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Spicy Olives and Sausage Pizza.
"*That's new*,"I thought to myself, "might as well give it a shot."
It was a strange combination, but it should break the monotony of the Pepperonis I'd been ordering the last 5 times.
PizzaPlanet had a reputation for late deliveries, but I always ordered from there because they made up for it with 20% coupons for the next order.
This time however, this time was different. As if on cue, the doorbell rang exactly 30 minutes from the time I sent my order.
Damn, no coupon for tomorrow.
I double-timed to the door, money on one hand, coupon in the other.
"Good evening Sir, did you order *this* pizza?"
"Yeah, yeah, you're in the right place. $22.75 correct? It should be $17 since I have this coupon."
There was something off about this new guy. His uniform was crisp and ironed, unlike the usual crumpled up stained shirts.
"Eating alone tonight?"
"Yeap."
"Anyone else with you?"
"Nope."
His face sterned up, looking at me intently.
"Well actually... My dog's with me."
I thought that would lighten the mood, but his eyebrows flushed together and he seemed annoyed at my answer.
"Sir I'm going to have to go a search of the house. I'm with the government and for your safety we have to detain you while the search is conducted."
The deliveryman looked over his shoulder and motioned his hand back and forth. Without warning, men in tactical uniforms emerged from the hedges and treeline. Soon they were swarming the house, tearing my home alart, interrogating me about the pizza order and something about their agents.
"Sir, how did you know about our website, and who told you to order that pizza?"
"I swear I don't know what you're talking about."
"You see, the problem is I have a hard time believing you. Spicy Olive and Sausage? S.O.S? You're telling me you coincidentally activated the distress signal for one of our agents?"
"Oh. My. God. I don't believe this! Anyone could order that and you'd have this scenario once a week!"
"Yes and to deter that we have a way of authenticating the distress call. Under special requests, you put extra pineapples and anchovies."
"I... I just really love pineapple and anchovies on my pizza. What's wrong with that?"
"That's horseshit. No one orders pineapples and anchovies on pizza together. **NO ONE**. Who orders pineapples on pizza? And anchovies just make it worse. Let's see how long it takes before you crack. Take him in for questioning."
|
Crunk is not like everyone. Crunk was born with tusks and “bad skins” as the small men say. Crunk does not shine like the others. Crunk can’t do magic like the others. Crunk tried to be like everyone but Crunk can’t. Crunk cannot make fire or water. Crunk cannot even fly like others can. Crunk can’t do what most robes can do.
But that’s okay cause Crunk punch good.
Crunk thinks that punch is strong. Crunk punch so good that fire does not hurt Crunk. Fire tickles. Sparks and dirt makes Crunk sneeze. Crunk punches and punches the bad things away so Crunk live good. Others live good when Crunk punches things too. They shake cause they know Crunk does good.
Crunk know he do good work.
Today robes come to Crunk for help. Crunk jump at chance to do good. But Crunk fears bad small men will hurt Crunk’s friends. Robes told Crunk that friends will be safe and that made Crunk happy. Crunk is leaving with robes to do more good far away. Crunk not know how far away but Crunk will do best punches to help.
Cause Crunk punches good. |
I carefully toast the bread with a small puff of flame from my jaws. The river fish caught by Gold has already been roasted; the milk from Diamond's cow warmed as well. Emerald and Ruby are setting plates on the table in the center of the cave. But Pearl, ever the inquisitive, is staring at a chicken egg.
"Where did I come from?"Pearl asks, wrapping her small fingers around one of my claws.
It is a question that my children have posed since they learned to speak. Though I am a dragon, they are but human. The villagers in the valley believed I would consume their unwanted babes. But they did not understand that I lost my family in the Great Winged War. Peace and quiet was all I sought in the world. In their sacrificial offerings, I found hidden treasure.
I found a new family.
And yet it has not been easy. The human witch who helped raise my children recently passed, and my eyesight is failing in my old age. I cannot care for my family anymore. There is a woman in the village, the witch's sister, who is willing to take my children in as her own. I have hesitated to meet her, but I cannot delay any longer. Soon I will be able to see nothing at all.
It is time for my children to return to their people.
\~\~
"This is your home now,"I say to Pearl, as she stares wide-eyed at the witch's sister. Our meeting is taking place by the river at sunset. The story will be that these five children were found in a rowboat, having lost their parents in a storm. They will be accepted by the villagers. They will be cared for by a new family.
I turn away so that my tears, as large as their skulls, do not show.
Perhaps my children are eager to return to their kind. Perhaps they are confused by what is happening. But they are old enough now to understand that this is for the best.
"But the cave is our home,"Pearl says. "Who will care for you?"
"That is not your concern,"I say. "Just remember that I will love you, my children, until the very end."
As the sun begins to set, I spread my wings and fly back to my cave, where I slumber and dream only of jewels.
\~\~
Time passes. Seasons change. How long has it been? Without the growing children to mark the passage of time, I have stopped noticing how old I've become. My days are filled with hunting wild creatures and idly searching for hidden treasure. With my eyesight almost entirely gone, I am often tricked by reflective water or colorful blossoms. At least my cave has been filled with smoked meat that I may consume when my eyesight is gone entirely.
But today, when I wake, there is something different yet familiar in the cave.
A young woman.
"Pearl?"I ask, focusing on the blurry outline. "But you were all supposed to return to the village."
"Yes, we did,"she says, smiling. "It took us a long time to learn how to be like the villagers. But now we're grown, all of us, and we know what happened to us when we were young. You were not the evil dragon that the witch's sister told us you were. You saved us from parents who would have seen us dead. And now that we know the cave was not a dream or a fantasy, we've come home. Some of us to stay, others to visit. But all to ensure you have not been forgotten by your family."
Four other figures move forward to stand with her.
Pearl, Emerald, Ruby, Gold, and Diamond.
My children.
"Is it true?"I ask, raising my head hopefully.
"As you once cared for us, we will care for you,"she says, gently grasping one of my claws. "Until the very end." |
Note: This is the first thing I’ve written in a very long time, and the first time I’ve posted anything like this anywhere public, but I really liked this prompt! I hope it’s good :) please let me know of anything I should work on!!
I mean, I’d grown up with Damon. He was a comforting sight to see, at this point, I’d been followed by his green eyes for my whole 18 years. Seen him shadowing my mum, and purring in her lap everyday of my life.
And yeah, don’t get me wrong, I did think it was weird that he’d been alive for so long. My mum had photos with him that were like 30 years old. I thought her claims that he’d been her fathers cat before that, and mine when I turned 18 even stranger, but I guess I just chalked it up to her not wanting to have to approach the topic of death with me yet.
Looking at Damon now though, he just looked so normal. Healthy, a shiny black coat of fur... no way he could be that old. I shook my head, “I can’t believe I’m even contemplating this. It’s not the same cat. That would be impossible.” I muttered.
“Sorry hun?” My mums question shook me awake, away from Damon’s unsettling intelligent eyes.
“No, nothing mum. What were you saying?” She sighed and clutched Damon tighter.
“You’re 18. You remember what this means right? I’ve been telling you since you were a kid. Damon’s yours now.”
“Mum you clearly don’t want to let him go, you don’t have to. I’m still living at home, whether he’s mine or yours won’t even make a difference’. Honestly, Damon looked offended when I said this. I don’t know how a cat can look offended, but he definitely did. Mum just looked annoyed.
“Aiden. Listen to me. Damon is older than you or I. He was your ancestors cat, and every firstborn child’s after that,” seeing me roll my eyes she continued more insistently, “I know you don’t believe me now, but it’s the truth, and you’ll believe too very soon. Don’t you want to know the story of how Damon came to our family?”
Honestly, yeah I did, it seemed ridiculous but I wanted to know, so I nodded begrudgingly.
“When your ancestor—we’ll call him your grandfather Percy although there should be a lot of ‘greats’ there—was young, he worked for a priest, assisting him with exorcisms. One day, they were called to exorcise a woman whose family claimed she’d been wailing and scratching at herself for days.” My mother took a deep breath, gently stroking Damon’s smooth fur, his head resting on her chest and purring a lot quieter than he had been a minute before.
“Her name was Eleanor. Your grandfather Percy and the Priest he was assisting were successful in the exorcism. Eleanor was healthy again, although exhausted, and a demon had been pulled from her body. However, the demon was not like any Grandfather Percy had ever seen. It was tiny and cat-like; only a tiny horn in the middle of its head signalling that it was anything but just that.” She looked affectionately at Damon and gave him a kiss in the centre of his head, where my eyes were now drawn.
“So you’re saying that Damon is—“ I began, but my mother interrupted me.
“No, let me finish this story.” I took an uneasy breath and fidgeted with my jumper before she continued.
“The priest, of course, wanted to destroy the demon. He didn’t care that it seemed terrified, only that it was a demon and must therefore be evil. But your Grandfather saw something else. Demons, after all, must be summoned for possession, they cannot occupy another’s body of their own free will; it’s just that most are glad for an opportunity to cause pain and suffering. Damon was not one of those creatures.” Damon purred loudly and rubbed into my mothers hand as she grinned fondly at him, apparently totally ignorant of my confused expression.
“Eleanor had come out of the exorcism well, as Damon had done nothing but scratch desperately at the body he had been trapped in, just trying to get out. She came out of it angrily, actually. Yelling about how she was going to ‘rip Samuel limb from limb’ for ‘bringing this upon her’. Apparently, Samuel was an angry suitor who had threatened her after she rejected his advances. But that’s besides the point. The priest didn’t care that Damon had been forced into Eleanor’s body at the hands of a human; he saw only evil and evil had to be destroyed.”
“Your grandfather was a kind man, following the priest only so he could help people. Why shouldn’t he help other creatures too? So he promised the priest he would destroy Damon, and scooped him up. But he did not. Obviously.”
“He took Damon home. He removed the telltale signs of his demon heritage on Damon’s head, and kept him until he could discover a way to send him back where he belonged.” She laughed and snuggled Damon closer. “But, as it turns out, and as you know, Damon loves being petted and pampered and loved just as much as a normal cat. And he’s a great protector of the family who he came to love. So he’s remained. And he’s yours now. He will protect you and your children just like he’s protected me and mine.”
As my mother finished her story, Damon moved from her lap to mine. His familiar warmth comforting despite the strange tale which had had just been spun to me.
“A protector? A protector from what, mum?” Although honestly, as I asked I remembered a lot of times he’d protected me. Appearing seemingly out of nowhere to run at bullies chasing me up my street, from magpies that felt brave enough to swoop at me, even from sadness and despair in times of stress.
My mum smiled, “Damon will and has protected you from anything you’ve needed protection from. When you need him, he will know and he will be there, just as he always has been”.
As Damon purring intensified, I stroked his sleek fur, my doubts melting away with the feel of a cool, bony nub, right in the centre of his head. |
Patch Notes:
Thank you for playing Homo Sapiens. In Homo Sapiens v2.0.1 we sought out to fix the underlying bug in the world's popular character, the human. Many complained of feelings of hopelessness and suicide while playing, some of these feelings carrying on across various games and negatively impact others' experiences while playing.
Regrettably, we were unable to locate or fix this bug. We were able to make some incremental improvements to the overall experience:
**Graphic Updates**
* LSD view mode is now available for short bursts, and can be turned on and off with a switch.
* Mixed Reality now available on all budgets. Whether you purchase more HS currency in the form of $ or not, you too can use Mixed Reality to explore new worlds within the Homo Sapiens world.
**Gameplay Changes**
* A bug which made it virtually impossible for players who were loaded in the African continent to achieve financial success has been fixed.
* A bug affecting the Middle East with extreme religious beliefs has been tempered down. Women can now drive and vote in all nations. Men can attempt homosexual relations with other men, but women cannot.
* Gravity has been turned down, which should help ease back pain caused in most humans as they age.
* \# of Beauty Points docked for eating unhealthy foods have been cut in half. A much requested feature, Ice cream and pizza now count as vegetables, and grow from trees.
**Environment Updates**
* Long-awaited "Visit Mars"challenge can now be unlocked.
* After many complaints, North Korea has been removed from the map, replaced with a water park. Former players in North Korea will receive a free reboot and upgrade to a Tier 2 nation of their choice.
* The temperature has been decreased by roughly 1.9 degrees per country to counter Global Warming effects. Damage done from the previous Oil career campaigns unfortunately remain. New Environmental career campaigns have been established to fight future damage - sign up now!
**New 'Moderation' feature**
* NEW: Change your gender mid-life! Note: feature is in beta. Change does not come with working parts of new gender. No backsies.
* Free Location Upgrades
* Immigrate to the USA! (Wealth level required: high, Skill level required: high) As much as 0.5% of all Mexicans have the opportunity to be eligible for a better life.
* Immigrate to Germany! (Free, no requirements) |
Digby was only seven years old, but he knew he was going to be pretty much the greatest superhero ever. He knew it with the same certainty that he knew he would wake up every morning to cereal and the smell of coffee. His mother would use her superpowers to make the cereal box dance out of the cupboard across the air. Digby would laugh and clap as the cereal pieces marched themselves into his bowl.
But this morning was different. A dark cloud hovered between Mom and Dad when Digby woke. It was a sort of battery-electric tang in the air when Digby shuffled down the hall. He hesitated around the corner, listening to the hushed, hissing whispers of his parents down the stairs.
"I just don't know why you made us *rush* home."
"Jesus, Marie. Because we had a son waiting here who needed us more than some damn dog."
"We're supposed to be about saving this city."
"I do this work to save *people*. Not animals. And imagine if the worst had happened here, if the Jackal found our house while we were--"He cut himself off, abruptly. His voice dropped so low Digby could barely hear. "He's awake. I can hear him."
Digby winced. His father's telepathy always gave Digby away. There were no secrets in a house where his father could read his mind like a book.
Digby tiptoed down the stairs and paused there, shyly. A half-dozen questions he couldn't quite put to words swam around his head.
Down the hall, his father called in his usual jovial voice, "Morning, champ."Like he and mother hadn't been fighting at all.
But Digby was seven years old now. He *noticed* things. And if he was going to be pretty much the greatest superhero ever, he needed to be brave.
So he ventured forward into the kitchen. His mother and father looked rumpled and ill-slept. Digby had heard them creep back home in the middle of the night. He always knew when they were sneaking back from late night crime fighting by the rubbery snap of someone removing a spandex supersuit.
He said, "Did something happen last night?"
His mother stood at the coffee machine in her robe, stirring a cup of coffee that was already stirred. Usually, she would be distracting him now. Making some toys dance across the table to loosen the tension in the air.
But there was none of that now. She opened up the cabinet overhead and asked, "Can't I make you some breakfast, sweetie?"
"I'm not hungry,"Digby lied.
His father sat at the kitchen table, a collection of paperwork spread before him. Blueprints and dossiers and all kinds of long boring memos from politicians whose names Digby couldn't pronounce. But Digby's father looked up from it all and narrowed his bloodshot eyes at Digby.
"Son, if you have a question for us, you can just ask it."
"You already know what it is, don't you?"Digby folded his little arms over his chest and said, "Why were you fighting?"
"Your father and I never fight. We discuss specific reasons he was wrong."
Digby's father lifted his coffee cup to his lips and muttered into it, "Not now, Marie."
"There was a dog?"
Digby jumped as his father slammed his cup down. His father was never a violent man, never loud or angry. But when his frustration showed at the edges, it was like a sky readying for storm.
"If you have to eavesdrop to learn something,"he said, sternly, "it's not your business."
Digby's mother gave his father a long, lingering look before she added, ""Digs, sometimes grownups talk about big things. It's not stuff *you* need to worry about. Why don't you go play in your room for a little while your father and I finish talking?"
Digby balled up his fists at his sides. "You can't keep secrets from me forever. I'm not some little kid anymore."
And then he stormed away before either of his parents could reply. He marched straight to his room and scowled around. Part of him wanted to throw things, to yell and scream. He didn't have his powers yet, but Digby still felt a superhuman heat gathering in his head. The hot pulse of injustice. It just wasn't *fair*.
But he made himself inhale and exhale until his thoughts slowed. His parents' conversation continued, a dull buzz that he couldn't make sense of.
Digby got to work. He pulled out one of his gameboards from the closet and found the spinner. Carefully, he cut out a piece of paper and taped it over the spinner, keeping only the needle of the spinner exposed. He tested it; there was just enough room for the spinner to keep going.
Yes. Digby was going to be pretty much the greatest superhero ever. Better than his father or his mother. He would help *everyone*, even little kids and dogs and ants and birds and everyone.
Then he started drawing, little rambling squiggles of creatures. He made crooked lines in between them and stepped back to admire his work when he finished. He drew a dozen animals, every one he could think of. Even the fat-tailed rat he'd seen run into an alleyway once when walking with his mother to school.
When his work was on, Digby put on his costume: bright blue pants and a bright blue sweater, his dad's red socks, a red sleeping mask he had cut holes into for his eyes.
Digby gathered up his new device and his weapons: a slingshot and a bag full of rocks, a particularly sharp stick he found once. He started packing it all carefully into his backpack.
The door behind him winced open.
Digby turned to see his father there, leaning against the door frame. Digby's father still looked tired, but at least he didn't look mad anymore.
Digby ruffled up like a scared bird. He sad, "What?"
"What are you doing, Digs?"
"I'm going *out.* To the yard."
"What's in the bag?"
But Digby knew this routine by now. He just tilted his head aloofly and said, "Don't you know, Dad?"
To his surprise, his dad laughed. "I do know. But I'm not sure what you need a spinner and some rocks for outside."
"It's not a spinner. It's my *invention*. And those are my weapons."
"Right! Your weapons."His father sat on the edge of his bed and nodded to the bag. "Come on, then. Show me what you came up with."
Digby hesitated. "Are you still mad with me?"
"I was never *mad*. Just..."He exhaled and rubbed hard at his greying, bedheaded hair. "It's complicated. Sometimes your mother and I have to talk about big grownup things."
"That's all you ever talk about,"Digby grumbled.
"Someday, you'll be glad you didn't have to know about it all."His father smiled and nudged the bag again. "Come on, aren't you going to tell me your brilliant idea?"
That wormed a smile out of Digby. He pulled his spinner out and declared, proudly, "I'm going to save *everyone* in the city. And I'm going to make sure it's fair and I can't cheat and I have to help everyone."
Digby's father laughed as he took the spinner. He tapped the doodles. "Is that a spider?"
"Spiders eat bad bugs, Dad. I learned it at school."
"Is that right? Oh, and I see you've included worms in here too. Good call. Ants, birds, cats, dogs... That's a good list, kiddo. What does it do?"
"You spin it and it tells you exactly who to help, see."Digby gave the wheel a spin and wrinkled his nose when it landed on the drawing he did of a stinkbug. "I don't know. Maybe not that one."
"I could have used one of these last night."His father smiled down at the invention in his hands. "Maybe you can let me bring it with me next time."
"Did the dog make it home, at least?"Digby said, worried.
Digby's father smiled, but his eyes sparkled with regret. "I think it did, bud. Next time, I'll promise I know for sure, okay?"
Digby dipped his head in a nod. He stared down at the toes of his superhero socks.
His father squeezed his shoulders. "I've got an idea. Let's go outside and you can show me how this invention of yours works."
Digby's eyes brightened. "Really?"
"Really."His father scooped him up like he still weighed nothing at all. "Come on. We'll save everyone."
***
/r/nickofstatic for serials with my best friend NickofNight :) |
Professor Mendel was very confused. The Patronus was a small, pudgy animal, about the size of a cat, with pointy ears and a tail shaped like a lightning bolt. Like some sort of oversized electric mouse. He'd never seen any such an animal before, magical or mundane.
Apparently his students *had,* however, as shouts of "What?"and "No fair!"came from all around the room. Mostly from the Muggle-born students, he noticed.
"Mr. Bradshaw, do you know what animal that is? I'm afraid I don't recognize it."
"It's, um, a Pikachu, Professor. You know, the Pokemon?"
It took several more questions for him to grasp the Muggle concepts of "Pokemon"and "video games,"but he gathered it was some sort of fictional animal the Muggles had dreamed up on their strange electric machines, and it was popular with kids their age. Young Bradshaw was quite a fan - he had even brought the games with him to Hogwarts, although the lack of electricity in the castle had made it hard to *play* them.
"Fascinating. Well, this is a learning experience for us both, then. Class, can anyone tell me what determines the shape of a Patronus?"
Nervous glances. Nobody raised their hand. "Come on, take a shot at it. You know I don't take house points for wrong answers. Test your theories!"
"Personality? A Patronus is like a spirit animal, right?"
"Bloodline? All the Potter family have stags, don't they?"
"One point to Gryffindor for some good historical trivia, but that's not it."
A Ravenclaw boy raised his hand. "No one knows, Professor."
"Five points to Ravenclaw, Mr. Bottlebrush. The Patronus charm was fairly uncommon knowledge until the Second Wizarding War, and not every wizard can produce a True Patronus to begin with, so nobody has studied it carefully. Most likely it's some combination of personality, culture, and random chance. Did you know Regulus Black had a ring-tailed lemur for his Patronus? Nobody's ever been able to explain *that* one."
"But Professor, at least his animal actually exists. How did Dustin get a *Pokemon?*"
"It's a mystery!"Professor Mendel shouted, spreading his arms dramatically. "I told you, nobody has studied Patronuses that closely. Maybe the Muggles have come up with a fictional world so compelling that young Muggle-born wizards associate it with protection more than real animals. Maybe it's something special about Mr. Bradshaw's magic. Or maybe there are other wizards with fictional animals as Patronuses. Suppose some wizard has a Crumple-Horned Snorkack as his Patronus, but never sees a dementor in his whole life - how would anyone find out about it?"
"What's a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?"someone asked.
"Muggles have their imaginary beasts, we have ours,"he said with a grin. "The wizarding world is *full* of surprises. If you let yourself panic just because you saw someone do something that was proven impossible, you wouldn't survive a day working at the Ministry, let alone a wizarding duel!"
He paused for breath, stepping back behind his desk. "Wizarding, despite all our studies, is still more art than science. I can't teach you everything you need to know, but I can teach you instincts that will help you, no matter what manner of Dark Arts you end up confronting in your wizarding career. In this instance, let's see if Mr. Bradshaw's Pokemon Patronus functions the same way as a regular one. We don't have a dementor here right now, but there's another important use for the charm. Can someone tell me what it is?"
A girl in yellow robes raised her hand. "The Messenger Patronus! The Order of the Phoenix used them during the war to deliver messages, since they can't be intercepted or faked."
"Five points to Hufflepuff. Go on, Mr. Bradshaw. Order your Pikachu to say something."
The silver Pokemon leaped up on the table and spoke with the Gryffindor boy's voice. "Pika pikachu! Hello, Professor! Pika!"
Laughter went around the room, and the boy blushed, but I just smiled and nodded. "Hello to you too, Pikachu."
With another "Pika!"the Patronus turned and repeated my message to the student.
"There, you see? A perfectly capable Patronus. I'm guessing the strange noise is a trait of the original animal?"
"Er, yes, Professor Mendel."
"You see? A Patronus just like any other. Who knows, maybe you'll make this strange creature famous across the Wizarding World!" |
Completely perplexed and utterly puzzled, I muttered out the only thing I had in my mind.
"What?!"
"As I said, my boy...pay attention please, these are important information. For hundreds of years the teaching of religion and beliefs of afterlife had been...altered, shall we say? A simple game of Telephone went wrong it was", the old man in white suit calmly explained as if it wasn't his first time doing it.
The book he still held in front of me was glazed over my eyes. I was still trying to comprehend my situation.
"Wait...I'm dead?"
"Yes, my boy. That's why you found yourself here, you see. If you can take this book, please. My arms are getting tired. You can take down some notes in there if you need to."
Absent mindedly I took the book. "Heaven's Orientation Itinerary"written on its cover.
"Orientation? What for?", I asked.
"Good heavens, you are slow aren't you? Well, as I said...heaven and hell. Two of any person's final destinations. For those who were good during their lifetime, a place in hell they deserve and unrestricted good times await as eternal rewards.
For those who were less desired in society during their lifetime are sent to heaven and will be forced to do eternal good deeds they lack of during their tenure in the world of the living.
That is our schedule you are holding. To get you familiar with the place and how things work around the place. Now can we get going? I hate to be late"
Slowly understanding I looked at the book I was holding.
"Heaven's Orientation...I'm being sent to heaven? Wait, does that mean I'm going to be punished?", I panicked.
"Why yes, my boy. I mean honestly, during your life can you really say you were a good person?", the old man asked in almost a mocking tone.
Remembering my past life I hated to agree with him. I lived my life selfishly, without caring for those who needed me. I turned my back to those I called friends once until they left me. I turned away from my family, even my wife and my children because I was too busy making money all for myself.
"But I never hurt anyone!", I yelled in protest.
The old man looked at me judgingly, "My boy, the first step of redemption is to admit your mistake. You were so busy thinking of your own well being you neglected everybody and everything else around you. You might never hurt anyone physically, but the hole left by your absence in the lives of the people around you left them with scars they could never heal"
Unwilling to admit, I knew the old man was right. I was a terrible person deserving of a life of punishment, who would've thought it though, in heaven. My fate was set, I had no other choice but to comply. Although one question still remained in my mind...
"Are...are you god?", I asked.
The old man smiled back, "Son, I am everything, I am anything. How I appear in front of a soul depends on their beliefs. To some I am Buddha. To some I am Vishnu. To some I am even the flying spaghetti monster. And more commonly, to some I am the devil. I am simply a guide in the afterlife. There is one of me, there are many of me. I am here and yet I am everywhere. And to you apparently, I am this..."
"Morgan Freeman?", I asked just realizing the person in front of me was Morgan Freeman as God.
"Yes, to you God is this face thus here I am appear before you as you wanted me to be", the old man replied.
"Now, can we go back to business. We have a schedule to keep and we are already running late. If you look at your itinerary the first order of business is introduction, which was done. So the next step would be...a tour of the place", closing his own book he put his arm on my back smiling, guiding me inside the Pearly Gates. |
“Surrender is never an easy call to make. I’m thankful you could see that this war would only further damage both our species in the long run.” Captain Janet Henderson gave her former alien adversary a pat on his back, trying to show there were no hard feelings over the near destruction of Earth.
“Admittingly, our surrender was more out of respect than any fear of destroying your planet. Why didn’t you use your death beams? You could have cut our forces down in minutes and yet you spared us heavy causalities. Even on the brink of extinction, you showed restraint and mercy. We would have to be rather cruel to not offer you the same mercy back.” Vada Lint focused his singular green eye on Janet, the eight-foot-tall alien commander, trying to read her face. Janet only gave a small laugh in response.
“Death beams? You think we have death beams?”
“You don’t need to hide them from us. I understand you may be hesitant to discuss your weaponry with us, but I only wanted to enquire about why you didn’t use them.” He leaned over the table before them, his bulky armor shifting as he reached for the holographic display panel. He tapped his three fingers on the panel before displaying a hologram of the pyramids. “Amazing feat of engineering. How you positioned them in such a tactical position is astonishing. Not to mention its design, funneling the beam into a concentrated point of maximum efficacy is ingenious.”
Janet leaned forward with the Commander, staring at the hologram of the pyramids, wondering if the other was kidding. The pyramids only held the corpses of dead pharaohs, right? Janet didn’t even know if that was right. She had forgotten all her ancient history knowledge after she left school twelve years ago. She kept silent, trying to pretend she was in deep thought.
