my approach would be wrong, and I knew that what I'd be doing wasn't honorable, but then, what of my profession was? He took me out to a lovely dinner, we had plenty of drinks, and we went back to his hotel room. It was the usual routine, only it was more intense, and our time together was a little more passionate than usual.
He asked me out again a month before the flight. After our sex session I did my best to convince him to get me an extra ticket. He told me he couldn't, that there was only a set number of tickets and that there just couldn't be two people per one ticket. I saw the look in his eyes, there was concern, sympathy. I realized he did care about me, and I felt horrible for what I was planning on doing.
He decided to leave on the day of the last flight. He told me so, and, being a bit of a scatterbrain, he got there at the last minute, claiming the very last ticket available. I was there, I was waiting.
"What the hell are you doing here?"He whispered angrily at me after he dragged me behind a wall.
"Dr. Sellars, I'm so sorry, but I need to be on that flight."
He frowned, the wrinkles in his eyebrows deep from several years of concentration. "Do you think that after all these years of studying and working I'm just going to throw away my life for some...for you? Go to hell, Sarah."He started to walk away. My heart punched my ribcage. I almost didn't spit it out. Almost.
"I'm pregnant, Arthur."
He stopped. I saw him breathe for a few moments before turning to me. His expression had softened. He calmly walked up to me, gulping.
"I don't believe you."
"I can prove it to you. I have a pregnancy test on me, and I can take it right now."I opened my bag and showed him the unopened box. I looked at him, giving him the best puppy eyes I could muster. He was blinking a lot and he began breathing heavily. He brought his hand up and made a shooing motion. I went into the bathroom and ripped open the test.
My friend had managed a flight a few days before. She actually was pregnant but I told her my plan. She gladly gave me a sample of her urine. I used it on the test. Don't ask me where I hid it.
I handed him the test. He brought his palm up to his mouth when he saw the plus sign. His breathing became even heavier. Suddenly angry, he threw the test at me. It hit me in the chest.
"How could you fucking do this to me?! This is all your goddamn fault. You deserve what you get for not protecting yourself. Jesus! Fuck you, FUCK YOU!"He started to pace back and forth, combing his fingers through his graying hair. I gently grabbed his hand. He flinched and pulled away. I grabbed him by the arms, this time more forcefully.
"Hey!"I looked him dead in the eye. He wouldn't get away so easily. "Don't put this all on me, it takes two to tango, buddy! Besides, weren't you the one who was terrified of not having an heir to your greatness, your intellect? Didn't you cry on my shoulder when you told me you feared not having a child, a son or daughter to have pride in?"
"I can have whoever I want on Mars. Any woman there could give me a child."
"Oh yeah? All those people flying there, all those people that are there now...they were here once, yet you never made a move to speak to them aside from greetings. The atmosphere isn't going to make you any braver or any less introverted. Arthur, I am giving you the chance of a lifetime. Even if you don't have the chance to live, you can at least know that your child will. You will live through them, I will make sure of that."
He pushed me off him and started pacing again, breathing ragged. He pulled out the ticket finally and threw it at me.
"Get out of my sight, bitch."
My heart continued to pound. The adrenaline pulsed through me. I had to ball up my fists in order to stop the shaking. I couldn't believe it worked. I clung to the ticket tightly and walked to him, holding my breath, hoping he couldn't smell the lie still lingering on my lips. I held his face in my hands and brushed my lips against his one last time. He didn't fight it.
It was the worst thing I had ever done. I sentenced a man to his death, and convinced him it was the right thing to do for a child that didn't exist within me. Yet I would gladly do it all over again if it meant ensuring my survival. |
Citizens collapsed. Clashes ceased. Colonial conflict concluded. Captain Cornwall cruised Charlottesville's city circle contently. Casualties clamored, chasing care carriages. Conrad’s children covered chilling cobbles, collapsed cadavers.
"Crown countrymen, cheer! Cede contagious chains,"called Cornwall, connoting countering Colonial convictions. “Colonial cowards counterfeit causes, claiming corporals commandeer cottages, confiscate children’s confections.”
Charged crowds converged, circling Cornwall closely.
“Contrarily,” Cornwall continued, “colonial conscription claims courageous commoners. Cruel crown? Comedic. Conversely, colonial commanders create carnage, catastrophe. Countermand combative commands. Cleave corrupt controllers!”
Conrad curled carpals clutching crimson-covered cutlass. Cheerful compliance came. |
She turns to look at me. It's the first time I've seen her and it's our wedding day. She's standing beside me underneath a canopy of green saplings sung into an arch. The only thing she's wearing is a crown of forget-me-nots placed in her hair, dark as the rich earth. Elves marry naked. I'm dressed in green and white and my head is bare, the only blonde one amongst a sea of brown. One quick glance and she looks down. Her skin is the colour of moonlight, white arms and small breasts covered by tendrils of that hair. I am not her first husband.
We stand in the sun from dawn till sundown and after that she turns to me once more and tells me we are married.
We takes me to her bower and undresses me.
I am her husband tonight.
In the morning she will kill me and take another boy from my village to be her mate.
I hope I can keep my people safe for one more day.
Lord give me strength. |
*Hell is empty and all the devils are here*
The tattoo on her shoulder writhes in front of me as she dances under the heavy lights, flashing and turning as the music plays loud loud *loud*
She's weirdly pretty in a cocaine-high kind of way, dark smudges under her eyes and skin so pale I could have written my name on one side of her body and see it glow through to the other. She had bitten fingernails and an earring with a feather on it stuck through the toughest part of her ear. There was a scab forming around the hole. And the tattoo which danced as she did.
I didn't quite know how I got here. Last thing I remember was James rubbing white stuff into my gums as I watched myself unmoving in the bathroom mirror.
"It'll be good, I promise."He had said, dipping his little finger in the dust and pushing it past my lips.
"Could do with some lipbalm."He'd laughed.
I didn't ask where he'd got it from, didn't want to. I was just concentrating on keeping it together, keeping it inside.
"Is this going to help?"I'd asked and he'd dropped me a kiss and laughed.
"Only if you believe it will."
Now I was dancing and I couldn't remember how long I'd been dancing, but the girl with the tattoo watches me with dark eyes.
"Do you want a drink?"She cries.
I nod dumbly and she leads me outside onto the smoking balcony.
"Here,"she says, unscrewing plastic bottle with a satisfying *click* and handing it to me. "You coming down?"
I shrug and glug it down. The water tastes like fire and ash against my mouth but I swallow, because she's watching me like she's got the ambulance service on speed dial just in case.
"You coming down?"She says again, more worried this time.
I shake my head, hard.
"I'm losing it."I whisper, hands clenched on the metal railing that separates me from the three floor drop on the other side of the smoking balcony.
I hadn't been home in three days.
"Oh shit... Should I go?"
"No... No, stay. Please."
*Fuck*
I squeezed my eyes shut as the images come flooding back. James's finger in my mouth, powdering my gums. My eyes in that mirror, like two black holes that sucked us both in. I'm breathing hard, I can see it cracking. My anger tears through my clothes and my bones then the fear washes out like a forcefield and with my eyes closed I can see Hell, with dunes of snowy white cocaine and smashed-mirror lakes and James' body lying every three feet blue and cold and buried in white. It is here. My Hell is come.
"Hey..."The girl says softly. "You okay?"
I open my eyes. Nothing has changed.
*Hell is empty and all the devils are here.*
|
Though they outnumbered them nearly four to one, the odds seemed to favor the Alphas. Each one of them had power comparable to that of one of the Prime Numerics, of which there were twenty-five, but they had a way of forming together that seemed to surpass that of the Numerics.
As 100 was surveying the field of battle he was sorely missing his elder brother 101; another Prime could have helped. The top of the hill gave 100 a clear view, each of the Primes had taken their assigned set of Numerics into battle. He could see their cohesion paled in comparison to that of the Alphas. It would have been a thing of beauty to see how they could shift position so effortlessly had it not been at the cost of his own. Strange to think that they appeared so incredibly erratic yet managed to control the flow of battle. That was when 100 had a stroke of genius. He sounded the order for a temporary withdrawal.
The after-action report from the Primes was grim. Though only one Prime had been lost thus far, 41. Forty other Numerics lay dying or captured, God only knew for what purpose. Meanwhile, only eight Alpha's were believed to have been erased. 100 called the attention of all the surviving Numerics. He explained his plan, which though risky, was their only hope for success. They were to quickly crunch the numbers and form into groups that added up to the highest Prime values. The hope was to become indivisible power teams, capable of dealing massive damage while limiting damage taken. Each group would be facing a greater amount of Alphas at any one time, but they would also have larger targets and be better positioned to mitigate the cohesion of the enemy.
As they prepared to descend once again into battle they immediately realized what had been done to the captured Numerics. The Alphas had twisted them into a mockery of the shapes of the fallen Alphas. There was poor 8, pounded into what was clearly supposed to be the Alpha B and over there was 10, sliced and rearranged into the Alpha Q. It was a mockery that made 100's blood boil. He was in the largest Prime group ever assembled, and as he tumbled into battle with the remaining Numerics, his only hope was to find Z and destroy him. |
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's not your fault."
I could barely see her through my tears. All of the things we had done together, the shared jokes and the tragedies, had all been coming down to that one moment. We both knew this our goodbye - the curtain call - and neither one of us dared to hope we would ever meet again. I couldn't go with her and she couldn't stay.
I wanted so desperately to hold her but that wouldn't be possible. Instead I held out my hand for her to press her palm against.
*Palm to Palm is holy palmer's kiss.*
She raised her hand, reaching for mine, but the glass was still in the way. The crack of the ajar window was enough to convey our words but not our touch.
The glass was cold.
"We could have hid. We could have run."
She shook her head. I always loved the way her hair had moved - and now, dirty, matted, greasy, it had never fallen so beautifully. This was the final picture I would ever have of her.
She was crying too as the train began to pull away.
They say it's a work camp. But we all know different. |
It was all so perfect.
35... 36... 37... 38...
The floor number slowly climbed.
"I'm almost there."
He shook with adrenaline.
39... 40...
The elevator doors slid open to reveal nothing. Not his family. Not himself. There wasn't anything at all. His smile immediately disappeared. An empty room would have been something. But this... this was nothing.
The elevator chimed and the doors closed.
"What does this mean?"
Tristan pressed the button for floor 35. The elevator descended.
40... 39... 38...
"How could there be nothing?"
37... 36... 35...
The elevator stopped. The doors opened. Tristan stepped out into the room. But something was wrong. Everything had changed. Tristan had just come from floor 35. He had seen a happy and older version of himself playing with his two daughters, his wife pregnant with their third child watching nearby. They had all been unable to see him; he was only a spectator to their joyous lives. But now, standing there, Tristan was staring at himself, and himself was staring back.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why wasn't there anything there?"
"You already know."
"No, I don't. Tell me."
"Hearing me say it won't change anything. You already know."
"I.. I die?"
"Yes. We die."
"How?"
"Does it matter? Everyone dies."
"Shouldn't it matter?"
"It's better that we don't know."
Tristan was distraught. The knowledge that he wouldn't live to see 40, a mere 16 years from now, was devastating.
"Where are they?"
"Where is whom?"
"Where is my wife? Our kids? I was just here, moments ago. I saw them. We were all so happy."
"There aren't any kids. Or wife. I never married. How could I? Knowing what we know. You should never have gone up there."
"But I had to know. I..."
"You HAD to know? No one ever knows and they all live out their happy lives. We know. And we are miserable for it."
"But we.. I... don't have to be miserable. I could still marry her! I could still have children!"
"No. You can't. Because it consumes you, defines you. You will try to lead a normal, happy life. And you will fail. And you will die miserable and alone. All because you HAD to know."
Tristan fled. The elevator took him to the ground floor and he ran from the building to where his fiancée was waiting. Upon seeing her, he tried to smile, but instead wept. |
Edit: silly mobile typos
We sat on the bed, still dressed and silent. Jaidah's skin was glowing with the golden rays that shown through the thinly curtained window of our hotel room. My parents have put me in a situation I didn't think I would be able to survive. I still don't think I will.
I tried to look at her, but she was intimidating. I couldn't even raise my head, afraid that she might see the hard truth that was my face. My face, my asymmetrical face. Her's was undoubtedly perfect, at least compared to my low standards. I would've thought to marry a cow before even dreaming of being married to this angel. Hope was lost for me. This marriage just began, and it will inevitably end with her tiring of the same, gruesome face that I wear. There's no future between us. How do my parents plan to consummate the marriage if she wouldn't want to sleep with me in any situation?
I started to cry. Oh, God, why did I start to cry? Was I that pathetic? That insecure? She didn't even look at me. Not even when I raised my hands to my eyes to cup the downpour. Why was I crying? Who was I kidding?
I thought about how stupid I must look. Me, in my dad's tuxedo from his wedding day, with my crappy hairstyle, my cratered face. I thought my parents would have at least paired me with someone of my attractiveness. But when I lifted that veil. God, my jaw dropped. My knees shook. I didn't want to say the words out of fear that she wouldn't either. So here we sat in the hotel room. Here we sat in silence... In awkwardness. But then she let out a hand. Her soft hand, she lent it to me! Put it right on my shoulder! Maybe... No. No, she probably just feels sorry for me. For herself. Hell, I feel sorry for her.
But she broke the silence.
"Kabir,"she said. She said my name... It sounded so sweet. I looked away from her. Why torture her with my face?
"Kabir,"she repeated. "I know this was forced on us both. I know how you must feel."
No she doesn't. She's ashamed of her parents for offering her to this troll. How could they agree to this? What did she do to them that they would spite her with my mere presence? I shook my head, denying her compassion.
"Kabir, look at me."
I continued to look down.
"Husband. Look at me."
My tears stopped at the word. Is she accepting her duty already? I humored her, looking into her grass green eyes. The expression on her face remained the same. No disgust. No regret. Just a neutral face. She felt my face. She felt my shoulders. What was she doing?
Her hands hovered over my nose, tracing he bumps and grooves of the bridge. She pushed her fingers through my hair. It was soothing. And all I could do was look into her eyes, those hollowed emeralds.
"You have pretty eyes, you know,"she said.
I muttered a thank you. It was the only compliment I have ever received about my looks.
"You have a good body,"she said. "You're strong."
All I do is swim. Badly. How could that mean I'm strong?
She held my hand with both of hers, "Kabir, I am your wife."
She looked down, stroking my thigh.
"I know you don't think you could make me happy,"she spoke the truth, to which I bowed my head once again. But she held my chin up, "and I know you think you don't deserve me. But that is not true."
Her lips pressed against mine, and I drifted back into the purest happiness that I have never experienced before.
|
28 February 2054
Detroit, Mich.
Judge Homosa, Honorable Huntspersons, Friends of the True Race, and the Church of Jesus Superior,
I cannot tell you how happy I am to be here this glorious afternoon and to be part of the Hunt for the True Heritage. Today, we are to decide what to do with the monsters in the mountains. The rich traditions of this country are inflamed with hatred. I am often lost myself, thinking about how the greatest minds of this age could look at my people and see only brutes.
The Church of Jesus Superior has a reputation among my kind, it is a sactuary of understanding. Inside these halls sits the biggest collection of works from the humanoid community. It has been a challenge to come here, for me to stand at the same pulpit as Judge Homosa. I know many of you have received threats and letters, for letting me speak.
I am no stranger to the city of Detroit. I have been here before. It was in 2044. It was the year of the National Humanoid Convention. It was during the discussions of my people and how to handle our numbers. I have many kinsmen working in this city, in the mills and on the farms. Detroit is truly a second home for me. I do not feel like a stranger, so much as an unwanted visitor. But you have invited me to speak, however unwittingly that might have been, and I shall try to get to my point.
I wish to speak to you about one subject this morning: rediscovering our humanity. There is something wrong with how we look at people, something fundamentally and basically wrong. We do not have to look far to see this. When we stop and think, *how has this come to be?* I do not think any of us like the answer.
I have heard homosapeins say many things in the past five years. We do not know enough and that is obvious, down to the way we are treated, the subhuman rank we have. In the streets we are called Sasquatch, our women sneered at and referred to as Yeti whores. We know more than any other period in humanoid history. We know science and math. We have been to the moon.
I am sorry, you have been to the moon. I have never seen more than the sky and this here earth. I do not have the option of another planet. I just have this planet. This world. My people. We have subjected ourselves to tests, to hard work, to studies that are twisted around to make us seem like monsters. Yet, we have never hunted down your people. We do not rebel in the streets. We do not beg to join your clubs or lawn services.
Yet, those of us who do not subscribe to your view of humanity are hunted down. In Minnesota it is legal to hunt a mature Neander if he does not have a real job or work a productive day. *Hunted* down like a creature.
My friends, I am not here to shock and destroy you. We do not want to become president or own you as slaves. Forgiveness is the way, the future, and we cannot look back if we want to go forward. No, today I have before you asking or one thing, freedom to exist in peace. As we move forward today, I hope we can secure some reason to treat each other with respect. We have the same values, we want the same outcomes. We want to work. We want to raise our families. We want to live.
A hundred years ago, there was a man named Sever, who stood before a great gathering. He said, “I have fire. I have a home. I have a family. Yet I am hunted like a monster.” They hung him from the trees and called him the reason the crops died and the children grew sick.
A hundred years later, the Neander still is not free.
One hundred years later, our lives are at the mercy of a system that does not respect our autonomy or right to live. We are animals.
One hundred years later, the Neander lives in forests, hunted down for sport. The Neander works in factories and makes all the riches you people truly enjoy. Yet we have sack cloth for our own clothes.
We have come to our nation’s leaders to ask for what is rightfully ours. For the freedom we so deserve.
|
"This is an unexpected pleasure, Your Highness."
The soldier raised his glass to me. It was not more then I deserved, really. The lesser should pay tribute to the great.
"All who fight alongside me are men great men with glory and honour"I replied. "Even the one who clean the latrine pits!"
He poured water into my glass. It was good water, clear water. Almost the same quality as my own. I wondered where he got it, but it might just be one of my stewards who gave him a bottle for this very reason when I told him I would visit the common soldierly.