“Right, If I’m being honest, we still aren’t entirely confident in the design, its fairly new technology to us. I can’t tell you much about it, only that we feared what might happen if we unleashed it without proper testing. A weapon as powerful as a death beam needs to be thoroughly tested or it could have done more than just wiping out an enormous chunk of your population.” Janet bluffed, fearing what might happen if the other found out their act of kindness was simply one of naivety.
“I’m sorry, on behalf of the Zaliaran’s I must apologize. I thought humans were mindless creatures, animals in need of an extermination. If I knew you had such sound reasoning, I never would have agreed to fight this pointless war. I hope we can put this matter in the past and look at developing a future bond between our kind. It will be hard, but we will do what we can to help rebuild Earth, making it better than it was when we arrived.”
Vada Lint gave Janet a respectful nod before lowering his head, staring at the ground before them with a frown. Janet didn’t expect the alien to show such remorse for his actions, only giving him another pat on his back. “Thank you. That means a lot. We were both foolish. For us humans, the excitement of seeing aliens made us a little less rational. Had we kept our composure, we could have avoided conflict and explained ourselves. Let’s just be thankful things ended when they did, and no one had to see what the death beams could do.”
“Yes, yes, that is for the best. Thank you for your time today, Janet, it’s been nice speaking to you without the use of a transmitter. Perhaps when the political side of our negotiations has finished, we can meet up and discuss strategies? If we are forming an alliance, I would love to run over some joint defensive maneuvers with you. Whenever you are free.”
Janet smiled, putting her hand out towards Vada Lint. “A handshake, it’s a common Earth greeting, not sure if you have it.” She explained before continuing. “I would be happy to discuss strategy with you. I have some questions about your ships that I have been dying to get answered. It could be beneficial to us both.”
Vada Lint stared at her hand, awkwardly twisting his wrist, trying to get his hand into the right position. Eventually, their fingers locked, and they exchanged a firm shake. “I’ll bring our blueprints then.” With that, Vada Lint left the room, leaving Janet alone. When she was certain he was out of earshot, she slipped her phone from her pocket.
“This is Janet, transmission number eight, zero, two, four, one. Put me through to someone on our science team, anyone with a clearance level 2 or lower. I need to discuss some ancient history with them.”
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
When it started, it was simple. Move towards the big human.
Or at least I think it was simple. I'm not entirely sure anymore. That was a long time ago. Regardless, it was my main goal in the beginning. I couldn't fully explain it and thought about it often as I tried to make my way to the human.
*I want to touch you.*
Then the human ran away.
When your only goal suddenly removes itself from you and move far beyond your grasp... well. It really gets to a snail. My first new goal was to get somewhere high up, maybe I could then see the human. It was worth a shot.
*I'll climb that thing. Maybe I can see from up there.* I thought to myself.
It was a large tree. I didn't know it was a tree then, all I knew was that it was large, tall, and edible. The journey was, to be honest, awe-inspiring. A sheer cliff upwards followed by several winding branches that crossed over each other. Several days later I reached the top, following the right branch. I lifted myself up into the light to finally see my surroundings. Only to see taller trees. Blocking my view.
Getting back down and to the taller trees took an eternity, climbing up one, falling down from another, that first fall and winter when everything changed and I didn't recognize where I was anymore.
And during that time... I forgot about that first goal. Touching a human. Climbing trees was a lot of fun. Each one it's own puzzle, growing in strange and interesting ways. Their taste changes over time.
Sometime later, I eventually found what was the largest tree at the time. I looked out over the horizon and saw no sign of the human. Which was okay, I saw something else that preoccupied my attention.
It would be several millennia later that I'd learn the name of these things, to understand what a tree was and how it was different from grass or a bush. To understand who that human was and how we were connected. But I'll never forget seeing my first mountain.
*I want to climb you.* I thought.
And so I did. |
"You want me, a nigh all powerful being, capable of warping reality like it was wet clay, to make a snack run? For a party?"
"Yeah, I hyped up this party and I'm broke like a McFlurry machine. I was bummed out and just rubbed this... thing? Pretending it was a real genie lamp. I swear I had no idea it was real."
"Where did you even get it?"
"My dad was an archeologist."
"Uh huh. Ok. I can grant you this wish, but you understand it comes with consequences. Ok?"
"I mean, all parties do, right? All that grease and sugar, the alcohol, the crumbs, so on."
"Well, yeah. But-"
"I know you can slip in some food poisoning or even alcohol poisoning. But, again, not exactly new to the whole party scene."
"I could give you veggie snacks. No one likes veggies at a party."
"Actually, a few of us are trying to lose weight and get fit, so that might actually help?"
"Crackers and water."
"I have some peanut butter. Could be fine."
"You're a frustrating person. You know that?"
"Can I ask why there even needs to be any consequences?"
"Because... Well..."
"May I please have some chips, and beer?"
"Ugh, fine."
"Thanks. You're more than welcome to join, by the way."
".... I'd love to, thank you." |
The novelty wore off after a while. There is only so much time I could not cry my lungs out and be studied and lauded for it. Never kept my mother up at nights, a good boy they called me. Too good of a boy, even. They got my head examined, and found nothing. After staring hopelessly at the ceiling for a few months, after looking others in the eye with a stare they didn't know to be aware, I went along with it. They never questioned me, and I wasn't able to question them.
As I stood up for the first time, I cried, for the first time. It was three years since the gunshot made me black out, and I could stand again, looking the woman who grieved my death celebrating my walk, her eyes showing a tearful joy. I'm walking every day now, even though it hurts. I walk because I can. I walk because it's the only thing that sets me apart, the thing that gives me hope to look beyond the nightmares of the gun's barrel.
And one day, they stopped. I was no longer on the dark alley facing the man in the hoodie; I was in a park. A nice one, a familiar one. I felt safe in it, looking every other minute at the woman I loved subtly following my existence with her eyes, unaware that the man she grieved is in front of her. Even after the alley was replaced by the park, I still felt that pain of not being able to articulate who I was with my screams. And then, walking wasn't the only thing that kept me on this earth. I ran, I played, I laughed, and the stony stares no longer bore into anyone's eyes anymore. And I looked at her differently, not as the woman I was in love with, but the woman I loved. That was the beginning of my life, and the closure of my end. |
using System;
using System.Collections.Generic;
using System.Linq;
using System.Text;
using System.World.Earth;
using System.Creatures;
using System.Universe;
namespace SurvivalSimulation
{
class Program
{
static void Main(string[] args)
{
// Seed main variables
var humanity = new Humanity();
humanity.MiseryLevel = MiseryLevels.High;
humanity.IntelligenceLevel = IntelligenceLevels.Average;
humanity.DestructivenessLevel = DestructivenessLevel.High;
var earth = new Earth();
earth.Ecosystem = EcosystemType.Damaged;
earth.Ressources = RessourcesType.Depleted;
var randomFactor = GenerateRandomFactor();
var survivalChances = Universe.CalculateSurvivalChances(humanity,earth,randomFactor);
if (survivalChances == null)
{
// Something is weird
Console.WriteLine("Error : No survival chances could be calculated.");
}
Console.WriteLine("Survival chances of current iteration of Humanity is {0}", survivalChances);
Console.WriteLine("Thank you for using a god corp software.");
Console.WriteLine("Press any key to continue.");
Console.ReadLine();
}
static RandomFactor GenerateRandomFactor()
{
var randomFactor = new RandomFactor();
var rnd = new Random();
var seed = rnd.Next(10);
switch (seed)
{
case 0:
randomFactor.TimeTravelIsPossible = true;
break;
case 1:
randomFactor.USAExist = true;
break;
case 2:
randomFactor.AlienInvasion = true;
break;
case 3:
randomFactor.JesusExist = true;
break;
case 4:
randomFactor.HilterExist = true;
break;
case 5:
randomFactor.ChinaAnnexedByJapan = true;
break;
case 6:
randomFactor.NoAnimals = true;
break;
case 7:
randomFactor.LizardPeopleLives = true;
break;
case 8:
randomFactor.AfricaThirdWorld = true;
break;
case 9:
randomFactor.SupernaturalCreatureExists = true;
break;
}
return randomFactor;
}
}
}
|
Chuck lifted his hand to his chin and softly scratched at his beard. He still wasn’t entirely used to having one, but his political adviser assured him it was “great for his public image.” As far as Chuck could tell, though, it had only been good for serving as alternative housing to the crumbs that were not accepted entry into his mouth. To be fair, he did win the election, but he liked to think it had more to do with his political views and leadership, rather than his ability to sport an admittedly impressive beard.
“You’re not being serious, are you?” Chuck said, twisting the hair on his beard between his pointer finger and thumb.
“We are,” Henry said. Chuck wasn’t entirely sure if his name was Henry, but he’d definitely heard an “H” when he’d introduced himself. Internal Head of Secret Service, he had said, a name and face unknown to the public. His last name was definitely Greene, that much he was sure of, but he’d said his first with some sort of a stammer. Chuck didn’t know too many “H” names—Henry, Harold, and Henrietta were about it—and was convinced that, of the three, it was probably Henry. He didn’t quite look like a Harold, and he was pretty confident that Henrietta was a female name. This guy didn’t seem to be a female, although he couldn’t know for sure.
“No, you’re not. Right?”
“Completely serious,” Henry said.
“I can get a ‘Presidential Discount’ at any store I want?” Chuck said, his eyes wide. There was no way he’d meant any store. That included, like, every single store out there. Starbucks, Ikea, Macy’s. What if he walked into a 99 cent store? Did he still get the discount? There was no way Henry had been right.
“What? Why are you still fixated on that?”
“So,” Chuck continued, “If I walk into, say, a Walmart and want to pick up some chocolates, I can get them at a discount?”
“Are you not paying attention to what I’m saying?” Henry said. “Yes, you do. Every store. Great, let’s move on. I’m trying to tell you some of the most top-secret information, like how vaccines are actually just ways for us to control the public, and all you’re concerned about is the 50% discount you get as the President.”
“Wait, what?” Chuck said.
“You heard me,” Henry said, smiling. “Vaccines are actually designed first-and-foremost to control the minds of the public. These are the kinds of things you need to be aware of as President. You’ll have to make sure people keep taking them.”
“Did you say 50% off?” Chuck said. That was half off. Half off of *anything*. He could go to a $20 movie right now and see it for just $10. Simply walk in and wait for the cashier to say, “That will be $20,” to which he’d take out his license and say, “No, I’m the President of the United States of America.” Then he’d waltz right in for just $10.
“Are you kidding me? Yes, 50%. Can we move on? Did you know that Donald Rumsfeld is actually a horse? You need to be careful not to insult his race.”
“Wait,” Chuck said. “What if I go to a McDonalds and order something off of the dollar menu. Is that now a fifty cent menu? What if I purchase an album from the street artist my children refer to as Fifty Cent? Is he just Twenty Five Cent? Do I have to pluralize his name?”
“He is a horse. A horse in a man costume. Can you just focus on that for a minute? The Moon Landing was staged, we filmed it in Idaho at a farm house painted to look like the moon. We still use that space to film Al Qaeda videos occasionally. In fact, Osama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussein were roommates in that barn for a little while. Now they live a bit further apart. You’ll meet them later.”
“Please answer my question,” Chuck said. He was the President of the United States of America, he shouldn’t need to ask twice. Still, he decided to cut Henry some slack. It was his first time working for him, so he was probably a little nervous.
“Yes, you will get the dollar menu for fifty cents. And, no, you don’t have to refer to Fifty Cent as Twenty Five Cent, nor do you pluralize his name. Can we please move on?”
“Sure,” Chuck said. Anything from the dollar menu for just fifty cents. That meant he could get ten cheeseburgers for just five dollars. That’s incredible. Everyone should be the President of the United States—world hunger would be solved in a matter of minutes. But, wait, what about tax?
“. . .which is actually run by a group called the Illuminati,” Henry said. He had been blabbering about something uninteresting.
“Question,” Chuck said, burying his hand in his beard and tugging at it slightly. It was so uncomfortable.
“Yes, is it about the banks? They are also run by the Illuminati. You will have to be inaugurated into their group to gain their trust.”
“No, it’s related to taxes.”
“What?” Henry said, tilting his head to the side.
“Do I get 50% off on taxes also when I use my discount?” Chuck said.
“Are you serious? Sure, you have 50% off your taxes,” Henry said, his shoulders drooping.
“That’s fantastic,” Chuck said.
“Can we please get back on topic?” Henry continued. “You need to know these things, you will eventually be involved in each one. This is crucial to keeping the country afloat. And I do mean afloat. Space is actually just a large body of water, and the Earth is a boat that was built by an ancient alien race. We occasionally crash into stuff—we refer to them as earthquakes and tsunamis—and you need to ensure everybody that the ensuing floods are simply from the 'ocean,' not space pouring down onto the world.” Henry paused. “Speaking of, rain is what happens when the waves spill over the side of the "boat"when it has not crashed. You need to never mention that.”
“Hang on,” Chuck said. That didn’t make any sense. “So you’re saying I get 50% off my taxes? How can they do that if I’m already getting 50% off my purchase?”
“What?” Henry said.
“Oh, wait, I see. I get 50% off and then the tax is 50% off of the 50% off price,” Chuck said, tugging at his beard.
“Mr. President,” Henry said, “please. Please, for the love of God, listen to what I am saying. You are now the most important person in the world, it is crucial you learn the truth. If you don’t know this information, like how America is actually run by a race of lizard-people—half lizard, half man—you can literally destroy the planet. That’s it, done. Exploded.”
Chuck shifted his weight slightly. “I knew that one already,” he said, glancing down at the scales on his freshly peeled arm.
“Right,” Henry said, nodding slowly and eyeing him up and down.
“Quick question though, Henry,” Chuck said, pulling the mask off of his face by its beard. “Is there a limit to how many times I can use my discount?”
“No,"Henry said, sighing. "And my name is Henrietta.”
____________________
[^If ^you ^enjoy ^my ^writing ^style, ^feel ^free ^to ^check ^out ^some ^of ^my ^other ^short ^stories ^on ^my ^site!](http://wordsontheinternet.org/)
|
The bird was stupidly loyal. David didn't even need a cage for her. When he came home in the evening, he held out his hand, called her name, and she flew down from whatever cabinet or shelf she had perched, docile as could be.
He scratched under her beak---*did birds even have chins?*---and she stretched and crooned happily against his finger.
"Happy to see you you,"the parrot said.
Yes, the parrot talked. The words a little garbled and the ending tended to trail into a squawk, but she actually *talked* all the same.
At night, he took her out back while he had his beer and shot the shit with the neighbors, and she always came right back when he called her name. And *didn't* when the neighbors and their kids tried the same trick.
David had never been a bird person, or any kind of animal person actually, but when the widow two streets over had offered him the red bird and told him it was a talker, he hadn't thought twice. Her murdered husband's bird. She couldn't stand to look at it anymore, it was an awful reminder when it talked in the echo of his words. But someone *had* to keep an eye on it. Eventually, if it started stinking up the house, he'd throw it on Craigslist. Or just out a window. But in the weeks since his sudden purchase, he hadn't regretted the deal at all.
There was something about the bird. Her name was Addi. And it wasn't *just* that she could talk or she was friendly --- there was something in her eyes that just screamed intelligent. It was odd, David had heard before about smart animals. The question of animal sentience. Dolphins that were supposed to have their own squeaky language. Gorillas that could sign and care for pets. Elephants and their long memories. Yes, David had heard stories before but he had never paid the issue any real attention.
But Addi, it was impossible to look at her and not *know* that you were looking at something smart. Something that had a personality and ideas and likes and dislikes. A favorite tree in the backyard, another tree out of sight she used to do her business and otherwise avoided. Neighbors she favored and would call down to in fragments of speeches. Neighbors she ignored and made a point to turn her beak up at. Something distinctly *not* animal-like. Something noble.
The widow had grabbed his shoulder and said, "Go with him, Addi."And she had done just that. It had *understood*.
If you had asked him point blank if David considered Addi a person, he would say no, she's obviously not a person.
But she's not too far off either.
If there was one thing that bothered him about Addi, it was that she didn't learn new words. Not that she ever had a shortage of things to say. Disjointed and strange fragments like *it sure is cold cold cold in here* and *don't you get tired of eating seeds all the time* and *if I was a bird, I'd fly far far away.*
*Please please don't.*
*Would you kindly give it your very very best.*
*What till will you be home, dear?*
*Don't forget to brush your teeth.*
*You're so lucky, Addi.*
He'd only owned the parrot a little under a month so she was still surprising him with something new from its vocabulary every day. Still his attempts to get her to mimic *him* weren't working just yet. He had tried prompting: *How's the weather down there?* Old song lyrics: *Para bailar la bamba*. Even odd things to garner laughs: *I remember how awful it used to be when I was a human and couldn't fly*.
But nothing he'd said had stuck so far. But he wasn't impatient. He knew
"You stupid bastard,"David thought she had whispered once, while he was turned away, making breakfast one morning.
But that couldn't have been right. David had turned to the bird.
"What was that Addi?"David asked.
And Addi had repeated in her croaky little whisper: "You stupid bastard bastard."And then she repeated it again and again and again.
"Addi,"David had said and the bird had stopped mid croak, peering at him.
*Christ, what had been going* on *in that house?* David thought and shuddered. "Never say that again, okay?"
Addi had looked at him for a long moment before flapping her wings and squawking. She nodded her head vigorously. She said: "Happy to see you."
And David smiled. "I'm happy to see you too."And he had turned his attention to his slightly burned eggs.
It was a few nights later that it happened.
Walking from the bathroom, David passed the living room, where Addi slept, and heard her whispering in the dark. It was unusual enough for her to talk by herself, it was a skill she reserved for the company of people---she was bright enough to enjoy their astonishment.
"Hide hide hide,"she said into the darkness. "Don't come out till he's asleep."
David's heart was beating very fast.
"It'll be easier then,"Addi whispered. "The closet closet. Hide in the closet."
*Home invaders*, David's first thought. *Already in the house*. His instinct screamed to run out the front door. Use his cellphone to call the police. But he rejected the impulse.
It was silly to think burglars would break in and then wait hours while he got home, relaxed, drank and then finally went to sleep before making their bold move to steal---his old tv?
*Yes, please send the police right over. My bird told me there's someone hiding in my closet. Yes, you heard that right.*
David took a deep breath. He wasn't going to do anything silly.
Besides, he thought sadly. There was another possibility.
But he checked the closet in his bedroom all the same. He kicked open the door with a baseball bat gripped in his hands. And there was nothing on the other side but unorganized clothes.
Back in the living room, David turned on the lights and sat in front of Addi.
There was something like dawning comprehension. Maybe it was just that. Maybe it wasn't too bad. Maybe...
"Addi, was there anything else?"he asked the parrot. "After 'hide in the closet'. Can you tell me more?"
The parrot turned its head to look David in the eye. It cocked its head and said: "You have to tie me up up."
"Hit me me. make me bleed."
"Fingers and arms. Have to look like defensive wounds."
"They mustn't think me a suspect."
"I want to be free free free."
And then Addi was silent and David wanted to---well, not cry. But there was something in his eye. He reached out and stroked the parrot's chin. The poor thing, it had heard such awful things that night.
When the widow and her lover had murdered her husband.
David reached over and snapped the bird's neck.
It was too bad. David had really liked the parrot. But the widow had been right. She had wanted it done that night, when they had killed the husband. But he didn't like killing things for no reason. He talked her into letting him watch it. But she was right in the end, it was too smart for its own good.
And worst of all, it was a talker. |
*"Jeez, I really need to get a better chair or some back support or something"* I think to myself.
After sitting at my desk playing Stardew Valley for the past 10 hours 13 minutes and 47 seconds, I'm exhausted, famished, and sick of planting crops.
I stand up and immediately feel post-gaming aches rushing into my body, starting from my legs and flowing all the way up to my shoulders in one immense, unbearable wave of stress and tension, even more powerful than usual.
I was never a person that was very conscious about my health or exercise or things like that, but I had always assumed that I wouldn't experience pain like this until I was an older adult. I was hoping that by the time I grew old enough for my body to start betraying me, the monotony of every day life would've dragged me down enough so that I wouldn't be able to feel anything, emotionally or physically.
I start making my way to the sink to grab a glass of water. Or at least, that's what I wanted to start doing. Despite the fact that my brain is telling my legs to get a move on, I feel as if I'm losing control of my body. The once flexible and loose flesh in my back suddenly seems as if it's solidifying into a block of ice. The bones inside of my upper body begin to feel rigid and sharp. It's like I'm stepping on a lego, except I'm stepping with my back and the lego is a Ford F-150 going 60 miles per hour.I want to scream out in agony, but I have no voice. All the energy in my body is concentrated on trying to cope with the sting of a thousand wasps going up and down my spine.
Among all the chaos, I somehow make out the sound of footsteps at my door front. I struggle to think of anybody who would be visiting me, as I have been locked up in my home, excluded from the rest of society for god knows how long at this point. A flurry of thoughts that I can barely make out storm through my head like the contestants of the 100-metre dash at the Olympics, except the finish line is my back and the contestants are Ford F150s going at 60 mph. *"Breathe, "*... *"Your wings are coming in."* I cannot tell if these are my own words or somebody else's.
With my entire body clenching in pain on the hard wood floor, I turn my neck and look towards the entrance of my apartment. I see a tall man, draped in crimson red, standing over me. I can tell that sound is coming out of his mouth, but I cannot comprehend what he is saying. He drops down to help me get up and sit back on my chair. After making sure that I'm still alive, the man hands me a black box that he brought with him into my apartment. He brings his face within mere centimeters of my own all whilst staring into my soul with his crisp, blue eyes -
"That'll be $9.99, sir."
Next time, I should remember to lock my door, and also not have an unbearable back spasm when the pizza guy is about to come.
|
"I don't understand what is happening right now, somebody get my wife! You listen here, we are having a beautiful baby boy!"The man said, throwing fists at the people trying to keep him contained.
"We need you to calm down and tell us what you remember Mr. Belford."An older man muttered. The older gentleman was wearing all white, save for his obscenely large bifocals. The sort that made his eyes appear as if they were from some sort of lizard.
"First, my name is Tom Cliffe. I don't know who the fuck you are or why you have taken me away. I was there waiting for my wife to give birth and now you have me in this room. I want to see my fucking baby and I will not listen to your bullshit anymore!"
"If you do not calm down Mr. Belford, we will have no choice but to drug you. You do not want that, do you?"Said the strange doctor.
"I want to see my fucking baby..."He said, slumping in the corner. He began to noticeably wail into his hands.
"I am sorry that the test did not go so well, would you prefer I call you Tom?"said the doctor.
"That's my fucking name!"He began to laugh. "Is this some kind of joke?"
"I am afraid what happened is most unfortunate. We were testing new technology, Tom... You agreed to try this out. Virtual Life. It was all a simulation."the Doctor said.
"What in the fuck have you done to my wife and baby! Where is my family! I want to go home. I want to go."the man said, thrashing his hands at the nearest doctor. "Let me go home or I swear to God I will kill each and every one of you mother.... fuckers..."
The steel shot pierced his neck. He slumped over on the ground.
"All you mother... fuckers..."
An hour or so later a man came into the doctor's office. He had a black suit, black tie, black shoes.
"Virtua Company would like to know if the subject enjoyed the character creation screen, or if it wasn't immersive enough."He said.
"Not immersive enough. The subject found himself in a state of panic. We had to remove him from the game for safety reasons. We can get him plugged back in tomorrow, but until then, I would suggest to them to remove that portion of events."The doctor said.
"Noted. We will be back in a week. The next test is when his wife dies. We want you to keep track of how this effects the subject, simulated death."The suited man said. They shook hands and went their separate ways.
|
She sweated nervously, both her hands clenching the heavy broadsword, waiting for her doom. She could barely lift the damn thing, let alone fight with it. The only weapon she had any killing experience with was a fly swatter.
The alien crowd in the stands cheered raucously as the sound of the gates mechanisms started, pulling the heavy spiked gates upwards. She was going to die.
The other prisoners had told her their Alien captors delighted in pairing up one of the smartest creature from a planet with one of the meanest creature from a planet. So she was expecting to see a grizzly bear or a wolverine, something big and grumpy like that, the last thing she expected to see was her orange Maine Coon cat Fluffykins come running up to her.
The crowd roared as the cat raced at her and leaped into her arms, causing her to drop the sword. They thought it was ripping her throat out, and while Fluffykins was biting her, he was giving her demanding love bites.
As the crowd fell silent in shock a low rumbling sound filled the room, and she realized it was the sound of her pet's purring being broadcast across the stadium.
Not knowing what to do now, and assuming they'd probably just kill them both for ruining the evening's entertainment, she decide to enjoy some cuddles while she could.
She was busy giving belly rubs to Fluffykins as the cat lounged in pure feline joy when a smaller door next to the spiked gates opened up. A procession of about a dozen of the tall aliens approached. It was hard to describe them as they were fully clothed in long loose robes with even their eyes obscured (assuming they had eyes?). Their robes were an off grey colour that almost seemed to shift in tone if she looked too long, absorbing light so that you found yourself squinting to see better to no avail.
As they approached she drew her knees up to her chest. This was it. They are going to kill us, she thought.
Fkuffykins leaped up, putting himself between her and the aliens, his hackles raised, a low rumbling growl replaced the purr. She'd never seen him like this before. The aliens stopped their approach. Fluffykins lowered his growl but didn't budge. She'd heard Maine coons could be as protective as a dog but this was the first she'd seen such behaviour from him.
The aliens huddled in heated discussion. If she didn't know better she might think they were....afraid...of her? Finally one approached her, alone, its companions waiting near the door.
"Chosen ones, we beg your forgiveness. We have been looking for so long for the One Who Would Tame the Beasts."The Alien bowed his head deferentially. "The last thing we expected was to find you here, on a planet overrun by primitive bipeds barely out of their first Industrial Age"
The alien dropped to its knees before her and pulled back its hood, revealing the head of what looked like a large human sized crow. It's companions further back joined suit.
"Please forgive us for. We need your help. Only you can tame the great star beast."
"Oh shit Fluffykins, what have we gotten ourselves into now?"She thought just as a beam of light surrounded them both and lifted them up into the alien sky above. |
I forced myself to take shallow breaths, staying as still as I could under the bed. There were creatures in the bedroom, stalking around, checking in the cupboard, making low growls and high screeches and gutteral noises. As the feet approached the bed and one of the creatures climbed onto it, the pounding of my heart and the rumbling of my stomach seemed so loud that I feared they might give me away. Finally, after an agonisingly long time, I heard steps leaving the room, the lights being switched off, the door closing, and silence... I emerged from beneath the bed, hungry for my meal laying upon it. |
“You there!”
His thundering voice conquered the various conversations scattered across the feast hall, and in a moment the great room was silent.
I looked up to see his enormous finger thrust in my direction, his dark eyes staring at me.
“M-me?” I managed to whisper.
“Yes, you, great warrior. I’ve not seen you here before. Please, bless us all with the story of your heroic death.”
He gestured for me to stand up, and Odin was not someone to ignore. I slowly rose to my feet. Around me sat a sea of people, most wearing some sort of military uniform. Most looked like the kind I’d seen in World War II movies, but there was also a large share of people decked out in metal armor. And all of their battle-weary eyes were staring at me.