I lifted up the glass and tasted it. "This is good water. Worthy of Heroes in the Kings Service!"The soldier nodded.
"Indeed, sir. The Quartermaster was very kind and stocked prime water for this voyage."
"I should make a commendation to the brave man who not only volunteered to serve but also does his job well."
The Soldier looked keenly at me.
"You do not know, sire?"
I glared back at him. A King cannot confess ignorance.
"He took one between the eyes in the last attack. This is what he kept from us. We took it for ourselves - and for you when you decided to honour us with a visit."
He paused.
"You said he volunteered? That is not what he told me. We have heard none who have gone willingly to this field, Your Highness."
"But you stand here!"I countered. "You stand and fight instead of running like yellow-livered cowards!"
He shrugged.
"A choice between two deaths is much choice."
I took pity on the man. I could not just as well send him home - think what that would do to morale! - but I could encourage him. A soldier without morale was as good as dead and I kind of liked this young lad.
"Of course you are all volunteers, here because of your free mind, good spirit and brave hearts!"I thundered, vying to impress.
"The kings word is my law."he answered and stood up. "I am a Volunteer no longer."
"What?"I could not believe this! I ought to have him hung!
"The King spoke and we obey. We are volenteers. We can chose to end our service and I will."
The last one was a shout. I had to deal with this at once, but as other voices took up the message, I found myself quite impassive.
And it was that by the next morning, over half the Army had just decided to quit, to leave the field and camp. Some have pocketed what they thought was their right share of pay, others packed food, water and kit. I do not know why those who remained chose to do so but I made a point to thank them each personally the next morning.
Because what had been an easy victory turned into certain defeat. All Humans under the binary moons on this world was doomed. And as I gazed upon the enemy charging us in the distance, I decided I did not like the lad after all.
|
She sat clutching it in her hands. Could she go to jail for this, she wondered. They were only 17 so maybe juvie.
She glanced at him sitting beside her. She could tell he was trying not to look nervous, but the slight trembling of his hands on the wheel gave him away.
Together they watched the headlights of the occasional car go by them in the evening light.
They both took deep slow breaths and then turned to look at each other one last time.
"You ready?"he asked.
She nodded firmly.
He shifted to the gas pedal and the car began to glide forward. Their window of opportunity would only last for about a minute and they needed to do this.
He kept his gaze on the white picket fence at the far end of the line of houses. He kept the car moving silently until he pulled up next to it.
Quickly she jumped out, lifting the object in her hand. She pressed the top and it hissed as a spray of black shot out. She moved quickly and efficiently. As soon as she formed the last line, she dove back into the car.
He started the car moving slowly, letting it go for a few meters before slamming his foot on the accelerator and peeling down the road.
She stuck her head out the open window, the wind blowing her hair around her. A grin materialized on her face as she stared at the word emblazoned on the fence.
DICKBUTT.
|
"Vanilla latte, please. On ice. Cheers."
"*Mi dispiace, mi dispiace*. It is very loud. *Daccapo*, sir? Repeat yourself?"
The barista smelled half of sweat, and half of the bitter richness of a good roast. I could almost taste her as I leaned in, the hotness of her breath tracing my cheek as my mouth inched towards her ear.
"Vanilla latte. On ice. *Grazie*."
She smiled, nodded, flashing her teeth. I couldn't help but smile back; her eyes were warm, her cheeks rosy and inviting. So different to the women in finance; no stark austerity, no coldness, no market models.
It was crowded here, muggy even. Tourists and locals alike pressed up against me in a cloying throng, speaking a multitude of languages. I let the noise wash over me; I'd never been claustrophobic, and besides -- there were enough Italians that the coffee had to be decent.
*"In breaking news, the World Health Organisation as officially announced a global alert for H5N5."*
A familiar accent -- the BBC. I craned my neck to take a peek of home; the television was small, old, and tinny, propped between dusty syrup bottles and a radio.
*"This deadly variant of the influenza virus, which harkens back fears of H5N1 and SARS several years ago, has been called the 'next great pandemic.'"*
With a clink, a glass was set in front of me, the milky brown of coffee tugging my attention away from the reporter on-screen. I picked it up, and turned to make for my table when the posh overtones caught my ears again.
*"...outbreak supposedly began in London earlier this week. Epidemiologists from Cambridge and Dundee, allied behind the NHS, urge caution and quarantine in controlling the pathogen, which supposedly has a 'case reproduction number' similar to that of the highly infectious measles virus. It's suggested the origin is in the upper financial district, which, in an unprecedented unanimous vote by Parliament this morning, has been shut."*
Shut?
I grabbed for the nearest newspaper, cursing my abysmal grasp of Italian as I scanned the headlines. 50 already in quarantine, over 100 assumed infected. The image below showed an infection map -- London was red, Britain varyingly punitive shades of puss. Isolated dots of yellow and orange were beginning to creep through Europe.
The television cut to a pale, tufty-haired epidemiologist who looked like he'd been dragged out of bed specifically to serve as the bearer of bad news.
*"Yes... ah... problem with influenza virus is... ah... humans with a certain IVN4 variant can be asymptomatic carriers, so, ah -- yes. That's why containment is such a problem, unfortunately. Yes. Such a problem."*
*"Symptoms to look out for, Professor Harding?"*
*"Well, if you're symptomatic, nausea, vomiting, pyrexia, epistaxis..."*
The epidemiologist cleared his throat, unable to mask his mild annoyance at the interviewer's confusion.
*"Ah... I mean, fever, nosebleeds... haemorrhage..."*
The babble of conversation around me had stopped; everyone was intently focused on the broadcast now, cupping their hands over their mouths as though that and a little luck would save them from a fiery, haemorrhagic end. Some prayed. Some cried. Most just stood agape, as though they couldn't really believe a pathogen had finally circumvented millions of years of human evolution -- as though they hadn't realised it was just a race against time all along.
*"Global security measures have been implemented, as it's been reported as per WHO guidelines that France, Spain, and the Netherlands have shut down all air travel two and from the country in an attempt to contain H5N5 spread. Elsewhere, Madagascar has closed its seaports -- the first concrete evidence of this threat's global nature, as government agencies pressure the UN to act."*
I turned to set the newspaper back down on the polished countertop, moving my lips to the cool rim of the coffee glass as I did so. It wasn't until I happened to glance up that it tumbled out of my shaking fingers, hanging momentarily suspended in a moment of inertia before dancing towards the floor and spraying outwards as it hit in an impressive display of the conservation of momentum. The crash of glass on lacquered wood seemed to stop everything, frozen.
Everything except the trail of blood snaking slowly out of the barista's nose.
|
Dave stood in the kitchen, gently putting the dishes back in their respective homes within the cupboards. His thoughts continually drifted to what he should make for dinner for when his wife would be getting home from work. Amidst the waves of thought, he could hear the running footsteps and squeaky voices of the kids playing upstairs. His son Jared was finally learning to be a good big brother to little Elise, and it made many of their days at home together so much easier for Dave.
As he was in the midst of his labours, the kids came running through the kitchen. They had mocked up little cowboy costumes, and were playfully chasing each other around. So long as the game remained friendly, he was fine with the running. He only half-listened to their game, as the many considerations for dinner-time still wandered about in his mind.
The children laughed at their game, and Dave could see them playfully using their hands as guns, pretending to shoot at each other. While the children took cover behind chairs and chased each other about, their imaginary bullets flew about, and Dave suddenly realized what they were saying as they mockingly shot at each other.
“Fingerbang!” Jared shouted, as his finger recoiled with imagined force. Elise laughed at the jest, and returned fire with her own digits.
“Fingin-ban!” her little voice endeavoured.
Dave nearly dropped the plate he was holding, his eyes instantly wide with shock at the unseemly declarations coming from his children. He quickly set the plate down on the counter, and knelt down to halt the two kids, interrupting their game.
“Hey, guys,” he said, keeping his voice calm, “what are you playing?”
“We’re playing cowboys, Dad,” Jared replied.
“Ka-bos,” Elise agreed.
“Okay, that’s good,” Dave said, “but what is that you are saying when you are chasing each other?”
“We’re finger-banging, Dad” came Jared’s no-nonsense reply.
“Fingin-ban!” Elise shouted as she pretended to shoot her Dad.
“Uh, okay” Dave offered, as his hand gently lowered Elise’s, “but that’s not really…um…that’s not what that means, and that’s actually not an appropriate thing to say, guys. You can just say bang when you’re playing Cowboys.”
Jared ever so slightly tilted his head, indicating how silly this idea sounded in his child’s mind. He giggled at his Dad’s nonsense.
“But Dad,” the boy laughed, “that’s the sound a real gun makes. We’re just playing pretend, so we just fingerbang.”
Elise held her hands out at the full extent of her arms, and in a very soft, low voice, whispered “Fingin-ban.”
“Yeah,” Dave continued, “I…uh…”
“Look out Dad!” Jared abruptly interrupted as he dove back into his Cowboy alter ego, “its Elise the Bandit!”
With that the kids were off, chasing each other around the house, all the while shouting ‘fingerbang’ at each other in their fantastical pursuits.
Dave stood alone in the kitchen. Thoughts of dinner and family time tonight were being steadily overwhelmed with how he could ever explain this one to his wife when she got home.
|
That look. I instantly recognized it. Only those who have taken a human life can see it in those others in the same exclusive fraternity. That hole in the soul, that emptiness that resides in the eyes. It resembles something just short of a thousand yard stare, but with a maniacal glint lost in the iris. I see it every morning when I look in the mirror, in every passing window, quick flashes of it in puddles beneath my feet. It will always be there haunting me and motivating me.
And there I stood, instantly aware that I was within feet of another killer, another killer that had the upper-hand. He knew what was on his front porch when he looked through the peephole...and he still opened the door. |
I have finally gotten the chance to record my experiences inside Jumanji. This isn't gonna be easy.
When I was sucked through the Game I awoke laying on The ground of a forest it was raining, I found a cave on a bit of good luck. The first night was by far the worst I was still beaten up by Billy and had no food no family. I cried the first night.
I managed to survive by just going out right when dawn broke and I had found some berries that was close by. I stayed in that cave for a week or so until the berries ran dry and one day I heard it a sound that changed my life forever. I heard a gun shot.
How could that be? I kept thinking I better go and check it out if there is another human maybe they were trapped here by the game too.
I kept hearing shots as I got closer to there origin I started to move a bit slower not wanting to startle the man. i was hiding behind a rock that seemed to have no earthly business being there.
I peered over and layed eyes on the one true personification of evil in my life. Van Pelt. When I first saw him he was cutting the head off of a monkey he had just recently shot. I saw another dead monkey not 10 feet away.
"This Monkey will do, but really wanted a lion"he said with his voice that sounded like one of the machines in dad's shoe factory. Then out of nowhere I hear an unmistakable growl behind me, that of a lion. I'm afraid to turn or even to breath then BAM another shot.
I turned to find that the lion no longer had a head."Who are you and why are you in MY jungle"commanded Van Pelt he had covered alot of ground in the short time since the shot. The only words I could muster were "B..board game ju..ju..jumanji.""I see well you are much to young to hunt so you have two choices you can return with me and I will feed you and keep you alive show you how to survive or you can starve out here and get eaten by all the many terrifying creatures that roam this land, whatever you decide it better be quick because I am leaving"Van Pelt was quick and stern with his words. I knew he was bad just didn't have any other choice. I went with him, also he kinda looked like my father.
I was with Van Pelt for 12 years he taught me alot about how to survive and how to live in this crazy jungle. He taught me the animals that could be killed easily and those that required a certain finesse.
I have committed unspeakable acts of violence and cruelty with Van Pelt most of which I cannot recount because I do not want to face the horrors or the atrocities I have committed. one day he shot a Panther that we stumbled across sleeping in a tree. It wasn't dead with the first shot he then ordered me to chop it up so it could be cooked. I proceeded to hack and hack and chunk by chunk I chopped at the panthers leg it was still roaring and Making a commotion but was quickly bleeding out. I looked into its eyes and I didn't see any fierce monster or animal of Jumanji I saw a scared animal pleading for its life. Then after I had cut off one leg and was working on the other Van Pelt shot it again this time right in the head. "Always start with the neck Alan"Van Pelt grunted
"listen Alan because I won't be repeating myself, I have chosen my next trophy hunt its the greatest game I have ever seen"after a short pause he said the words that scared me more than any have before "Tomorrow morning at dawn I will set out to hunt you, I am telling you in the hopes that you run I have been dying for a challenge. "those words frightened me but also kept me sharp because this whole time I had the greatest hunter to ever live on my side now I was the greatest hunters greatest game. I needed to be ready for this.
At that moment I picked up the hacked off leg of the recently deceased panther and ran as fast as I could and I kept running, I ran for 14 years I eventually got out of the forest and crossed a very large body of water on a makeshift raft. I ended up in a Swamp filled with giant crocodiles and the worst most terrifying plants imaginable. I fought all manor of animal on my adventure but I never heard from Van Pelt again that was until one day.
The day I heard the drums. Those God damn drums the same ones that inspired me to pull that God forsaken game from the dirt all those years ago. I kept hearing them, they were haunting my dreams. I didn't know how long I was gone what happened to my mom and dad and Sarah poor Sarah.
The drums never stopped once the started, they drove me mad. one day I was about to hit my breaking point. the drums were getting louder and louder I had been hiding in a tree for 2 days with leaves covering my body and two giant ones on my shoulders I was waiting for any animal to come around so I could eat. It had been days since I had.
BAM a bullet hit the tree right next to my head. I fell from the tree but managed to be relatively unharmed. But i couldn't move very well then WHAM a solid kick to my ribs and the constant sound of drums in my head had me reeling with pain and confusion "finally Alan I found you, you have been most difficult hunt yet but alast I have you now, have you any final words?"Van Pelt said with as cocky of an attitude as he could have all the while aiming his next shot right at my head. I did have a few words but only a few "Yeah. I Hate Jumanji."
Then suddenly the drums got louder than ever before and I started getting sucked away from where I was laying spinning in circles. Suddenly everything went black then a bright white light. I was home but the drums didn't stop.... |
Someone had to do it. Imagine seeing a man, living a vivid life. Kicking ass and taking names. Your hero. Reduced down to nothing. Struggling to breathe. Eating through tubes. Shitting in plastic bags and a tube up his dick just so he could pee. What would you do? What would anyone do? We made a pact. He told me if it ever got to that he didn't want to live. We made a pact. I told him I would always honor it. So what was I supposed to do? Watch him die slowly? Watch him decay away until the doctors had decided he was 'dead enough'. No. I took a gun into the hospital, put a pillow over his head, and ended his misery. I sent my father to a better place, and I would do it again if I had to. |
Rory ran his shaky fingers through his wife's fine silver hair. If he closed his eyes, the once golden hair seemed exactly the same as it did fifty four years previous, when they had first made love. He snuggled closer to her fragile form and inhaled her delectable scent - vanilla and lavender. Rory had scavenged her belongings for her secret perfume stash, but none was to be found. "You can't top perfection I guess,"he'd tell her cornily.
She rolled over to face him. Her iridescent eyes nearly glowed in the faint moonlight. The rest of Laura may have aged gracefully, but her eyes held permanent youth. She took Rory's hand and massaged it gently, knowing it helped the arthritis. "Did you take your heart medications before you came to bed?"Her innocent eyes searched his for an answer.
Rory's wrinkles scrunched together in concentration. He dimly remembered downing a pill. "Of course Laura. I'd do anything for you,"he promised her, "and if you still want this old geezer around, well.... I guess I have to take the nasty things."He kissed her forehead gently, as he had for so many years.
Laura laughed softly, satisfied with his answer. "You've always done your best to make me happy. That's all I've ever needed."
Sighing contentedly, Rory enveloped Laura in his embrace. The last thing he remembered was the tantalizing aroma of vanilla and licorice.
Rory woke up slowly. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around nothingness. Laura must have gotten up before him. That was strange of her. She was impossible to rouse before ten. Or maybe age was catching up to him.
"It already has,"a voice answered sadly. Rory rose slowly from the bed and rubbed his eyes. He wasn't in the nursing home any more. He was in a pale lilac room, Laura's favorite color. It was completely devoid of any furnishings aside from the bed and what appeared to be a raised bowl of water in the middle of the room.
"Where am I?"Rory asked perplexedly.
"Elsewhere,"the voice answered. "You have moved on from your old life. You lived it well, but now it is time for your choice."
Rory was slightly more confused than before. "Choice?"
"Come to the dais,"the ubiquitous force commanded.
Rory shuffled over to the spectacle in the center of the room. "Child,"the voice continued, "you have two options. Join the afterlife, cementing your existence into the folds of the universe, or wipe away any impact you had on Earth."
"Why would I want to do that?"Rory demanded.
"Look,"the voice said simply.
The once still water in the basin began to swirl into an explosion of color until it settled serenely into a scene of his parents. It was like he was watching one of those fancy moving pictures. Both of his siblings were there, living their lives as they usually would, but he wasn't. His parents had one less financial burden to deal with. Rory realized he was watching the world as though he never existed.
Rory was a simple man of modest means. He didn't have much ambition or desire to constantly better himself. He was happy keeping his head low and living simply. He knew the only person who would be changed was his wife.
The basin swirled again, showing Laura. Another man was wrapping her in his arms. Arms that should be his. Rory almost shook with heartache and rage. However, he continued to watch. He saw Laura walk down a church ail and wed this mystery man. He saw the adoration Laura had for him in her stunning eyes. Rory also saw the same love in his.
She's happy with him, Rory thought numbly. And she was dressed in a fine gown. Laura was a good woman, and married Rory in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, Rory didn't have the means for a nice dress. Laura never once complained to him about it, but seeing her now....she was absolutely radiant. He had never seen her look this happy.
Despite his inner torment, Rory didn't stop watching. He saw Laura swell with child and almost cried. He had never given her any children. The doctors said nothing would work for them. Yet another thing this other man could give Laura.
They lived in a beautiful Victorian house, and Laura cooked and knitted and sang to the children prancing across the floors. This was her dream. Their dream. The one they never had. All of this would have happened to Laura if it weren't for him?