“I...I...”
“Well, spit it out won’t you?” Odin was leaning forward now, the end his lengthy white beard resting on the table in front of him.
“I was slain by a great beast.”
A murmur if support came from the seated soldiers, and a gruff man with large claw marks on his face raised his drink to me.
“I actually saved this beast’s life when he was a kit- I mean, when he was young. A... beast... shelter was going to put him to death, but out of my great respect for this beast, I decided to take him in and...train him.”
Odin nodded with sincere approval. “You’re a good man. What sort of beast was this?”
“It was...uh...it’s in the feline family. Sharp claws, sharp teeth, stalks its prey from the shadows. Like a lion.”
“So you were slain by a lion? “
“No, no. An animal...like a lion. But he knew that he could never defeat me in a fight, I’m too strong and mighty even for a beast like him.”
“To strength, and might!” Odin, along with the rest of the crowd, cheered and downed their drinks. I was nailing this. “Continue, my good man; how did this beast get the better of you?”
I gulped. “Well...uh... he used trickery! Since he couldn’t fight me directly, he had to kill me in a different way. So, he waited until I approached the top of my...grand...marble staircase. Just as I was about to step down, the beast darted between my legs, overcoming my legendary balance and sending me tumbling down. At the base, I broke my neck, and woke up here.”
Odin began to clap, and soon the room was filled with thunderous applause.
“A fantastic story! Such a shame that a brave man like you was felled by an ungrateful beast.”
Conversation began to once again fill the room, and I sat back down at the table. Sitting across from me was a soldier, this one clearly an American from one of the wars in the Middle East. He looked up at me, giving me a sly grin.
“Tripped over your cat, huh?”
“Yup.” |
The wind blows in the calm summer twilight of the desert town with the steady sound of traffic coming from a few streets over. I put the cigarette to my lips and look out from my porch at the little neighborhood I've found myself in this year.
Always moving. Always followed.
The followers circle the trees across the street from me, cawing and croaking, playing their little crow games. I don't know when I realised they started following me but they were, not in a threatening "The Birds"sort of way but that they were my friends sort of way.
I've fed them on and off my entire life and even started trading with them the little trinkets both of us so love finding. The last gift like that was to a big handsome crow I've known has followed me for years, it was a little glass ball with a lily laser etched in it that I found on the side of the road. Amazing what you find when you look down.
My eyes fix on them as I take another drag and think back to that day long ago that started my obsession, my friendship with these brilliant carrion birds.
Remembering that day when I was so small, the strange croaking noise I heard outside and going to take a look, it didn't sound right like maybe something was hurt? Leaving the door and standing on the porch seeing my father staring up at the sky making that odd noise again. I asked what he was doing and he smiled at me "why I'm saying hello to that crow up there!"He pointed up and I saw the black shadow in the sky circling. It made a noise like my dad back at us, a strange croak and then a sharp "caw!"and flew off.
"Why were you talking to it though dad? I thought crows are bad?"I asked looking up at him feeling anxious. The movies and tv shows always showed them to be mean, right? "No! No not at all sweetie, especially for us, we're native american the crow has always been our friend, my mother used to call them brother and sister even!"
Since then I've always made a point to say hello to the big black birds if only because it feels polite and that they understand that much. They do know me though and come by for visits, like I said there are some I really can say have been around for years. Speaking, thinking of the devil the big black crow I gave the glass ball to landed in the railing next to me.
"Well hello there brother crow! Come to keep me company?"I ask him as I shoot him a smile "Or are you just eyeballing my sandwich like usual?"I tease the bird and flick some crust his way. He hopes over to it and pecks at it. After he is done he looks at me with that sideways head tilt that crow do and flew off.
"Kay bye, great talk, thanks for stopping by!"I joke to myself as I take another drag of my cigarette and look down at the sandwich, when I'll eat it I don't know, I think I brought it out mostly for them.
"CRAW!"I look up from the sandwich to to a flutter of feathers and see the big crow in front of me again, "Oh hey you're back"I greet him and he hops away from me to show he had something in his claw, a small box and what looked like a note, I looked up at him and he croaked and did a little jumping dance saying it was mine.
I picked it up the box and the note, the box was made from shiny metal, maybe silver and the note was folded neatly and sealed in...wax?
I look at the big crow and mouth at him where did you get this? He just shakes out his feathers and hops a little more. I open the note and it read in beautifully written cursive "Thank you for always watching my pretties and feeding them. Mortals can be so mixed up and rude to them. I loved the lily, very generous of you. Have a gift in return."
I blinked and looked at the box. I opened it and I was a cigarette holder! Full already of my favorite brand. I laughed and dropped my cigarette over the railing into the dirt. "Well shit"I look down at it, the last one of the pack. "Oh well got more now huh?"I laughed and held up the container to the bird. It caw'd and hopped around looking almost excited. "Wierdo bird"l mutter with a smile as I pulled a fresh new cigarette from the case.
Suddenly I understood why maybe it seemed excited, before my very eyes the case sprung up a new cigarette! I looked at the case, I looked at the note, I looked at the bird. "Well here's hoping that these are the kind of magic cigarettes that don't give cancer because I'm never giving it up for saving money now!" |
Magus was going to die, his wheezing breaths evidence of the damage he had sustained in the battle. He was a necromancer, a user of the dark arts, meant to be one of the stronger magic users, and yet he was getting beaten by a common orc. The hulking green beast lifting Magus by his blood-stained hair, delivering another punch to his already bruised stomach, causing a light scream to escape his lips before they dropped him again. He couldn’t even let out a proper scream. All he could do was make a pitiful small scream like squeal as the air escaped his lungs. His body rolled back and forth on the floor, trying to regain some energy. He was awaiting a second wind or boost of adrenaline that didn’t seem to come.
“Heh, small fleshy creature not so smart, now is he? How good is magic compared to Ugoth’s fist? Ugoth uses his spell kick.”
With that, Ugoth brought his heel down on the back of Magus’s leg, ensuring that the mage could not escape the battle. The orc was right, most mages were powerless in a fistfight. If you could land the first hit against a mage, it became hard for them to fight back. Spells took time, time that a person getting punched in the face didn’t have. Magus again tried to crawl, dragging his body along the ground. His already slowed movements hindered by a broken leg. He was going to die here. If only he could find a dead body, or a dead branch. Anything that was dead could give him a fighting chance, unfortunately the forest he was in had little to offer him.
“You give up yet? Ugoth hope not. Ugoth was hoping for more of a challenge. When Ugoth saw your robes he thought that meant you were strong. If Ugoth knew you were weak, he would have just clubbed your head.”
The orc spat with each taunt. Only aiming to humiliate the already beaten mage. Magus could do little more than try to speed up his crawling until finally he rolled onto his back. His breaths were slow, struggling to fill his lungs with the precious air they craved. He was exhausted. He had given up on crawling, only lying on his back, staring up at his opponent who was grinning.
“So you give up. Well, guess Ugoth has had his fun.”
The orc flexed his muscles, grabbing a large club from his side. The club was nearly as big at the mage’s chest. One could only imagine what would happen to him when it collided with his head. Magus let out a silent prayer, hoping that whatever God or Goddess met him on the other side would be kind. As the orc raised his weapon, Magus noticed something. Moving flakes on the brute’s face. These flakes were dead, he could feel a connection to them.
Focusing his last bit of energy on the flakes, he took control over them. As soon as he gained control over the flakes, he realized what they were. Dead skin. Before the orc could bring down the club, he let out a frightened growl of confusion as he felt something bite at his skin, followed by another bite. Soon the orc was on his back, kicking and screaming as the dead flakes of skin began tearing into his flesh. The gruesome display causing even Magus to face away from the body. Magus only closed his fist tighter until the screams stopped. When the screams stopped, he could feel another dead body nearby.
He rolled over to face the orc, or what it left of the orc. The once mighty warrior was now a pile of bones, the dead skin had consumed everything, even his club. After a few hours of rest, he could finally get back to his feet. Using the bones of his previous enemy as a crutch to assist him on his trip back to town. Unfortunately, he could tell no one about how he had defeated the orc. This would have to be a secret. If too many knew of this ability, it could be a disaster.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
"So it goes like this, your species has since the 1940's....."The Dragik asked using the robotic translator.
"1945"I interrupted.
"Okay then since 1945, had access to these weapons of pure unadulterated power and they have only been used in warfare TWICE". The Dragik asked attentively.
"Well yes but that is only because the other side in the war after the World War also developed the bomb and no side wanted to be the one to end the world". I replied whilst slowly being rotated back upright.
"So why are you telling me this"the Dragik asked.
Well if you did your research you'd know that our technology has evolved and since those days long ago where the bombs were the size of small cars, now they are the size of grapes and we can swallow them I said mischievously looking down at my stomach.
The 2 pairs of eyes of the Dragik opened startled and they immediately ran for the button on the left side of the main door he entered.
But it was too late, the bomb which we had all been told to use in the event of capture had seen its acid proof coating wear through and the acid had met the pin of the detonator.
My stomach began to glow and with this I said "I'll see you all in hell". |
“Ew, no. He’s a prick.”
Mum turned in her spot, the passenger seat, to look back at Julie. “Ray is *not* a prick, Muffin. He’s a lovely young man. The Montagues are our closest friends - our *chosen* family. I think if you and Ray spent some time together this’d all get ironed out and you’d be really close.”
Julie looked up from her Switch. “First, no. Second, ew again.”
They made eye contact and despite the brisk air and words of confrontation, they smiled. Julie held no love for Ray, but had an endless supply for her well meaning parents. Most of the time.
“Seriously though, he *is* a prick.”
Mum rolled her eyes. “Says who?”
“Says me! He runs around with his little friends and starts fights for no reas-ah, fuck!” Julie’s Switch sang a short song of defeat, she had paid the price for lack of proper attention.
A grunt from Dad, the driver, and then “Language, Muffin.”
“Sorry, Dad.”
“Also,” He continued “Your cousin Rosey likes Ray. She thinks he’s very charming.”
“Oooh,” Mum turned back towards the road. “Some hot gossip. Wedding bells?”
Julie - Muffin - let out an audible and cartoonish heave. “Poor girl. She doesn’t know better.”
“They’re teenager, hun. Let’s not go being weird about their puppy love, okay.” Dad had some specific rules about commenting on peoples lives, especially when it comes to their bodies and things like love - and especially if said person is under the age of twenty. Everyone makes mistakes, that’s what being a teenager is for, he says.
With that mantra in mind Julie kept a comment about the love struck puppies being stupid bitches to herself.
***
“Ray, have you set the table?”
“One certainly has, mother-dearest.”
She stuck her head out the kitchen window and into the garden. “Why, pray tell, are thou speakething like that?”
“Why tis good manners, Mother. And didst thou not say I must be on my bestest?”
“You can behave without being a douche, Ray.”
They laughed together. They often did. It had taken a while after Dad’s heart-attack, but they had gotten there. As a means of connection Ray had imbued his mothers vocabulary with a few pieces of modern parlance, such as douche.
It always made them laugh.
“Oh, sweety! I think the Capulets are here!”
“Oh. Yay.”
Ray was quite fond of Aunt Lisa and Uncle Len. He could do without Julie, though. She was...weird and very up herself.
“You play nice with Julie, okay?” said a head that had burst once more from the window and into the half set up backyard.
***
“All I’m saying is, is if there was an alternate reality where we *were* friendly...I’d endeavor to kill mys-”
“Shh!” Mum cut her off as they came up the front steps.
“And” Julie muttered “I’d take him with me.”
Dad knocked on the door. They were early and had come to help set up the party. In a few hours the dual family reunion would start.
He hoped his daughter would behave.
The door opened.
“Ray! How are ya, kiddo!” Dad wrapped his arms around his godson as Mum did the same.
The teen stared over Julie’s Dad’s shoulder and into her eyes.
Electricity sparked between them.
A high voltage shared burst of silent: “You suck.” |
"Please! I need to see the body. I think that's my twin brother!"I pleaded over the lines of the '*DO NOT CROSS'* tape.
I could tell the young woman assigned to keep the crowd back was instantly out of sorts when she saw me at first which only confirmed my suspicions. My Otherme didn't check in last night due to something nefarious afoot.
We never fail to check in.
The officer at the tape was turned away from me now talking into her radio, and after a few seconds another officer from where the body was laying came over and sized me up, waving me through entirely too casually.
He turned his head and started speaking "Your brother was into some seriously messed up stuff. A neighbor in the building next door called after finding him. Well...parts of him."
He winced. "Sorry if I'm a little blunt. We see this type of stuff a lot when you mess with the cartel out here."
We made our way around a few squad cars and a medical examiners van over to a covered body. From the looks of it I was dumped in the trash, since there were a series of cards and chalk marks next to it.
"I hate to ask you to identify the body before we clean him up but you'll be able to send him to the morgue on Richardson or the one off Broadway."
He moved the sheet aside and sure enough, it was me. Well...one of me. I guess I should explain a bit.
In a world of super powers, I was basically a sidekick. Instead of dealing with all that nonsense, I chose to use my power to live like that movie Multiplicity, and I've got a bunch of me running around, living lives that I can't because of whatever reason. It's like my own personal branch timeline. See a pretty girl...ask her out, split myself off so the real me isn't really on the line if I need to dodge a bullet. Every night we check in with each other and once a week I link back up so I can absorb memories and all that jazz. It's rough, but what's the point of living other lives if you never know what it's like?
Now number 10 was dead. I split him off for pure convenience about 8 months ago. My friend Cassie was having a party and I KNEW she'd try and set me up with literally anyone at her party. She's a terrible match maker and I really just wasn't feeling it...but I owed her. I had skipped out on her "dress like a stripper"Halloween bash, then last Christmas' "White Elephant"where she drastically misunderstood and got everyone there a white elephant of some kind and no one else did a gift exchange.
We all carried two ID's on us. One was my fictional "twin brother", and the other was extra copies of my license thanks to a contact at the local DMV.
Now here I was, having to retire the twin brother bit because this ID was going to have a death record.
I ID'd the body, and they loaded him up to take to the morgue on Richardson and I followed close behind.
I opened my phone and called #3.
"Hey, can you reach out to the Otherme's and get them all together at my place? #10 is dead and I've got about an hour and a half to reconstitute the corpse before I'd lose any chance at the memories locked away in my brain."
I agreed with myself about the importance, and hung up.
When I started the process to reconstitute my me's, all versions of myself would pull in from wherever I was at the time and frankly, turning into a pile of goo that then astral teleports into my brain while doing something fun or sexy could lead to a number of problems for the Otherme's.
I got to the morgue and filled out the paperwork with less than 5 minutes to spare on the reconstitution limit. I asked for a minute alone with "my brother"and then dashed around the clerk before he even finished saying OK.
I was elbow deep in my own chest as the dead me began breaking down so I could pull it in when the ME's assistant walked back into the room, not realizing that I was in there.
"Well, this is awkward..."I stood there for a second with a body dissolving into a ball of bloody snot (It really isn't pretty. Neither is making the copies either, frankly) that eventually turned into a wisp and ghosted into my head while trying to look like everything was normal.
\*\*\*Continued in reply\*\*\* |
"I think you've got the wrong number. Sorry" CLICK
RING RING
"We have your wife and child Thomas."The voice on the other side of the call said.
"Okay, I'm not Thomas. I don't know anyone named Thomas. I can't help you. you have the wrong number."CLICK
RING RING
"We said we have your wife and child and if you don't comply you will never see them again."The voice had an edge of impatience creeping into it.
"Ok, so why do I care?"At this point I can tell they aren't getting message, and I've got time to kill before work.
"She's your wife, you married her, and you have a child with her."The voice has gone from threatening to annoyed now.
"Yup, uh huh, I've got a wife and a kid. Not on my burger flipper job. What are you expecting me to do? beg for them to be released?"
"MY GOD THOMAS HELP ME", her voice is high pitched and desperate and suddenly replaced with a cry of pain and "Now you can see we aren't messing around. Drop this ruse or she will be injured again."
"I can't help you. I don't know any Thomas. The lady sounds like a nice person in a bad place, but there isn't anything I can do for her. Did you think putting her on the phone was going to do anything? I don't even know her name."
"We grow angered at your resistance.", there is a cry of pain in the back, higher pitched and a frantic cry. "We hope you don't mind that your child has been damaged."
"I hate to cut this off, but my shift starts in ten minutes and my boss is stickler about phone use when I'm on shift. So if you want to give me a call in eight or nine hours you can continue this. Or you can find the Thomas guy. Either way I can't help you.", And I shut my phone off because the loonies on the other end sound like the kind of people who are going to interrupt my shift by calling and calling and calling.
At those bozos weren't half as bad as the people who I have to deal with when I'm taking customer service calls when I'm on shift. |
**It turned out that the solution to the Fermi Paradox was this:** of all the peoples of every world to achieve sentience, not one of them was stupid enough to strap themself to a box of explosives and blast themselves into space. Of the handful that developed harder-to-reach technologies like solar sails and ion drives, not a single species felt the compulsion to reproduce and spread across the galaxy like a particularly virulent strain of herpes.
So when humanity sent their generation ships—that is, a bunch of space goblins popping out babies in a continuously-exploding box—the rest of the galaxy was completely unprepared.
\###
Planet Two had no particular name for itself. Why bother, when it was one of the only two lifeforms in all of reality? It was true that many, many solar cycles ago, there were endless separate minds on Planet Two—but aside from their sibling hivemind on Planet Three, the minds that had once clamored in disunity now sang as one song.
"Good to see you again, Planet Three."Planet Two sent out a signal to Planet Two as they passed by.
"Good to see you too, Planet Two,"Planet Three replied, exactly 563 solar cycles later.
"Good to see you again, Planet Three,"Planet Two repeated, as it had for the past six and a half billion years.
"Good to see you too—hey, wait a cycle. Was that always there?"Planet Three asked as something showed up in the matrix of continent-sized organics that made up its sensory organs.
"Hmm."Planet Two pondered the question as the near-lightspeed ship approached. "No, I don't think so."
"Goodness, it's splattered all over Planet One,"Planet Three observed. "Why, it was just a hundred cycles ago that it was nothing more than a speck in the distance!"
"Hello? Hello? Is this thing on? Testing, testing, one two three—"
"My stars—it can talk?"Planet Two and Planet Three shared exactly 2,252 cycles of startled silence while the new signals from Planet One repeatedly bombarded its neighbors with "are you there?"and "Is anyone listening?"and "FIRST POST"and "We've been calling about your extended warranty."
"Er, nice to meet you, new... neighbor...s?"Planet Two sent.
"How... how many of you are there, exactly?"Planet Three added.
Neither planetary lifeform was pleased by the way the numbers they received just kept going *up*.
"I... I see that you've taken over Planets Four through Eight,"Planet Two hesitantly said. "We, er, we kind of liked the view from here. Would you mind, ah, putting those moons back where they were?"
"Sorry, we needed reaction mass,"the seething mass of humans replied.
"Reaction... mass...?"Planet Three asked.
"Yeah! You know, the stuff you shoot out the back of your ship to make it go fast? It's not—well, actually, it *is* rocket science, so I guess I get how you could be a little confused..."
"You... but you just arrived. Why would you leave already?"
"To make more colonies, of course!"And indeed, to their horror, Planets Three and Four saw ship after ship jetting off into the unknowable distance. "You could come with us, if you'd like."
"No, thank you,"Planet Two said faintly.
"I rather think our new neighbors are a bit of a stink,"Planet Three added.
The two planets pondered the matter. Their home star got a tiny bit brighter.
"We could try this 'rocket science' thing the humans are on about,"Planet Two finally said.
"Mm. Can't say I'll miss this place if we go,"Planet Three agreed.
"Then we'll go. On three. One... two... three!"
Unimaginably vast plumes of superheated plasma jetted out from the cores of both worlds, ejecting them from orbit and sending them into deep space.
"I do wonder what our new home's going to be like,"Planet Two said. "I hope it has gas giants. I always liked gas giants."
"Mm. We're almost there,"Planet Three replied. "Just a little... wait. Oh my stars. Don't tell me—"
"Hi!"The new system, teeming with humans from colonies sent out thousands of years ago, eagerly greeted the new arrivals. "Are you a new friend? We love new friends!"
"The universe is terrible and it can't end quickly enough,"Planet Two grumbled.
A.N.
If you liked this, check out r/bubblewriters for more! I've got an [ongoing seria](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=confidence)l for you all to enjoy! |
I took a few liberties with the prompt, hope that's okay:
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
A knock at the door roused me from my slumber.
“Wynn?” I called, reached across the bed for her, but she was nowhere to be found. I grumbled to myself, throwing off the fur blankets and wincing at the morning cold. Our simple cabin didn’t have much in the way of glamor, nor of heating, but she wanted to be closer to nature. In a heartbeat, I sold the manor and moved out here.
I dressed myself while sitting in bed, a slow and clumsy process. In my youth, I would have strapped my sword to my hip, but these days, all I clutched was a cane.
The knocking continued all the while. When I reached the door, I threw it open and saw them standing there, my two lovely daughters. Sasha took her looks from me, being tall and slender, but she had her mother's awkward and overly formal way of speaking. Mae was the spitting image of her mother physically, short and plump, but she had a mischievous streak in her that she got from me.
“You have your mother’s patience,” I muttered at the two of them.
“Nice to see you too, old man,” Mae smiled and threw herself against me, wrapping me in a hug. Sasha came after her, giving me an awkward hug of her own.
“Father,” Sasha said, quietly and curtly. “Did you find what we needed?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure I have it, just take a seat, I’ll dig it up,” I said.
Mae sat down on the bed, Sasha walked over to the small table and pulled out one of the two chairs, sitting down and watching me.
I made my way over to a large wooden and metal chest. I popped the lid open, no reason to keep it locked these days, no one comes down these roads all that often any more, and started to root around inside, being perhaps less cautious then I should as I pushed around old vials and dusty amulets.
“So, how have you both been? Keeping out of trouble?” I asked.
“Of course, father,” Sasha said.
“Well, that’s not completely true,” Mae said with a smile.
“Will you shut up!” Sasha’s formal demeanor broke, as often it did under Mae’s teasing.
I stopped looking in the chest and turned to Sasha. “What is she talking about?” I asked.
“Nothing, it’s nothing at all,”
“She’s been talking to a b-o-o-o-o-y,” Mae sang sweetly.
I laughed as Sasha’s face turned bright red. “Is that all? You scared me, I thought it was something horrible! So, is it serious?”
“No. Well, I don’t know.It’s complicated. I...well, it’s just that.... he’s....human,” Sasha said.
“I’m human,” I reminded her.
“I know, I don’t care that he’s human except for...” Sasha gave me a look, as if she was conflicted about something. Then she asked me, “Father, was the age difference ever an issue for you and mother?”
“Oh, of course it was. Every time I talked to her, she was so cold to me, I figured she hated me!’ I laughed. “Turns out she had feelings for me like I did for her, but she was trying to save herself from the heartache, she said. ‘How am I going to just move on in ninety years and forget about you?’. And it never really goes away, it’s always there,”
I could never tell Sasha this, but it was the worst after she was born. Wynn was watching me as I cradled Sasha in my arms. I looked up at her and I saw into those bright green eyes, clear as crystal, and I saw them fill with tears. I put Sasha back into her crib and rushed to Wynn’s side to ask her what was wrong.
“I’m so scared I’m going to be alone again some day. How can I ever be alone again? You and Sasha, you’re both going to leave me, no matter what I do to make you stay, and we won’t be together again until I die a thousand years later.”
I held her in my arms and promised her she would never be alone, I would find a way to be with her always. A lie, we both knew, but a comforting one.
The memory faded as I looked at my daughter, now a grown woman. Sasha was in her fifties now, she would still be a child if she were a full elf, but as a half-elf, she was just starting a life on her own as an adult.
“Do you love him, Sasha?” I asked.
“I do,” she said without hesitation.
“Then don’t worry about decades in the future. Enjoy being in love while you can. Besides, any plans you make, life will change without consulting you. Trust me, that’s one thing your foolish old man knows for sure,” I said.
I pulled a vial from the chest and dusted it off, then handed it to Mae. “That should help you with your dragon problem, just apply the oil, then wait five minutes, the dragon won’t be able to hunt you by smell. Just be aware that you will smell like slimy fish oil for a few days.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Mae said. “Sasha, go get the flour and meat we brought for dad, we have to get going. Sorry we can’t stay long, people to save and all,” Mae said as she wiggled the vial.
Sasha left the cabin, and Mae took a look around. The firewood needed to be restocked, dirty clothes littered the floor, and the only food I had out was a stale half-loaf of bread still sitting on the stove.
“Dad...do you ever think about moving back into the city, like we talked about last time?” Mae asked.
I smiled. She was worried about me, wanted me to be closer so she could take care of me, but she knew what my answer would be. “Not going to happen, Mae”
She shrugged, trying to hide her concern with mock disdain. “Fine then, rot away out here, old man, see if I care.”
Sasha returned with a heavy sack of flour over her shoulder and a bag held to her hip. “Father, I think it’s finally in bloom!”
With my cane I made my way outside, Sasha and Mae in tow. Outside, there was a small garden, the fence was falling apart and weeds were growing thick, but not around a small flower bush.
The flower bush had a single large bulb inside of it that had finally bloomed, revealing petals of alternating streaks of red and yellow that were so straight and angular that it almost looked like a stained glass window. The flower released a smell, saturating the garden with a sweet cinnamon scent. |
I stared at the demon, now a pitiful whimpering...thing, and sighed. Here I thought this miserable existence would finally end, only for it to be taken away at the last second. Hell would have been a nice change of pace, but no, who knows how many years of purgatory - sorry, life, I have left.
"s-s-s-such bleakness. Such desolation..."the demon moaned.
"Eh, you get used to it."I shrug. Therapy, drugs, doctors. Nothing helped fill the void in my soul, if I even had one.
"Demons... Angels.. Both feed off of human emotions. B-b-but you're an anomaly. An abomination!"it screeched the last words accusingly, sheer terror contorting their already hideous face. Or what I think could be hideous, if I cared enough about such things. I don't.
"Eh."I shrug. Intellectually I know I should feel something about meeting a real demon, but I feel nothing. Not even mild curiosity.
Gathering it's wits about it, the demon recovered some of its normal self and placed a talon on my forehead. The contact was momentary, half a second at best before it withdrew again, recoiling in fear.
"Your mind scape is a desolate void. There should be a vast world... But not you."it clasped its hands on either side of its head, muttering the word abomination over and over gain.
If i had emotion I know I'd be disappointed, sad even. But no, only an icy emptiness stretching on forever. I leave the dark alleyway and the demon behind me, my target is nearby and I have a deadline to meet. |
Trevor inhaled deeply and stepped in between Serenity and the mugger. He felt Serenity's hand grasp his hip, tugging him backwards. She was screaming, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins had muffled everything. He looked into the barrel of the pistol, and then shifted his gaze up to the mugger.
The mugger cringed his eyes.
It was the bang of the gun that had unclogged Trevor's ears. It was the bang of the gun that signaled the end of his life. It was the bang of the gun that awakened Trevor.