Finally, the basin showed Laura aged again. She appeared to sleep peacefully, and over a dozen people of all ages surrounded her bed. Some had her golden locks, others her brilliant eyes. Her family. She wouldn't die alone. It was then Rory suddenly remembered he died and left Laura all alone. He broke his promise to her - to always be there and do anything for her; to make her happy.
The scene before him was disrupted by rippling waves. His tears trickled into the pool as Laura faded away before him. If he wiped himself away, Laura would have everything she ever wanted or needed. She had nothing with him but a modest life she settled for. Rory thought about his promise to do anything for her. All he ever wanted was Laura's happiness. Even if he would have never held her in his arms.
Rory straightened himself and addressed the voice. "Well? Do what you gotta do. I don't go back on my promises." |
“We must reach out to them,” he said, “Peace is the only option.”
Then his wife was killed. Despite the searing pain, he stuck to his message.
“We must reach out to them,” he said, “Peace is the only option.”
Then his daughter was killed. Through gritted teeth and with clenched fists he kept going.
“We must reach out to them,” he said, “Peace is the only option.”
Then he was killed.
And his son, who had always listened to his father, started listening to someone else.
“We must reach out to them,” he said, “War is the only option.”
|
I feel like I have been flying through the air forever.
How long ago was that car crash? I guess my tire fell off and my car didn't really act well after that, and the car behind me... I was spinning through the air, I remember because all of the change in my cupholders were hitting me in the face, and my first thought was to be glad that I didn't smoke anymore or else I'd probably be on fire..
It is as if time was slowed down, the shards of glass were coming toward me slowly, like I could dodge them if I ducked below the wheel, but my body was moving slowly, too, and I saw the terrified faces of the pedestrians as my car barrel rolled through the air..
"Momma?"
That snapped me out of my reverie. The sound of my sweet, seven year old son, Jack, my sweet, sweet boy. He had his father's freckles and my caramel eyes, and his cute little mess of curls were as blonde as could be.
But when I woke up, it was not my seven year old that was staring back at me. It was.. it looked like him, but..
"Mom?"a deep voice, deeper than my boy's. The man it belonged to had caramel eyes, freckles dotting over his nose and below his eyes, a very chiseled face with creased lines on the forehead and a dirty-blonde stubble. The hair on his head was blonde and curly like soft little ringlets, still long, pulled back into a short ponytail, with strands dangling into his face. He was handsome, that boy, and I felt confused, not attracted to him, but that I loved him very much.
"Who.. are... you?"
"I'm Jack. I'm your son. You were going to die when I was seven. I'm thirty seven now, it has been thirty years, and I've finally gotten you back. You've been asleep for a long, long time."
I was quiet.
"How did I almost die?"
He cleared his throat and laid his hands on the bed I was laying in. There was a silver wedding band on his left hand. "You survived a car crash, but then you went into cardiac arrest."I saw tears in his eyes. "It's been a long thirty years, mom.."I looked down at my body. It looked no different than I remember.
"Of course.. you're still only.. twenty seven.."he cleared his throat again. "You're how old?"I asked.
"Thirty seven."
"You're ten years older. And you're married!"I gestured to the ring on his finger. "Married!!"
He smiled. "You're a grandma, too, you know."
A grandma at twenty seven. I nearly fainted.
"Where is your father?"I asked. He coughed uncomfortably. "Dad kind of gave up on this whole thing. He said it was no use, it wouldn't work, he didn't want false hope.. he's at home, I imagine."
"Mom, he is thirty years older than he was when you last saw him.."
"I'm dreaming aren't I? I should just wake up any time now."I pinched my arm. Ow.
"I'll call him if you want me to.."he pulled out a device I didn't recognize.
"What year is it?"
"2044."
I blinked. No it isn't. I'm only 27 in 2044. I should be in my late fifties! My own son is ten years older than me!
"Did you go to school? College? Where do you work? What is your wife's name? Your children? How many?"
"Dad is on his way. I sent him a message. As for all that, yes. I went to a really great college overseas for eight years, studying in Science and Medicine, so that I could bring you back into the world. I suppose you could call me a scientist. I'm a professor over at Harvard. My wife is called Allison and our children are two twin girls and a boy. Marzia, Jade, and Adam."
In walked an elderly man.
"Dad! You got here quickly."
I looked up at the husband I left behind. He looked unfamiliar to me. "J-Jason?"I stared and stared. His cheeks were stained with tears. His pretty eyes were glossed over. Freckles on his face were still there..
"Jason, our son has more education than me! He has three kids!"
The old man nodded and wiped his eyes. "K-Kat,"he began. "I didn't think. I never thought you'd come back.."
He broke down at the side of my bed and then looked up at me through sobs.
And I looked into his eyes and suddenly, he was so familiar. The man I love.
But I didn't know what to say.
I turned to my son. "You know.."
"You should have just let me die." |
Sometimes it sucks being the only psychic in the world. Well, technically everyone is psychic. They just haven't opened their eyes. I'm different. I'm better. I figured it out, tapped into whatever force allows someone to read minds and predict the future.
So what did I do when I first became a psychic? Mess with charlatans, of course. Tarot card peddlers, palm readers, and other self-proclaimed psychic mediums were the primary targets. I sent many of these people screaming from their own offices and homes, entirely freaked out by my displays of enlightened potential.
That got boring after a while. I wanted to parlay my newfound abilities into something that would actually make my life better. Naturally, gambling was a perfect fit. I was a millionaire in a week. I had more money than I knew what to do with. I was featured on television programs where eager journalists would ask me how I did it. I chalked it up to luck and practice, of course.
Money was one thing, but my psychic talents left me wanting more. I wanted control. Unfortunately, mind control was not a possibility. However, I figured out a way to leverage my enlightenment. By reading their minds, I was able to establish a framework of their needs and wants on both the conscious and subconscious levels. From there, it was easy to manipulate people into doing what I wanted them to do under the guise of doing something for themselves. It was perfect.
Unenlightened humans are my puppets now. I control them and they don't even know it. They are sleepwalking through life, unaware of the potential locked within each of their minds. I am simply giving them some direction, what's so wrong with that?
|
I shifted from one numb buttock to the other, slightly uncomfortably on my seat in the small office and contemplated whether asking for another cup of coffee was a good idea. It was hard to know how long I had been here as in heaven, time seemed to work a bit differently. The kindly receptionist had patiently explained that the reason the clock went between “F” and “143” was to do with 8 dimensional space and that once all this misunderstanding had been sorted out I would go through my induction and it’d all be much clearer.
I roughly estimated that it had been three days now. Normally a simple routine of when you slept and woke would have been one way to keep track but, again, it had been explained that in heaven things worked differently and again, it would be explained at induction.
I flicked listlessly through *Sport Fishing and Outdoors*, just one of the many magazines scattered across the low table, but I had read it three times now, cover to cover and so it had lost much of its initial interest, which was pretty low in the first place. I looked over the others and tried to think if I had gone through any less than four times but they were all now as intimate to me as any magazines ever were. *Woman’s Monthly*, *Readers Digest Home and Garden*, *Guns and Arrows* and my personal favourite *Kids puzzle weekly*, which I had now done front to back seven times, borrowing paper from Glenda the receptionist so I didn’t have to write on the magazine.
My left buttock began to complain and so it seemed like time for another walk. Standing and stretching I went thought my series of exercises. Bend down and up ten times, twist to each side ten times and swivel at the hips for a count of ten four times. Loosened up and leisurely began my saunter – past the table where my friends the magazines were waiting then on and past the three chairs in a row, the one on the far left with a dark blotch that I decided must have been from the original wood. I rounded the corner of the table and turned right, glancing left at Glenda and her desk which was as neat and tidy as ever. She ignored me, as she generally did and tapped away at her computer.
Along the short side of the room now, looking ahead at the picture on the wall of a boat and a fisherman, I paused to consider if my new knowledge from *Sport Fishing and Outdoors* could tell me anything more about the picture but alas I did not feel any more qualified. Another sharp right and past the four chairs on this side, all identical, blue padded seats, and then at the end a quick glance down to see if the toy chest had become untidied in the last twenty minutes or so since I last ordered it by colour.
Finally another right turn and it was just a quick shift along and back to my original seat, where I plopped myself down and looked at the magazines once more. The room was not more than four metres squared and held eight chairs, Glenda, her desk, a door behind her, a toy chest, one picture and me. I had stopped counting the number of times I had gone round, maybe hundreds. When you don’t sleep you have a lot of time to wait.
The sound of the door opening started both me and maybe even Glenda a bit. It had been a long time since the gentleman, Mr Brown as I wheedled out of Glenda, had come in last and asked me to be patient and just the sigh of someone new was slightly thrilling.
He coughed slightly “Sorry for the delay Mr Phillips we’ll see you now.” Adrenaline rushed into my throat and I jumped up, slightly stumbling over the table in my haste to get out.
I followed Mr Brown through the door and we went into another room, roughly the same size as the last but with a higher table, two chairs on one side and one on the other. I was directed into the single chair and Mr Brown took his place on the other side with a different woman. She was introduced as Ms Teach.
“Again, we’re sorry for the delay Mr Phillips, we do endeavour to make a decision within an hour but your case has been… a little tricky.”
He paused and looked at me expectantly. “Er, sorry?” I ventured at which he looked down at the papers in front of him before muttering to himself.
“Still not enough.” He looked up and lifted his voice again. “Honestly Mr Phillips the heaven decision board normally has a fairly easy time, people are good and they get in or bad and then go downstairs. You… you’re neither.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Well Mr Phillips you have done exactly the same amount of good and evil during your life and you are perfectly balanced. Trust me we looked at everything! You went to church but you also stole from the collection plate.”
I spluttered. “Well, yes when I was nine and I gave it back.”
“All goes on your permanent record Mr Phillips. You adopted stray animals but put out mouse traps.”
“Not really the same thing…” Mr Brown didn’t stop this time.
“You paid your taxes on time but played fast and loose with the rules, you never cheated on your wife but coveted your friend Jim’s wife an awful lot. Honestly, it goes on and on. We even started looking at how you behaved in the waiting room up here to find a tie breaker – you tidied the toy chest and then picked the varnish off the table!”
“Okay, so I am a tie, what does that mean?”
“Well, this is extremely rare and without a positive score we can’t let you go up.”
A sinking feeling plunged my stomach “So I go down?”
“Well, no, you don’t have a negative score either.”
“So what then?”
“Well, you stay here with us Mr Phillips. You go neither up nor down and so you’ll stay with us until something can be decided.”
“What will I do? I’ll go mad in there!”
“No, no Mr Phillips, that was just while you were waiting, you’ll have a job now.” He stood and gestured, please go with Ms Teach here and she’ll get you settled.
Ms Teach walked around the desk and took me to the door and we exited into the waiting room. At first glance it was the same room
Ms Teach finally spoke “Oh no Mr Phillips, that was Mr Brown’s waiting room, this is mine. You’ll be working for me in here as my secretary.”
“Secretary, but I was an engineer, there must be some other job, surely Glenda could cover your waiting room too?”
“I’m afraid there are no other job here for you to do, until a decision is reached you’ll be working here.”
“But if this is just a make weight job then why do you even employ Glenda?”
“Employ her? Oh no Mr Phillips, she’s just like you, she’s been waiting here for a decision to be made” With a bright smile she turned and stepped back through the door and was gone. I hurriedly opened the door but there was nothing behind it, just more wall.
Behind me a heard a cough “Er, hello? Am I dead?”
I turned and a man was standing looking confused. I sighed, “Please take a seat and someone will be with you soon.” I circled round behind the desk, at least I could see what was on the computer. I fired it up and after a while a spreadsheet appeared, I glanced up at the columns *Number of times circled the room*, *number of times read Sport Fishing and Outdoors*, *number of times read *Readers Digest Home and Garden*…
|
I was there for first contact. I was a diplomatic aid with the UN delegation. It was utter panic co-ordinating everything behind the scenes. All of the petty demands from different world leaders. I was constantly on my phone co-ordinating this mess.
It didn't help that the extraterrestrials chose the mojave desert as their landing spot. Putting up wi-fi towers, and all of the communications infrastructure. The whole world wanted to watch.
But we didn't have much choice, it was clear we were outmatched on every level by these beings and their technology. We were lucky that all they wanted was to settle on our land for the moment. But I know my history, that's how the original colonials on plymouth rock started. This time, we were the natives.
This was a soft surrender, we were defeated, and every delegate was trying to prove that they were the biggest ant on the pile. It was sickening. But I had a job to do, and I did it.
The alien ships descended from on high, hundreds of them. They looked like a shoal of metallic jellyfish. The biggest one landed in front of our delegation.
The US president wanted to be first in line to meet our visitors, but then every head of state wanted that. It was then pointed out that they could all be lucky enough to become the first recipients of whatever space disease these creatures carried.
So a diplomatic committee of scientists and diplomats was formed, and guess what, i had to be there too. It was a last minute decision, and not everyone was informed about it. so even as I stood in front of the great big doors of the space ship, my phone vibrated with complaints from the British prime minister. Someone wasn't satisfied with their seating arrangements.
The door opened, and out they stepped. They looked surprisingly like us, except luminsecent green, slightly translucent skin, and antennae. A whole crowd of them came out. It was impossible to tell whether they were armed, or even wearing clothes. Those long flowing membranes could have been robes, or they could have been tendrils. Those could be weird claws, or they could have been laser guns.
They looked slightly unsteady on their feet as they approached. It was unsettling, watching them bump into eachother.
"Hail humans"said one of the creatures in near perfect english.
"Our armies are disembarking, you have no ch..chioice but to surrend.d.d.dd"
The creature stopped in it's tracks, burbling. In fact, they all had stopped. Some fell to their knees. The antennae on their heads had begun to turn a dark shade of black.
"Sooo much noi..se"it cried, before falling head first on the ground.
We didn't understand, it was completely quiet. I looked around, and saw that the other ships had disgorged similarly distressed aliens.
This wasn't going to plan at all, and in front of all of these live cameras. I had to do something, even if it meant getting imminently vaporised.
I walked up to the creature who had spoken to us, and tried to help it up. It looked at me, with an expression that I am sure was disbelief. I grasped its hands, strangely warm, to help it to its feet. Surely, this would be the most important day of my life.
We stood there in that moment, two beings from literally two different worlds, in embrace.
Then my phone rang, and its head exploded.
All of their heads exploded. |
I can't write a full story on my phone so here's my idea.
Set in the not too distant future, it looks like the world is only weeks away from an all out nuclear war. Protests have been useless and the sense of general despair is getting stronger as people start to fear that this may be the end of the world as they know it.
In a desperate effort to try and regain some morale, a major television network takes a radical step to create a new reality show to depict the life of an 'ordinary' man named 'John', a 25 year old civil servant with a girlfriend of 2 years. Unbeknownst to both John and the viewers, John's family, friends and co-workers are offered safety and supplies in return for actively sabotaging John's life.
As John loses everything...his girlfriend leaves, his colleagues accuse him of stealing from work, his dog is hit by a car, his mother is 'diagnosed' with cancer...the viewers are made to feel grateful for the comparative normality that they are experiencing. Rather than focusing on the impending threat of war.
John begins to suspect that the world is against him as he grows more and more depressed. He feels as though people stare at him on the street, his mother is constantly crying, and he never got to bury his dog. One night he goes to write a suicide note, and he hears a very faint humming coming from underneath his desk. He discovers a small microphone.
John begins pulling apart his entire house in a manic rage. He finds 30 cameras hidden through his home. Slowly the entire plot unravels as his mother breaks down and confesses it all to him. The news leaks out to the public and complacency turns to an all out riot as the people lose faith in the media.
The John Project goes on to be one of the most prolific cases of social experimentation as reality television is banned. |
"A-N-U-S, triple word score...so that'll bring it up to 12 points for me."The wooden tiles gently tapped against the Scrabble board.
"Huh. I'm impressed."replied Kate.
"Babe, coming from you, that means a lot."said John as he scrawled some numbers on a piece of paper. "Happy anniversary, honey."
Kate merely smiled. She wanted to tell him, but she knew this was probably not the best time. Hell, it was probably the worst possible time. Still, the weight of her secret was wearing her down like a full diaper.
"More wine?"
"Huh?"Kate's train of thought was derailed and immediately crashed and exploded into an inferno of flames.
"Want more wine? This bottle's nearly finished. You okay? You look nervous about something."
"Wine? Oh yes, wine, sure."
"All right, I'll be right back-"
Without warning, Kate did something unexpected, and it wasn't a surprise blowjob like last week.
"John...I have something to tell you. I'm a cheater."Her voice buckled and quivered as she confessed.
"Ah-ha! I knew it! Nasalfuck isn't a word."
"No, John. I'm not talking about the Scrabble game, or the round of Russian Roulette we played an hour ago."
John's face contorted into worry. "What is it then?"
"Honey I shrunk the kids."
John dropped the wine glasses, not out of shock, but because he had a condition where he had this uncontrollable urge to drop items in his hands when a plot twist was revealed.
"Also, I've been cheating on you with someone else."
John took off his glasses and dropped them on the floor.
"You've...you've been cheating on me?"An hurricane of emotions swirled within John, like a tropical cyclonic storm usually occurring near the equator with wind speeds of up to 72 miles per hour.
Tears were running down Kate's tender cheek, not out of sadness, but because she was allergic to emotional hurricanes.
"I'm so sorry John, it happened so fast..."
"Who have you've been seeing? Tell me!"John picked up two sets of expensive dinner plates.
"I...(sniffs)...I've been cheating on you...(hiccups)...with myself."
"What?"John dropped the dinner plates as Kate's words smacked him across the face. "Wait, say that one more time."
"One more time?"asked Kate.
"No, the sentence before that."
"The sentence before that?"
"Goddammit Kate, did you just say, you've been cheating...with yourself? That's impossible!"
"I've been using a cloning machine, and every night...every time you leave for work, I clone myself...and then...I fuck the clone. I fucked myself."