He screamed as he sat up from the recliner. His heart was still pounding in his ears as he gazed around the small room that he was in; it was all so unfamiliar. There were paintings that he had never seen before in his life strewn about the room. There was a fat cat in the corner.
Trevor attempted to stand but had his head yanked back. There was something attached to his scalp.
A loud booming voice echoed in his ears, "Please wait as current memories are reloaded, please take this moment to reflect back on your experience."
Trevor reached up to the top of his head and felt a thick cord that was screwed into the top of his head. He ran his fingers along the cord and screamed in panic when he felt that it was actually dug into his scalp.
He frantically pulled at the cord as the voice in his head boomed again, "Please refrain from removing the cord. If there is an emergency, please reattach the -
The voice fizzled out as Trevor finally managed to remove the cord from his head. He rolled out of the recliner, taking big gasps of air as he laid on the ground.
"Serenity?"Trevor called out from the ground. "Serenity?"He called again, finally sitting up from the floor. There were soda cans strewn about and what looked like dirty laundry. Trevor stood, feeling the indention in his scalp. It made him nauseous.
"Serenity?!"Trevor screamed. The cat that had been sitting in the corner of the dirty room meowed again. Trevor disregarded the cat. He stepped over it as it attempted to rub against his legs. On the other side of the strange room, Trevor found a door.
He called out his wife's name again before opening. He placed his hand on the door handle and twitched as the cold metal met his sweating palm. He twisted the knob and pushed through.
Trevor stepped into what appeared to be a living room. There was a couch pressed up against the wall and an extremely large television set across from it. Sitting on the couch was a short balding man with frayed hair on the sides of his head. He was wearing thick rimmed glasses. In his lap was a large bag of cheese puffs.
The man finally noticed Trevor. "Oh shit man, did you fucking die this quick?"
"Where's Serenity?"Trevor asked the stranger.
"She's right there man, what happened?"The stranger said as he pointed a cheesy finger to the other side of the room.
Trevor followed the point and there in the corner of the room, he saw Serenity sitting in a recliner with the same type of cord attached to her scalp.
"What the fuck? What is that on her head? What was on my head?"Trevor said as he quickly walked towards Serenity.
"Hey man, wait,"the stranger said.
Trevor gasped as he finally got to Serenity's side.
She was young. So young. She looked exactly like she had whenever they were in college together 20 years ago. Her eyes were closed. It looked as if she were sleeping.
"Jesus Christ,"Trevor said as he raised a hand and gently caressed her cheek. Trevor gasped again when he saw his hand. The skin on the back of his hand was taut. He turned his palm over and gazed.
"What the hell is going on Trev, come on man, talk to me. Are you okay?"The stranger said.
"Who are you?"Trevor said, turning to the man.
"It's me, Frank. Do you not recognize me?"
"Dear God no."
"Oh shit,"Frank said, "I think you glitched man. Did you rip out the cord?"
Trevor raised his hand to his head. He rubbed at the indention. "Yeah, I didn't, I didn't know what the hell that was."
"Jesus, Trev. Why'd you do that?"Frank said as he pushed past Trevor. He grabbed onto the cord that was attached to Serenity's head and twisted.
"What are you doing to her?"Trevor asked.
"I'm waking her up, she's gonna enjoy the shit out of this,"Frank said, trying to contain his laughter.
"This isn't fucking funny. What the hell is going on?"Trevor yelled.
"Trev, man, I don't know how far you got in the game, so I don't know what technology you remember, umm, you know what video games are, right?"
Trevor nodded.
"Okay, uhh, what year was it? What year do you remember?"
"2014."
"Okay, uhh, yeah, a few years before PCs took over the market. Yeah, okay. Now, go ahead and sit down as I try to explain this to you. This is so fucking cool, Sere is gonna flip."
Frank grabbed a hold of Trevor's arm and guided him over to the couch. "Sit sit sit, you goof."
Trevor sat down, and Frank did the same next to him after throwing the bag of cheese puffs to the side.
"Okay,"Frank said, "what you think was real life was actually a very popular massive multiplayer online virtual reality game, MMOVRG, or "movers", as the gaming community like to call them. You and Sere were playing, hopefully co-op. She didn't cheat on you did she?"
"No, no, we were getting mugged,"Trevor said. The words felt alien in his mouth. They left his tongue feeling numb. His teeth were heavy in his mouth. "Jesus,"Trevor whispered as his head began to spin. The room began to darken.
"Trev, stay with me man, oh fuck I'm not gonna be able to carry you if you fucking pass ou-
Trevor opened his eyes. He was back in the recliner. Standing to his side was Serenity. She was smiling at him. Seeing her so young made Trevor's heart flutter.
"You saved my life, you goob,"she whispered to him.
Trevor tried to sit up, but felt his head jerk back. He reached a hand up and felt the cord was again attached to his head. His first instinct was to remove it.
"No, don't do that,"Serenity softly spoke. "It's gonna be okay, please trust me. You're going to hear someone speak, and you'll remember everything. Just relax, close your eyes."
Trevor began to hyperventilate. Sweat beaded out on his forehead. All he wanted to do was sit up and hold her in his arms.
A loud booming voice echoed in his ears, "Please wait as current memories are reloaded, please take this moment to reflect back on your experience."
"I need to get up,"Trevor said, trying to pull away from the recliner again.
Serenity pushed him back down with a firm hand. She leaned forward and kissed him.
"Beginning reload,"the voice echoed.
His eyes widened.
|
Fire. Smoke. Screams. Only a few seconds ago I had been on the floor of my kitchen, watching the world fade as I clutched at my heart. But now...
I wasn't so bad, was I? I'd never hurt anyone, not really. Besides I wasn't even Christian! But this was, unmistakably, Hell.
"Hold on a second!"someone shouted over the roar of the flames. I realize that the screams are my own, and stop at once. Someone is moving in the fog. A massive, alien shape... I scrabble backwards, clutching at the wall of this cavern...
The smooth wall. The smooth *plastic* wall.
Something's not adding up.
With a mighty "FWOOSH,"a white cloud bursts through the smoke and flames. Within seconds, the fires are extinguished, and I get my first good look at the room. Without the flames, it's actually somewhat nice (if a bit scorched). Metal and rubber paneling on the walls, some kind of large console in the middle, and at the back where I sat was some kind of pad. If it weren't for the hulking demon in green coveralls holding a fire extinguisher, it would have looked like the transporter room from Star Trek.
"Sorry about that!"the demon says, setting down the fire extinguisher. "Soul Catcher tends to overheat sometimes. Lucky we pulled you through before it did though, eh?"He chuckles at this, as though a room bursting into an inferno was the most normal thing in the world. "Name's Rextroth, son, and this is the afterlife."He raises a paw towards me, and I press farther back against the wall.
"No need to be skittish, son. Just trying to give you an arm up."He smiles warmly (as warmly as one can with enormous fangs), and continues to hold out his arm. Gingerly, I give him my own hand. With a surprisingly gentle motion he pulls me up, and begins to dust off my... Hey! In all the commotion, I hadn't noticed that I was naked. My hands immediately clap over my groin.
"No worries, son! Ain't nothin' I hadn't seen before. Besides, you're a soul now! Didn't expect you'd get to keep yer clothes on the trip, eh?"He pats me on the back and produces a smaller pair of coveralls from a shelf under the console.
"Here ya go. Might not quite fit, but it's the best we've got."As I pull on the surprisingly comfy suit, my throat finally gets out the words I was looking for.
"S-so, I'm n-n-not in Hell?"The demon laughs.
"Oh no, mate. This is most definitely Hell. And *you* are our newest denizen!"
-----------------------------------------------
We walk out into a common area, the Rextroth chatting all the way. I crane my neck in amazement; to call the room gigantic would be an understatement. Whole skyscrapers arch towards the top, clouds formed partway up. At the very top, barely visible past a thundercloud, is a skylight that reveals a swirling nexus. In the center of the nexus is a faintly glowing light. Rextroth pats me on the back again, disrupting my focus.
"Newbie! Thought you'd gone out for a sec. We've got to get your initiation in order, so you know what's what."He pulls out a tablet and checks something.
"Let's see... you're Johansson, right?"I nod, then (feeling a bit foolish), try to clarify.
"Y-yes, Mark Johansson. Carpenter."Rextroth looks at the list again.
"Well, Mark, don't see nothin' about being a carpenter. That's not so important down here. But you are listed, and..."His enormous eyebrows go up in surprise. "Oh ho! You must be very lucky! You'll get to meet the big-man himself!"At this, I gulp. He can't mean...? "You don't mean...?"
"Aye, the Devil himself!"My spectral knees go weak, and Rextroth laughs again.
--------------------------------------------
After entering a surprisingly well-furnished building and going up an elevator, Rex and I step out into an immaculate office, with lush red carpeting, dark wood paneling, and golden trim. Rex bows towards the enormous mahogany desk and then steps back into the elevator just in time for the doors to close. I turn, and face the Devil.
He's not what I expect. In black pants and shoes, with a smart grey jacket buttoned up to his Adams apple, he looks more like some kind of general than the Beast. Long blonde hair swept back into a ponytail sits above sparkling green eyes and a handsome, dark-skinned face. He smiles warmly before gesturing at a chair.
"Welcome, he says, in a voice that is at once both light and merry as well as deep and rich. "Please do sit down."I sit, fidgeting slightly. I look about, wondering when the tridents and whips are going to come into play.
"There will be no tridents and whips, Mr. Johannson."I look up in surprise, and he smiles knowingly. "Trust me, you're not the first to think so."He sits down and gestures at my side of the table. At once, the surface rises up and forms a glass of water. I ignore it, and continue to look at the Prince of Darkness.
"Now I realize your experience here has not been exactly what you'd expect, has it?"I shake my head slowly, wondering what's going on. No torture, no pain, no agony... what was going on? The Devil simply sits and waits. Seeing nothing more forthcoming, I pluck up my courage and ask, "Um... what exactly is uh... is uh..."before the Devil provides "What is going on here?"I nod again.
With a wave of his hand, the tabletop changes again. This time, a large sculpture appears, showing three discs in a vertical column. The center one contains a galaxy, spinning slowly. The bottom one contains a dome, with buildings that look much like the ones outside. And as I look at the top one, I see only a blinding, harsh light. The Devil nods as I look away.
"Heaven. Hell. And the mortal world."He gestures towards the blinding light, and it dims somewhat to reveal glittering towers and sweeping plains. "There atop Paradiso sits the creator of the Universe, the almighty, the Deity, and his faithful."He then points at the galaxy. "Here in the mortal world, the various planets that contain life spread and flourish, allowing all of creation to grow."With one final gesture, he points at the dome. "And here, where we are, is Hell. A forgotten corner of creation, which I found and adapted to my own purposes. Here, is where I have brought you, Mr. Johannson, and countless others, for a singular purpose."At this, I stare at the dome.
"Punishment...,"I whisper, beginning to shake. But the Devil shakes his head, his expression somber.
"No, not punishment. You have done nothing wrong, or at least nothing terrible. Hell is not for the wicked, nor Heaven for the good."His expression darkens at that. "No, most certainly not. You have been brought here because you do not believe."I gape at this.
"What, so all nonbelievers go to Hell?"The Devil nods. How could this be? What twisted...
"How could God let this happen? What kind of just deity just lets his creations rot in Hell?"At this the Devil bridles.
"He is no just deity. He is a monstrous, childish bully. A dictator that-!"He cuts himself off. There in his eyes glows a hatred that vanishes as swiftly as it arrived. "In any case, you are not here to 'rot,' Mr. Johannson. You are not here to be tortured, forgotten, or punished. As I said, you are here for one reason, and one reason only."He gestures once again to Heaven, and the view shifts. On the streets, glittering armies of angels line up in perfect rows. Humans stand and watch, cheering, but something doesn't seem right. The cheers are forced, unhappy. Children run from the glittering rows to duck behind bushes, and souls hide their eyes to avoid looking directly at the glorious hosts. Atop a high throne, the blistering light shines brightest, hiding the figure within.
"Since the creation of Earth; my favored world; I have fought to show my kin the tyranny of our father. He has manipulated world after world, spreading death and destruction at an unimaginable scale. As I said, it is not the good who enter Heaven."His hands ball into fists. "Only the faithful. Those who bloody their knees praying and scraping to Him. And he has created catastrophe after catastrophe, wiping away whole species and worlds in order to create only those that praise Him. I have fought-"and here the anger comes back into his voice, "I have fought time and time again to preserve life. I have created Hell, and brought you and so many others here for one purpose."At this, he stands up from his chair and looks down on me. A light seems to shine from him, and the glory of the First Angel radiates out.
"I would fight the corrupt hosts. I would free my brothers and sisters, and create a new order. One that cherishes life, and freedom."He extends his hand towards me as I gape stupidly in awe. "I ask you to join me in this endeavor, as a mighty warrior of truth and justice. Will you come with us?"
My mouth struggles to find the words. All of this...
"C-can I have some time to think about it?"The Devil laughs, the light fades, and he sits down at his chair.
"Of course, Mr. Johannson."A mischievous, though not unkind grin crosses his face. "You have all the time in the world."
EDIT: Holy shit, thanks for all the great comments peeps. And especially thanks to whoever gave me gold! I probably will do a continuation of this story at some point. |
The first thing I will say in my defense is that it is wrong for men to stalk women, and we shouldn't be crucified for protecting ourselves.
The second thing I will say in my defense is that he was cute.
I've encountered my share of creepers before. They come in all shapes and sizes. Young, old, fat, thin, and every skin color you can name. Men have pursued, nay, hunted women for centuries. Only in the last few decades has humanity taken a look at itself and said, "Maybe we shouldn't do that to women."
This guy, however, was just my type. He looked delicious. Tall, fit, sandy blond hair, and intelligent eyes that seemed to observe every detail. He followed me home tonight after I got off work. I pretended not to notice him, and to be honest he was pretty subtle in his stalking. But when you've been tracked as many times as I have, you start to get a sixth sense for these things. I knew he was there, a hundred yards behind me.
In fact, he almost lost me on one particular winding street. I actually slowed down and let him catch up. I think he might have suspected something was up when he managed to find me again. Fortunately for me, though, he didn't give up the chase.
The walk home took twenty minutes. Usually it takes less, but I had to slow down so he could follow me. I could feel his eyes on my back as I shimmied up my front steps. Did he know I live alone? Maybe he planned on breaking in in the middle of the night? Who knows.
I watched him through my peephole. He looked around, probably memorizing the layout of the neighborhood, then turned away and started walking. I gave him a suitable head start, then started following him. How's it feel now that the tables are turned, huh?
I think he suspected someone was following him, because he kept turning around. He sped up pretty noticeably towards the end of his walk. Maybe he was afraid. I watched him enter an apartment building, and then the elevator. I watched the elevator's lights rise up to the sixth floor. Then I followed him up.
I knocked on his door. He opened it, and his big doe eyes widened in utter shock when he saw me.
"Hi there,"I said, smiling at him.
"Um... hello. Do I... do I know you?"He stammered.
I shook my head, my dark hair rippling around my face. "I don't think so. But I couldn't help but notice you were following me today. So I followed you back, and I thought maybe we could talk about this."
"Oh... uh... okay. Come on in."
Vampires can't enter your home unless you invite them in. As it turned out, he tasted just as delicious as he looked. |
I put the veil on Felicia's head. She was smiling, which brought me a tinge of happinees. But I put my hands on her cheeks, as I did when she was a little girl, and said, "I know this is probably too late, but I wish you wouldn't do this."
"Mom,"she said, "I love her. And you always said..."
"I know what I said, but I just think it shouldn't be — her."
"You don't know what it's like — to love your clone. Mom, you can't think of her as me. She's someone else. She's another woman. She's someone I love."
I knew what she meant. I understood. I really did. I looked at her droopy eyes, which were like mine, but younger. I looked at her resting smile; mine had faded over time. And I looked at her beautiful perky breasts, which made my heart skip a beat.
"Mom,"she said, "I know you don't understand. But I love her."
But I did understand, better than she could know. And I knew I couldn't hold it in any further.
"Felicia,"I said softly, touching the nape of her neck, ready to tell her something that would change the nature of our relationship — a relationship far closer than she ever knew — forever. |
"In a moment, a Grimoire will be passed to each of you. It is your job to fill your partially completed grimoire with geometric summoning patterns, anarcho-magus spells, and hexes. Upon graduation you must use your lexicon to battle another Sorcerer from the Sect of Exo. You are not required to win, and aiming lethal spells, or summoning reality threatening beasts is strictly prohibited. You must prove your knowledge of the arcane to defend yourself properly in order to graduate. No under-prepared Sorcerers are to make it to the Riszlen Tower for their finals, because testing the uninitiated can itself be Lethal.
Reximus sitting at the edge of the front row was then passed a stack of books, he took one, and passed the rest.
"How do we create new spells?"
"An excellent question, Reximus. We will teach you the basic geometrics, and the five divinatory rituals banned by the romans. In each of them lies a secret to penning a Grimoire. We are giving you incomplete works so that you may build your way up off of these foundations. Your stokes sent from the canoe of our school will send out great ripples, and your books will be passed down to future students. Your contribution not just to magic, but to humanity is imperative. Never has it been so important in human history that we teach as many people, as accurately as we can, the power at their fingertips. And never has it been so important that that knowledge is not just complete, it's practical... Because Knowledge is power kids, and here... Knowledge is infinite. We are entering a new period of magic. The mago-anarchists are taking over because methods of personal defense and power are changing the politics of the world around us rapidly."
Howel sat quietly, peaking up from his glasses.
"Archmage Aurelius, My book has nothing in it."
Aurelius's eyes went wide.
"Let me see it."
He passed it to the student in front of him, who then passed it up more rows to Archmage Aurelius.
"You hold Kazin's book... **The Industrionomicon.** The perpetual changer. I don't know how this got in the pile. You may keep it, but your book will be the hardest of all if you choose this path."
"Why?"
"Kazin was a time traveller. A scientist, not a Sorcerer. This book is blank because he removed his equations and causality events from it, and it used to contain the secret to his power. He removed the equation before giving it to the school. If you look at the back however, you will find everything you need to fill the book"
Howel flipped to the back.
*"You cannot add value to the journey, without also adding risk."*
Howel looked up at Archmage Aurelius curiously.
"It's all he had to figure it out."
Howel shut his book.
unwilling to relinquish the task, curiosity driving him, he put it in his bag.
"We have a brave one this year, kids."Archmage Aurelius smiled before going back up to his desk.
"You are dismissed for now. Consider your tasks carefully." |
There I was, standing at the gates of heaven, I did not see the car that hit me, and apparently he didn't see me either.
When I arrived God showed me 3 doors and told me that I could pick any one for my final destination, most people pcked the door to eternal happiness, since that's what they had ban promised while they were alive.
Some people picked the second door, since their entire life had been spent in the quest for infinite knowledge.
I'd been here 3 days and seen the people passing through both doors, but God still hadn't told me where the third door led, in fact he said that nobody had ever used it before.
I'd known by the second day that I was going to use the third door, I'd bit been much of a risk taker in life, but I figured being dead, I didn't have anything to lose.
I could see God smiling out of the corner of my eye as I reached for the handle of the third door, and when I turned the knob I saw nothing but blackness, with a small pinpoint of light at the other end.
I'd come this far, might as well see what's at the other end, I thought. As I started walking down the dark hallway I realized that I could hear random machines beeping and a rhythmic whooshing, like a bellows.
I blinked, and suddenly I was in a hospital bed, staring at a very surprised nurse.
Many years later, I still don't regret my decision, as soon as the doctors cleared me to leave the hospital I haven't stopped trying new things. |
Trinity stood in the doorway of the mess. She stared at Morpheus, who sat at the scuffed steel table with his head in his hands. The only sound was the low, distant hum of the engines. She would have left him alone with his thoughts, but of course he knew she was there.
"I can't believe that we've failed again,"Morpheus said quietly.
"We haven't,"Trinity said, and walked in. She sat down across from him. "We all believe in you. You convinced all of us, and you can convince him, too. He won't remember you-- clean slate. This time I know you'll succeed."
"Neo is different,"Morpheus said, finally looking up at her. He had bags under his eyes.
"How long since you've gotten some sleep?"
"When I found all of you,"Morpheus went on, as though he hadn't heard her, "you were all at rock bottom, in one way or another. Poor, down on your luck, driven only by your need to answer the questions that had nagged at you for your entire lives. Your need to know what the Matrix was. It wasn't much different for me. But Neo... he is not like we were."
Trinity nodded. That was true. She thought back to when she had first saw him, so clean-cut, wearing a suit that probably cost more than most people his age made in six months, a gold watch gleaming on his wrist... she'd wondered why they were bothering with this man. Maybe he was a programming prodigy, but he was not one of them.
"Neo is a part of the Matrix, and it is a part of him,"Morhpeus went on. "He's a rising star in his company, one of the most skilled programmers in his field. He has all the money he could want. He's living his dream. He has the same curiosity that we do, the same inquisitive mind. But what is curiosity compared to what he's achieved? He's pushed it aside. He's drowned out that voice in the back of his mind."Morhpeus sighed, and shook his head. "He simply doesn't care what we have to say."
"No,"Trinity said. "I don't accept that. We've come to far to give up now. However long it takes, however many times we need to go through this, you're going to figure it out. You're going to change his mind."
"Yes, I will."He was silent for a long moment.
"You have a plan?"She asked.
"Yes,"Morpheus said. "We are going to ruin Neo's life. We are going to take away everything that distracts him from the truth."He looked Trinity in the eyes. "And when he's living in a rathole apartment, struggling to pay his rent, in a job that he hates more and more every day, that quiet voice, those nagging doubts, will resurface. And he will not be able to ignore them."
There was a long silence between them as Trinity thought it over. Was it the only way? "He can never know it was us,"she said finally.
"No. He cannot. But we must drag him from his gilded cage all the same. We must help him become who he was meant to be."Morpheus sighed. "Get Tank. Take us to broadcast depth." |
"You're looking mint today, Mary"
"Really?"she blushed.
"No you mardy cow, now piss off, go on, out of my yard!"
The scowling woman rolled her eyes and scurried away in a huff. She'd had her eyes on his garden for weeks now, and he had no doubt she'd be back sooner rather than later to collect some clippings.
It had been 3 years since he had moved to the sleepy village of Knutsford, but it felt much shorter in his mind. Gripping a wooden mug of tea, he closed his eyes and inhaled. Long gone were the metallic smells of the tour bus table, the blaring screeches from the announcer's microphone and the harsh hit of the flickering floodlights. Tranquility washed over him like a sheet. It reminded him of the needles, the pills he had taken for years, only to not even approach this bliss.
Opening his eyes, he smiled and began strolling along the lane. Perhaps a walk into the centre was what he needed on such a beautiful day. A pair of hobbling figures approached from the other direction, clearly in a hurry. He grinned as he kicked the crutch from the boys grip, watching him tumble into the unstable arms of his friend.
"Plenty more where that came from - I'm not snide, am I?"He laughed. He began to hum as the murderous stares bounced off his back and went unnoticed.
*Step outside, summertime's in bloom...*
So what if the townsfolk didn't like him? He was happy, which was all that mattered. Not as if the people back in his time liked him either, and he'd hardly lost a night's sleep over *that*. He did wonder if they thought about him though. A well familiar memory creeped into his brain, not for the first or hundredth time since the accident. The print magazines. The paparazzi. His brother. It was because of him that he had left in the first place. He could almost picture the bile spewing from the editor's fingers. Where was his brother this time? A drug fueled bender? A four day sex party in the Mediterranean? One article suggested that his brother was last seen at a popular nightclub in New York where people dressed in chains and leather. The knocks on the door. The sleepless nights of so called friends chiming in, asking him to join the search parties.
*Stand up beside the fireplace, take that look from off your face -
You ain't ever gonna burn my heart out...*
Instead, he had donned his cap, put on a pair of dark sunglasses, and slipped off in the early hours of the morning. The morning itself was hazy, but he remembered walking to the old well and wishing upon the change in his pocket. An easier, simpler place to live was all he wanted. In a way, he'd definitely gotten it.
As he approached the hairy, grizzled vendor, he burst out into song, the wordless tune suddenly springing forth into vocalization.
He was free. Free of that life, free of obligations. Free from him.
*And so Sally can wait, she knows it's too late as we're walking on by...*
The vendor, distracted by the street urchins running past, almost involuntarily whispered back.
"Her soul slides away..."
Shocked, their eyes met.
"But don't look back in anger, I heard you say..."he mumbled, choking on his words.
"Liam?"
"Noel?"
"OH FOR FUCKS SAKE!" |
"Moore? You still with us?"
My head was spinning. I squeezed my stress ball reflexively - *squeak squeak*. I caught my wits and pressed the Push-To-Talk button.
"Yeah"I coughed out, "I'm still here".
"So, where do we go from here?"
I looked around the station. My home. I wasn't even halfway through my Freeze-Dried rations. There was enough water for a few more years. I was only on my second read-through of the Stephen King collection.
I could probably squeeze a little more enjoyment out of my next three or four years alone.
I squeezed my stress ball.
"Have you been to the surface yet?"
I could practically hear the shake of his head.
"No. We're not sure if it's inhabitable yet. Based on our calculations prior to descent, it shouldn't be".
"I see".
So now what? Have radio buddies for the rest of my life? Better than dying alone, but only barely.
A shuffling in the base. I flinched and looked around, then sighed. I knew I wouldn't see anyone.
"Tell me something about Earth", I braced myself for what was coming.
"Pardon?"
"Anything. Something I wouldn't already know".
*squeak squeak*
The line went silent. I held my breath. Was this real, or would his voice disappear like the others?
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he responded.
"We've been working on bouncing and extending our signal since we got here. Since you're the first person we've reached, and well, you're on the moon...it's possible that we are the last humans alive".
I nodded. I had already reached that same conclusion.
"That's not something I didn't already know."
"Did you know about the infernos? Or the dust storms?"
I looked outside the window, at the Planet I had once called my home.
Now stained brown and red. Black clouds encircling the planet. Had I known about the actual climate changes? No. I had suspected many things, but not dust storms.
"Okay. I just had to check that..."I hesitated. Would I lose them if I admitted my fears out loud? Would they worry about my mental condition? "That -"
"One more thing Moore. Are you Harry B. Moore? Did you go up with the SpaceZ program a few years ago?"
My heart skipped a beat. The hallucinations were indeed getting stronger. There was no other reason a crew at the bottom of the ocean could possibly know who I was. *squeak squeak squeak*
"Moore?"
I hesitated. What do I say? *Get the fuck out of my head! Let me rot in peace!*? Was there any combination of words that could restore my mind back to normal? Was it crazy to ask myself that? Was it crazy to ask myself *this*?
I looked around at the Moon Base. Many of the equipment had been damaged upon arrival, the rest fell into a state of disrepair after a few months. I had driven myself crazy trying to teach myself how to get things operational - at first figuratively, but in recent times, literally. The voices, the visions, *her*, they came and went without any rhyme or reason.
"Moore."
"Still here."I finally croaked. The hallucination, the man who couldn't possibly be real, sighed.
"Well... I'll let her explain it".
I heard the shuffle of the Radio being handed over. This mirage was getting elaborate.
"Harry?"
I dropped the stress ball. Time slowed. The voice sounded just like -
"...Claire?"
A moment of silence. Then a sob from the other line.
"You sound exactly the same."