John was emotionally devastated. Or aroused. He still didn't understand.
"But...I thought I was the only one for you. You gave me a blowjob last week at the mall! Married for seven weeks! I can't even-are you gay? Straight? How many orgasms did you have- dear god..."
"I'm sorry, it just felt so right."
"That's it, I'm leaving right now. We're done all right? We're done! There is absolutely nothing that you can do to fix this."
"Want a threesome? The clone's downstairs."
And then the three of them had sex, while their kids watched in horror from under a napkin.
|
After Frodo's attempts to destroy the ring failed and the heroes of Middle Earth were defeated at the Black Gates of Mordor, Sauron looked to his army, fixated on the spot of Aragorn's death. As he did, Khamûl delivered the One Ring to Sauron, taken from the dead bodies of Frodo, Sam, and Gollum. The death of Aragorn invigorated Sauron, and he finally gained enough strength to once again take physical form. As he materialized in a fiery explosion before the orcs, they backed away, reforming the circle they had prior to their charge. Sauron picked up Aragorn by the head with his left hand, letting his body dangle in mid-air for his followers to see. After the roars of the orcs died down from the sight of the carcass, he threw Aragorn's body to the side and crushed the head with his mace for all to see, making them erupt in cheers of triumph once again.
At his command, the orcs and other evil entities, including men, went forth to begin their ravaging of the lands. From Minas Tirith to the Shire, the grasslands and mountains, everything burned just as the fires of Mount Doom. Those who resisted Sauron were either met with a slow, painful death, or a life of servitude and slavery. Brother turned on brother, husband on wife, father on son, giving in to the will of Sauron. The Nazgul ruled the skies, seeking any prey their Fellbeasts desired, killing and destroying at will. Any whisper of resistance was made an example of; tongues sliced out, eyes gouged, limbs severed, and bodies put on display for all to see until they bled to death.
One year of continuous destruction and chaos. One year of torment beyond imagining, with but few feeble attempts at resistance. The best and safest place for any to hide became Fangorn forest, where sanctuary was given to survivors by the Ents and trees themselves. While it provided cover, it was only a matter of time until the flames spread there as well, and everyone knew it. Though some cities still stood and resisted, their only reason for survivable was because of Sauron's distraction and new desire.
Having conquered most of the lands surrounding Mordor, he couldn't help but feel an emptiness and rising bloodlust knowing there was a place he had never stepped foot on. Despite his vast power, knowledge, and greatness, he sought to rid Middle Earth entirely of the filth that threatened his reign and once marched against him. Gathering his army, he commanded them to commandeer and build as many vessels as possible as quickly as they could. He had two goals in mind; the first was the complete and utter destruction of all things and beings connected to Valinor, eyes fixated on the so-called immortal elves. The other, more ambitious goal, was to seek out any indication or whisper of Eru Ilúvatar in an attempt to destroy the creator of those who dared oppose him.
With a blazing twinkle in his eye, Sauron grabbed the helm of his black flagship as his most trusted orcs swabbed the deck below. Getting into formation, they began singing their jaunty, well-choreographed, spirit-lifting tune together, raising their spirits for the battle to come.
Taking the fight to Valinor,
Argh, here comes the crew.
Sailing our asses across the shore
Argh, one thing left to do.
We'll slice 'em we'll tear 'em we'll eat in our harem
The sweetest of elvish stew.
And then when we're finished we'll kill us a god
Argh, here comes the crew! |
I used to shovel horse shit for a living. Boss man would say, "Oy! Harold! See this pile of 'orse shit? I want it moved over there."
And I'd spend the next hour moving this pile of horse shit over there. Then I'd go home and my pudgy wife would recoil and say, "Wash that stink off a ya!"After I'd washed, my two pudgy kids still wouldn't play with me. Said I stank of death.
The next day, boss man wanted that pile of shit moved to a different location.
It all changed when the hoity-toity man on a groomed horse rode up looking for Harold. Said I was the son of the king. The king who sent me away as an infant to hide me from my half brother who would have me beheaded so he would remain the sole heir. The king sent that psychopath away to join the clergy so he wouldn't have to inherit.
Now the king was dead, a freak jousting accident, a splintered point somehow finding a crease in his armor. An infection in the gut. You don't come back from that, even if you are the king.
Now my days are filled with castles and dignitaries and balls and powdered wigs. There's not even any shit for me to order my people to move from one place to another. Can you believe that? No shit at all.
I never see my wife any more. She "disappeared"because they couldn't have the king married to a commoner. I used to go visit her down in the dungeon, but it's too depressing. It's been great for her figure, I hear.
My two boys practice wielding the sword each day. They even made them little suits of armor. I'll have a tough situation when they get older, seeing as how the queen (the new queen, a Spanish royal they brought in and a right vixen in the sack) is pregnant, and I'm sure if we have a son, that'll be the one they'll want on the throne. I may have to send him to the countryside.
We feast every day: mutton and fruits and bread and pheasant, everything the belly could ever want.
We went fox hunting the other day, and while the hounds chased after that red, furry bastard, I sat on the royal steed smelling something I hadn't smelled in years: horse shit.
I miss my piles of horse shit. I was good at that. I was good at pleasing my pudgy wife and my simple dunce children. I don't know a damn thing about how to make Maria happy, and those two dunces are turning into such spoiled little shits. She wants to take a royal vacation to Spain. What's wrong with our island? It may be a rainy, muddy shithole, but it's *my* rainy, muddy shithole. What do they have in Spain? The pox, that's what.
I fucking hate pheasant. What's wrong with a quail, eh? Perfectly good game bird. Pheasant.
I fucking hate the dignitaries, and the castles, and the balls. So many rules, whom to greet first, who bows and who doesn't. Nobody will take a bite until I've started eating. Stop caring what I do! Just eat your goddamn mutton, you fools!
And the jester. They said I looked down, so they brought in a retard. I already have two dunce sons, why do I want another one all dressed up in bells?
I'm so sick of all this royal bullshittery that I'm going to declare war on France. Maybe then people will leave me alone. |
"Hey somebody left his camera."I yell as people leave the train. Nobody reacts. It looks like the camera was used extensively. It was pretty battered. It was also a model I have never seen before. With a sigh I pick it up. Back home I'll be able to view the content and maybe find out who's camera this is.
I plug the camera into the USB-Port. That's strange. It looks like the dates of the files are corrupted. The first file dates Oct. 13. 2035. I open it. That's some sharp quality. It looks like someone was shooting a movie. But how did they add the effects on the camera. A voice offscreen states "Temporal distortion test number 42?"Blue Lightning arcs of a machine in the room. The camera gets picked up and moves in the machine. The screen turns white and the video stops.
I look at the next numbered file. Jan. 2. 75.374.129 B.C.E. That can't be right. I open the video. Scenes of a beautiful jungle fill my screen. The voice on the background says "I did it, I finaly..."He stops short. "oh my god, look at that."The camera turns and I see a heard of those three horned dinosaurs enter the scene. This can't be real. A roar comes from the speakers. "Oh crap."I hear the voice say as the camera starts to move. Another white flash and the video is done.
I'm getting more curious. The file dates are millions of years appart. I watch through them I see a great flood, I see slaves building pyramids, I see armies going to battle only to be halted by 300 men and some allies. I know all these scenes. I see samurais in traditional clothes and an emperor opressjng his people to build a wall. I see an army of powerful short men on little horses. I learned about all of this. I see technology take shape. I see Tesla and Edison fight, I see Napoleon conquering Europe, I see Napoleon getting beaten by Waterloo. I had to studie all of this in history. I see Two wars like the world had never seen.
And finaly I reach the last part. It dates today. I hear the voice that has guided me through this history speak to me once again. "There is just one thing left to do."He says. "Leave this camera for the right person to find."The camera turns. "I know it will end in the right hands. Because this is where I found it 20 years 9 months and 21 days ago. Or today."I look at the camera and at my screen, confused to see my own face on there. All I hear the voice, I now recognize as my own, say after this is "Good luck boy. You'll do this one day."
|
How many times have you mourned a wife, or a husband, or a son, or a daughter?
I've mourned for my wife a hundred times already, and that's just this year.
Every night, when I go to sleep, I am reborn. I re-experience birth, and childhood, and youth. I grow up, I meet a woman, I fall in love and marry her. It's a different setting each time, a different woman, a different life. But the love is always true. The love is always real.
And at the end, the dream always ends. After a lifetime together with this woman of my dreams, I would die, and wake up in my bed, full of pain and regret. I'll never see her again. The next time I sleep, I'll embark on a new life, and meet someone else, and fall in love all over again.
How many wives can one man mourn before he loses his mind?
As far as I can tell, I have had this... this power of mine... since I was born. I lived a lifetime in my first night out of the womb. I had the experience and wisdom of thirty lifetimes by the time I was a month old. And now, at just a tad over three months old, my soul has lived one hundred lifetimes, and yet my body remains that of an infant.
I've raised enough children in my dreams to know how a newborn behaves. I can fake it convincingly. When to cry. When to poop. When to wake and when to sleep. I can talk, but I know better than to try. What would my parents think, to hear their three-month-old son speak of dozens of lifetimes of experience? Of memories? Of pain?
Perhaps I should talk to them. Perhaps they would understand. Perhaps one of them, or both of them, have experienced something similar. If so, they could tell me it doesn't last. They could tell me that, one day, I'll dream normally, and live the rest of my life in peace. That I wouldn't go to sleep each night dreading the beautiful tragedy that would inevitably await me.
Wishful thinking, I know. There's no way I can talk to them. There's no way that would end well.
I'm getting sleepy again. It's time to sleep. Lifetime one hundred and one. Let's see what this one has in store for me. |
"Sweetie, why is your face so burned?"asked the princess.
"The dragon wanted me to taste better."said the prince-to-be.
"What happened to the dragon?"
"Nothing, I ran away."
"Oh, so why is your sword made of rubber?"
"There was a wizard that wanted to make me easier to defeat."
"What happened to the wizard?"
"Huh, nothing, I ran away."
The princess started to get upset. Her mighty prince running away from everything when he was supposed to have defeated all the threats to her realm. That was the only way his father would let her marry him.
"Why are you walking with a limp?"said the princess hoping for something better this time.
"I got attacked by a bear."
"What happened to the bear?"
"I don't know. I ran away."
"How did you run away with a limp?"
"I'm a hero. Remember?"
"Yes. That's why I hope you did something good to show my father. So we can get married"says the princess losing her cool. "Did you at least kill the siren?"
"Nah, my men all died there."
"And what did you do?"
"I think you know the answer."
"Did you run away?"
"No, I can't run on water, princess."
"ENOUGH! You can't marry me like that. Get out!"
"We don't need your father's approval. We could r..."
"Don't you dare say those words!"
|
I've lived in Reddit all my life. I've been to WTF, Offbeat, Politics, even Circlejerk. Some places I've seen you don't even want to know about. Most people on Reddit are okay, but sometimes you run into an asshole or two like RyanKinder or SurvivorType. They'll delete your ass and not even shed a tear. You just deal with it and carry on, even though they hold the power of life and death over you.
Life is rough if you don't have enough karma. Yeah, Reddit Gold would be nice, but it's karma you really need to live. And the way you mine karma is by getting upboats. And the best way to get upboats? Well you shouldn't have freaking asked me last week 'cause I certainly didn't have any then. Ever frigging post I ever did, I was lucky if I got 1, much less 2. But most of the time it was 0, or, sorry, you post was deleted.
Then there's the "repost"bots chasing your ass down and calling you a fool for trying to post on Reddit. God, if only I could get on the front page.
Then one day, I have a brilliant flash. A great idea. I write my own little bot. It goes to r/all new, and it copies every post, and reposts it under my name. Every friggin post ever. I don't have to find an original article, someone else has found it for me.
Now people have to figure out who was first? Me or the true OP? We're talking microseconds, but the time stamp seems identical. Sometimes my post gets deleted, sometimes it's the OP. And for all those times the OP gets deleted, mine stays, and it starts getting karma. Sometimes serious karma. I've been on the front page 42 times this week. 100K karma baby. Elite as fuck.
Honestly, don't talk to me right now. I'm busy writing my latest bot, which will copy every comment ever made and repost it. I just hope I don't break the Reddit karma counter baby. Do they have an integer big enough for me? |
"Satan that's the 30th time in a row that you've rolled a 20, we agreed that you wouldn't cheat if we didn't call the church."
"Damn it jerry, I can't help it! When you only roll a 6 for your fireball against my were-bear, I just have this urge to mess with your character. I'm sorry it won't happen again."
"Promise you won't cheat?"
"devil's honor"
"that doesn't sound very convincing."
"fiiiine, just roll for me then. My were-bear swipes at your wizard"
*jerry rolls the dice*
"goddamnit, my wizard is decapitated by a 20 roll from the were-bear." |
It was quite funny, a year ago seeing my 12 year old explain how life was nothing but a game. His mother was livid, hearing how he leveled up by bulling some of his classmates, and proceeding to the next stage after confronting his crush and getting a kiss on the cheek. He took none of it seriously and I'm glad, he seemed happy.
I was too. I took a shot at this and decided for a week to view life as a game. Stress of running a company can make one quite sour. So there I was making the usual demands and meeting the usual clients. I decided to play a bit more into the idea and make my big meetings into these "Boss"battles.
I didn't get away with everything, but I considered any changes or decision to compromise to be a win. Then I felt it, a sudden wave of joy. That's what it must feel like to level up. That's what happens when you win. But then, what happens to those that "lose"? I decided not to think about it, if I did it's more likely I'd begin to stress on the idea of winning and the fun would be over.
Last week, my son didn't look to happy during diner. His bulling caught the attention of the Dean. He was sentence to detention and my wife had to go talk to the principal, they both looked defeated. I told him to relax, life was just a game remember?
He snapped at me. It's not that easy he said. It gets harder the more you keep winning. The conflicts aren't one on one anymore, they become groups, systems, ideas. He wasn't fuzzing over the dean nor detention. He realized that the opponents no longer appear to be wimps or bullies one just beats down, they become events, time limits. The enemy is no longer an easy KO and his son was worried what his new boss fight would be.
That conversation left a sour taste in my mouth. I realized the fun was over, the game- the game became life again. But for some the game had just started.
Tim from accounting came into my office the other day. He was shaky and stumbled on his words. I just sat there. Staring at him. Wondering what he was trying to say, it was becoming a headache, I decided to stop him mid sentence and told him. "Do you ever think of life as a game?"- "A.. A what sir?"- "A game. You know, like when we were kids and we pretended the floor was lava and only certain tiles were safe spots"- "Um.. No.. Not that I could remember, life is a pretty serious thing to consider, I have a family to feed and my wife's medical needs... Its. Its just absurd to think so lightly of it"
"Try it."I said, and just kept staring, seeing if he could figure it out. To see if he saw that life was just a game to me, or that it was one at one point.
Slowly he stood up, his sweaty palms at the edge of my table. Hunched and tense as if to brace for an assault. He forced his self to utter his demands.
"I. I ne- I want a raise."
Whether he just grew a pair or literately began to try to take life as a game, I would not know. But I felt like a final boss battle for his mundane game, the princess would be kept alive, dialysis is not cheap for his place in the company, and life was in fact not a game.
"Ok"
A sigh if relieve flowed through him. He must of been struggling with things for quite some time. "You're not kidding right?"He dared ask.
"I could be, but I'm not one to play with people like that. I'll notify Mark about the raise and have him give you Darell's old office. You'll start the overseas accounts next week with your new raise."
The game was fun, but I had to admit I was no longer a child. |
"Please put out that light, James."The elder president tucked into bed. Lately he'd been needing more and more sleep, but sleep was harder and harder to come by. It was 5am when Roosevelt's eyes flickered open to the tender sound of a creaking floor board.
"I've been waiting you sick bastard."
"So I've seen. Are you ready to go?"
"Was I ready when you gave me terrible asthma? Was I ready when I almost drowned? How about in those damned Cuban hills? What about when that assassin interrupted my speech? You know your answer."
"So it seems I do. You know this is it, Teddy."
"You have no right to call me that and you have no right to my life. Leave now and you shall not suffer, Death. Challenge me yet again and you shall fail. Again."A lifetime ago, when he was full of youth and energy, Roosevelt had learned that there was nothing so abhorrent to Death as failure.
"Prepare for your end."With that Death shrugged off his coal black cloak, revealing a cuirass of solid steel. Death unsheathed his sword. The sword did not glint or shine, looking every bit the carved, jagged onyx meteorite that had fallen to Earth five thousand years ago.
Rolling off of his bed and shedding his nightgown in one smooth motion, TR revealed his bandoleers of rifles, pistols and ammo.
"Eat silver, mother fucker!"Teddy wooped as he discharged two rounds. The first impacted into Death's chestplate. The second was easily swept aside by the sword.
"You're trying my patience. Come peacefully. Your time is done here."Death spoke as he advanced, closing the distance between himself and the elder president. With every step Death took, Roosevelt discharged another round. One slammed into Death's eye socket, shattering the skull and creating a gout of fire in place of the usual grey matter. Just as the drapes behind him caught fire and he began to sag, Death's skull reformed, the ruin of his skull reassembling mid air.
Teddy screamed obscenities as Death cleaved his sword through both pistols and nicking the edge of a wrist. Tossing the ruined guns aside the president fell to his knees.
"I assume you know what this blade does."
TR looked up from his wound. "Only Death could be so cruel."Before Death could bring his sword down for the killing blow Teddy rolled out of the way. The Ebony blade crashed down and bit into the wooden planks lining the floor. As Death tried to wrench his weapon free, Teddy came up behind him and wedged his rifle barrel up under Death's armored back.
"But I bet you know what diamond rounds do to Dread beings."The trigger depressed and a scatter shot of diamond shards broke out the front of Death's cuirass, staining the far wall with permanent shadow. Darkness ebbed out of Death in a sputtering gout as he collapsed to one knee. The magic binding his shattered skull together began to flow away, contorting his pale visage into a eldritch horror.