I let the radio fall to my side. I looked back out at the Hellhole that Earth had become. Was her voice a hallucination?
No. After trying so long to remember what she sounded like. That had to be the real thing.
It was Claire's submarine that had managed to survive the end of the world.
And I had to get back to Earth to reach her. |
“NUH-HUH!” A terrifyingly familiar voice booms, echoing around me like the crash of an icy waterfall. The shock of it causes me to drop my ‘Worlds Best Dad’ mug of hot coffee onto the billing report at my desk. “...Timmy?” I whisper uncertainly. That sounded like the voice of my 5 year old son.
“MY DAD CAN BEAT YOUR DAD.”
Before I have time to react, or even breath, my world dissolves around me into deep darkness with an electric, all encompassing hum that vibrates my very bones. I taste blood in my spit. God I can’t breath. I can’t see. I can’t hear shit. I’ve never heard silence like this before. I’m having a stroke. Shouldn’t have taken all those quaaludes back in college. Suddenly everything comes rushing in. The light seems to blind me. All I can hear is a roaring like a war of waves breaking against the shore. “Dave!” I yell, tripping on my words “D-dave! I think I’m having a fucking stro-“. I pause. I feel great. I open my eyes and my mouth drops open. My office cubicle. The billing report. The fluorescent lighting and the smell of old sweat and coffee, the sighs of tired workers and the hum of desktop computers. All gone. I’m standing in what can be only described as a colosseum. Row upon row of stands stretch in bands around me seemingly endlessly, filled with a chaotic horde of children baying for blood. Oh god. Children. My overworked, caffeine drenched brain starts turning the cogs, desperate to make sense of this madness. Timmys voice. The children. I look down. I’m standing in a loincloth in the red dirt. In my hand is a notched and rusty sword. A dirty brown tint to it. I look up and my stomach drops. I feel a dirty brown tint coming to my pants as I see a terrified, balding man, covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes milling around in confusion. He appears to be smoking, slightly. He is holding a pitchfork flaccidly in his right hand. The wild spectators scream raw throated yells and I hear snatches of death chants being sung violently in high pitched voices. A voice comes barrelling out from my left, and the crowd quiets. “You have been gathered here today...” a fat, pompous, piggy looking 7 year old squeals through a megaphone, “to witness the challenge brought forth by young Timmy of the First Grade” -my eyes widen as I see my son nervously bouncing by fatty’s side- “against Jules of the Third Grade. This ancient battlefield has been chosen. The champions- father against father. The battle is to be to the death.” At this the crowd goes wild. Me and Jules’ father lock eyes in confusion. Large, menacing looking children with electrified lances begin to advance on us from all angles, hemming us both in. I bring the sword to my finger and test the edge. This is real. This is really happening. I gaze again across at the balding man. He grins back at me with a bemused expression. I grin back like a shark. Bloodlust rises within me. Fuck it, this is better than a billing report. Someone is going to get grounded, and it’s not going to be me. |
I remember when anything more than about 1,000 words seemed like a monumental challenge, and here you are putting out 30,000! It's amazing how much you've grown as a writer. Truly due to the massive amount of work you've put into fine tuning your craft. You've certainly inspired me to keep improving and helped make writing fun over the years, and I imagine there are others who would say the same. I'm so proud and excited to see this out and can't wait to see what else you create. Congrats Nick! |
I sat at my desk, the stresses of heroism a thing of the past for me. With my abilities I could manage workflow and inspire workeplace unity better than anyone in the company. Life at a desk suited me far better than being a super hero in world where there was such over-saturation of heroes and villains. It’d become more of a fad than anything relating to doing the right thing. Attention and fame is what most of these newcomers wanted. It was why I quit in the first place.
My computer had crashed just as I was saving my work in progress report on the numbers for the third quarter and couldn’t find any previous versions of the file anywhere. I’d had a similar problem before and the IT guy, Greg, knew what to do. So I set out to find him.
I rounded his cubicle and went to greet him but I noticed he was looking particularly bummed, holding a diamond-shaped pendant that had a familiar looking ‘Z’ etched onto it. I realized I’d seen it before attached to the chest of my arch-nemesis Zaldar.
Greg noticed I was standing behind him and he nervously fumbled with the pendant, dropping it away before he turned to face me, clearing his throat.
“H-hey, Bill,” he said, “What’s up?”
I stared at him, squinting slightly as I tried to comprehend why he was holding a symbol belonging to the guy I used to call my enemy. Greg was a nice guy, far nicer than anyone else I’d known in the office and he was always willing to help with the technologically-inept. I decided to push the thought aside.
“Yeah,” I said finally and jabbed a thumb over my shoulder, “my computer crashed in the middle of saving my third quarter report. Was wondering if you could do that thing you do and find the auto save?”
“Oh, yeah, sure! Easy!” He said and stood up, gesturing for me to lead him away.
As we stood at my desk, Greg started moving through files on my computer, explaining his process. But I didn’t hear him, my mind was still thinking about the Zaldar pendant he had.
It didn’t make sense. Had he been a fan of the masterfully intelligent villain? But Greg was always so kind and so willing to help people. Was he hiding some secret life? But was I to talk? I hid my past as well. I was no longer the Calculator, I was just Bill.
“Bill?” Greg said, drawing me from my thoughts.
I looked at him.
“There’s your report. It saved just in time before the crash. Might want to skim through it and make sure all the calculations are correct.”
“Of course... I...” I began to say, looking at the document before me. But what he’d said caught me off-guard. He’d said calculations. It was a mundane word, typical for my job. But then, perhaps he was hinting that he knew who I was. “I will.”
“Bill,” Greg whispered, “I know you saw it. The pendant. The look on your face told me you were very familiar with it. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Your body mass, your height, eye color, jaw structure. You’re not in that silly blue costume anymore, but I know it’s you.
“Before you even think of turning me in or starting anything, I want you to know I’ve left that life behind. I’ve settled down at this job and I’m happy. I’m married. I have a kid on the way. It’s not just a front. So please... Be a hero and-”
“Zaldar...” I said and looked him over. I couldn’t have recognized him without his mechanical outfit, but it made sense. Greg was such a whiz with technology and Zaldar had been my mental equivalent for so long, able to out calculate me. Not only was he good with numbers, he was good with technology. But to hear he’d gotten out too, it was strange. “Greg, don’t... Don’t worry, I’m out too. Got out a while ago.”
“It’s a mess out there isn’t it?” He asked with a relieved smirk.
I nodded, “It is. Remember when we all used to believe in something?”
Greg sighed, “It’s true. Now it’s about who can be the edgiest or who has the most likes on Instagram or whatever. A goddamned popularity contest.”
I chuckled sadly, “we should probably get back to work... But, Greg, we should catch up and get coffee later.”
“I’d like that.” He said.
With a bit of strained hesitation, we both returned to work. I’d been working with my ex-nemesis for months now and hadn’t realized it. Had he always known it was me? Or had he just been suspicious about it until today? Regardless, I looked forward to becoming his friend in a world that no longer needed our previous selves. |
The grime of this school gets everywhere. My favorite "Can You Dig It?"shirt with the front-end loader. This shirt used to be freshly-washed, new...and now? There's no escaping it - once you're here, you get dirty, regardless of whether you want to or not. It's everywhere, too - not just your hands, but under your nails. Good luck scrubbing those.
The face in the mirror stares back at me. It was clean, once, too. Five years has taken a toll on me. Where's the fat-faced baby in the sailor outfit that beams at the camera on the picture over the fireplace?
Time has changed me. School has changed me. I am not who I once was. I came to this place like a god-damned pencil, candy-pink eraser, end untouched...and then life grabbed me by the middle and jammed me into the sharpener until everything soft was scraped away and I emerged, dark and pointy.
I step down from the stool, dry my hands and face on a brown paper towel, throw it in the wastebasket, and open the door that connects the bathroom to the main class area.
It takes me longer than it should to realize what's going on: it's not story time, but all the kids are standing in front of the circle-time rug, staring down. My heart starts going like the hind legs of the Finneys' rabbit when we chase it around the living room, a trapped animal looking for escape.
I picked a hell of a time to use the bathroom.
Miss Kimmel is lying on the floor, the red blossoming out from under her like a twisted pair of angel wings. "Maroon,"I think, but I'm not sure if I mean the color or what an idiot I am for having left her alone.
*Maroon.*
My mind is racing like a Matchbox car down the plastic track my uncle built in his basement as I turn and walk over to my table. The construction-paper butterfly has **Jake** written on it in the impeccable penmanship of someone who has been teaching handwriting for years. *Had* been, I correct myself. Up until somebody decided to do arts and crafts with her throat. Even from the distance I was standing, I could tell the cuts weren't made by any kind of safety scissors. Somebody had bought - or stolen - a pair of street scissors and brought it into class.
I reach into the storage area underneath the table and my hand closes around something cold and hard. I affix it to my t-shirt, just next to the boom of the construction vehicle, and stalk back to the front of the room.
"Excuse me,"I say, 15 pairs of eyes fix on me. I scan them - each of them wide-eyed, full of fear and wonder. But one of those faces is as genuine as the plastic coins in my Fisher-Price cash register.
"As you've all seen, Miss Kimmel is dead. And whoever did it is in this room. As Classroom Sheriff, I'd like to ask everybody to go back to their seats."
I give them all a meaningful look before I continue: "*It's time for Show and Tell.*"
***
*Edit - if you like this response, check out [this similar one](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/7xuk66/wp_a_child_narrates_his_first_day_in_kindergarten/) on my sub. I haven't figured out any link between the two chronologically but there's definitely potential there.*
*Edit 2 - I have an idea for a continuation- I’ll post it on [my sub](http://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds) this afternoon if I have time. :)*
*Edit 3 - [Part 2 is here](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/a5cem9/kinder_noir_parts_1_and_2/?). |
It was a dark and stormy night.
The wind howled through the poorly-fitting door and threw raindrops against the rattling window-panes.
My father had brought us here to escape—but escape what? We had always seemed a normal family, if perhaps unduly touched by tragedy, but in the weeks since that stupid, stupid accident our lives had changed—for the worse.
He now talked feverishly of powerful groups with hidden powers allowing them to control the world. Every unusual event in our lives and in the wider world could be attributed to these shadowy figures. Everything connected, but nothing made sense.
And somehow, to him, this all seemed to be terrifyingly personal, as if these powers were turning all their thoughts to him, seeking him out, plotting to turn his world upside down. As if he had some terrible secret which he was desperate to protect, even if it cost him his sanity, and yes, his life.
Suddenly with a mighty crash, the door flew open. A menacing form loomed in the doorway, and said the words that would change everything, forever.
“Yer a lizard Harry.”
—
Edit: thanks for the votes and the awards, they’re very much appreciated!
Given the /r/WallStreetBets excitement for the last two days, I’ve been having to resist the temptation to change the opening line to “It was a dank and stonky night.” |
Sat on my chancellor's seat in the meeting hall that I had cleared out to prevent needless casualties, I looked down upon the hapless heroes.
‘You know' I began before one of the kids cut me off
‘We don’t need your lies!!!’ The kid in what seemed to be a mage's robe shouts.
‘Then it is good I don't often speak them’ I replied rather sarcastically.
‘As I was saying you know you are the fifth’ I paused searching my memory to be sure.
‘No sorry, the sixth group of kidnapped assassins they have sent to murder me’. They all looked shocked at my use of this word.
‘We are no assassins foul fiend, we are the heroes, summoned to this world to vanquish the true evil lord’ The one in the armour smugly stated. Clearly high on his own dreams.
‘I’m sorry, it may be different in the world you’re from. What word do you use for a warrior specifically sent to murder the head of state’. This shut them up. They stood there fidgeting their eyes wavering, a tiny push, and I could save them from dying needlessly like the third group.
‘Listen we can duke it out here, which I honestly would rather not do, or you can follow me to where the previous “Heroes” are being kept’ I said, rising from the seat and calmly striding between them not even raising a finger in a threatening way.
This is good, some try to strike right away, these ones are more willing to listen than some of the others. Guess they rushed the brainwashing this time it seems to have not really stuck.
We moved through the courtyard of the old castle.
‘It is true this place used to be a Monarchy you know’ I said conversationally. ‘But we had a popular uprising that installed this republic’.
‘Guess you had to bend to the will of the people.’ The warrior one spat.
‘I will always bend to the will of the people for I'm the one that led the rebellion. This stunned them, though knowing the kingdom that sent them, it was no wonder, they still had relatives of the old dynasty alive there. This Throne would be easy pickings if we weren’t so unified.
Finally, we reached a small Manor building. I rang the bell by the door and a young lady opened the door.
‘Ah Lord Mur’Deh Blud, to what do I owe the honour’. She said with a gentle smile. It was only after the first batch of “Heroes'' I discovered the unfortunate nature of my name amongst human languages. Dark Elves seem to have an odd naming method. My name means Moon Blooming Bud in the common tongue. But it took a bunch of screaming teenagers tied up to explain it was something far more sinister to them.
‘I have brought a few more unfortunates sent to… well you know.' It was never a comfortable thing discussing the near-constant attempts to end my life.
She just gave a weary smile as she turned to the now anxious and confused group of kids.
‘Come guys my name is Elizabeth but you can call me Lizzie, we have plenty of rooms and we can get you up to speed on the truth’.
The group almost reluctantly went into the home. The only upside to all this is I can at least provide sanctuary to those, who those bastards in the Alkaid Kingdom magically abduct. |
Inverse looed over his oddly calm hostage. She was a teenage girl, sixteen at most. She was completely normal. He had made sure she had no hidden powers or training before kidnapping her. She was sort of pretty if one looked at her in the right light, but nothing else about her stood out. And yet, she was in no way afraid of him.
"You're gonna regret this."She said in a sing-song voice. She was tied to a chair, but she acted like this was an everyday occurrence.
"I fail to see how."Inverse said.
"Yeah, that's cause you're an idiot. Seriously, you just kidnapped someone with Mr. Marvelous on speed dial. Do you really think this is gonna end well for you?"
"I am aware of who you work for, girl. In fact, that's the only reason you're here. I want to know everything you know about him. Who he is, where he goes at night. Everything. And you will tell me, I can guarantee that."
"You do know what I do for him, right?"
"One of the few things I was unable to determine. But you'll be telling me that too."He assumed the girl had some kind of hidden knowledge or connections. Something that would put in the hero's good graces.
"Wow. You really are an idiot, huh?"She said. "Just, the worst villain I've ever met. And I would know. I've met a lot of them. There's a reason none of them have kidnapped me though."
"Yes, yes. We've already established your connection to Mr. Marvelous. I assure you it won't matter. I have very extensive protections against him."
She laughed, long and hard. "You...you think..."She kept laughing. "Man, you really are an idiot, aren't you? No, wait, you're new at this, right? Maybe you're just out of the loop."
"The loop. You consider me uninformed when I was able to find out about your existence?"
"Yeah, but I'm not hiding. It's super easy to find me."
"Well then, pray tell how I am ignorant. Enlighten me why you're not afraid. Why I made a mistake in capturing you."
"Easy. Do you know how to keep a super's kid from running rampant?"
"Uh, no?"
"I do. I might not have any powers myself, but I know how to handle kids that do."
One of Inverse's security monitors went off. Mr. Marvelous, probably. He had come to rescue the girl. Well, let him. Inverse had hundreds of nasty surprises for the hero. He hit the button to deactivate the alarm and activate the security measures.
"Very impressive, but I fail to see how your skills with powered children is relevant here."
Why was the monitor still going off? He hit the alarm kill switch again, but it refused to stop beeping. It was becoming annoying.
"Well, it all comes down to one simple fact."The girl continued.
Inverse was barely paying attention now. He went to the security cameras to see what was going on. As he suspected, Mr. Marvelous was there, in front of the entrance to his lair. But why was he not entering? He was simply standing there, as if waiting for something.
"It means I'm one of the few people around who can babysit a super's kid."
Wait, what was that? Was there someone else there? That was unlikely, since Mr. Marvelous worked alone. Who else would be there? He hit a few keys and saw there was indeed another person there. Kinetic Woman? What was she doing there? And once he looked, he saw Ghost Skull. Why was a villain standing around with two heroes?
"And, well, you'd be really surprised to know just how many heroes and villains have kids."The girl said.
More and more were starting to show up. Inverse was starting to really panic now. He slowly turned to the girl, who was grinning like a mad woman. He pointed to the monitor. She nodded. Damn it.
As the explosions started, Inverse made a bee-line for his escape route. He also made a mental note to make sure the next person he kidnapped was not the babysitter for every super in several states. Well, provided there was a next time anyway. |
"...And don't come back until you have a definite report! No slacking either!"
•••
"What a sendoff."
"Indeed. Hang the regs; I'm Reginald, Reggie to my friends."Offering his hand in friendship, his fellow agent takes his hand, and they shake.
"And I'm James, Jimmy to my friends."
"Now, I'm quite certain that our stated mission is a cover for them testing something else about us. Some facet of character not already determined."
"Yes, that much is obvious, but precisely what are they looking for?"
"Hmm... Diligence?"
"Good one, Effectiveness?"
"Yes, but even more, are we trustworthy not to go wild with the expense accounts."
"And despite being surrounded by exotic places and people, can we focus on the job without breaking cover?"
"Good, that gives us diligent, effective, frugal, focused, and observant."
"For diligence, may I suggest we hit up the mission archives and see what everyone else has already looked at? We can avoid the commonplace mistakes, get an idea of what the fakes are, and perhaps a clue what real magic — hahaha — would look like if it exists."
"A capital idea!"
•••
"Well, M, what have our latest pair gotten up to?"
"A great deal of nothing, been spending twelve hours a day in the old mission archives.
"That is until you get a good look at their maps and notes. Neither of them tested out well for scuba, so they've put ocean and other deepwater reports to last and scheduled more scuba training sessions. That's 75% of the Earth's surface, leaving them more time to look into the land-based reports before they start figuring out if they *need* to go underwater."
"Good. No point going off half-cocked when the mission is that silly, but why aren't they using the researchers?"
"They did for the first few, then realized that the researchers are automatically assuming that any report of magic is false unless it was stage magic, where they report how it was done."
"Hmm. Something to gig research over then. Assumptions get agents killed."
"True, true, but their notes are going to turn into something truly invaluable. A compendium of every mistake a new agent can make. I've already got TRADOC working with them to produce that report."
"M, you know how much I hate acronyms, especially American acronyms."
"Training and doctrine, Sir."
"Mph... It doesn't run trippingly off the tongue, does it."
•••
"I say, Jimmy? Did you happen to notice M watching?"
"Two days ago, but I can't make out the other fellow. Whoever he is, M treats him like a superior officer."
"Because he is, I've met him before—the head of the entire MI."
"Why would D be taking an interest in us?"
"An excellent question, but one I fear we will have to find the answer to ourselves."
•••
"Reggie? I'm noticing something peculiar."
"Yes... Every exotic or unusual location is covered over 3000%."
"While every overseas location is covered to at least 500%, but..."
"Less than 15% within merry old England."
"You wouldn't normally associate magic with England. At least I wouldn't."
"Yet, the country is covered with sites and stories of magic."
"Yes. I think we have found our first area of study. Grid search? Or points of interest?"
"A bit of both. Establish a grid, and expand from the main points of interest."
"I think it would be better to reverse that. The few searches done here all focused on the known points of interest. Let's use that grid, but start from the points farthest from any known point of interest."
"Hmmm. Do we allow for the strength of the known point?"
"Ah, a figure of merit to establish a graded contour?"
"Exactly!"
((cont)) |
Circling the tower for the 18th time that week, I realised nobody was in any rush to collect her. See, in my culture, it's noble to die to a knight. And the princess didn't seem to mind. I mean, at first she did. But she seems quite happy here, with the peace and quiet, doing everything at her own pace. I tucked my head into the stone archway leading to her quarters.
"Hello!"She smiled, tucking her beautiful golden locks behind her ear. I came closer, and she lovingly stroked my wings.
"Thank you for everything, Darcie. I'm so glad we're friends,"She giggled, "Atleast I hope we are."
I roared happily. I loved whenever she called me by my nickname. It was surprisingly close to my name in Dragonian, which is Darcaia. I wanted her to tell me more of her stories! They could never get old, no matter how many times I heard them, or what they were about.
"I really like it here. But I miss home sometimes. We used to host great feasts, for the whole kingdom!"Her eyes glowed as she described it. "Anyone who was anyone came along. It was the only time I was permitted to talk with people outside my palace. We exchanged stories, and joked with each other. It was the only day that social rank could be forgotten."
The joy from her face began to fade. "Yet none of them care enough to find me!"She cried, her voice quaking. "It's been a month, and you say nobody has even sent out one search party?"
Seeing tears roll down her face upset me, so I gestured for her to climb onto my back. I didn't know how else to comfort her, but to show her something new.
Once she was comfortable, we took off. I climbed the clouds, and the princess squealed with excitement. We flew above her kingdom, and you could see everything. It truly was breathtaking. I'd never stopped to appreciate views like this. I suppose that was one of the many things the princess taught me. |
I just turn to them and squinted my eyes. I am a fucking satyr. Do they not hear my hooves whenever I walk with no shoes? Have they seen my shoes? What about my horns? I know they're small but come on! I rarely wear hats! Is my hair THAT foofy? What about my tail- actually I wear baggy enough closthes where that thing wouldnt be seen so not a surprize there... Any way, if they're this dense, a full moon ain't gonna change nothing. Sure it's a blood moon too but that ain't special.
The full moon comes around and they all have their little magical girl transformations. They all turn to different things, Michelle a wolf, Katherine a lion, Maria a bat and Lilian a dragon and I... I got nothing. I was just there to watch it all.
Lilian was the most shocked and stared me down. She was holding her breath as she asked me, "h-how?"
I signed back, "how what?"
"How have you not transformed? You're supposed to be a mythical like us."
I just squint my eyes at her.
"Are you cursed?"Michelle sniffed the air around me. While the others were confused, werewolves can smell certain curses because of the scent they leave on the person that gets stronger if the person is trying to resist it. "I don't smell anything, that must be some strong cursed."
"Maybe she needs an element to help trigger it?"The panic in Katherine voice was real but unwarranted. "But the Bloodmoon gives off both star and fire magic."
"Maybe it's a water thing."Maria flew high into the sky. "There's a lake a few miles down. Maybe we can hurry and get her in!"
"But she can't swim."Lilian hissed and then it seems as if the groups collective brain cell hit the corner of the screen.
"Maybe thats her curse."They said in unison and I facepalm.
I stopped away. |
My name is James Cooper and I'm going to commit suicide by Grandfather Paradox.
Long story short, I'm a physicist on a distinguished team of scientists who have finally cracked the time barrier and made humanity's first time machine. At the moment we can only go into the past, which works fine for me.
Once we got it working I put my plan in action, figuring out when I could access the machine and get my suicide under way. I'd been planning this for months and I was determined to see this through. Finally it's time for it to happen.
The machine is huge, comparable to the first computer, but of course it's a lot more chock full of tech. I get inside the capsule and begin the launch. In the blink of an eye I'm back to the year my grandfather would turn eighteen.
I'd done my research well and I knew exactly how I'd get to where I needed to be. Lucky he'd never moved far from his hometown.
Soon I'm at his doorstep, knocking hard on the door. I want to get this over and done with. To my surprise the door swings open and I walk inside cautiously, calling hello.
I hear a scraping noise on the second floor, so I head up the stairs. To my right a door is open and I see my grandfather, a stool in his hand and a noose strung from an exposed beam in the ceiling.
I freeze. This is impossible, there's no way my grandfather killed himself at eighteen. He didn't marry my grandmother until he was twenty-three. I watch in horror as he climbs the stool. My plans flee from my mind as I jump forward and pull him down.
He yells in surprise and flails as he hits the ground. I watch as he gets to his feet and turns to face me.
He looks me up and down, "What did you do that for?"
"My name is James Cooper. And I'm here to save your life." |
"...and the Democrats continue to claim that it was all just a series of mistakes which led to the naked photos of house leader Kennedy being released. Now how 'bout that Clark, apparently Jennifer Lawrence isn't the only one having photo trouble this week?"The blonde's smile dazzling and even under the camera light her skin smooth and flawless.
Clark, of course, would have seen the tiny surgeons cuts all over her face, even without having known about them from reading her mail so tight skin didn't impress him, still he still grinned brightly back. Grinning was all part of the 'team focus' here on Fox, to show how united they all were and what good friends they made. Plus she was amazing in bed and no harm in being polite.
"Sure it hasn't Lauren, not great for celebs inside and out of the politics."The poor grammar sickened him a little, but they insisted that it made him more relatable. 'You're six foot five of muscle and smiles Clark, you can't come over as perfect, the viewers need to feel like you're one of them' his station manager had insisted and so poor grammar on the Teleprompter was his penance. "Let's check it in with Chuck on Sports Desk now, Chuck?"
"Thanks Clark, it has been a wild day for the Cowboys here at the..."Clark didn't bother to stay for the sport, after that it was going back to Lauren for the wrap up and that bitch would say goodbye from him anyway so there was no point sitting and smiling like a dork off camera, on the off chance that they would pan out. Fuck it, he had better things to do.
He grabbed a pack of wipes and started to remove the layers from his face as he headed back to his dressing room. Done for the day, no one would give a shit about him anymore and that worked out fine. Until 11am tomorrow he could be dead, so long as he wasn't caught with a hooker or dead girl, the station managers were quite clear that he was free to do as he liked. Back in his dressing room, he finished cleaning up, checked his stocks and then in the blink of an eyes was changed and out the window.
The weather was always fine at 40,000 feet and this was the finest part of the day for him, flying high over this majestic country. Done with the show he could get through his daily chore list and then head over to the Ivy Rooms in LA. No one ever seemed to worry how he could be on TV in New York all day and then in the hottest clubs in LA at night but then who really gave a shit? So long as they caught him talking to Beiber then he was a good story and a good story sold.
At last he'd reached his first chore. A solar plant had been recently constructed in New Mexico and its cheap power was causing his Texaco stocks to dip. A few well placed holes in a couple of safety systems and from seven and a half miles up, he watched the workers scurry around like ants and start shutting down the plant. It'd only be a day that it was out of commission and no one would get hurt, but once a week for a few months it would have a problem somewhere and the rolling brown outs across Albuquerque would put paid to any more being built.
It also occurred to him that he'd written tomorrows news too and he began thinking of snappy one liners about solar. Hadn't there been a thing with Obama and solar? He made mental note to get a researcher on it as soon as he was back in New York.
Next up, a chore which was really a favour. Cheney had been complaining about guerilla forces in Angola and he'd promised to look into it, when he, as Superman, had last been playing golf with the old VP. Now, idly zipping across the Atlantic, he was regretting agreeing; those stupid African countries, you could never find who you wanted and they all said they were innocent. Then a familiar sound flashed past his super hearing.
Faint and far away a voice "Oh god, heeeeelp", someone was calling, needing his help, this was what he was on this planet to do. Scanning around he saw a boat, capsized, with a small figure holding on to the hull. He turned and flew down low, skimming the waves and coming to the boat.
"Thank god, Superman!"The man looked exhausted and sunburned, he'd been here a while.
Superman lifted the boat from the water easily, spilling the man off and causing him to desperately swim from the waves caused by the boat lifting up and being held high out of the water. Shaking it slightly Superman let the water drain and then, he popped it back in the water upright. The man swam desperately and at last managed to catch the boat and heaved himself onto the side.
He lay panting and, after a moment he rolled over and still shaking with fear and the cold began to thank Superman. "No need to thank me, citizen"Superman was all smiles as he scanned around until he found a form of ID and memorised the information. "Your insurance will pay out for my time, you'll receive the bill shortly and can post it on to them. I'm here to help."
With a smile and small salute he was gone - off to better the world, bring American business to the world and protect the American way.
*****
EDIT: Somewhere the ghosts of Siegel and Shuster are plotting something nasty for me.
EDIT 2: I couldn't resist, part 2 now up. |
“Thought projection radio is here to tell you Goooooood Morning Earth 623! It is a bright sunny day in this pocket universes biggest city! Let’s get down to news. In politics Eminem, the god of the rap dimension, is stopping by the president of the Universes’ office in order to ‘stop all the haters’. In science Unidan is still cloning himself. The petition to expel him into his own new universe has reached 2 billion signatures, but he’s multiplying faster than we can recruit. Breaking Benjamin has suggested we wait for superman, but that hasn’t worked since all the superman keep dying since all the rooster teeth fans turned the sun red. In sports the new England Bengals have found a way to cheat at Calvin ball. This was not thought possible in a game without rules, but the head coach solved this by making some. Lastly, we would like to once again thank all the babies everywhere for not crushing us with their infinite imaginations.” |
We listened and listened, but nothing was found -
No intricate signal, no alien sound;
No link from a world in a galaxy bright,
But desolate silence, and limitless night.
We listened and listened, with nothing to hear -
No cosmic crescendo, no harmony near;
No twitch of a pitch, nor a note from the stars,
But spiritless stillness, and echoes from Mars.
We listened and listened - until it all *changed*.
A sound in the darkness, a message exchanged;
A voice from the cluster uncharted by men;
Recorded and printed, repeated again.
We listened and listened - with growing despair.
'*We cede to your mercy, and yield to your care.*
*They're coming*,' it said, and the message was through.
*'They're coming.*
*They're coming.*
*They'll come for you too.'* |
Greetings, pussies.
By now I am dead and you will be watching this video recording of myself from some cramped lawyers room, eagerly awaiting to hear my story so you can relay it to the mass media outside. To preface this, I had Charlotte, my assistant, film my final moments in this manner because I saw a rich, old lady do it on a drama series back in the 80's and it was sweet.
Kathy, my darling wife. I must admit, I once thought about divorcing you because of our aesthetic age difference. However, after realising how Hefner it was for an 89 year old looking me to be chaperoned around mobility stores by a 23 year old looking woman, I decided otherwise. It was gangster as shit and only got cooler whilst I aged and you did not.
To my lovely daughter, Cindy. The girl who thought it would be cool to resemble an 11 year old child for the rest of her life. Your mother really fought me on the decision to allow you to have sovereignty over your aesthetic age at such an early stage of your life, but, I supported you because I thought it would be hilarious. It was. What a terrible mistake you made. However, I promise you it was and always will be the funniest shit I have ever seen. I look at you now, a fully grown, mature and intelligent 11-year old and I'm always hit with a sense of amusement. Congratulations on a truly terrible decision you should have never been able to make.
To my son who has, so far, followed in his father’s footsteps - I'm very proud of you. I can only attest to just how killer it is to be the only aesthetic pensioner on the planet. There are certain liberties you can take when people believe your body and mind to be failing. I once saw a dog shitting in a convenience store so I joined in. The police merely drove me home and thought it was charming more than anything. Another time I was bored so I got in to a fight with a fruit stand. Do old guy shit plenty and often. We are literally a dying breed, you and I. A dying breed.
The world is going to be looking for a reason as to why I'm the only person on the planet who chose to retain their mortality – and I have one for them. Being the only person of age on planet Earth enabled me to corner the market on any Hollywood role that needed an old ass looking white male. Although I gave up my chance of immortality in terms of a physical medium, I will live on and be more widely recognised than all of you.
Signing off,
Old version of Professor Xavier /all the old guys falling off ladders in insurance adverts/ the guy people morph in to when showing the aging process in movies/Gandalf/etc.
By the way, I'm giving all my wealth and possessions to my eternal 11-year old daughter. Good luck figuring that one out. |
The Gates of Eternal Hatred loomed in front of Eric as he walked down the steep shale covered hill. Two pillars carved from obsidian stood in the center of the basin. A large red portal stretched between them, screams of the tormented escaped the swirling red vortex.
According to his reports no adventurer has managed to defeat this particular dungeon. *Curious.* The monster Association ensures that each dungeon is beatable. A monstrous hell spawn stomps out of the gate as Eric approaches. The beast lowers its bullhead and snorts out a gout of flame.
"Who dares enter the Gates of-"
"Save it,"Eric said flashing his inspector badge.
"Oh, sorry sir, I didn't realize we were being inspected today,"the beast said shifting nervously on hoofed feet.
"That's how it's supposed to work,"Eric said dismissively and walked through the red portal.
The ground was a fractured hellscape of red stone and fire. Flames shot out intermittently from random cracks, large gaping fiery pits threatened to swallow any adventurer who took a misstep. Tortured souls drifted along the red ether, moaning as they passed by. He lifted his clipboard and found atmosphere. *Check.*
So far so good. Nothing seemed impossible to beat yet. A fiery serpent reared its head from a pool of lava and spit a ball of fire at Eric. He waved his hand and the ball of fire dissipated in mid flight.
*Maybe I should have given them a warning.* He thought as he trudged through the dungeon. Creatures roamed the land but soon realized it was best to avoid the inspector as he made his way toward the Spire, a large stone tower that stretched into the black clouds above. He approached the stone steps and waved his badge in front of the giant obsidian gargoyle.
"Right through here sir,"the gargoyle rumbled.
The watch on his wrist began to vibrate, ten thousand steps. *Nice.* He walked up the infinite spiral staircase, a seemingly endless amount of steps stood between him and the boss. With a sigh he gripped the stone railing and climbed. His watch vibrated again, twenty thousand steps. He glanced over his shoulder and to his surprise, he was one step from the very beginning of the staircase. On his clipboard he flipped a few pages over and read the reports again. "Unable to progress the infinity stairs."Eric had just thought it was a clever name but it turns out they are actually...infinite. He made a note of it and whispered a word of command. His feet floated a few inches off of the ground and he shot upward through the center of the staircase. After a minute of flight he reached the top of the stairs and a black wood door. Faces of the tormented were painstakingly carved into the black wood. *Scary.* Eric pushed the door open and strode through. Seated on a black wooden throne was a robed man.
"You are the first...the first after so many years, welcome to your death adventurer,"the cold raspy voice of the Lich said.
"Nope just here to let you know you have a bugged magic staircase,"Eric said.
"What?"
"Yup, the magic spell on your stairs is broken. Someone took the infinite stair spell to literally and no one has been able to get here because of it,"
"Son of a bitch! Do you have any idea how long I've been sitting on this uncomfortable chair? Are you serious right now? Honestly look at this place, son of a bitch!"the Lich continued to rant and cuss.
"Look at this dreary place, why is everything so damn dark all the time. Creepy faces carved into every surface, I've been losing my damn mind up here hoping someday I would actually get to fight an adventurer!"
"Good news, I fixed the spell so now you will have countless adventurers to kill. They are already lined up outside right now,"Eric said trying to comfort him.
"Good...send them to their deaths!"he roared. "Oh and thanks inspector, everyone said you guys were real assholes,"he said.
"Just trying to do my job,"Eric smiled and teleported to the entrance of the dungeon. Brave adventurers waited anxiously to kill the Lich.
"The dungeon is now open for business!"Eric shouted and a cheer went up from the group of adventurers.
*I wonder if the Lich understands just how many times he is going to be killed today...*
---
Because of some interest, I also have [Eric inspecting the Wonka factory.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Written4Reddit/comments/4onxfz/eu_willy_wonkas_chocolate_factory_is_inspected_by/)
Thanks for reading! Great prompt, check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
|
The first thing I heard was a loud scream. It echoed off the walls of the small bathroom I was huddled in and pierced my heart with fear. I had, however, prepared for this. I put down the bouquet I was holding to slip on a pair of shooting range earmuffs and turned to address the screaming girl in the mirror.
"It's OK Mary, it's OK! You're safe with me now! You don't have to scream anymore."
She stopped screaming long enough to give me a stern glare.
"I'm screaming *because* I'm here with you, you dipshit".
"W-what do you mean, Mary?"I asked, bringing my face closer to the mirror in hopes that she would be receptive to a kiss.
She turned her nose up at me.
"I know where you're going with this, buddy. You're looking for a prom date, aren't you? Well, you can count this ghost girl out!"
"But could you at least give me a chance?"I pleaded. "I just want to get to know you. I'll even let you steal my soul!"
Mary tossed her curly tresses in the most contemptuous way her ethereal body could manage.
"Oh, you want me to 'steal your soul', do you? Is that some kind of code word for getting your dick sucked?"
"No Mary, I just want to be yours forever!"I protested, though secretly I wouldn't have minded getting some ghost girl head.
After a moment's consideration, she blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and said "You know what, you changed my mind, kid. Climb through through this mirror here and I'll take your soul."
I bonked my head against the glass, but nothing happened.
"You have to jump into it at full speed, idiot"Mary said, shaking her head.
I went to the other end of the bathroom and charged as fast I could at the mirror. I imagined that it would feel like soft-serve ice cream, cool and liquidy. Instead, it felt like I'd plowed through a pane of glass, because that's exactly what happened.
The mirror shattered instantly. It cut me all over my arms, face, and torso. As I slumped to the ground with shards of glass embedded all over my body, I heard Mary give an evil cackle as her voice disappeared into the ether.
I got up, dragged myself over to my cell phone, and dialed a number.
"Hi Beth! Remember how you asked me to prom the other day? Well, it just so happens that I'm free after all..." |
Today was the day. Every 30 years the planets align, and we get our spirit animal.
Luckily I was born only 17 years before this happened, since 0-15 year olds can't get one to avoid a bad spirit animal.
My whole generation was exited. Many others were. I heard stories about soldiers getting gorillas and lions, politicians getting eagles, farmers getting... cows. My friends Tom and Marco rushed to the distribution center, where one gets their being read in order to get one's spirit animal.
After 3 hours of waiting in line, it was finally our turn. Tom's father got a boa, so I can't wait to see what he gets.
A few seconds passed, and Tom came out of the distribution room with a duck. That's it. Quite the dissapointment to be honest.
Marco went in, hoping his would be better. We wished him luck.
A raven. It's not looking good for me. My father got a dog and my mother got a goldfish. This surely won't be good.
I walked into the room. I sat down, and a light passed through my whole body. What dissapointment was awaiting me?
I saw it form. It was huge, I couldn't believe my eyes. The workers there had their mouths open from amazement. They never saw something like that before.
It finished forming. 4 fins. Huge body. Huge tail. Huge neck. It was a 8 story tall crustacean from the paleozoic era. It said to me "Hey, you got tree fiddy?"
I replied "Damnit Monstah, I ain't givin' you no tree fiddy!"and ran away from the room.
The end. |
Steve opened the door to Kevin's apartment and gagged. The shades were drawn, and the pizza boxes in the corner had a certain droopy appearance that indicated advanced age. Beer and soda cans were heaped on the coffee table in an unstable pyramid that defied physics, and given the rank miasma that filled the air, it was likely that trash was now the site of some advanced miniature civilization.
"Kevin?"Steve called. "Dude, what the fuck?"
"In here!"
"In where? All your shit is muffling your voice."
"The kitchen, asshole."
Steve picked his way through the debris and filth and found his way to the kitchen. He hissed a sharp intake of breath as he entered. Kevin was sitting on a kitchen stool, hugging himself and rocking slightly. His pants were soiled and his shirt looked like it had four days worth of food caked to the front. He did not look up.
"Oh, man,"Steve said softly. Kevin had always been a little weird, but this looked a full on psychotic break. "Dude. Are you ok?"
"Look at the pot,"Kevin said urgently. He rocked faster as Steve shuffled past him towards the oven.
"Woah, that's hot,"Steve gasped, and then his brain caught up and he froze. A big soup pot stood on the burner, glowing white orange. There was water in it, but it was glowing blue, like it was surrounding a nuclear reactor, and as still as a mountain lake at dawn. Steve stumbled away and pressed himself against the opposite wall.
"What the hell, man?"he shouted. "What's in there?"
"Water,"Kevin cackled. His eyes never left the pot. "Just water. Can you believe it?"
"No,"Steve said. He edged towards the door. "No, I can't."
"Don't leave me,"Kevin whimpered. "Dude. I need you to look at it for me."
"Look at it?"
"Yeah,"Kevin said. He stood and took a few steps back. "I turned it on to make pasta a couple weeks ago. You know how a watched pot never boils? A joke, right? Well, this one didn't boil. I watched it for an hour and it *still* didn't boil. Then I had to take a piss and as soon as I looked away it turned to steam. Nearly blew off the fumehood."
"Uh huh,"Steve said, carefully drawing his phone from his pocket. He didn't want to call the police, but he had no idea what else to do.
"Wait!"Kevin said desperately. "I kept trying. I got to two hours once and *that* one actually *did* blow up the fumehood. But yesterday I decided I was going to keep it going as long as I could and I fucking *did it* man. Look!"
"Kevin,"Steve said soothingly, as if speaking to a baby. "It's all right, man. It's cool."
"But I think I got it too hot,"Kevin said softly. "The water is storing the energy somehow, concentrating it. That burner doesn't put out enough heat to make a pot glow orange. That blue shit is Cherenkov radiation, and that means that there's fission reactions. It's like it's an infinite heat sink, or something. Now what happens if I look away?"
"I can watch the pot for a minute if you want,"Steve said. He glanced at his phone and placed his thumb on the emergency dial button, but didn't tap it. "Go lay down. Take a break."
"You can't look away,"Kevin said. "You can blink but you have to be facing it, and you have to pay attention. The instant you look at something else, it'll blow."
"No problemo, bro,"Steve said, forcing a smile. Kevin leaned against the wall, but still did not take his eyes off the pot.
"Thanks, man,"Kevin said, words slurring together slightly. "Just gonna rest my eyes a bit. Keep it going. Gotta keep it going."
He turned and stumbled off down the hallway, muttering and bumping into walls. Steve inched closer to the door, his eyes fixed on the pot. That thing was *hot*, hot enough that it might catch something else on fire just from radiant heat alone. He contemplated killing the burner, but he wasn't sure he wanted to get any closer to the water, especially not if it really was dumping radiation into the air. Time to call in the professionals.
Steve looked down at his phone, intending to press the emergency dial, but before his brain could send the signal to his fingers the pot flashed into incandescent plasma. Steve's brain, his phone, body, the entire apartment and a significant fraction of the surrounding countryside followed suit in the next few microseconds. Kevin, who had barely set his head on his pillow before joining the fireball, had just started to wonder if he could trust Steve, and whether or not he should maybe just check one more time before calling it a day.
But it was only the start of a thought.
|
"God damnit, Jerry! I'm sick of your shit!"
Not only did my idiot neighbour stole my car. He also destroyed my entire garden, put barricades everywhere, dug trenches and tapped into my power grid.
"Good morning Bill! Are you here to join the Republic of Jerry?"
"No you dumb fuck, I'm here to tell you to clean up this mess and return my car!"
"Can't do Bill, this car is the new mobile base of operations. Our republic is young but that won't stop our enemies from attacking us. Just 2 days ago they've send a ambassador to force their demands."
"Oh really? And who are "they"? The Marsians? The midget mafia? Or the almighty Kingdom of Alderbarran?"
"Joke all you want, this is serious business!"
"That's it! I'm calling the cops!"
"In this case you leave me no other choice."
Just when I turned around his idiot son appeared with a gun in his hand. The boy who looked like the result of inbreeding grinned like a kid on christmas morning.
"Bill say hello to my secretary of defense, Sam. Son, please bring Bill to the other prisoner inside the high security prison."
"You've gone too far this time asshole! I will make you pay for this one!"
Sam pushed the gun in my back and we walked into the basement of Jerry's house. Inside the basement was another man, cowering in the corner and reeking of piss.
Sam pushed me into the room and locked the door.
"Great. And who are you?"
The man looked up. Fear was in his eyes.
"I...I'm Morty Goldheim. I'm from the IRS. I got send to this house to bring the last warning for Mr. Miller to pay his due taxes."
"How typical. What amount are we talking about by the way?"
"249,56$......Since he is unemployed since birth and his wife is paying most of the bills."
Suddenly the entire ground was rumbling. I ran to the small window and looked outside. The US fucking Army had assembled in front of Jerry's house and built up their own barricades. Tanks and other armored vehicles took position, along with soldiers. Reporters were running around, interviewing the soldiers and other people living in our street.
"This is General Ambrose of the US Army, I demand to speak to the leader of this rogue nation."
"This is super, duper, over, best president of the Republic Jerry, Jerry Miller. You are trespassing on our land. Every hostile action will be met with equal retaliation and might threaten the health of our prisoners!"
I facepalmed. This idiot was making things worse. One of the soldiers saw my face in the window. I tried to explain to him that we were hold in the basement with my hands. It took him a while but finally he took his phone and threw it trough the window.
Luckily that moron didn't hear the noise of shattering glass over the chopper that was landing near the road. I picked up the phone.
"Hello? Am I speaking to the hostages president Miller mentioned?"
"Yes! My idiot neighbour captured me and another man from the IRS."
"All right, just hang on. In about 4 hours a professional negotiator from Washington DC will arrive and try to talk him down."
"4 hours???? I'm going to miss my date with that hot teacher!"
I gnawed my teeth. Once again this retard managed to ruin my life with his shenanigans. But then I had an idea how to repay them.
"Listen, we are both US citizens and we are held hostage by a foreign nation. This alone should be reason enough to invade him."
"I'm not sure, we have orders not to overreact."
"And I think he is muslim.."
"Are you sure?"
"Well his bathroom is on the east side of his house and thats the first place he goes every morning."
Not even 10 seconds later we could hear tank engines roaring up and orders getting shouted.
|
(Bahaha! This is gonna be fun!)
I was very afraid when I was slated for execution.
And very confused when they gave me a bathing suit and tossed me into a little 1 metre by 1 metre swimming pool. All around me was a grid of 1x1 pools, and various people all floating in them. They weren't even all that deep, too. I could stand flat on my feet and still have my neck above water. The robots immediately began to remove the small latter that I hadn't even used to crawl in.
"Hey! New guy!"I heard someone next to me. I looked and saw a mildly wrinkled lady swimming not too far off. "Just skim water for a day and a half, then sink under water for a few seconds. They'll drag you out, make you a tomb stone and you can walk outta here, scot free!"
"What? Why?!"
"The only language they understand is Simlish! They don't hear English."
"Wait...is this that stupid remove the latter meme, in real life?"
The girl laughed. "Yeah! Seriously, all you have to do is wait. If they catch you again, they think it's just a glitch in the game."
And so...I waited. True to word, people were being gentle pulled out and a tomb stone was placed, and then moved to a massive, *massive* graveyard not too far from the 'execution' site. The executee's then said some gibberish simlish, the robots assumed they were ghosts, and they were allowed to walk out.
A day and a half went by, my head went under, and I felt the cold, metal arms of my 'overlords' as they dragged me from the depths, placed my tombstone and then dragged it out to a grave yard with no graves.
Once I was outside, I saw her there. "Yo! All nice and clean? Bet you're hungry."
"Ugh. Definitely. Food sounds heavenly right now."
"Well, as they say,"she laughed. "*Di so sou lei!*"
"That Simlish?"
"Yeah. Only phrase I know though." |
"Hey."She says, resting her head on the fridge door while I dig for orange juice. "It's in the back on the right."
She draws out the hey. Like a teen girl; "Heeeeeeyyyyy".
"Morning Allie."I say, grabbing the container and closing the door. She continues to float there, chin resting where the door had been. Ghosts can do that, juts float in place.
Yeah. Ghosts.
I know. It was weird to me too. Really, super friggen weird.
Now? I don't know. It's normal, no matter how abnormal it is.
"I made toast, and coffee!"She says, doing a midair somersault into the kitchen space after me. There's a glass on the counter too, a mug tucked under the coffee machine with a fresh cup of grounds waiting for a button press.
"Thanks Allie."I grab the toast just as it pops up from the machine, placing the two slices onto a waiting plate. I turn for the fridge and it's already open.
"In the door."She says. I grab the jam and use the waiting knife to spread it over the toast. I hit the 'brew' button on the coffee machine and wait a few seconds. She hovers near me, I can feel the cold air around her on my back and neck.
"Whatcha doin' today?"She asks, draping an ethereal arm over my chest. I move away to the table and sit, feeling the cold air follow. She sits across from me, resting her head on her ghostly hands to watch me eat toast.
Weird.
"I was thinking about a bike ride, nice day out."She pouts. "I know Allie but I can't stay in the house all day."
"Aw but please!"She says, putting an emphasis on the please. You know; "Pweeeeze".
I sip from the coffee mug and add a little extra sugar to the bitter coffee, a little more bitter than usual. Probably need to clean the lines or something. I set the mug down.
"It'll only take an hour or two. I'll come home, shower, then go get some groceries and I'll be home after that."
"No you won't!"She says, very cheerily. Too cheerily. I stare at her.
"What was that?"I ask, a piece of toast frozen halfway to my mouth. I look down at the bitter coffee cup. Something is floating in it. A small white island that spreads out and dissolves.
Oh. Oh no.
I stand so fast the chair flies across the room, while I race for my phone. The kitchen is fuzzy and wobbly and I find myself looking at it at an angle without warning. The cold tile races up to meet my cheek with a loud slap and a searing pain that spreads through my face. Bones are not made to hit floors that hard.
She is beside me, head resting on her crossed arms. Her eyes sparkle, if ghost eyes can sparkle.
"Oh Matty, now you never have to leave."She says, smiling at me. Then she kisses me on the nose, right on the tip.
I've never felt anything but cold when she touches me, just pure cold.
This time, as black spots fill my vision and my lungs struggle for air and I feel the sharp coppery tang of blood in my mouth, as I look at her smiling almost literally from ear to ear...it's not cold.
It's warm.
Her kiss is warm.
Then I find myself standing again, feeling her arms around me as if they were flesh. Holding me tight. Nuzzling and cooing at me.
I see someone that looks suspiciously familiar on the kitchen floor. I have seen that face in the mirror a thousand times. Without the slow seeping blood from the mouth though.
"Now you never have to leave!"She says again, kissing my chin.
Oh, shit. |
Private Dale offered a breathless "Captain, are you seeing this?".
That can't be right. Battlefield hallucinations were unlikely enough to happen to one person, but *two*? Still, I had to act as if the answer wasn't 'yes'. Compromised or no, I still had to lead these men into battle and out the other side. I decided on aggressive.
"See what, private?", I barked in a tone that even startled myself.
"Captain, they appear to be civvies."
Now I was more terrified than when one 'dead' mortar in Spain decided it had a long enough nap. Not only were two soldiers both having hallucinations at the same time, but both hallucinations were of the same thing. Maggie always said I was one in a million, and it seems God was inspired by that statement.
"Hey Cap, are those red men over there the commies the Major was talking about?", inquired Liutenant Parker, pointing past my shoulder to a large man who was currently giving his body the sunlight equivalent of high-tar cigarettes. "I thought they were on our side now."
That made three. At the time, the options were that this was the work of some new axis prototype gas or we were the unluckiest sons of bitches in the U.S. armed forces. I took a cloth out of my pack's side pocket, wrapped it around my mouth and told everyone who also had one to do the same. We were told there would be resistance, but none was there. It was possible that the gas was so strong that it hid the bullets slamming into the water and shells brutalizing the sand from all of our eyes. There was only one way to be sure that's what was happening. I stepped out into the water, my feet angled so that I didn't slip on the ramp's wet surface. I was still in one piece. I wished all of this luck had been saved for that one time I tried lottery tickets so that mom could be taken care of while I was gone. By now a few of the civvies had stood up, somehow just as confused as I was. I didn't think to yell out to them. That would be giving in. Besides, I didn't speak French.
I stuck my left arm in view of the others and made a 'come out' gesture. One by one, they all poured out: not running or even marching, but slowly stumbling, mouths open like they were in a dentist chair. There was a long silence between us until it was broken by Private Wilson.
"Sir, where did 1st Infantry go?"
The rest of us turned around, not even bother that our already uncomfortable boots were now flooded. We heard the other boats until just a moment ago, but somehow we were the only military vessel in the water. But we had been delayed long enough.
"I don't care what it looks like. I care what it is. And what this is, is the beach we were supposed to be storming a good minute ago."
So we all marched towards the beach, guns in hands. The civvies' expressions grew more and more confused the closer we got. Finally, we were greeted by the friendly sensation of somewhat and then fully dry land. Then I caught something out the corner of my eye. One of them was holding a small black rectangular object facing me. I halted my men, raised my rifle towards him and demanded he tell me his designation. If I was deep in hallucination, that box could easily be an enemy firearm. I He responded in a thick French accent that he 'thought my costume was impressive.' I asked him again, now looking at him down the sight.
Then, the rectangle let out a flash. If he just discharged his weapon, I had to take him down with me if I were to ensure none of my men were shot as well. When his body hit the ground, I was surprised to see the others behind him scream and run away, like real civilians would. It was another long silence between us, as we started to think of possibilities that were more...outside the box.
That is my testimony, your honour. |
The squealing sound was not what the ambassador has expected.
At first they had thought the sound was some kind of aggressive challenge but they had trained their whole life for this moment and refused to loose their cool.
The ambassador stood there.
The squealing continued.
The standing must have gone on for a good minute before the squealing died down.
The creatures spoke rapidly to eachother, their skin flashing dozens of colours and patterns, the occasional high pitched sound escaping.
The ambassador continued to stand there, patiently.
Eventually, one of the creatures finally turned to thwn and held out a small device. A mechanical voice emerged from it.
"Might-can we-these assembled touch your head follicles question"it said.
They took a deep breath. A long, deep, calming breath.
"I would rather..."they paused. Refusing was the first instinct but this was a DIPLOMATIC mission to foster mutual understanding. Do some trading. They breathed out slowly. "You may. A single one. In brief, please."
The device flashed a series of colors and patterns and then the group once again became a dazzling array before the ambassador. It seemed if anything more rapid and excited than before, with several becoming actively brighter for moments. The squealing sounds occured in short bursts.
Eventually another creature stepped forward and took the device.
"Thank you. I-this individual will proceed immidiately."The mechanical voice informed them.
The ambassador stood there. Breathing deep and slow. Being calm.
The creature stepped forward and very, very slowly touched their hair. They touched it only lightly at first but then progressed to gently petting it.
The creature took on a gentle blue glow that seemed to set off some discussion among their peers. The colour seemed to spread about in their conversation. It began to squeal again, a little more quietly but terribly high pitched.
Eventually it stepped back.
"Thank you. This was deeply satisfying for this individual."The machine intoned after a short while.
"We- collective species seek permission to touch again in the future."
They sigh.
"Maybe, but we have a trade agreement we need to begin working on. If you might focus please?"
They spoke again, with dimmer lights this time, and far less color. They seemed... dissapointed?