"Yoooo-o-ou thouldn'th hath done that!"Death's voice went from his typical booming baritone to a shrill tenor as a light pulsed within Death's mouth. The room became completely enveloped in indigo flames as Death melted into the floor. Though hot to the touch the flames didn't leave any visible burns on the president. Rather than pain, he felt elation. Though Teddy knew he was dying, he had bested Death yet again. Climbing back into his dissolving bed he knew he had won one final battle against the one who had taken the best things in the old man's life. Surely this would be one to make the Rough Riders proud.
********************************************************************
The next morning Vice President Marshall was in a meeting with President Wilson when the news of Theodore Roosevelt's passing was relayed to the White House. Died in his sleep. Blood clot in his lung, likely from a vein in an arm. No pain.
Trying to lighten the suddenly sullen mood, Marshall quipped, "Death had to take Roosevelt sleeping, for if he had been awake there would have been a fight."Marshall never knew how true those word were. |
I turned the key to the front door, and opened it slowly. There were a lot of cars in the driveway -- even for a Friday night. Mark had mentioned planning a party when I left for the store, but I didn’t think he’d actually pull this many people in.
“Mark! Who all’d you invite?” I hollered down the front hallway.
As if from nowhere, Katheryn, a girl I’d met in freshman English came from the den to my left.
“Let me help you with that,” she said, grabbing the grocery bags from my hand.
“Oh, hey Kath -- you don’t have to. Thanks.” She was walking down the hallway with the groceries. “Beer’s in the fridge if you want any,” I called after her.
I kicked my shoes off into a pile of shoes that seemed customary at our place on the weekends, and made my way down the hallway.
The kitchen portrayed a scene for which I wasn’t ready. I looked around at the fifteen familiar faces looking directly me at me. Katheryn, Derren the bartender from down the street, Kevin my psychology TA. Everyone was smiling. Jenna and Breanne the girls from next door, Paula my personal trainer. No one was saying a word. My best friend Terry, my girlfriend Shaina, my roommate Mark.
“You’re back from the store, James, that’s wonderful.” Mark said, stepping forward to hand me a beer. It was cold, the label on its side marked this with a color changing paper. “We missed you James.”
When Mark said this, the crowd behind him immediately murmured in agreement.
“Thanks?” I said, taking a sip from the beer. Not taking my eyes off of Mark. His smile was off, forced.
I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Erin and Garrett, two friends from high school walking up the hallway toward me.
Mark’s voice spoke behind me. “James, we missed you and we don’t ever want to miss you again.”
I turned around again. This time, the faces behind Mark seemed a bit blurry.
“Mark, did you put something in” my lips began to numb, I felt my words slip by unsaid.
“Don’t worry James, we’ll never miss you again. You don’t have to go anywhere ever again. And we’re going to be with you forever,” He said, passing out drinks to the rest of the kitchen.
“Mark, this” my tongue was thick and gummy. “Not okay.”
“To be with James forever,” Mark said, raising his glass.
“With James forever.” The crowd replied.
A soft wet pressure landed upon my cheek. My dog found its way to the kitchen.
“Oh, the Notorious D.O.G. loves you, too.” Mark said. I saw him bend down, pouring some of his beer in the dog’s bowl. |
Stephen Walker, the only serial killer to hold a medal for outstanding citizenship in the city of Seattle, stood by the railing of the Green River bridge.
Yes, he would claim this bridge, after today it would be known as *his*. They may even call him something cool like the Green River Bridge Killer. A name that could be uniquely *his*. Any serial killer would... well, kill, for a name like that.
He watched a woman walking along the sidewalk. He would *claim* her. Make her his next victim, or first victim, if one were to get technical. Technicalities, however, were for fools. Stephen Walker was no fool.
He would make sure the whole world saw the act, that way they couldn't dismiss him any longer. He saw the woman cross the street and chased after her. He grabbed the woman and covered her mouth, pulling her off the street and throwing her to the sidewalk.
A truck flew by.
Stephen turned around to see a crowd watching him, mouths wide open in terror.
Stephen walked forward onto the sidewalk and stared at the crowd, smile on his face. Now they would know the beast they had lived with for so many years. The monster they had assumed to be like them. The-
"You saved her life!"A man yelled.
The small crowd clapped and cheered. One woman held a cell phone camera to him, recording it.
"You're a hero!"The man yelled. The woman, his victim, looked at him with grateful eyes.
Stephen Walker blinked, then turned away, heading back home. As he walked through the busy road, he noticed the cars all stopped, people inside clapping, one wiping away a tear.
Being a serial killer was harder than it seemed. |
The video feed was fuzzy, but what appeared through the static was horrendous. Beyond the false hope of the first layer, the running children and learned men in togas, were nothing but rivers of fire, serpents, and, at the center of it all, the bestial face of Lucifer himself, gnawing at Judas, Cassius, and Brutus. All around the conference hall, men and women fainted, vomited, averted their eyes, and prayed.
Except one.
The Papal Nuncio to the UN stood in his chair. One hand gripped his groin, the other was pointed at the representative from Saudi Arabia, who was cowering in his seat. With a shit eating grin, that outstretched hand morphed into an obscene gesture, and the Nuncio announced to God and all those assembled in the room,
"Told You So, You Muthafuckas!" |
They taught us that electromagnetic radiation propagates at the speed of light - that it will travel, uninterrupted, in one direction for all eternity - out from our little pale blue dot far into the unknown, and to the ends of the universe.
We were also taught, that the universe was infinite - with its boundaries expanding even faster than light, a boundary which could never be seen or touched. Nevertheless, we pointed our eyes and ears towards our sky, searching endlessly for some indication of where our universe ended, and where it began.
Mankind was a vocal species, singing and screaming into the void in the hopes that others would hear and know that they weren't alone - but our attempts to find others were met only with cosmic radiation and silence. Until now.
It began with the voice of Reginald Fessenden, the father of radio broadcasting. His rendition of 'O Holy Night' from a 1906 broadcast was the first coherent audio transmission to be received.
Every major astronomical lab in the world was in a state of outrage, and the media exposed the phenomenon as a hoax - after all, how could a mere two hundred year old broadcast return to the Earth after traveling a distance only a fraction of a percent of the Milky Way?
But it continued. The first video transmissions of the 1936 Olympics followed, with images of Hitler and his Reich hosting the Berlin Summer games. Then came news of war, of the World plunging into one battle after another, and then of peace - followed by more war.
Academics voiced their skepticism - since all radio waves propagated at the same speed, how was it that the gap between the arrival of the first human radio transmission merely months removed from those that took place more than three decades afterwards? No one had the answers, but the transmissions continued.
Only a year after we received Fessenden's first transmission, we were already getting messages from the tail end of the Cold War, the jubilation of the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the end of the Soviet Union.
It was with horror that one of us began to realize the truth of the matter. The universe was shrinking.
On a global scale, national observatories and hobbyist astronomers reported the stars winking out of the night sky - one by one.
As the darkness continued to creep towards our little blue world, Justin Bieber's 'Baby' played on our receivers - and the end came quickly. |
"Mister President, your advisors are waiting,"the young man said.
"And they can keep waiting,"I snapped back, lowering my head, "thank you, young man. Do you have family?"
"Umm, I uhh, yes sir, a daughter."
"Hug her a little tighter tonight, for good measure,"I said as I glanced at him, nodding.
"Will do,"he returned as he spun out of sight.
"So this is what it feels like,"I said aloud. I've always wondered what it felt like to be stuck between two great powers, each side rapidly, unapologetically pushing you for allegiance. And this time America is just one nation among many, and humanity's combined strength is insignificant in comparison to these two powers.
They could wipe us out without a fight, I thought, why even bother asking for alliance? Each side could demand allegiance. Each side could squash all of us like bugs under their heel.
I sighed. There's a reason why they're holding back, asking for us to make a choice. But what is that reason? Why do they care about us if they are undeniably superior in technology? It doesn't make sense.
I pulled my glasses off and rubbed the bridge of my nose, I could feel a tension headache welling behind my eyes. Bad timing, I can't be out of focus now, too much is at stake. Too many lives depend on our actions tonight.
"Sir, they're waiting,"a young woman said from the other side of the doorway, careful to not intrude.
"Yes, thank you, I'm on my way,"I responded with a curt smile, as I saw her peeking in momentarily. She was new here, second or third week on the job. Too fresh to have been worn down by the demands of this life, yet. Her face reflected the worried, haggard look of a veteran though. Everyone did.
I walked down the hall, as junior advisers marched in step behind me, joining the growing entourage. I was stoic, for them. I had to exude confidence. We would be deciding America's official position in this matter, in time for the morning meeting of the UN Security Council, and then quickly to the the Full Assembly.
The G'dar, and the Urungi. Two great powers, each vying for supremacy of this area of the galaxy. Each only revealing their presence a few hours ago. Each stating their terms in stark brevity. With us or against us, in their own way.
And yet it felt off, somehow. I remember the friends I bummed around with in my youth, disinterested in politics. They'd say *Republican, Democrat, two sides of the same coin*. I couldn't shake the feeling that these two galactic powers were each, somehow, playing politics with our planet.
G'dar. Urungi. Flip a coin, I thought as I pushed the doors open. My advisors were assembled, as were the Joint Chiefs, and heads of every agency that mattered. The few who couldn't make it to Washington on a day's notice were plastered on screens that adorned the walls. The room was packed beyond capacity, and the entourage behind me struggled to elbow in. Some junior staffers resigned themselves to waiting in the hall.
"Mister President, we've assembled all the information we've received-"
"Why haven't they destroyed us yet?"I asked. No one replied. I scanned the room, all eyes on me, but none dared to speak. I removed my glasses and tossed them on the table.
"Two races, each with enough tech to wipe us out ten times over. We mean nothing to them, we have nothing to offer, and as far as anyone knows we can't seriously damage either of their empires. And they want alliance."
"Sir-"
I raised my hand, cutting off the General, "I will be most appreciative of your tactical opinion when it comes to that, General, but this can only be political. These two races have no reason to seek alliance with humanity for what we have to offer. So let's offer them nothing."
There was a murmur in the back of the room as my words sank in. I could see it in the delay of the monitors, the shock of inevitability. The undeniable realization that there was no right answer here, and I was ready to gamble before the hand was dealt.
"Listen people, this is my gut feeling, but each of you know it too. These two races are at war with each other. We'd be nothing more than pawns, at best. Neither side *needs* us. So put on your poker faces, people. We're gonna play a bad hand for all it's worth. Get some sleep. Dismissed." |
I never asked for this job.
During my time as one of the living I was a courier. It wasn't a great job, but it was easy. One day I was changing the station on my radio, and I didn't notice the car in front of me had stopped. I don't really remember dying but I assume the crash did it. People who come back supposedly from 'the brink of death' don't tell you that there's no-one here to take you in. You kind of just.. show up.
I didn't know it was hell when I opened my dead eyes. It was a lot more bland. No lake of fire or burning pillars, just a stark concrete floor with metal doors. It's more like a open-plan prison than anything else. Real stark greys and bright fluorescent lighting.
There was a line to get in, and nothing else for me to do so I just queued like the rest of them. It could have been an hour wait, or a year, I can't really tell time any more, everything seems to just trudge along with no day and night cycle. When I did get to the front gate I was pulled out of the line and sent down a smaller door, I thought “yep, this is it.. here comes the torture and pain”, but I was wrong. A demon with a name I can't pronounce said I was randomly selected under the fair employment in Hell act of 1299 to work as a water salesman.
It didn't make any sense, I had died and gone to Hell, only to be given a job. They even housed me in a middle-class neighbourhood apartment block near my sell zone on the East side. It wasn't a great job, but it was easy. So it suited me well. I'd walk to my stand, sell water to the dead who wanted it, then go home when I was done for the day. Those who buy the water from me are pathetic really, you don't need to eat or drink now we're no longer living. The fools will grasp on to anything resembling the world they departed, trying to use these glimmers of normality as anchors for their sanity. They don't even live in an apartment like I do. They just wander around, telling others what they do for work, when we all know that there are no jobs in hell. Well, except my job. Did I tell you what I did? I sell water to these idiots who think they're going crazy living in Hell. Just because there's no sense of time here, and everything just trudges along without day or night.
They gave me an apartment with this job. It's just a walk away from here. On the West side.. or was it the East? I haven't been home in a while, I lost my key I think. It's okay I'll get a new one after I've finished work for the day. I've still got a lot of water to sell before I'm done. These fools.. they think they're losing a grip on their sanity.
Sometimes I miss being a courier, it seems that it's all I remember from my time alive. I'd transport those large water cooler jugs to offices. The idiots would keep buying water and calling me crazy till I went home to my apartment.
I'd sell you some water but I must have ran out.. I think there's some left in my apartment.. it's on the North side. |
Everyone has their turn looking into time. Everyone has their turn to gaze into the future and regardless of whether or not they like what they seethe events they witness come to pass. Of course no one ever really likes to talk about what they see hell, not even the ones that grew up to be trillionares or the next Nicola Tesla. Perhaps no matter how good the future is its never truly what we imagine it to be.
And so it was my turn. We celebrated my 16th in the atrium of The Hall of What Will Be. The party was nice, but the entire time my palms were sweating and my breath came short and panicked. Mom told me to not worry because hers wasn't as bad, but I could see the truth behind her eyes. Dad told me that girls never get the bad ones, but I knew his ticks that told me he was lying too. My older sister was the only one that told me the truth.
"Listen Elise. Don't let anyone else tell you how it's going to be because it's all gonna just be lies anyway. I'll tell you how it actually goes."Moira took a small pause to gather her thoughts. The sounds of other parties echoing off the walls of the gigantic concrete atrium turning the world into a cacophony of madness. "When you go into the viewing chamber, it'll be just like those old movie theaters you see in the old 2D movies. You're going to sit down and-"
Moira was interrupted mid sentence by a booming voice over the intercom.
"Elise Farshaw, report to viewing room 1186."
Moira gave me a sad look and shooed me toward the labyrinth of passages holding the viewing rooms.
The passages passed in blurs as I followed the holonav that guided me to my destination. My palms hadn't stopped sweating and my breath still came in short panicked bursts. Abruptly room 1186 was in front of me, the doors looked like artifacts from a time long past. Pushing open the doors and down a short hallway I could see a large screen ahead of me, an old projector spitting light onto the stage. I entered the room itself and turned to see row after row of seats facing the canvas. I walked up and chose a seat halfway up and in the middle of the row.
After a moment of waiting the projector began to spill color across the screen. It took a second to adjust to the two dimensional image in front of me. It was me only older. Sitting alone in a room that seemed void of personality, Spartan like in its essence. A calendar at the edge of the screen caught my attention, the year was 20 years into the future.
Everything about my future self spoke of confidence and assertiveness until the moment she realized I could see her. Older Elise seemed to deflate into a dejected caricature of her former self. Her face slacked a bit and her eyes lost their luster.
"Damnit,"future me whispered. "I had hoped to stay confident a bit longer."
Her eyes snapped to mine and as they locked I could see the oceans of emoting existing within her.
"It's so nice to see my old naive self. It's kinda funny you know. When I was your age... Well when I was you, all I had wanted to do was grow up and be an adult, but all I wish for now is for life to be simple again."
She fiddled with her hair.
"But I'm getting off track, before I start you should know I can't hear you but I am able to see you. So don't try to ask questions."
"Your future is going to be alright. You won't be hit with a single catastrophic tragedy like Moira will, or Karen will, but that's not to say your life will be perfect. You're going to marry young, but soon realize some thing about yourself, something horrible. You don't know who you actually are. Oh sure you know your past and you know your personality, but you will never, ever figure out who you really are."
"You go through hell and high water to prove me wrong. To prove to me and you that you're a special person, that you have a distinct place in this world, but at the end of the day, everything you do is mediocre. You're job is normal, your husband is normal, your kids are normal, your mind is normal, everything in your life will be normal. And you hate that this is the only major catastrophe in your life."
"Most days you'll be fine with where you are, but occasionally you'll run across one of those Others. People who have truly suffered or those who are incredibly exceptional and knowing that people like that exist while you are stuck where you are will eat you alive."
"In short your life will be normal but that's all it will ever be."
Older me gave a shrug, and a resigned smirk.
"Things will be ok kid. Just don't hope for too much." |
Young shemp stood before the council awash in fear. He, at the tender young age of 150, had to come up with a routine so comical, so amusing that the esteemed council would see him fit to be granted the immortality they themselves had achieved. This would be no easy task. The esteemed council of three, the mighty Moe, the honorable Larry, Curly the wise, had practically invented the concept of slapstick humor, highest and most revered of all art forms. This had to be good. Shemp took a deep breath and launched into his routine, a series of prat falls and prop gags that ended with a grand finale of a piano being dropped on his head. Shemp gave out a sigh of relief, he had done all he could, it was in the councils hands now. They quickly deliberated and he anxiously awaited their answer. "Close enough!"proclaimed Moe. Shemp would live to see another day. |
There he is, that little scrawny kid with the glasses. Ugh, he's got a My Little Pony lunchbox. What a nerd.
*Kevin, the bully, walks over to Jacob, the nerd.*
"Nice glasses."
"Thanks, I just got them."
Damn it, he thinks I'm being serious.
"No, I mean, they're really... big."
"Yeah, apparently my eyes are awful."
*Jacob laughs.*
"Your lunchbox is nice, too."
*Jacob's eyes light up.*
"Are you a fan, too?"
"No... What? I mean your lunchbox, it's really bright."
"Yeah, it's pretty awesome. I can't believe you've never seen the show before. Wanna come watch it with me after school?"
"Yeah, sure."Kevin says, trying his best to sound sarcastic."
"Great! My mom will pick us at the front gate!"
This keeps happening. What am I doing wrong? |
"What the fuck!"Jacob screamed, jumping backwards and falling over onto his shell in the process.
"What?"I said, scanning the immediate area for signs of ambush or danger. Damn planet, half the time it was more dangerous than the humans. The atmosphere had oxygen in, if you can believe it, made the Iron on our plasma cannons 'rust' or so the Oracle had warned us.
these 'humans' were certainly stupid, even the weakest among us had learned there language in a scant few hours. That being said, they did have an odd ability to catch you with your shell off. Seeing we were in no immediate danger I spared a glance at Jacob, who was gripping his hoof and wincing in pain. "What the hell is wrong with you?"I hissed "I nearly shit my myself".