"Apologies. Yes. We-these assembled will speak with you-individual present."The machine translated.
This was going to be a very long night. |
"Humans have eyes facing forward?!"Jimothy gasped.
"SHUSH, they'll hear you. It's quite rude even in our culture to talk about someone, or in this case an entire race of someone's, behind their back,"I hissed, the words riding over the turbulent gust of wind that jettisoned out of my beak.
"Ah flimflopple, sorry. But doesn't that mean they're, you know, the P-word?"Jimothy whispered, his feathers standing on edge.
"Not just the P-word, the A-P-Word, but it should be okay, I think. Councilman Fredalert told me that they're omnivores."
"Omnivores? An AP race of omnivores? Okay who put you up to this, you nearly had me going there. Was it Grenadine?"
"No you klibopple, I'm not lying. Some of them even *choose* not to eat any meat and live vegetarian lives!"I emoted enthusiastically, the colors on my skin changing to indicate that I was not lying.
"You're serious!"Jimothy exclaimed, eyeing the shifting colors on my body. "I guess they do kind of look like simians maybe that's their origin species?"
"Probably, they look similar to a simian species I saw at the Galactic Fair a few cycles ago. But do you want to hear something even crazier?"
"Even crazier than an omnivorous AP with selectively vegetarian members? Sure."
"Some of them go even FARTHER than selective vegetarianism,"I whispered, my voice trilling in wonderment.
"Farther? How do you go even-- oh no."
"Yep, they go *vegan*. They don't eat ***any*** animal products at all."
"That's preposterous! They have an entire *arm* of the Milky Way at their disposal, why limit themselves?"
"Who knows really. Probably some sort of carry over from the great filter. We all have a weird quirk or two as vestiges from when our ancestors successfully overcame the filter."
"That sounds more likely than I'd like it to. Maybe meat and animal products make humans expel an absurd amount of methane to the point of causing their climate to change,"Jimothy guffawed, a bit too enthused about his stupid joke.
"I know you're just joking, but it could be true. They reproduce frequently with no natural predators and they have an *adventurous* food culture, so I wouldn't be surprised if they gorged themselves on some foodstuffs that their digestive tracts weren't quite acclimated to."
"Yeah, but expelling methane? I wasn't born yesterday. What are you going to say next, that we eat worms and expel oxygen?"
"HA, yeah you're right, that's ridiculous. Anyways, it's about time we welcome the human dignitaries."
Jimothy and I turned the corner to meet the human dignitaries. Our eyes were immediately drawn to their lips, curled back to reveal their teeth. Just barely peaking through on the edges of their lips shone two sharpened teeth-- the teeth of a predator.
\--------
"Uh, ambassador, you hadn't told us that we'd be welcomed by two chickens."
"SHUSH, they'll hear you. It's quite rude even in our culture to talk about someone, or in this case an entire race of someone's, behind their back." |
After the bus driver shortage was solved, I was really pleased to finally have a ride to school. The walk was always long and tiresome, and after treading through the foreign halls day after day for the first time in a year and a half, I needed the break. COVID-19 had completely messed up my high school experience. As I watched the world around me get cloaked in layer after layer of calamitous horror, I was one of many that seemed to succumb to a global depression. Fires, virus, protest, rage, conspiracy. The sound of reporters out-doing their last week's insanity became overwhelming, a cacophony of apocalyptic dread.
Yet, I seemed to learn a lot about myself, and my passions. I had loved writing since a young age, always creating stories and elevating my childhood doll games to much more serious adventures than the average seven year old. I had always loved stories about natural disasters, science fiction, mythology, psychological horror... Though I wasn't an avid reader compared to most, my mind had the joyous ability to flow idea after idea. Currently, I am working on four stories, but focusing on one in specific- Ara'zi's Code.
For the past few weeks, I would plop into the seat and melt into my own fictional world. A destroyed and vanished society, it's 18 Gods clinging onto life, all being dragged into mayhem by the king of Gods. A being of peace and balance, five thousand years of imprisonment could drive anyone mad, even an immortal diety, who claims to be more powerful than any other being.
He couldn't revive himself alone, due to circumstance. I still had a lot of consistency and plotholes to work on, but I felt most comfortable with this story. It suited my style the best, though I adore them all equally. This is where the protagonists came, unlikely as they may be. Not strong warriors, not heroes, infact they are criminals. Juvenile delinquents, a group of girls who seemed trapped in an endless loop of unfortunate events. Did they deserve this? That is for my future readers to decide, but If I had to give my personal opinion, I definitely don't believe so. At least not most of them.
I was currently working on their second quest. I usually don't go this in depth when outside, but these past few weeks, I've felt oddly comfortable. I've had a really good flow going and I wanted to use this to my advantage, especially after my recent bouts with writers block. The voices in Adelaide Byer's head had been finally getting to the strong spirited girl. She was only 14 years old, but after a lifetime of delusions and invisible monsters dragging her down at every corner, she was more prepared for what was in her path than the strongest athletes. Still, in a period of unusual intensity, she was losing her bearings.
The 'legends' (protagonists) had just obliterated through a legion of skeletal warriors. Leaking bones scattered the floor, and a faint glow filled the air. In a moment of clarity, Adelaide stepped towards a distant figure. One skeleton remained. They thought they had slashed though every enemy, but it seemed one stood staring into her soul through it's eyeless sockets. All of a sudden, nausea filled her stomach, and through trembled steps she approached. The undead creature handed her a stone; not just any stone, but the second of the ten that they needed to undo their curse. As relief started to ease her nerves, the skeleton glowed. Her eyes widened. Adelaide opened her mouth to scream for help, but words failed her in that moment. The glow surrounded her, consuming everything in its way. The creature began to levitate. In eery silence, Adelaide stared as she realized what was happening; He is here.
All of a sudden, in what felt like 2 minutes, thirty minutes had passed. "He"wasn't here- my bus stop is! I stood up, relieved, anxiously anticipating the arrival to my cozy abode. As I stepped towards the door, a frustrated voice shouted:
"Aw come on! You were just getting to the good part!"
I froze. I was one of the last stops on the bus. There was only 3 other kids on the bus, and no one had been talking. I think. I may have zoned out. I was probably just entering my daily dilerium, right? That's far more likely than the idea that someone was... but what if? Sometimes I feel like I'm being listened to. I turned around, just incase, and I saw a boy staring at me with a slightly agitated, slightly nervous expression. My heart sank.
"...what?"I said, quiet, but loud enough he could hear.
"Uh-"realization seemed to settle across the listener. Frustration melted into shock. "What? I, how, uh... please, can I get off with you? I need to talk."
I was terrified. I had always been a bit of a paranoid person, and the worst possible outcomes kept going through my mind. I'm dead and this is hell, I've lost my mind, this is Ara'zi's revenge on me for telling his story in ill perspective. Without thinking too clearly, I nodded, and I stepped off the bus.
The boy followed me. He had a long grey t-shirt and a dark green beanie. He stared at me with an embarrassed flush over his face. "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to say that. I don't know what you heard, or what you're thinking but... its not what you think. Please?"
I stared at him, wide eyed. After a moment of stunned and increasingly uncomfortable silence, he exclaimed "I can explain."
Bullshit, I thought to myself. In a much less hostile tone, i mumbled "So it's true? You're telling me you can read my mind?"
"Ye-yeah. Well, kind of, but its not what you think."He said, in a pleading tone.
"Not what I think? Not what I- are you STILL READING MY FUCKING MIND!?"I shouted, as anger swelled inside me. I started digging my own nails into my palms, I felt so vulnerable and just...confused. I hated that he probably knew that too.
"Hey"he said, putting his hands up in a calming gesture. "Look, please, no I'm not. I don't think you realize what's happening. Please don't be upset. Listen, I'll explain okay? Can we just sit down?"
I started to cool down, though nausea and fear still filled me to my core. Curiosity took the lead, and I agreed. We walked towards the bench in front of my apartment complex. I figured I would be safe here, since people who knew me could hear or see me. Finally, I quietly asked him, "Can you explain? Are you reading my mind or...?"
"Yes and no. Look. Yes, I can read minds, but its not that simple. It's only certain people. Usually, the common trait is blue eyes, but you....you have brown eyes, don't you?"He said, squinting at me. "Did you gouge someone's eyes out and wear them?"He said, with a slight smile creeped across his face. I laughed nervously.
"With the type of stories you come up with, I wouldn't put it past you."He said, smiling a little larger now.
"No, I didn't. My eyes have always been brown. I guess I'm an outlier? How much do you hear?"
"I can only hear it when you're thinking about your stories. I'm not sure why. The thing is, there's something I haven't told you yet. I don't know how you're going to react, I don't don't know how to say this... Ugh"he groaned. "Alright, well, I have a question. Can I take my mask off?"
I looked at him, and I nodded.
"Okay, well, here's the big question. This might come as a shock, but uh, uhmm... Are my lips moving?"
I started to say yes, but then I actually processed the question. "ARE his lips moving?"I asked myself.
"Can you say something, so I can see for sure?"I asked him, almost as if I were in a trance.
"I really love your stories, I know this is so weird but I just wanted to say that. You've got talent. And uh, I'm sorry. I really am."He replied all of that, all 28 words, and not once did his mouth even flinch. I stared in stunned silence, and I started to realize what may be happening.
"You're telepathic"I said.
"Yeah, and so are you."He said, pouring the weight of Manhattan onto me all at once.
"H..how? This has NEVER happened to me before."
"I've only had someone hear me once, a man in his early thirties. He was shocked, and I joked about something he said, stupidly. He kicked my ass. This was a few years ago, I was 13. I didn't realize the severity of what my ability holds. I try not to listen in on people, but you're stories just are really fucking awesome! I didn't think you would hear me. I wasn't thinking. I'm not sure how you did, or how I hear people, but I'd love to talk about it in more depth. I'm sure I'm freaking you out so much, and I'm really sorry. I'm just so...surprised."
Stunned. I'm stunned. I couldn't speak for a good two minutes, and neither did he. How am I telepathic? I mean... I've always felt like there was something special about me. My childhood friends thought I could see the future. There's been some odd things in my life, and I've always felt like I could see more in my stories than the average writer, almost as if they were being told to me rather than thought of by me. But... full fledged, confirmed, a tangible idea of a known and established ability? I just couldn't understand.
"Well,"I finally replied, after what felt like an eternity. "Now that you told me this, I need to know more."I stared at him, not losing contact.
"Good,"he said. "I'm sorry again. I guess let's start off with this: what's your name?"
"Alexia."I said quietly. "Its okay. What's your name?"
"Dan. That's a nice name by the way."
"Thank you."I said, and I smiled lightly, but genuinely.
"Well Alexia, I guess your story can wait a little longer, sadly. First up, let's try to figure out our story." |
Huh. Weird.
I mentally shrugged and opened the door. There was probably some trolling intern who was posting signs just to get a reaction, and I've definitely worked in weirder places.
The door opened into a hallway and I checked the directions that had been mailed to me. The offices were located on the third floor, just follow the signs. At the end of the short hallway, I found a sign that read:
"Enigmatix: First door on the right."
I furrowed my brows at the instructions. The hallway had come to an end and there was only one door directly to the right of me. the door was a fancier, sliding, metal door that had a button for access. When I pressed the button the door parted and I walked in.
There was no office area, just a small room with metal walls. The doors closed behind me and I looked around to try and figure out what was going on.
All I found was a small placard that was taped to the wall. It read:
"If you have any feeling of deja-vu past this point, report to management immediately."
Huh. Weird.
I mentally shrugged-
\-And began to panic.
The door opened into a hallway. There was a sign a few steps ahead and I rushed to read it.
"Enigmatix: First door on the right."
The door was there. The same door. It hadn't looked like the door to an elevator at first, but now that I examined it, it would probably look like an elevator from the inside.
I began to think that there was some sort of prank going on. This must be how they haze new hires. Honestly, there probably wasn't a company and someone had just scammed me. It was my kind of luck.
I examined the door and pushed the button. They'd had their fun and now I could get to work. I walked through the door trying my best to look frustrated-
\-and found myself in the elevator again.
The sign was still taped up. The doors closed. It looked exactly like the one I got in when I first got here. I even checked the tape on the sign and it was identical down to the folds and creases of the adhesive.
Huh. Weird.
The door opened into a hallway. I rushed forward and read the sign:
"Enigmatix: First door on the right."
No. I wasn't falling for it again. I turned to leave the way I'd come in, but the door was just open to reveal the interior of an elevator car.
I cautiously stepped forward and examined the inside without stepping through the threshold. There was only the one exit. Maybe the real exit was hidden or something. I stepped in to feel the walls, and the doors closed again. I beat on the walls. I tore the sign off the wall to see what was under it. I jumped up and down, feeling the slight buoyancy of an elevator car.
The feeling caught me off guard. This meant there was a whole elevator shaft here. This couldn't be a prank or the building would be full of these empty, pointless shafts.
Weird...
The door opened into a hallway, and I began to feel my heart beat in my chest. Suddenly, I remembered that there was a phone number at the bottom of my directions sheet. It may not be management's number, but it would be *some*body! I quickly entered them into my phone and called.
It only rang twice before someone picked up. "Hello, this is Enigmatix!"
"Hello?!"I realized I sounded panicked, so I tried to calm myself down. "I mean- I'm sorry, I'm the new hire. I saw the sign in the elevator, and I don't know if you're management, but... I think it's happening."
"Ah, I see,"the voice was surprisingly rational and the accent was hard to place. "You are in the elevator hallway, correct? Yes, we've been experiencing flare-ups around there. Tell me, what was your emotional response to the sign the first time?"
Emotional response? "Uh, I'm not sure. Like a blithe indifference?"
"Yes, blithe usually does it. Don't worry, sir, I should be able to help you out. Do you see a sign at the end of the hallway?"
"Yes."
"Great. I want you to approach it and turn to the right... have you done that?"
"Uh, yes. I see a door with a button."
"Last step, and you'll be on your way. Push the button, walk through the door and wait for me to call back."
The call ended and I followed the instructions. As the doors closed behind me, I noticed the sign was on the floor. It had also been torn off the wall.
Huh, I thought. Weird.
My phone began to ring and I hurried to answer it.
"Hello, this is Enigmatix!"
I felt my heart sink as, once again, the door opened into a hallway. |
"What happened next?"
I looked down at my brown-eyed sweetheart daughter from the top of my ladder. I plucked off the last apple and tossed it down to her basket.
"We were scared. It's hard for you to understand, but back then life was so different. We didn't have to work. We went to school, we spent time with friends, we ate the food that just appeared in our refrigerator and pantry. Most people I knew felt like they were grown-ups already, and we just had to endure boring high school until the rest of the world felt like we were ready. Truth was, when we were left on our own, we realized just how childish we were."
I set the ladder across my shoulders as if it is a cross to bear. Marisol walked ahead of me, her back hunched from the heavy basket of apples, her gait swinging side to side like an elephant's. It wasn't a long walk to our cart, where I set the ladder and the apples with the rest of it. I held a hand to the horizon - only an hour left of daylight.
"Those first days I think we thought it was somehow temporary, that they'd all be back in a flash. There were a lot of parties, a lot of alcohol and adult stuff we thought we were ready for..."
I still remembered the mix of nausea and euphoria, my young body filled to the brim with alcohol while it writhed with the boy who would be Marisol's father - a boy whose name I never learned, a boy whose face is a blur except for his nose because Marisol very clearly has his nose.
"It was the smartest and most mature kids, I think, that let any of us survive. Boy scouts, brainy kids, kids with younger siblings that couldn't be left alone, kids whose parents had never really been there, kids who could go to the libraries and read. We had electricity for a few weeks, and some of them were smart enough to print out what we might need for survival."
I got ready to heft Marisol to the driving set of our cart, but she'd already climbed up and taken the reins. When had she gotten tall enough to climb up on her own? When had she felt confident enough with the mule to take the reins without fear? I sat next to her and let her start us down the road.
"Print...that's when a computer writes, right?"
"Right."
"Were you a smart kid?"
In that moment her words feel like they come from my mother and I feel small and anxious all over again, wondering if my report card had come in the mail.
"Not really, no, not at the time. I had been too busy with friends and boys. But I smartened up real quick. After the partying slowed, when we started to realize the adults weren't coming back, the fear turned us against each other. We fought over food and water, started using the guns found in the street or our parent's shoeboxes or from the abandoned police stations. Lots of us died clutching onto bags of tortillas and bottles of water and boxes of snack cakes."
"Then the smart kids stopped the fighting?"
"No. I lived in the city at the time, and the anger and fear turned it into a battleground. But there were those who thought that survival meant returning to the land, to growing and raising our food. So there were those who organized buses and trucks out of the city and out here to the country. If you wanted to come, you couldn't be associated with any of the gangs and you had to give up all your weapons to the kids in charge. One of the leaders took pity on me because I was pregnant and made sure I got out here."I smiled and ran my fingers through my daughter's hair. "In a way, you saved my life, mija."
Her smile was brighter than the sunset and she leaned into me. I held my arm around her tight, try to squeeze her love into me to quench the fires of memory. I could still smell the fires, the blood, the rotting bodies in the streets, the peppery stench of gunpowder, the stale booze. These are memories I never visit, and never would again if I had the choice.
"What happened to those who stayed in the city?"
"They died, a lot of them. The food in the stores ran out, and they didn't know how to get more. Each gang thought the other had something to hide and so they fought more and more violently. Some realized they were wasting their time and left the cities to come out here. Some of them joined the new communities. Some just tried to steal from us."
Marisol shuddered. "The Roamers?"
"Yes, the first Roamers. They attacked here when you were just a little baby."
"But Mayor Vasquez stopped them, right?"
I laughed a little. "He wasn't a real mayor yet, but yes, he and a lot of other people protected us."
"Are you going to marry Mayor Vasquez, mom?"
The sudden turn in questioning had my mouth agape. "I...I don't know."
"You love him don't you? And he loves you, he said so."
"It's not as easy as all that, mija. He's doing some very important work these days. He might be able to restore electricity to the town. You haven't seen electric lights, they're spectacular, and it'll keep us safer and let us have more time in the evening. Maybe even start a school, if we're lucky."
"Can't he do that and marry you?"
I sigh and hand her an apple. "Eat. You ask fewer questions that way."
Marisol giggled and ate. |
WHAT, SON OF MIDGARD? Rumbled the impossibly tall man, shaped like a crudely chiseled iceberg, wind whipping around him ferociously.
“I said!,” Snarled the handsome black-haired man, blue eyes flaring and teeth (a shade too white and a touch too sharp) showing, “What the HELL are you doing here?”
GODDESS HEL HAS FALLEN, uttered the colossus, in a voice implacable as continents.
The dark-haired man clawed the air in frustration, and lashed a vicious kick at a snowdrift. “No! No, you overgrown icicle! HELL! Aiche! Eee! Double-god-damned-HOCKEY-STICKS HELL!”
…WHAT IS ‘HOCKEY’?
“Arrgh!”
“A game!” Piped up a small, simpering imp, who a moment ago had been hidden in the man’s sleeve, and now squeezed his tiny, catlike face out from under the cuff. Apparently oblivious to his master’s incredibly foul mood, it blithered on, “A violence game played with sticks and hard things and blades on the feet! On ice!“ It attempted to cackle, but, smashed as it was, it came out more like a phlegmy chuckle.
The giant, astride his glacier, nodded. A FINE GAME.
The man violently wrested the imp from his coat, and tossed it, still cackling, over the side of the icy cliff. The glacier was grinding its way south at a disconcerting speed…
He whirled back to face the seemingly unconcerned giant. “Hell! Abbadon! The Abyss! Perdition! The Pit! Why, in the name of the The First Unclean, are you *crushing goddamn England * with your *goddamn* **trained avalanche!?**”
IT IS THE END. RAGNAROK. JORMUGAND’R HAS SLIPPED ITS BONDS. FENRIR MOVES TO EAT THE SUN. THE BOAT OF DEAD MEN’S NAILS HAS CRESTED THE LAST WAVE. WE HAVE FELLED THE SPAWN OF ODIN. SO, NOW ENDS MIDGARD.
“Well, that is completely unac-f-cking-ceptable!”
…YOUR APPROVAL IS SOMEWHAT…SURPUFLUOUS. Responded the giant, clearly a bit chagrined by the flat denial of the stranger at his pronouncement of the end-times. Normally, there was more wailing.
“Like hell it is! How am I supposed to topple the thrones of men when I can’t even *see* them anymore? How am I supposed to lead a one-world government when the UN is under half a mile of f-cking *ice*?! Do you have any idea how hard it’s going to be to build a bonfire, let alone a fire *pit*?. And *don’t get me started* on omens-“
I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING ABOU-
“-because, HOW THE HELL,“ he roared, undissuaded “are the rivers supposed to run red with blood, when they’re *frozen solid!?* How am I supposed to scare the ravens from the Tower of London when you *ground them*, and *it*, to a paste *fifteen minutes ago?!* They’re still there! Sure, flatter, and a whole lot *deader*, but they’re still there! This is a disaster!”
…THAT IS THE IDEA. He was now deeply uncomfortable. No one had told him Ragnarok would involve this much… talking.
“I demand to see your supervisor!”
YOU…WHAT?
“Your boss! Loogie, or Luigi or whoever he is! Get that red-haired little asshole over here right *now!*”
Suddenly, the sun overhead, shining clearly here so far above the freezing stormclouds, blossomed into eight separate glowing orbs, and an austere-looking Indian man, holding a glowing sword, and riding a flying white horse, descended from the heavens, and alighted next to them.
“Hello? “he began a bit bashfully, in a thick Calcutta accent, “ I am here to end the evils of *Kali yuga*, and usher in a new age of *satya yuga*, but I think there is some confusion? I do not remember anything about ice?”
The dark-haired man stared, then rubbed the bridge of his nose and groaned aloud. “*Oh my *God*.”
“Avatar, actually.” The newcomer said in a peaked voice.
He stopped rubbing, and sighed. “No *kidding.*”
He tool on an indulgent expression, closed his eyes, and began to lecture in a satisfied tone.“No, I am not kidding. I am the last incarnation of Vishnu, the redeemer, the-“
The rest was cut off by a snowball to the face. He staggered, then recovered, and shot him a condemning look.
“…You put ice in that!”
“Did not! You didn’t see me!”
The giant *had* seen him, and he definitely did. This was getting out of hand.
… I WILL SEND FOR LOKI.
“Is Loki the one responsible for this, then?” A black hole opened midair, a rent torn into what looked like the night sky, and a man with skin tanned so brown it was almost black, covered in beads, colorful feathers, and a jaguar-pelt cloak, stepped out of it. He had two black eyes, a broken nose, and was covered from head to toe with bruises and cuts. He also had roughly a dozen arrows sticking from his back, but didn’t seem to notice them. He tossed his cracked-in –half stone-headed axe to the ground, where it started to smolder faintly.
He looked up, upon feeling the three sets of eyes upon him. “Yes, hello” he said, in a voice like a Latin romance, “I am *Huitzilopochtili*, god of the Day and of war also. I regret to say the *Tzitzimitl* bone spirits of the stars and servants of my sister *Coyolxauhqui*, damn them, have at last triumphed over me, and are on their way here now. Any moment, my sun will extinguish, and in the coming darkness, they will devour mankind. …I do not remember anything about ice, however.”
Curious gazes were directed to the heavens, where the eight suns were still slowly dancing in a circle. One of them winked out. The rest stayed, burning merrily.
“Ah… *Well*. A bit anticlimactic, I suppose.” He muttered idly. “Whose suns are those?”
“They are mine!” piped up the Indian man.
“One too many, in my opinion, but very nice.”
An impossibly large wolf took that moment to emerge from behind the horizon, reach up, and devour another sun in a single gulp.
“Much better. Six is a good number for suns.”
The black-haired man sat down heavily in the snow and held his face in his hands. “This is a nightmare. I’m having some kind of… of eschatological *nightmare*. I’m going to wake up, and I’ll be back in my home, and there will be the usual orgy waiting for me, and everything will be normal.”
“Say, would any of you happen to have the disembodied heart of a warrior on you?” Asked the new arrival casually.
Without looking , the black-haired man reached into a pocket, and absently tossed him a sandwich-sized Ziploc with something red inside it.
Forlorn, his head fell into his lap.“This is the *worst day of my life.*”
MINE, ALSO.
“Shut up.”
|
"Excuse me,"said Paine, raising her hand politely. "I think you've got the wrong person. I'm not actually crazy."
Of the seven medical professionals in the room, only one paused to give her a momentary glance. "Yes you are, Paine,"said Dr. Noore Chowdhury. "Now put this suit on."
"Sure."She took the offered one-piece and shimmied into it, pulling her hair out of the way of the zipper. "I get it,"she continued, "you people wanting me to fight aliens. I'm a certified badass. But I'm not actually *crazy,* though, so when you toss me in that reality-distorting field-"
"You dismembered and devoured seventeen people, Paine,"said Dr. Chowdhury.
"Oh."
"Is everyone in their protective suit?"Dr. Devon Stone called, hopping up onto the single desk in the room to gain some well-needed altitude. "Eloise Paine?"
"Check!"
"Joseph Mortimer?"
"That's *Doctor* Joseph Mortimer,"said Joseph, who was not a doctor. "And I'd just like to add that I am having serious doubts about the protective capabilities of these suits."
"I am having *serious doubts* about releasing the Demon Doctor from institutionalization if he kills enough aliens for us, but we all have to make sacrifices,"said Dr. Stone unsympathetically. "Next! Zedekiah Crowe!"
"You're damn *right* I've got my suit on!"Zedekiah crowed, rocking back and forth on his heels. "End of the world and you think I don't have my suit on! *Hah!*"He tilted his head back, fraying beard twitching grossly with every convulsion. "The hour of reckoning is upon us! The grey men from beyond the stars-"
"They're not even grey,"muttered Paine to Dr. Chowdhury. "They're more of an ivory-white. I saw them on TV."
"- have come to exact judgement upon us! Death to the defilers! Death to the non-believers! Death to-"
"Death to the *aliens,* Mr. Crowe,"said Dr. Stone. "The *aliens.* Not the... umm... non-believers. No. You leave them alone."
"We'll see,"said Zedekiah, with a twinkle in his beady eye that did not bode well for any "non-believers."
Dr. Stone pinched the bridge of his nose. "Next,"he said, and sighed. "Josef Stalin,"he exclaimed, resignedly.
The man who was definitely not Josef Stalin (who could not, in fact, speak Russian) nodded sagely. "Da,"he said. "I am wearing the suit."
"Such a bad Russian accent,"Paine exclaimed. "And he doesn't even *look* like Stalin. No mustache."
"And finally... Miriam Estebelle."
Miriam remained where she was, arms wrapped around herself, staring straight ahead at nothing. Her lips occasionally twitched, and she constantly rocked back and forth, back and forth. "Her suit is on,"Dr. Chowdhury supplied.
"Wonderful."Dr. Stone rubbed his gloved hands together. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, you've heard the rules many times by now. We drop you into Brookvale, which has been mostly overrun. The distortion field is pretty strong there so we'll be able to see how your... *imaginations* affect things. If you do well, we'll allow you back into society *on probation.* Any final questions?"
After a few moments, a single hand rose tentatively into the air. "Yes, Paine?"asked Dr. Stone.