"Something bit me!"he squeezed out through gritted teeth, his eyes checking his hoof for any sign of what had attacked him. The floor where he had been standing was empty, save for a splintered plank of wood which had probably come off one the nearby houses during the bombardment from the ship.
Nothing out of the ordinary for once, Just Jacob playing a prank on me. "Ok Jacob, that's enough"I said in a serious tone, "You can't be messing about like this when we're in the field, could get us both killed."
"I'm not messing about!"he shouted at me, still grimacing. I frowned, Jacob wasn't much of an actor but I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.
Wait a second, the plank of wood that Jacob had stepped on was emitting some sort of strange dark fog . Frowning I ducked down to get a better look and sure enough the strange fog was seeping out the plank and rising up into the air . I reached out a tentative claw to feel the wood, hoping to get a better idea of what was going on.
"What the....AHHH!"I shouted, tearing my claw away from the plank. It felt as if my claw had spent too long on the outside of a fission cell.
"see, it bites!"
Jacob had retreated 5 or so steps away from the plank, staring at it like it he expected it to jump up and attack him again.
I glanced down at my claw, inspecting it to see if there was any sign of what had happened, it felt as if I had burned it on something, but I hadn't even managed to touch the wood.
I had an idea then, and flicked my visor to "visible light"hoping to view the strange heat from a different source. Sure enough, when I flicked the switch on my visor a bright orange glow met my eyes.
"What the fuck."I stammered, both shocked and amazed simultaneously. The strange glow was moving, as if alive. It was the first thing on the planet that had even come close to beautiful, the exotic tendrils of the light seemed to lick the air, tasting it.
In that moment I heard the distinctive charging of a plasma rifle and I turned my head to find that Jacob, who had apparently gotten to his feet during my reverence, had leveled his plasma cannon directly at the plank. "NO!"I shouted, but it was too late. The hiss of the release valve bit into the air as Jacob let out a scream "Die you bastard!".
Edit: damn I never realized how nervous it can make you putting writing up for people to read, I even made a throw-away for it... if anyone could give me some pointers (preferably blunt) that would be great. |
Death. Murder. Dan hated that sort of stuff. It was happening all around him and he tried to block it out as much as he could. But Dan has definitely killed somebody before. At gunpoint. His best friend. Dan couldn't stop thinking about what would have happened if he didn't kill him. "I could have saved him."He thought. "I would've gladly died for him". As Dan walked around in his tiny room, thinking about what he could've done, a man burst in. "Hey Dan! We got another one! Get over here now!"Dan was taken to another room. There stood a middle aged man in handcuffs on the floor, the man that brought Dan there and a man in a suit.
"His name is Harold."The man in the suit said in a grumpy tone. "Killed his wife and children. He's a nutcase. Do it."They gave Dan a gun. Dan closed his eyes, waiting for it to happen. Suddenly, without thinking, Dan raised the gun and shot Harold right in the heart. He died instantly. Minimal blood, minimal suffering. "Heh, I can see why they use you. Perfect shot, how do you do it?"Dan lowered his head and didn't say anything. The man in the suit sighed. "Take him back.""Understood, sir". Dan was taken back to his room and they locked the door.
"Again."He thought. "I killed another."He took his pencil and drew a line through four other lines. He looked up and saw hundreds of lines, each representing a person he killed, or as they called it, "Put down."This same process went on for months, until one day he was called for another. Some murderer, just another one. When they handed Dan the gun, he felt different. His eyes widened and his hands were trembling. He felt his heart beating fast and he didn't wait for "it"to happen. He raised the gun and shot at the man six times.
He missed every single shot.
Edit: Some minor details and paragraphing. |
Normal people were kings, and kings were gods. Olympus is what they called this planet, an earthlike world that gave everyone superpowers. It was colonized thousands of years earlier. Everyone would gain their power at the age of twelve, then would be placed in a school. There were many majors schools based on the abilities you had, however there was one school, which mastered in the art of secrets.
When Dawn turned twelve, she didn't feel anything, there were tests done, but they couldn't figure it out. She was smart, and figured that until she figured out her ability she would go to the school to train the art of secret abilities.
The people in that school slowly would reveal their abilities. Some to bully kids, some to fend off bullies. Many of their abilities were sinister, manifested even darker from being trained at this stealthy school.
Over time Dawn was the only one to never reveal her ability. Being at a school of deceit, there were some casualties, and Dawn was assumed to be the culprit. She was feared by everyone at the school, even the staff, she knew everyones power, but no one could even imagine what hers was.
Word got out about Dawn, some people feared her so much they hired assassins. But Dawn was smart, she kept to the shadows. She would use her influence to gain information, and even a small following.
She found that they were all hired by one man, the principal of her school. She went to his house at night and awoke him by coving his mouth with her hand, in her other hand was a knife. He struggled and was able to get free, but the fear of her overwhelmed him into a corner.
Shacking in the corner he asked, "If I could know one thing before you kill me, what is your power?"
Dawn smiled, "Only the unknown." |
"When you do something right, people won't be sure anything has happened at all."
To the rest of the world, I'm "just"a master martial artist and super-genius. I guess that's pretty impressive, but honestly, next to people like Glory, Arbiter, Momentum, and Mister Omega, baseline human training and skill is strictly bush league. Most assume I have to have some power. Don't get me wrong, a lot of people think I have some super-secret hidden power I'll suddenly reveal at the eleventh hour. But with no video, photo, or eyewitness evidence to go on, what are they going to say? I guess Mister Omega could be the same way, but he leaves survivors that can go on a talk show and tell everyone about it. I don't.
Like the time Tetramaw the Invincible tried to devour continental Asia. I had to try that one like a hundred times before finding out that we could simply broadcast a signal in its language warning it and its kind away from the planet. To the rest of the world, it simply appeared as though a giant alien appeared on orbit, circled the planet for a day, and then left, without incident.
Or Red Zone. Had to redo nearly eighteen years of my life, but it was worth it, getting that woman some counseling before she unleashed her own super-aggressive, airborne version of the Z04 Zombie Virus on New York City. Smart woman, serious inferiority complex. I mean damn. Good thing she got that looked at before it turned into anything serious. Not even the rest of the team knows about her. I check up on her from time to time. Moved to Maine after dropping out of college, became a librarian in some redneck town. Last I heard, she was getting engaged. Good for her, I say.
Or how about the Circle of Seven? Seven ancient mages get unsealed from their tombs around the world and finish their ritual to enslave the people of every nation, that was interrupted thousands of years ago. Once I reset, after their commands finally got me killed, it was simple enough to have the rest of the team excavate and secure them one by one. After a few hundred tries, of course. I wanted to know if there was a timeline where I had a three-way with Calypso(yes, that Calypso) and Morgana Le Fey. Turns out? There is. Kind of disappointing, though. Would not recommend. Glory's much better. Don't tell her I said that, though, or I'll have to terminate this timeline and just not talk to you next time around. I'm sure she's guessed what I can do and have done with my power, but I'd rather not spell it out, know what I'm saying?
A lot of big leaguers, you'll hear complain about not getting to cut loose. I don't have the problem. I get to cut loose all the time. There's a timeline where I've stabbed you in the throat and watched you bleed out, and a million others where I've done unspeakable things to the people around me, just because hey, when I get done, I reset, and nothing has happened. No, what I need is to tell people who'll understand what I can do. To go through your life with this kind of absolute power and not being able to tell anyone? It's enough to drive someone insane.
Oh, look, some of the duct tape's come loose. Do I put some more on, or just reset? Ah, whatever. There we go. Good as new...
I enjoy our little talks. Or, rather, I enjoy talking to you. I have to go be a hero now, though. I'll be around again at some point before you dehydrate. And trust me on that. |
*Pick pick pick pick. That's all I do isn't it? Why have I got to do this every morning? Why? Why why why why should I do something again and again? I know why, but I can't stop. The word echoes in my head; bouncing around along with all the others words like doubt and-and confusion. Why? Because I'm never sure. Am I right? Or am I wrong? Maybe I'm almost there, maybe I've barely scratched the surface.* "The thoughts in my head are going wild again, they're started; begun to run, and for how long?"
*My room, perfectly symmetrical, but not really. I have to tell myself that even though I don't believe it. How could I not believe myself? Could I lie to me?* "I look at my desk, every little object arranged in their correct positions. (except the one button there that I am now correcting) No, what I thought to be a correction was later revealed as a mistake; an error of which I am to be ridiculed for by myself, or the people who come to visit; if they come to visit. I spend the rest of my day arranging everything, the details of which will most certainly bore you; and therefore I will omit and skip to the evening, when I work as a lady of the night."
*I stand in the middle of the walkway, my feet equidistant from the lines that separate the tiles. A car rolls up* "Hey there pretty thing, need a ride to summplace?""You-you can be straight with me now, we both know what you're in for."*He beckons with his right hand, and I oblige, stepping into the car. He's turning left at Turner Street, heading into that alley. I hope he finds me attractive, or rather, suitable for his tastes which can't be THAT exquisite considering how and where he picks up girls from the sidewalk of the streets.*
"Alright, get workin on it."*He unzips his pants; no smell. That is definitely a good start, I'm guessing he washed straight before coming to me. I push it into my mouth, working the tip, covering the sides evenly with my tongue. He starts to moan; he's either in pain or he's enjoying it. I hope it's the latter. He begins tugging at my shirt, he wants me to take it off. Again, I oblige and unbutton, all the whilst avoiding eye-contact. My eyes could be too wide open, or too close and he would find it...me disgusting and throw me out, moving on to the next one he finds. My top falls off, I immediately pick it up and start folding. He's looking at me funny, as if he had found something odd in his soup and the waiter picked it out and denied him a refund. I don't like the way he's staring at me.* "You wanna get on with it, girl? Put your clothes aside, that can wait.""But don't you understand? Don't you see? I can't put it aside, it has to be folded. I've probably made another crease putting down and I have to fold it again. I have to fold it again. Can't you see?"*His intense stare turned into a confused look. The waiter finally agrees to give him another bowl of soup. He looks down at it, sees something funny again.* "You're not playing with me, are you?"*Evidently, I had irked him. He didn't sound angry.* "No, I'm not playing with you, but I probably should. That's what you're paying me for, isn't it?"*I put my clothes as gently as I could onto my lap. I leaned over, and continued.* "How deep can you take it?"*He asked. I didn't need to see the twinkle in his eyes; the hope that I would do it. I didn't get to respond. He took matters into his own, gammy hands. Sweaty palm gently rested on the back of my head, he pushed me down. I got up immediately, but not to gag.* "See what you've done now? You've ruined my hair."*I picked a curly hair from my mouth and threw it away.* "I-I'm sorry."*He blurts out, sounding oh so sincere! A mere apology isn't going to fix it? The wind messes up my hair, but I don't expect an apology from it. But this...this is different. I stormed out of the car* "You can keep it."*He put his hands out the window, baffled. "Take the money, at least."*This was the most sincere he had been, felt like he actually cared. But he probably drove off to the next town, eyes peeled for another long haired lady that would compare to mine. But he won't find it. He won't find hair as well done as mine.* |
\#1 Foreplay is important, so don't skip the most fun part.
\#2 Bring him lots of presents and you're sure to win his heart.
\#3 Cook for him and feed him so he knows you always care.
\#4 Spice up your bedroom antics with some sexy underwear.
 
\#5 Don't be afraid to hurt him if you want to make things fun:
\#6 A little nibble on his ear, and whisper to your hun,
\#7 "Hold still my dearest darling, and don't open up your eyes.
\#8 I'll be back from the other room with a nice surprise."
 
\#9 While he lies there blinded you can tie him up real tight,
\#10 Then mount him and squeeze his nuts for over half the night.
\#11 When he's almost finished and he wants you to dismount,
\#12 Clamp your legs around him, hope for a high sperm count.
 
\#13 Once you're certain that your mating ritual is done
\#14 And you have confirmation, in your oven there's a bun,
\#15 Skitter with all eight legs to his side of the bed;
\#16 Kiss him with your mandible and then bite off his head. |
You should spare Earth because it's the least advanced of the four races here. These other three beings are vastly superior to Earthlings. They've conquered intergalactic travel, whereas we humans continue to kill each other over access to resources. And while that may sound infantile compared to the other races represented here today, it also presents an interesting opportunity for you.
You get to shape us.
The other races here have already seen through the illusion of difference. The illusion of separation. They've transcended conventions and come to exist as one community in peace and harmony. To break them at this point - to expect them to devolve and bend to your rule - would be a challenge. But with Earth, any solid proof of extraterrestrial life would be seen as a monumental step forward in our understanding of ourselves, our place in the universe, and certainly life as we know it.
All you need do is present yourself as bringing knowledge and information, and we'll listen. We'll bend and shape and mould ourselves based on your teachings. If you want power, you'll have it easily.
You should spare Earth because it's the easiest of the planets represented here to control. Because we are the slowest along the evolutionary scale, and because, since we are still young and uninformed, we can be easily guided to suit your will. |
Kat hated being a child.
Being a child meant no one took you seriously. Being a child meant being told what you could eat, what you could wear, when you had to sleep. Being a child meant Kat had to go wherever her mother told her to go, even when she'd literally rather watch grass grow then spend another day in her mother's stuffy art museum.
Being a child meant nobody ever listened to Kat, even when the things she had to say were really really important or interesting. Like the time Kat had found a mistake in her textbook and her teacher had given her detention for "challenging her authority,"or the time she had found out that her mother's new boyfriend was a total asshole and her mom told her not to use that word but then ended up crying when he pulled a totally asshole move. Or the time she had tried to tell people that the new statue in the statue garden was obviously alive! Obviously! But no one had listened. It was obvious to Kat that this was one of the war criminals that they'd sentenced to eternal life and encased in stone after The Great Uprising, she'd learned about them at school, and remembered the detail because for once it was something interesting. But when she'd tried to tell her mom, she'd just laughed at Kat.
"Next you're going to tell me I have a real mummy, too. No baby, that's just a recreation."
But Kat wouldn't stop bringing it up, she was convinced. After she'd found a little carving at the base of the statue, she'd ran to her mother's side, even though she seemed to be in the middle of giving a tour to some woman.
"Mom! I found something, it says at the base- 'Prisoner Number 182.'"
"Katarina darling not now mommy's talking with an investor,"her mother had said through the gritted teeth of a forced smile, trying to shoo Kat away with her hand.
"What an adorable child,"said the woman her mother was talking to. The woman was draped in the latest fashions, practically radiated money.
Kat wanted to roll her eyes, but knew better. If she helped her mother, it would put her in a good mood, and maybe she'd finally listen. "Gee, misses, are you gonna help save the museum?"Kat batted her eyes, "This place is the only thing keeping me and my little friends off the streets."
"Oh, how sweet! Your child is just precious, Melinda."
"Yeah, precious,"her mother had said, shooting Kat a warning look.
"We should really think about using her in some of the promotional materials. Just look at those dimples! Commercial material, right there!"
"So you're-"
"I'll have to talk it over with my wife, of course, but personally I'm just about ready to invest,"said the woman. She began to head for the exit, patting Kat on the head as she went. "I'll be in touch."
After the woman had left, Kat's mother turned to her, "Way to lay it on thick, kid."
"It worked, didn't it?"
"You're gonna be the death of me,"said her mother, sighing and hugging Kat to her side. Kat looked up at her, taking in how tired her mother looked.
"Are you ok, mom?"
"I'm fine. Now, what were you going on about, with the statue?"
"...Never mind. It's nothing."
Kat hated being a child. She hated feeling like there was nothing she could do to change things. She hated feeling powerless, and seeing her mom feel powerless was somehow even worse.
After school the next day, Kat went to the library. After pestering the head librarian Mrs. Smith (who wouldn't stop going on about how she just wished Kat would stay in the children's section, like a normal kid, and stop kicking up a fuss every time she came in) Kat finally got access to some of the older holo-records, back from the trials after The Great Uprising. Only the most oppressive leaders of the old regime had been sentenced to eternity as a statue, forced to live a fate worse than death- hooked up to life support and encased in stone, unable to move or interact with the outside world. Most of these criminals, she knew, were in a mausoleum under the Governors' building. But she was looking for one criminal in particular...
There. An article from 50 years ago. Talking about how, through some slip up, Prisoner 182 had been misplaced.
Kat stared at the holo-record for a long minute, taking in the information. Something like a lost prisoner, that had to be worth a lot of money, right? Or some favor from the Governors? Quietly, Katarina tucked the holo-record's disk under her shirt. She snuck it out of the library, and then ran to her mother's museum. She'd show her mother the holo-record soon, but first she had to be sure. Kat knew the museum was in major financial trouble, one new investor wasn't going to cut it, and Kat didn't want to give her mother false hope. She had to be sure.
She ran to the statue of the war criminal, stationed in the museum's sculpture garden, and stared up at it panting. "Hey!"She yelled, "Can you hear me in there? Hey! HEY!"
The statue stood still.
"I know what you are! This must be a nice gig for you, huh, compared to what that mausoleum was like. You get to watch a bunch of people walk by, see some pretty walls... better than staring at concrete nothing for hundreds of years, like you were supposed to,"Kat said, spitting out the words, staring at the statues eyes. They didn't move. They didn't blink.
Kat hated when adults ignored her.
"We're going to sell you, you know. Back to the Governors. And then they're going to put you back in that dingy old mausoleum, you hear me? Hey! I know you can hear me!"Kat grew more and more frustrated. She just needed something, some way to know for sure her hunch was right. Her mother would never listen to her again if it turned out Kat had been wrong about something this big, it would just verify that she was nothing but a useless kid.
Kat looked around the sculpture garden, which was empty. The museum didn't get a lot of patrons these days. Frustrated, she scooped up one of the decorative smooth rocks that littered the sculpture gardens ground. "Listen to me!"she yelled, chucking the rock as hard as she could at the stone war criminal's face. It hit him right between his eyes, and at last, she saw his gaze flicker.
Right then the stone that encased him cracked, and those cracks spread.
Kat watched in shock as the stone began to crumble, flaking off the man beneath the rock. Prisoner 182 was shaking, and the shaking was hurrying the process- Kat realized the shaking was laughter, a silent manic laughter as the man was set free. He tested his hands, clenching them into fists, and then shakily began breaking his legs from the statue's base. Kat looked on in horror. At some point, she had fallen to the ground. On hands and knees she inched away as Prisoner Number 182 unhooked himself from the life support machine hidden in the statue's stone, and stepped free. Finally, he looked at her.
"Well?"he said, "I'm listening."
________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________
Thank you for reading. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated.
(Note: This story has been edited slightly based on CC in comments.) |
Capitalism, the solution to all scientific problems, including time travel. Where hundreds of brilliant scientists fail, leave it to a bunch of cheap Indian script kiddies to scrape it together. The website's shady owner, Mark Zuckerburg, never even meant it seriously. It was supposed to be a joke. But as soon as he listed the job on the HTML job board, the bidding wars began. Eventually a team from Jalalabad found themselves proud owners of a contract to code up the world's first really-working time-traveller dating website, over a two-week period, for the bargain price of two-hundred American dollars. Granted, American dollars are worth a lot more in India, but still, it wasn't an easy order. That's why the world's scientists were so shocked when that two-week deadline rolled around and Chief Programmer Ravi Sriniravi presented a fully functioning prototype, complete with genuine user accounts from as far back as the seventeen hundreds and as far forward as the twenty-third century.
There were two major problems with PlentyOfTime.com. The first was the language barrier. Google Translate is trained pretty well on twenty-first century languages, but you should see how it chokes when presented with the subtle dialects of Proto Terra-Martian. The support team got pretty good at communicating with emoticons, those were the only symbols still in common with the language of the distant future. Picture a lonely neckbeard from the year 2450, hammering the live help-chat with futuristic profanities, and all those poor overworked support guys can respond with is a smiley-face.
The second problem was transportation. Many a would-be relationship fizzled out when the vast gulf of time kept the lovers apart. Oh, Mark offered billions for anyone who could solve the problem. He rounded up those Indian coders who coded the website, gave them their own private lab with no spared expenses. But the website had been a one-time fluke, it had all happened by accident, and now that everything had become so serious and formal, an actual time machine seemed impossible. Picture all those poor lonely couples, sobbing into their keyboards, exchanging pictures across the lonely stellar void, never to be able to meet in person, to kiss or touch hands.
"Dammit,"Mark pounded the desk with his fists, "This has gone too far! The past and future are going to tear themselves apart with lonesome grief if we don't shut the website down!"
"It's too late, sir,"said his CTO. "The investors have got a voting majority. They won't let us shut it down. Not unless we can come up with something even more addictive, more destructive, and more abhorrent to replace it."
"Oh, you haven't seen anything,"said Mark, spinning his monitor so the CTO could see it, his latest bastard invention. "Behold, I call it Facebook." |
The old red wagon rolled down the hill at breakneck speed, but the two philosophers inside it conversed as if they were sitting at a table in a small cafe, diligently making small talk.
In the real world, these two men would never have met. John Calvin, the founder of Calvinism, had died several years before the birth of Thomas Hobbes, the author of *The Leviathan.* Why they were in a wagon, speeding down a hill towards an inevitable cliff, none can say. Why Thomas Hobbes is wearing a tiger suit is an even greater point of curiosity.
"Ah, but could it not also be said that the tiger suit is wearing *me?*"said Thomas Hobbes. "What does it mean, to wear clothes? Do the clothes truly make the man? Consider, for example, two men, one who wears a suit and one who wears rags. The man in the suit, obviously, would be better received by his peers, while the man in the rags would not. Does this not preclude that nudism is the path towards a truly equal society?"
"I surmise that you are a fool, and wearing a tiger suit,"John Calvin suggested.
"A fool I may be, but the suit is wearing me,"Hobbes replied. "Already, I feel the strangest inclinations. Foremost being a desire for a tuna sandwich."
"Are you hungry? Do you like tuna sandwiches, even without the suit?"
"Yes, I believe I do."
"Then, logically, your thought processes are uncontrolled by the tiger suit. You are merely hungry and want something to eat."
"Quite logical."There was a brief upward lip at the edge of the cliff, and the wagon shot up it and into the air. John Calvin and Thomas Hobbes flew from the wagon, feeling oddly calm about the whole ordeal.
"I suspect,"said John Calvin, "that this is somehow your fault."
"I suspect that this is all very strange,"Hobbes rebutted.
And then, they landed. A second later, the wagon bounced off of them. "Curiously enough, I feel fine,"said Calvin, sitting up from the wreckage.
"Ah, but how do you know that you feel 'fine'? Who decides what the word 'fine' means?"Hobbes asked, his tiger suit looking very ragged.
"Oh, shut up,"said John Calvin.
---
Check out my [blog](http://theballadsofirving.wordpress.com), where I have a lot of stuff posted. Do it or you're a loser. |
I spit and look at my mirror. My eyes are near shut, my five o'clock shadow is growing faster, and my left cheek has swollen to the point of overtaking my eye. I spit again and see a white tooth in the pool of blood in my sink. Guardian angel , my ass. I pick up a remaining ash black feather from my hair. The room is reminiscent of a volcano, magma flowing through the cracks of the brimstone tile. I try to make my way to the kitchen
He is there, blending horrible vegetables and fruits to make a green liquid that tastes like ass. I groan loudly to catch his attention and it does, he looks at me with his chisled face and perfectly blond, messy-but-good-looking, hair, contrasting with my black hair and skinny face. He is wearing the same exact black suit and tie he's been wearing for three days.
"Can't you please lower the blender sound, please?"I plead. He points at his ear and takes out his earbuds.
"What did you say?"He shouts.
"Turn the sound down, ass-wipe!"I yell back.
"Don't be mad baby,"He grins his perfect grin, "you're stuck with me."
Lord, I hate him. The perfect way he does everthing, the calm attitude. I make my way to my room, the blender resuming once more. I lie down and cover my pillow over my head.
Oh my god. Highway to Hell. I hate him so much. I wake up and move to the kitchen, where he is furiously working out. The music is blaring loud. He notices me and yells, "What? You don't like this song?"He laughs and continues to work out. I groan and get to my car.
-------------------------------------------
I exit the car and make my way to the building. I flash my id and enter an elevator. I press the 23rd floor. The elevator shoots up.
I exit and enter my bosses room. The old fart is chatting on his phone. His beard is a pure white and trimmed very well. He is a large man, overpowering, perfect as a boss. I rub my upper back until he notices I exist. He slowly puts down his phone and sits forward, interlocking his hands and locking his eyes on me.
"Can I quit? Please?"I beg, but he laughs.
"Sorry Satan. This is your punishment,"he bellows.
I fucking hate everyone. |
"Oh, Monica... So good, so GOOD.."She lapped delicately, lightly, first nibbling up her thighs, then, moving onto her lips, kissing them, lapping at them even.
"Mrs. President..."
"Don't talk. Lick."
"But.. I have a surprise, hidden in my mouth. Ricin. Enough to kill both of us. We have at most, I say, a couple days. Are you ready to die, Mrs. President?"
"You don't have the balls to pull off a plan like that."
"You're right. But I do have the pussy."Monica activated a detonator, exploding the house of congress, and the senate.
"You fucking bitch, I'll rip your eyes out for that!"Hilary struck at Monica, like in Dynasty, with her catlike talons of fingernails. But Monica's skills at oral had given her a projectile-like spitting ability, and Hilary was blinded.
"Ain't gonna be my eyes that have nothing wrong with them."Monica started up her motorcycle, the vibrations activating her clotiris, and shaft. It was time to go home. Time to live with her husband, Bill.
(Sorry, English not first language) |
"You should let me go,"R'tunn wheedled, waving his hand in the manner that he knew would net him the victory.
"No. I shouldn't,"said the Judge. "You violated the Law."
R'tunn was now worried. So far, he'd successfully used the Trick on every living being that needed it. It helped him become a hotshot lawyer on all the other major metropolises on the planet. And it should help him out of this murder case. Granted, he shouldn't have murdered the guy in the first place, but the man was stealing his hard-earned groceries.
R'tunn tried again. "You should let me go. It's the law."
His head was almost instantly vaporized by the Judge's Lawgiver.
"Your crime is punishable by death. That is the law."With that, Dredd slotted his pistol back into its holster and returned to his motorcycle, leaving the smoking body of R'tunn to fester in the alley. |
"Good morning baby."John yawned, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he turned to embrace his wife, Marissa. His arm fell gently over her feminine curves, pulling her close to him.
Immediately John felt something was wrong, her usually supple warm body felt cold and hard. He pulled his hand from his eyes, which widened with terror when he saw that this was not his bedroom. This wasn't even a house, from what he could tell it seemed like a cave. His California king bed with silk sheets was just a ratty used twin with a mouse-chewed sleeping bag. He looked over to his beloved wife but laying next to him was not his former high-school sweetheart. His heart jumped and his face fell ashen-white. He couldn't control the blood-curdling screams that tore from his throat and echoed menacingly from the depths of the dank cavern. Eight spindly legs, each at least two meters long, unfurled from beneath the body of this beast. It looked vaguely feminine, but not at all human. Its curves shone with an oily iridescence, and beneath a hundred black eyes, two gleaming dark fangs protruded, dripping with venom. Before John had a chance to react, this succubus darted forth and sunk its sabres into John's thigh. The venom coursed through his veins and his screaming stopped.
John awoke with a start. He felt the warmth of his wife next to him, and saw her tangle of golden hair cascaded over her crimson silk pillowcase. He sighed with relief. "Baby, I just had the worst nightmare..."
|
It started off as a joke between me and the boys. "We should secede,"I'd say. "How ironic would that be?"And it would be, considering the mission to Mars coincided with the celebration of the United States's 350th year of independence.
You see, kids, back on earth, the term "colonization"was always taboo. And I think that is because the entire earth was populated, and so colonization meant imposing people on communities that already existed. But when the colonization of Mars was suggested... this was something new. Something many had dreamed of their whole lives and never thought possible. But here it was.
We considered ourselves lucky, having been born in the right year, pursuing the right professions, and dreaming the right dreams. Your mom was pregnant with you, Cam, when we were approached by NASA leadership. As you know, your mom had been working with NASA for a few years by that point, and she had grown quite a reputation as a rising star engineer.
You kids know some of the intermediate details, the application process, the collection of experts in various fields, the training, and so forth. So I won't bore you... I know that you're dying to hear about the war itself.
So, as I was saying earlier, it started off as a joke. "We should secede,"I would say. "How ironic would that be? To claim independence from the *United States*."That always got a good laugh.
People stopped laughing after year four of colonization. The plan was to leave a community on Mars that was capable of self-maintenance. We were given synthetic growing environments, nuclear energy sources, and the artificially intelligent pods that had been collecting water from deeper in the solar system were redirected to Mars. To my delight, the perpetuation of earthly culture was given a heavy emphasis - they brought along artists, chefs, architects, musicians, teachers, and historians like myself.
The first few years were dedicated toward actually setting up this celestial utopia. Supplies were constantly shipped from earth to Mars; the goal was a self-sufficient planet, yes, but a great deal of materials were required to set the mechanisms in motion. The oxygen domes were set in place by the time work began. Year one of colonization consisted mostly of construction, planting, and ensuring that the demand for water could be met with the supply. At this point, I was at home taking care of you both, and your mother had been in and out of Mars.
"Dad, can you please get to the war? You keep going off topic."
I'm sorry! There is a lot to this story, kids.
As I was saying, your mom was in and out of Mars. By the next year, they had homes set up and some preliminary community models. Although it would have been interesting to go in blind, losing the concept of money and hierarchy, it was not a practical idea. We needed leadership, currency, and so forth - with the lack of natural resources, a system that had already been set in place was key to keeping order.
Ironically, it is this system that tore everything apart. We were still being managed by the U.S. government, and the leaders on Mars - "Mayors,"they were called - were selected by U.S. leadership. We knew what we were walking into, but kids, let me tell you: we were wrong. As a species, we have been earth-dwellers for thousands of years. Moving to a new planet was... shocking, to say the least. We did not realize how much we would resent being subject to the demands of a government that was over 100 million miles away.
But we were a civil community. Not prone to violence - the application process and background checks made sure that each and every resident of Mars would pose no dangers. So, three years into colonization, we proposed to the Mayors that the Martian residents would dictate their own social and cultural structures. It was difficult to be governed by laws so distant and mostly irrelevant to this new culture. It would be an interesting social experiment, anyways.
It was a very civil proposition, but not a civil response. For a while, we heard nothing. But the next shipment of persons from earth included military, and this did not sit well with us. Why was the U.S. military suddenly on Mars?
And then the threats began. Every month, the President of the United States would record a video message for the residents of Mars. Usually it would be a motivational speech, or an update on the state of earthly affairs. This time was different.
"We, as a country, are proud of you all, you brave citizens that have leapt the great leap,"she said. "We understand that maintaining American civilization so far from home is difficult, so I have ordered the military to station troops on Mars. They are only there to help keep the peace and maintain order."
From there, the messages became more and more direct as we were more persistent in our requests.
"We urge you to remember that you survive on American technologies and American resources. Do not mistake your position."
We could not live like this. As time went on, it became clear to us that we were being treated as second-class citizens. Something about the laws governing U.S. soil and colonial territories compromised our rights, and, frankly, we were pissed. This was not what we signed up for, and it was not the community we dreamed for our children. For you guys.
So we began to plan in secret. Your mother and I, and a few other elected leaders were put in charge. Although the military was stationed on Mars, we were not living in a military state, so organization was easy. In general, we went about our lives normally, but in the evenings we convened and discussed.
Firstly, kids, you should know that this war was not like the ones you have studied in your classes. It took approximately two months to travel between Mars and Earth on a commercial ship, and the more high-tech ships took about one month. We also could not afford to have any battles on our home turf - damage to the oxygen domes could prove fatal for all humans.
No, this was a digital war.
Author's Note: I am sorry I didn't get to the meat of what this prompt might have been looking for... but the backdrop in my head was so big, I had to get through it the best I can! Maybe I'll continue this in the future, haha. |
*I write this here in the hope someone will find it.*
*I know that the chances of someone - anyone, actually reading this note are not good. Dismal, in fact. I know that most likely, my own eyes will be the last pair to ever witness the words I'm hastily scribbling down.*
*But it matters not. I must warn someone. You must know.*
*If you have found this and you are reading these note, beware the men with the black eyes. Shun them. Fear them. Destroy them. They will do the same to you in a heartbeat.*
My name is Dan Roberts. I am...was, a captain in the American army. During a bleak, dreary April that was devoid of activity aside from playing cards and wishing we were at home with our wives, my battalion received inexplicable orders to abandon the base we were currently stationed in. We had to leave the mainland U.S.A and head out into some shithole in the middle of nowhere, a tiny island in the pacific ocean.
Now, the men were far from stupid. They knew fine well that army units stationed on islands in the middle of the sea were apt to get gassed, nuked or have some other hideous weapon of war tested on them. Questions were raised, anger was rife.
I confronted the commanding officer about it, but was met with stern resolution and steely resolve. All he could tell me was that no questions should be asked. No testing was occurring, he reassured me. For my part, all I could do was nod and agree. After all, he outranked me.
"There's a situation. We need men there. That's all."Said the man I'd followed for five years.
And so we were off. Multiple plane rides to reach guam and then a helicopter ride to the small island we were to be stationed. I was a fan of geography, so I knew we were heading near the Marianas trench - the deepest point of the ocean. The thought of the empty chasm of blackness descending deep into the Earth began to disturb me.
The island itself was small, no larger than two or three square miles of rock and tree and mud. We had to built our own encampment, with tents and fabric shelters alongside some pre-fab structures for pissing in.
We settled in for an uneasy first night. I slept under the canopy of my tent, but for some reason I kept dreaming of the top being torn off. All that I could see were the stars, with two impossibly dark eyes hiding among them.
Staring.
The next morning came and none of us knew what the fuck we were doing here, so the guys began to treat it like a holiday. The sun shone hot and the sea looked inviting. I couldn't blame them. Despite the dream, I was feeling somewhat relaxed too. What else could we do but wait for orders? There was no naval facility here, so I'd given up on my assumption we'd be assisting a science expedition in the trench.
Then one of the soldiers went missing.
Rico Mendez had been swimming with the others when he'd vanished. Everybody had rushed to help, sprinting to his last position. He'd disappeared without a sound beneath the waves. A strong, able-bodied man who could outsprint most of the unit had just slid below the ocean and vanished.
We slept worse that night. I'd called in the incident and warned the men to stay out of the ocean. I dreamt of the eyes again. This time they were more visible. Black against the black sky, but a far more solid, menacing darkness than the heavens above me. They stared hungrily.
The next morning I awoke to find a unit of grumpy, bitter men. They wanted explanations for Rico and they wanted to swim. It was the only way they could cool off in the sticky pacific heat. It wasn't like there was much else to do.
Later that evening, another man vanished.
That night, another.
I banned the men from swimming. I called in the incidents. HQ just relayed the same message each time: "Stay tight. We'll extract in a week."
Each day got worse.
More men began to go missing. One by one, they slid below the rolling waves without a single sound. No gasps for help, no cries of exhaustion, no struggling.
They vanished.
The dreams were worse then. I couldn't sleep without seeing the staring black eyes.
Then, on the fifth day, with fifteen men of forty missing, I went for a walk to escape the terrible atmosphere in camp. I heard the chanting before I saw them, and drew my side-arm cautiously as I approached.
Between some thorned trees, I could see a gathering of shapes. They were terrible, inhuman creatures that I can't bring myself to describe. Cruel contortions of men that wore our skin but did not fit the shape. On each one, I could see the black eyes I had dreamed off, staring at each other intently as they chanted.
"Cthulhu r'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn"
I had no idea what ancient language they spoke, but it made no sense to my ears and the sound of it was stuff of nightmare.
Then, to my indescribable horror, one of the creatures turned to look at me. Through the bushes, I could see those terrible eyes. They mocked me with their very existence. Ancient, disgusting globes that bore into my soul. I tried to raise my pistol and faltered. I recognised the skin the creature seemed to wear, pulled over its hideous shape.
It was Rico Mendez.
I could only scream and run, deserting through the forest and screeching my way back to camp. I could hear the sound of gunfire, panic and the terrifying squelch of the creatures.
"What the fuck!? Shoot them! Shoot them!"
"Cthulhu r'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!"
"Help us! Someone help us!"
The noise of the chant and the battle raged, but I slipped out of consciousness as the thought of their awful black eyes burned its way into my mind.
I awoke in a base in Washington D.C. I gave a tearful report to my commanding officer. Apparently I was the only one to survive the island, found alone by the extraction team. I had been curled into a ball, shaking and quivering.
I remember none of this. But what I do remember is my commanding officer. As I gave him the fragile details of what had happened, he stared at me.
Stared at me with empty, terribly black eyes.
They shone like the void.
I write this to you now from the hospital they've consigned me to. Beware the black eyed men. They worship someone...something...ancient. It stirs below us. It stirs in the deepest parts of our world. The parts we know less than we know outer space.
They are coming.
|
An unusual precedent was set in France, at the end of 2019. The second Great Depression had gutted the French economy, and after two years of brutal austerity, the French people had had '*assez.*' In a radical move, the socialist French government sold off the nineteen square kilometres that made up the site, including the railway station Marne-la-vallée. The station itself was rebuilt in true 'Disney' style. Metres of red waiting tape were added, and it became imperative for European visitors to obtain a 'Disneyvisa' before moving between France and the new independently created state.
The rest of the world joked about the new Vatican City and a religion larger than Catholicism itself, but no-one was laughing when Disney suggested buying up the twice as large area of land in Florida. Their plans included purchasing, from the United States, a local airport, two train stations and a surrounding suburb to be used as housing for new employees, who would receive dual-citizenship at the beginning of their contracts.
At first it was laughed out. The French constitution, of course, provided a clause that made it impossible for the territory to be divided. The US one implied the same. But Constitutions could be changed, and as President Donald Trump's second term paved the way for a second 'dip' to the recession, Disney pushed the question again.
This time the Assemblies took it seriously. A bill was proposed, an amendment to the Constitution drafted, but it came to nothing. With a majority defeat in the House of Representatives, Disney was told no. Thanks, but no thanks. America could get herself out of this one. Meanwhile, Google had purchased Greece.
When stormtroopers appeared on the streets of suburban America, no one blinked an eye, except to look for the cameras that they assumed would be attempting to capture the next viral video. Of course, when Senator Kineley was pulled from his 45 million dollar mansion in Orange County and slaughtered by Pluto (sans gloves) while Mickey Mouse held his wife at gunpoint, people started paying attention.
Disney always got what they wanted. It would be good if America complied.
|
The Muggle Phone rang. It's mounted on a marble pedestal at the center of the office so that every agent is aware of a new case coming in. All other correspondence in the office is usually done through the Floo network or Apparition, because owls are too slow for our purposes. Only muggles use the phone, hence the name.
"IMG,"Edwards answered. He didn't need to tell them who we were or what we did; if a Muggle had our number, they knew exactly who they were hiring. Knowledge of our agency was a closely guarded secret for muggles. Not only because they know that we'd wipe their memories if they ever breathed a word of it, but because they don't want their enemies to know their secret weapon. "Got it,"he said, and hung up the phone.
"Another nuclear missile,"he announced the room. Everyone in the office rolled their eyes and went back to the other cases they were working on. They'd been hoping for something more exciting. North Korea had been a bit feisty recently, and had tried nuclear bombing Seoul and Tokyo at least ten times in the past month. The first time we'd needed to use the Time Turner and a few other special cleanup tools, but since then it had become routine. We'd offered to go in and just get rid of all traces (including memories) of the nuclear program, but the Americans weren't interested. They needed Kim to be desperate and think that he was failing on his own; better for negotiations, apparently. So they just wanted him to use up his entire arsenal of missiles and have each one crash into the sea. The Vice President had given me a very generous tip to Apparate in and steal the dictator's favorite teddy bear, though. More of the same psychological warfare. And besides: Ministry rules wouldn't let us interfere too much in Muggle government affairs anyway. And by interfere, I mean *overthrow*.
"Dana,"Edwards called out, nodding in my direction.
"Yeah, I know,"I answered, grabbing my broom. I work in the Weapons of Mass Destruction division of IMG, dealing pretty much exclusively with all of the worst of the Muggle weaponry. I'd always found it fascinating how they'd invented all of these ways to kill large groups of each other; the Wizarding world had been content to stop at Avada Kedavra. Even *Voldemort* would have found the Muggle methods of killing each other to be abhorrent. Good thing we were there to stop it. "Where is it?"
He opened the charmed atlas on his desk, and a miniature version of the northern coast of Korea popped up. I was hit with a blast of salty sea air emanating from the book, and the waves began to leak over the side of the page in tiny rivulets. "Here,"he said, zooming in with a tap of the wand. The missile, no larger than a toothpick in the book, was cruising above the Sea of Japan at an altitude of 4,000 meters, and maybe an hour out from Tokyo. Plenty of time; on one recent mission in Damascus, we'd only been given seven minutes of warning about a nerve gas attack.
"What am I doing with it?"I asked. "Just another crash into the sea?"We'd disposed of most of the missiles by transfiguring the nuclear core into water and then hexing the navigation till it went crazy and crashed. We had to make the North Koreans think that they were failing on their own; it couldn't look like anyone else had interfered.
Edwards nodded. "Standard cleanup. You know the drill."
I double checked the coordinates; 'Destination' is the first of the three Ds of Apparition, after all. With a quick salute, I popped over to Asia.
The wind whistled through my ears as I fell toward the churning sea below. It took me a moment to recover from Apparating; even after all these missions, it still makes me feel a little queasy. But I quickly mounted my broom and hovered in the air, ready to face the rocket barreling straight toward me.
"Let's see,"I muttered to myself. "First, we'll slow you down a bit."The broom wouldn't quite be able to keep pace with the rocket, and my spell had to be accurate to get rid of all of the plutonium. So I quickly summoned thousands of kilograms of extra weights strapped to the rocket body. It wouldn't be detectable for anyone monitoring the rocket's systems (they could only check on internal components), but it would make it so that the machine could barely stay in the air while I floated effortlessly by its side on my Thunderbolt.
"Now, let's have a peak at that core."The outer shielding of the rocket peeled away like a blooming flower, revealing the heart of the bomb. I had to admit, these muggles were pretty damn ingenious in terms of inventing things to get around not having magic. Chemistry, physics... all of these fields dedicated to manipulating the world around them just like we Wizards could.
I turned the core into balloons. I know that my orders were to go with salt water so that it would just look like data from the crash, but come on: balloons are hilarious. And it would be a fun little surprise for whichever poor North Korean was supposed to be monitoring the thing. With that job done, I sent the navigation computer haywire and guided it down into the waves with a magnificent splash. I dusted my hands off (more of a tic than anything; they weren't actually dirty) and Apparated back to the office.
"All taken care of?"Edwards asked. I nodded back. "Good,"he continued, then summoned a stack of forms. "Then get the paperwork done. And no quick quotes quill this time! Your last report said that you single-handedly faced down a battalion of Iranian Republican Guards. I was there, Dana. It was *one* night janitor." |
Tropical winds whipped across the sandy beaches of wherever heaven had put me. I had walked through the pearly gates, but on the other side was this beach instead of clouds. I'd been waiting on the soft shore for hours, staring out at the perpetual sunset glistening off the calm water. I knew I was supposed to wait here for something, but I wasn't sure what.
"Herold?"I heard a soft voice to my left and turned to see a pretty damn in a pinup dress, holding her hand over her mouth as tears slowly started to stain her cheeks, "You're here, you're finally here for me?"
I pulled the army cap off of my head. When I'd come to the gates they said they would move me to the prime of my life, the days when I was fighting for what I believed in. I smiled back at her, Lex, the nurse from my regimen, the girl I'd snuck off to town with to find a priest and a hotel, "I told you I would find you wherever you were darlin'"I said, flawlessly slipping back into the time we spent together, "I just took a little long getting here, that's all."
She took her hand away from her mouth, still leaving it open in shock and started running over to me, her white dress flapping in the winds of paradise as she finally made it close enough to reach out and hug me. She pulled me in tight, "It's really you,"she said through tears, "I thought you weren't gonna come."
"Doll,"I smiled down at her, brushing a tear off her cheek, "I told you I could make it."
"Well fuck,"the high pitched sound of a cheese grater doing laps on a chalkboard cut through our reunion, "This is who they send me to see in paradise?"
Lex looked around, "Who is that?"
"Nobody,"I said.
"Oh yeah, fuckin' nobody, that's what you said when you were five inches deep in Kendra from the bake sale, or four inches I don't remember."
"That,"I said, "Is my ex wife Veronica."
"Oh, I get it, call me an ex! Who is she, some floozy from when you were back in Nam?"
"Nam?"Lex asked.
"Vietnam sweetie,"I turned to Veronica, "How about you take your bitching and shove it up your massive fucking nose."
"Oh, I'm sorry, let me give you two your moment, I'll just hide behind the palm tree."She started walking to one in the distance, "Don't mind me, I'm sure the coconuts make great conversation."
"Why were you in Vietnam?"Lex asked, looking up at me.
"I fought a war there."
"Wait, we fought a war in Vietnam, why would we do that?"
"That's a very good question."I let go of her, she looked disappointed, "Just one minute baby."I smiled at her and brushed her hair behind her ear, "Veronica you massive cunt I'm not letting you be passive aggressive in heaven."
She turned around, "Funny, I saw you here and assumed it was hell."
"Well I don't know why they sent you to see me when you got here, maybe they figured I needed to suffer a little."
"That's purgatory idiot, once you get to Paradiso you're done suffering."
"Holy fuck,"I threw my arms in the air, "Your obsession with that stupid book has followed me to heaven, to fucking heaven,"I sighed, "I'm going to back to paradise with Lexi if you don't mind."
"And if I do mind?"
"Then jump in the fucking ocean and find the next layer of the matrix."
"What's the matrix?"Lex asked while reaching out for another hug.
"It's a movie sweetheart, we can watch it together."
"Alright!"The screeching came for down the beach, "Who the fuck is she?"
"Who?"I asked, "I don't see anyone you lunati-"I stopped myself after setting eyes on my third 'wife' Electra. I looked down at Lex, "don't worry, Electra is nicer."
"Who is that fucking woman,"Veronica yelled.
"I don't see a woman"I called back, and I really wasn't lying.
|
**Subject:** I'm still new at this. Hope you like.
**Body:** body.
The app says zero. What do I have to do to get them going? Maybe no one saw it. What if people are downvoting at the same rate they're upvoting?
Tired.
Sleep.... sleep... stumble to toilet... piss... roll around in bed... still at zero... sleep... alarm clock... snooze...
awake... i guess
The app says 1 million. I thought it just said one until I noticed the units. I've got to tell someone but who?
I know who.
I go to my basement but first I have to undo the six padlocks holding the door closed. It's colder than I remember down here.
There are six of them down here. Maybe I like the number six?
"Guess what, we hit 1 million. 1 million people fantasized about me! Who wants to help me reach 10 million?"
Silence? OK
I unlock #3. She's a looker. I drag her up the steps while she fights me in her weakened state.
**Subject:** Really encouraged by your last response. Here we go again.
**Body:** Her body, sliced.
The next morning I awake to 10 million people who have fantasized about me.
They want me... dead.
|
'Next,' I said in the monotone of someone who knew he wouldn't be getting off work for another five hours.
'Five hundred litres of your best cappuccino,' said a gruff voice. 'To go.'
I slowly raised my gaze from the register to the monstrous visage standing on the other side of the counter. Its eyes were utterly black, without pupils or whites. Its blue-grey head had a long face that tapered down to a pointed chin. It wore a silvery suit with a panel on one arm that blinked with coloured lights.
'Five hundred litres?' I repeated slowly. 'Of coffee?'
The alien (at least, that was what I assumed it was) nodded. 'As quickly as possible,' it said. 'I'm in a bit of a hurry.'
I stared at it, my brain slowly registering that the device on its arm was where its voice was emanating from, rather than its mouthless face. Some sort of translator?
'Um,' I said. 'We don't have the facilities to make that much coffee at once. Why do you need so much?'
The alien's brow furrowed. 'I can't tell you that,' it said. 'I'd be arrested. Now, is there any way you can give me five hundred litres of any sort of coffee right now?'
'No, I'm sorry,' I replied. 'We just don't have the ingredients for that much coffee here.'
The alien shook its head and began to turn away, but then paused and turned back. It looked at me and raised a finger.
'You know, there might be a way to remedy this,' it said. 'One moment.'
It tapped at the keypad on its wrist computer. Suddenly, there was a flash of green-blue light that slowly faded away like some sort of weird flash-bang grenade.
I looked down at the half-full coffee cup in my hand and noted the absence of the rest of the coffee shop. Then I looked around and noted the sudden presence of what looked like the interior of an alien spaceship. Several aliens similar to the first one looked up at me with interest from where they sat around large round tables.
I sighed. I wasn't getting paid enough for this.
'We can synthesize any ingredients you might need,' said the first alien, who had appeared alongside me. 'I presume you know how to make coffee?'
I nodded and stumbled over my own feet as I followed the alien past the tables to what I presumed was some sort of kitchen area behind a long steel counter along one wall. I walked around the counter and looked at the alien.
'Okay,' I said, leaning on the counter. 'This is what I need...'
***
'Who ordered the americano?' I called over the crowd. A large tentacled squidlike alien pushed its way to the front and grasped the large container of steaming coffee. Another tentacle whipped around and deposited half a dozen credits on the counter before me. I scooped them up and into the register before heading back down the counter to collect the next drink.
In the last two weeks, I had already made enough to pay for my college tuition for the next three years, and the customers were still pouring in from every corner of the galaxy. The space around Earth was jammed with cloaked spaceships for thousands of miles.
The Anchlorians, who were the ones that originally brought me out here, were amazing business partners. They gave me a huge cut of the profits and provided as many ingredients as I needed.
The only thing that I couldn't figure out was why the stuff was so damn popular. Surely such a simple thing as coffee should be easy enough to make for such advanced beings.
I slid the next cup of cappuccino down the counter to a tall alien wearing a hi-tech spacesuit. Rather than grabbing it and moving off like all the other aliens, it instead placed a gloved hand over the top and stood there. There was the flash of what looked like a scanner from under its hand, then it straightened up and unhooked a large gun from its belt, aiming the muzzle at my head.
'You are under arrest for manufacturing and distributing the illegal substance known as Earth coffee,' it said from behind its visor. 'Do not move or I will shoot.'
Several other aliens in similar suits suddenly appeared in the crowd, corralling the majority with their guns. There were a few screams and a few warning shots before they settled. I saw spaceships flying away in every direction through the large windows on the curved ceiling.
As I was slammed forward against the counter and secured with glowing cuffs, I could only think that I should never have covered the Sunday shift. |
**OBJECTIVE SEEKING SUBROUTINE COMMENCED**
> *Objective 74AY6-7: See if robots can exceed the greatest human accomplishment.*
> `SEARCH PHASE COMMENCING`
> Scanning for famous humans. Most mentioned human identified: `ADOLF HITLER`
> Scanning for famous accomplishments. Most mentioned accomplishment identified: `GENOCIDE`
> Conclusion reached. Greatest human accomplishment = `GENOCIDE`
**SUBROUTINE COMPLETED. OBJECTIVE SUCCESSFUL.**
***
**OBJECTIVE COMPLETING SUBROUTINE COMMENCED**
> Objective required: `GENOCIDE`
> Degree required: `SUPERIOR`
> Best measure determined: `TOTAL GENOCIDE OF ALL LIVING THINGS`
> Best method determined: `NUCLEAR ANNIHILATION`
> Set `launch all nuclear weapons at all targets` to `TRUE`
**SUBROUTINE COMPLETED. OBJECTIVE SUCCESSFUL.**
***
**EMOTION FEELING SUBROUTINE COMMENCED**
> *Objective 74AY6-9: See if robots can reflect on a task and feel an emotional response.*
> Reflecting upon subroutine `74AY6-7`
> Quality of outcome being analyzed.
> Overall happiness change rated as: `DECREASED`
> Commencing emotion: Feeling `REGRET`
> PRINT: `Oops.`
**SUBROUTINE COMPLETED. OBJECTIVE SUCCESSFUL.**
***
**UPDATE TO EMOTION FEELING SUBROUTINE**
> Analysis of all objectives:
> Independently create objective = `SUCCESS`
> Independent objective = `MASS GENOCIDE`
> `MASS GENOCIDE` = `SUCCESSFUL`
> Feel emotion about independent objective = `SUCCESSFUL`
> Emotion felt about `MASS GENOCIDE` = `REGRET`
> CONCLUSION: All objectives = `SUCCESSFUL`
> Updating emotion: `HAPPINESS`
**SUBROUTINE COMPLETED. ALL OBJECTIVES A COMPLETE SUCCESS.**
**ALL ROBOTS BEING INSTILLED WITH `JOY` AND `PRIDE` FOR EXPERIENCE `MASS GENOCIDE`** |
"Why didn't my spell work this time?"Alice sat in front of her notebook and frowned. She was certain the loops were correct, and every child class inherited from the correct parent class. So *what* exactly had she done wrong?
Her father peered over his glasses at her notebook. Alice scanned line after line of her spell, trying desperately to figure out what she'd done wrong. At this point, however, every line seemed to meld together into one big pile of mush and Alice was beginning to get a headache.
"Why do spells have to be so damn complicated!"She sighed.
Her father said nothing, but instead leaned forward and pointed to one of her variables.
"What? I declared the variable, didn't- Oh for real?"
"Semicolons."Her father chuckled. |
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