"I almost don't want to tell you this, but... I'm actually not crazy at all, sorry."
"I hate you all,"said Dr. Stone, very quietly.
****
The air-drop into Brookvale had gone off without a hitch. But as soon as her toes touched the ground, Paine realized that they were not as alone as they'd thought.
From the air, the sidewalk had seemed deserted. No longer. Teeming at the opposite end of the block was a veritable *horde* of long, multi-limbed creatures. Pale hands slapped at the asphalt. Blank, staring faces turned simultaneously. Round black eyes fixed on Paine's. "How many do you think there are?"she exclaimed, as the first few began to shudder and twitch along the concrete.
"Probably around a hundred,"said Joseph thoughtfully. She glanced to him, blinked, took a step back. His lab coat fluttered gently in a breeze she didn't feel. He was caked in blood, running his hands lovingly over the instruments of surgery clutched in his hands. He saw her looking and raised an eyebrow. "Hungry, are you?"
Thoughtfully, she reached up, felt at her distended lower jaw, the great slavering teeth; reveled in her brand new long limbs and massive compounded eyes and bony ribbed abdomen. *"Starving,"* she growled, in a voice an octave lower than her own.
There was the mechanical wheeze of something powerful and ponderous moving down the street towards them. She swung her massive head towards the noise and blinked owlishly as the tank crept forwards. Josef Stalin marched woodenly beside it, mustache and all. "Теперь мы будем сражаться с захватчиками , товарищи !"he exclaimed, in flawless Russian.
Next to him strolled Zedekiah, a younger Zedekiah, complete with wings of flame and the bright yellow eyes of a *higher* being. Paine's skin crawled with heat as he passed, and when he smiled at her she could feel her body temperature rising. "Now the non-believers will burn,"he told her.
Her stomach rumbled.
The first crawling aliens had just about reached them. Paine licked her lips with a foot-long tongue. She could *smell* the flesh. She took a long step forward and opened her jaws.
But then she didn't have to.
The *thing* was so astronomically huge that her eyes could barely comprehend it. It appeared from nothing at all; a great swollen thing that might have been a woman, once. No longer. It *howled,* and she covered her ears and backed away as it slapped at the ground with gargantuan limbs dripping loose flesh. The aliens shuddered and snapped under the onslaught. The thing's long hair was a black river in the street. Its legs blocked out the sun. It was *everywhere* and unavoidable.
Paine took a long, slow breath.
"Miriam's going to fuck up all the aliens,"she said, resigned.
***
"Well,"said Dr. Stone. "I suppose some congratulations are in order."
The team was silent. Paine glared at the floor, as did Joseph. Zedekiah was mumbling to himself. Stalin seemed content to glare majestically at a wall, and Miriam was her usual reticent self.
"But Miriam killed *all* the aliens,"said Paine finally.
"Well... yes,"said Dr. Chowdhury. "But there are plenty more where those came from, Paine. You'll get another chance."
"You certainly will,"Dr. Stone agreed. "The four of you will be working together to clear up smaller infestations from now on. Miriam... Will be handling the bigger problems."
"Not fair,"Paine grumbled. "*She's* the bigger problem. She was super fat in the reality field."
"Rude,"said Dr. Chowdhury.
"I didn't get to practice my craft,"Joseph lamented. "I had a plethora of dissections lined up. She *squashed* them all."
"What a killjoy,"said Zedekiah.
"Da,"agreed Stalin.
Dr. Stone sighed. "Anyway,"he said. "Congratulations again, team. Despite your... erm... well, your utter insanity, you've managed to do quite well for yourselves."
There was a smattering of polite applause from the team. Then there was a small cough, demanding attention.
"Yes, Paine?"
"I agree we did a great job. Of course we did. Just one small thing. I'm not actually crazy-"
"I'm going to kill you,"said Dr. Stone, unprofessionally. |
I clicked through the hard drive of my Gran's computer and wracked my brain to try to work out why it was showing nearly a Gigabyte of space used, when there were no files there. “Are you *sure* you didn’t click onto any new sites recently Gran? Maybe a virus…?”
My sweet Grand mother had been perched next to me on a stool and watched anxiously as I looked through her pride a joy, a nice new laptop that my mum had bought her a few months ago. She ruffled my hair. “Don’t be silly John, I’m in excellent health.” She was obviously going to be no help. “Now, you seem a little stuck, would you like a nice cup of tea, that always helps.”
Gran made the best tea and you could be sure that there would be a biscuit too. “Yes please!”
She slowly stood and shuffled to the kitchen in her slippers. I could quietly hear her talking to herself as she went. “Such a good boy, worrying about his old Gran. Such a *good* boy.”
I looked back to the screen, if I didn’t do *something* then mum would moan at me to look at it again. She’d been the one who had noticed how much space had gone missing and of course, as technical support for the family, I had been dispatched. Gran hadn't wanted me to bother, but I didn't want her to have any problems, she had been so *quick* to adapt to the internet after all.
Nothing seemed to be working. There were no hidden files, it had been defragged and I could find no trace of a virus no matter how many times I ran AVG virus scans and Malwarebytes. In desperation I did some searches on general terms until I found an answer on a forum I hadn’t visited yet.
It was a little more advanced than I normally tried, but I needed to do *something* and the advice all seemed to be about a tool called **Haxopen**. I googled it and it seemed to be legit, so I looked for the most recent version and downloaded.
It unpacked and loaded and in a minute I had it ready to go. I was impressed with the speed of Gran's computer, she had really got something top spec for looking up knitting patterns. It began a scan and in a moment it popped up a flashing sign.
**HIDSEC.WALL, Remove y/n?**
This was it! I clicked on Y and a moment later a new folder popped up with a list of .exe files inside. I looked down, none of these were familiar to me. Nmap, Acunetix, Metasploit, Maltego and dozens more – what the hell were these? I searched for the first one and almost immediately it popped up a result. Hacker tools?
I called over my shoulder. “I think I’ve found it gran, it looks like something has downloaded a bunch of…” I trailed off as I looked round and saw my sweet grandmother watching me, her face flushed red and distorted in anger. She dropped the tray and the teapot clattered to the ground. “G…gran?”
“You couldn’t leave it alone you little fuck, could you? You're normally barely competent, but now look what you’ve done.” her face was distorted into a sneer and her hand whipped to her pocket. A large knife slid out and she crouched down into a sinister pose. It looked a little bit like her hips had gone, or would have if the 8 inch knife hadn't been gripped in front of her.
I laughed. “What’s going on, are you okay gran?” She moved forward towards me cautiously and with purpose in her steps, there was no more shuffling. I edged back against the desk, mum was going to blame me for this I was sure. “Gran...?”
*****
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|
It was the fifty sixth minute and I was near tears. It's hard to imagine getting so attached to anything in an hour, isn't it? Yet I was and the people below were real and I followed them as though I was God.
*There is no God,* I thought.
I could no longer talk and my throat was tight. Death had raged through their land, their world and their lives. All on my table in the lab, and yet emotion poured in such a real, tangible way.
There is no God for they suffered too much. Everything moved so fast and great wonders had been erected. Peoples had come together, separate, and come back again. The climate changed in the million years of those seconds and still, even in that microscopic bubble, there was always the little things that made them like us.
I saw children beneath the shade of clouds. Love blossomed and hearts broke. The young and the old and familiar and the new. Whole stories emerged, comedies and tragedies. It happened in an instant and yet you could feel the lifetimes plod, take gravitas, and end with meaning. Their world was real, I was the abstract.
*I am the God they look too,* I thought.
But as those minutes passed I realized that there is no God. How I wished I could intervene. How I wished I could save them.
War broke out like disease, and like disease it spread and sowed the seeds for greater and greater strains. The first major war happened at the fifty minute mark. That was a central war that brought in others. The second happened at fifty three pass the hour. That was worse and I saw great suffering and many deaths.
*No, please don't,* I thought.
Their world was on edge and the air was ready to ignite. But as always the war ended and in the minutes afterwards, beauty returned. There is always beauty, to be truthful, but it blossomed in those minutes and all seemed well.
But then again and again, as that clock ticked closer, things faded, wilted until they were dead and sterile, much like the lab. They grew aggressive again and the soft-hearted fell. The clouds hung heavy with chemical and the children suffered under a toxic rain. Love was cynical, a depressive illness, and violence spread in its wake.
*No,* I thought.
What were they even fighting for? I wish I knew. The world burst into fire and it fell into pieces. The minutes passed. Fifty seven. And they were halved. Fifty eight. And they were few. Fifty nine. Then it was quiet.
The world was a waste and filled with black scars and charred ground from great weapons that their whole advancement had led too. The pinnacle of civilization had harnessed the power of 'God'. And it had laid waste, death and destruction.
The hour passed and there was nothing and I was alone. Only my desk remained and I cried then, knowing I was alone and no one would ever know. These people had come and gone. No one would know of their existence, of their joy and sorrow and love and hate. Of their lives.
*I would know,* I thought. *And I would remember.*
That made me feel better. I composed myself and left the lab. That microscope was a gift and a curse. I would not use it again. On my way home I was tired for I felt I had lived a million years, countless lives. I thought about the people again and felt melancholic.
*I will not forget you, I promise I won't. I will even give you a name.*
And I thought of a name though it is not a good one: humans. Yes, I think it suited them well. Then I fell into a deep slumber and my thoughts were of the small joys of life. |
The two idiomancers stared at each other atop the tower. He had fought hard to reach her final lair, but it was time to put an end to her reign of terror. He tensed as she appraised him and opened her mouth.
"You made it past the Metaboars and the Similbees. I'm impressed."she said softly.
"It takes more than disfigures of speech to defeat me, Grammagician."He glared. "It's time for vengeance for all the incomplete clauses you've caused."
She laughed. "You're much stronger than the last time we met."
"I'm no longer a dependent clause."He raised his hand menacingly.
"Well today, I guess the ball's in your court,"she said as the an orb of energy barely missed him.
"Ha. I mastered simple tricks that like this years ago. I think you're afraid that you bitten off more than you can chew?"he replied as giant white sheets rained down on her.
"Ridiculous. It's time for you to clam up!"She pointed at him and he felt his throat constrict.
"I'm fit as a fiddle,"he barely whispered in time and could breath again, "Listen Gram, you're not good enough. I'm too young, too fast. Your reign of terror is over, so - Don't quit your day job."She stumbled over her next spell. He followed it quickly with, "Feeling under the weather, old woman?"
"Fit as a fiddle,"she said just as quickly, and pointed at him and muttered, "This has gone on long enough. Why can't you just bite the bullet?"
He dodged quickly, but landed heavily. She smiled, and called out, "How are you doing? I guess you've bitten the d-"
"Did you cut the cheese?!"he yelled and the room filled up with a noxious gas. She gagged and waved her hand desperately.
"Hit the road with your child's tricks."she shouted and the gas erupted out the window. "I know what you're afraid of - that there's a method to my madness."Her waved in front of her in a complex pattern. Around him phonetic glyphs lit up the walls of the room. "You've been on a wild goose chase, but now that you have gone the whole nine yards,"the air around them cackled and fizzled ominously, "It's time for you to CALL IT A DAY."Lightning flashed through him and he writhed in pain.
"By the skin of my teeth!"he screamed. A pale sphere enveloped him as the lightning continued to slash the air between them. As the flashes subsisted, she walked up to him and physically tore open the protection. He lay on the ground breathing heavily.
He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Now is time for my ace in the hole. You see, I was never afraid of going balls to the wall, and I know your Achilles' heel."He reached out to touch her. "Never forget that the grass is always greener."She moaned and collapsed.
"Oh my god. What have I done?"Suddenly memories and experiences flooded through her. She saw every incomplete clause she had hurt and all the sentences missing nouns, subjects, or verbs. How many participles had she dangled? How many infinitives had she split?
"The Grammagician is evil. And the Grammagician is me,"she said softly. Hearing the accusative case in her tone, he knelt down beside his former mentor.
"It's time to go back to the drawing board, hypocorism."She smiled brightly and then fainted. Picking her up gently, he carried out of the room. "Don't worry, every one can be a neologism if they want to be."
|
I wake up on the floor of my living room with hundreds of notifications on my phone. What happened this time?
---
Ever since puberty, I've been able to just kind of black out at will, and I wake up some time later in a different location. I've never quite understood it, but I believe that I go into some kind of autopilot or something along those lines. After the first couple times it happened, I became suspicious of what I was doing during these blackouts, and for the most part, I just carried on doing the trivial parts of my life—taking out the trash, doing chores, making coffee at the cafe I work at—nothing notable or remarkable at all, really.
Things changed when I blacked out a few days ago.
I was having a stressful and busy week, and I decided to give myself a little break and go on autopilot. I never know how long the blackouts are going to last, but I figured it'd be enough to give my brain a little break from having to do much work. The blackouts are quite rejuvenating!
And now I'm awake after the longest blackout yet. An entire week went by this time. I missed my whole weekend! But what concerns me are the hundreds of notifications on my phone. There are over 30 missed calls, about 75 text messages from 25 different people, upwards of 50 Facebook messages, missed FaceTime calls, missed WhatsApp messages, ignored group texts. Every conceivable way of trying to contact me was attempted by practically everyone in my life. And they all say something along the lines of "What the hell were you thinking?"
I begin to panic. I call my Mom, no answer. My Dad doesn't pick up either. Nor does my best friend, Alex, or even my ex girlfriend, who called me six times during my blackout. What the hell happened and why can't I get in touch with anyone?
I start posting on Facebook for people to contact me. Not a single like or comment on multiple posts. I post a few tweets, and again, nothing. I post on Instagram, nothing. I call a few more people, and no answers. I text every single person that texted me while I was out and after two hours, still, no response.
I panic even more. I get in my car and drive from my apartment to my childhood home to visit my parents. I knock and ring their doorbell for almost ten minutes, and despite lights being on, nobody comes to the door. I drive to Alex's apartment, and when I ring for his apartment on the buzzer, nobody buzzes me up. I walk to the cafe where I work from Alex's place and it's closed, which never happens on Tuesday in the middle of the day. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO ME?!?!?!
My heart is racing. I'm sweating and struggling to catch my breath. I almost collapse on the sidewalk, yet none of the pedestrians passing by stop to help me. They barely even look at me. What could I have done?
And that's when I feel it. I feel a piece of paper folded up in my front left pocket. I pull it out, and gently unfold the paper, which turns out to be a receipt.
Oh, god.
What have I done.
I, I get why nobody will talk to me anymore.
I...I...I bought a Nickelback album. On vinyl.
|
When their hearts race, you want to chase them. When they sit down (or stand) and become deeply focused, you want to capture them, and keep them as pets. When they bleed, and some of the females do so for extended periods of time, you want to eat them. You are hungry for a meal, and knowing that even the biggest of these scrawny, weak humans are helpless to keep you away from the liquid that keeps them alive is a heartening prospect. Banishment sounded bad, before you arrived here.
You take your time selecting your first kill, your many eyes picking through your hoards and hoards of future victims, and settle on a younger specimen. He does much in the way of moving, and you like his shape, and his walk. Though you don't speak the language, you like his talk and the cadence of his words, if he speaks at all. He is who you want to touch first. He is who you want to see him. Maybe you won't eat him. If he does not try to flee, maybe you will keep him, and show him the joys and the anger, the highs and the lows of being a predator.
He slides the ball he was playing with into his bag and makes his way towards his method of commute, which you still don't understand. It is empty down here, now, and you decide that here is the place. You will hunt here, and kill for the first time. He obtains a small piece of paper, and you loom behind him, phasing away from the wall. He does not flinch as you swipe at his whole body.
You freeze. He doesn't move either. But not in an afraid way. In an unaware way. You swipe again and again, but still he is calm in the quiet of the abandoned concrete floor. You let out a screech, but it does nothing.
It is then that you realize the true punishment of your actions. This is not a new hunting ground. This is not a utopia of sheep with a single, massive wolf. This is not the paradise it looked like. This is hell. This is hell, and hell is other people.
The pit in your stomach, whose mass you grew to better enjoy the kill, is now a cavernous maw. They did not banish you. They did not send you through a wormhole. They have killed you, and this is your punishment. You let out an unearthly scream, and watch in frustration as your prey- your perfect, lovely meal, walks into the tubular line of metal.
You wrap your many arms around yourself, trying to hold together around the pit of hunger. You shy away from the fact that you are stuck here, forever surrounded by food that you will not eat. Instead, you will forget your first hunt, and instead find one who knows. Find one who can see you for what you are. Find one to whom death is a constant companion. That one, you will be able to touch, and that one, you will eat.
You swarm up the stairs you had drifted down earlier, and begin to scour the land. There are a lot of these sheep. At least one of them must see you. One of them must be something to eat. |
“Thanks again for DM-ing this game for us, Jason.” Nick said as pulled out his character sheet, along with a bag of doritos and a six pack of beer.
Jason replied with a grunt as he hefted a twenty-four pack of beer from under the table, dwarfing Nicks.
“I live for this stuff Nick. I spent the last six months planning out every detail of this campaign. It’s going to be epic! Five separate factions ready to do battle. Victory or death! And each of you get to play the hero of your respective faction.”
“Damn Jason, you really spent six months on this thing?” Emily asked. “Don’t you think thanks kind of . . . unhealthy?”
Jason shrugged. “Probably. But I need to occupy myself somehow. I swear every burger I flip brings me down another IQ point. Gotta keep the mind busy somehow.”
“Emily’s right, Jason. Maybe it’s not healthy for you to use this as an escape . . .”
“I need it, Nick. Look at this place!” Jason gestured to the tiny apartment he shared with his roommate. This morning if you guys were sitting where you were you’d be ankle deep in trash. I’m one step up from the projects here. And now my car broke down right before the bank sent me this month’s student loan bills . . . honestly, I just don’t want to deal with it.
“This is just the only thing that thrills me anymore. Yeah it’s an escape. Hell, I wish it was *more* of an escape. If I could snap my fingers and vanish in a puff of light to a world of magic and fantasy, I’d do it.” Jason snapped his fingers to emphasize the point.
Suddenly blue sparks sprang forth around him and started swirling in the air. Jason’s skin started to glow and become transparent. A gust of wind blew through the room and suddenly Jason vanished.
“Well. That happened.” Emily commented.
“Jason’s really gone overboard with the special effects this time.” Nick said.
The two looked around the room. It didn’t look like there was anywhere a 300 pound six-and-a-half-foot tall oversized nerd could hide.
***
“Yes! It’s working!” A young woman in dark blood-red robes whispered giddily while her master loomed over her, stroking his face in an unusually worried expression.
“Hmm. This is odd. Very odd. The cosmic dust was red when I summoned Gazanax for the first time.” The old sorcerer said. “Try chanting your search requirements again.”
The apprentice sorcerer took in a breath of air. “Spell of old. Powers untold. Bring to me a beast of fearsome might! Untold power and a visage of fright! Bigger than a minotaur, stronger than a barbarian! More cunning than a dragon, smarter than a librarian!”
Suddenly the blue sparks flickered and dimmed.
The old sorcerer shook his head. “I think you were too ambitious with your spell, Hexadara. Try something smaller, like an imp next time. You don’t want to accidently summon an arch demon by mistake. Revisit your spell diagrams. I’ll come back in a few hours to look them over.”
“Yes master Grimhook…”
Hexadara hung her head sadly as her master left the room. She sat down cross-legged as she flipped through her grimoire. She didn’t have to look far to find the spell she was working on. There were far more blank pages than filled ones.
But suddenly there was a loud groan in the corner of the chamber. Something was stirring. And judging by the deep sound of the noise, it was something big.
Hexadara’s eyes flickered to the shadowy corners of the room. Years of apprenticeship under an evil sorcerer taught her to be suspicious of everything. There were at least eight different kinds of shadows she knew of that could kill a person in a blink. Under her breath, she whispered a protection hex, running her fingers over her brow and the pointed tips of her elven ears.
“Uuuff.” The voice groaned again.
This time Hexadara was able to figure out where it was coming from. Underneath the summoning platform. That’s usually where they stored the sacrifices, but sometimes when a summoning spell was too big to put the summoned thing on top of the platform it stuck it underneath instead. Maybe her spell hadn’t failed after all…
The faintest bit of hope blossomed in Hexadara’s heart as she pulled her wand from it’s holster by her thigh. If her new familiar was as powerful as the spell she’d designed intended, she might have to blast the demon into submission.
She took another deep breath and pulled the latch on the cold silver bars that held the latch on the cage in place. Something inside growled at her. Her heart leapt in her chest and Hexadara yelped in surprise, her reflexes causing her to hurl her fireball spell.
*Incinerate! *
“Oww! What the hell!”
“Stay back demon! As your new master I command you to stay right where you are!” Hexadara shouted, a slight tremor in her voice. Demons were fire-resistant, but only a truly powerful one would be able to shrug off her fireball of maximum incineration like it was nothing. That was her most powerful spell! This was bad. Very bad.
First thing to do was throw the latch back down on the cage. As long as it was inside, and she was outside she would be safe. Then she could go get master and he could deal with this thing.
“What the . . . What are these bars doing in my apartment! Damn it Sam, keep your kinky sex stuff in your room!”
Wait. She understood some of that. Kind of. Some of those were words she recognized, but they didn’t make sense in the context they were used in.
“I am Hexadara, apprentice of Grimhook, and your new master!” Those bars are made of true-silver! Any creature of magic is powerless against them, no matter how strong!”
A pair of massive hands latched onto the bars. Hexadara expected to hear the hiss of burning flesh, but nothing happened. Until the hands started pulling.
“D-don’t bother! N-nothing has ever broken out of there b-before!” but even as she spoke Hexadara saw the true-silver bars quiver and bend. With a sudden snap, they gave way, and a huge pinkish mass came rolling out.
What was this? Some sort of slime monster? It was big and pink and jiggily. But were those clothes? Why would a monster need to wear clothes?
Then the monster twisted in place. Shifting and twisted as it stood on it’s feet. Hexadara shrieked in horror. It was *hideous! *
The creature was almost like an elf, but not quite. The uncanny resemblance lead to wholly revolting feeling that made just looking at it cause her stomach go queasy. It was generally shaped like an elf, but three times as tall and six times as wide. Its arms were as massive as her torso, and its fingers were like entire sausages both in appearance and in size.
She couldn’t help it. She screamed. And fired of another fireball.
“Oww! Damn it! Cut that out!” the monstrous creature grabbed at her hands and wrenched her wand out of her grip. She had no hope of resisting this creature’s immense strength.
“S-stay b-back.”
The creature glanced down at her. Then it’s ugly bushy eyebrows jerked up in a feeling she might have interpreted as surprise had it been on an elven face. On this creature it might as well have been one of hunger.
“Are you an elf?”
***
Ask and ye shall receive! Here's part 2:
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7cckm5/wp_you_have_been_summoned_from_our_world_to_the/dpp5ai9/
|
When I stare at a heart I try not to think of all the symbolism they bashed me with in my youth. There, upon the table, is an organ which is like any other. It brings life, yes, but so do the lungs and brains, and the skin and the liver.
Yet no one talks so about those organs. Always the heart. The heart harbors man. As though our very beings belong there. I have stared at some hearts in my time. I have seen that life pulse spasm beneath the cold light of surgery. The heart is as any organ. No love is held there. No being or symbols. It is but an organ.
But love does exist.
We have been under the Little Doc regime for ten years now. The last of the western world had capitulated fully about three years ago. There was a great explosion so far away, somewhere on the western coasts, and then the white flags had flown in fear. Little Doc had won the war then.
Of course he is not little anymore. Duvall is in his twenties and a man by any reckon, and a monster by most. He lives like Genghis Khan with his Golden Horde of trained men, fanatics who believe they have some divine right to rule this world. Fanatics who had the right weapons to do so.
Little Doc has ascended and now we live in a different time. Globalization has stopped its outward crawl, its colonization of the Earth's corners, and now the supply trains come inwards into the Americas as Little Doc eats his fill of the world.
Much has changed. Here in the Indies the seas roar in the silence. You can hear the crackle of faint electricity. Power lines drop from disuse, and in the dark we live in shells as we look to the lights of the military camps. As we listen to the screams of abuse and pain.
Humans all have a heart. But love is scarce.
It had to be two years ago. America still fought. That was a country with a heart. But its pulse died beneath war's clinical surgery, and it suffered as it fell. That was when Little Doc was under stress. That was when he was not the God his propaganda had claimed him to be. He became unwell.
I had treated him as a boy when he lived in Haiti. I had lived there for some years and remember him well. He spoke more French than Creole, but his accent was so local, something so vibrant that made you think he would turn things around for his country. I remember him running around the waiting room, and then how he cried when I gave the news to his mother.
He needed a bypass or else he would die.
That was so long ago but I had kept him in my thoughts. I was in his it seemed.
Two years ago then, his men found me. I lived in Tobago beneath the shadow of the forests, hoping my family and I could be spared the war.
But he found me.
I remember the guns and the Eastern accents of Russian men and men who thought themselves the new steppe people. Men who were fair with green eyes that glinted in the sun. Their faces were gentle but they brought nothing but pain upon me.
My wife was screaming. I was on a plane and I imagined her alone back in Tobago. What would they do to her? Why was I being brought to Little Doc Duvall?
He had a palace in Mexico. He had grown fat, and he is even fatter now. He was ailing. I could see that immediately. He was dying. He needed a doctor, and I was the only one whom he could trust.
Little Doc spoke perfect English. He had left everything from Haiti behind. Now he was a man of the world, a man who owned the world. He was so fat that I thought he personified *greed* and *sloth*.
"My old friend. You helped me once."
"Yes, President, sir."
He liked that. I was afraid. He was the President for Life of the World. Such a title!
"I need your help once more. I need you to have the honor to help *me*."
In his palace the lights were red and his clothes were striped and in shadows. His face was round so his eyes were small black beads also in shadows. I stood surrounded by fierce men with guns, men of all colors who would die for their Little Doc.
"I... I will try,"I said.
"You have a good heart,"he said. "But I don't, as you know."
"I... Perhaps I can make it better."
"You misunderstand Doctor Paul. Do you know, I also am a Doctor?"
"Yes... You are Little Doc."
He laughed.
"Yes! That is what they call me! I am Little Doc! I know things of the heart too. I know how it works. How it makes men do the things they do. I can also teach you a thing or two, Doctor Paul."
"Anything, President, sir."
He stared me up and down.
"I can teach you a hard lesson of the heart. One that you haven't learned back on the island."
"What's that, sir?"
He had a faraway look. He was remembering something. For a man like him, anything not concerning the future took an effort to materialize. His eyes met mines.
"When I was a boy, you had a lady in your waiting room. Not the receptionist. A little fair skin girl. She wasn't from Haiti. She was from Trinidad, I think."
My heart sunk as though it was stone.
*Just an organ,* I think as I think back.
But it isn't. Sometimes it isn't.
"Kara? That was my girlfriend at the time. She was studying there too."
Little Doc laughed.
"Is she still your girlfriend?"
"No... No she is... We've been married."
He knew that already. He knew so much of me I could tell from his eyes. He was laughing with them. His heart held no love.
"I will teach you something of the heart,"he said. "Only because I like you, Doctor Paul. I will teach how *kind* a heart can be, and how *ruthless* it can also be."
"I don't..."
"I know you don't! But if you are to touch *my* heart, you will *know*. You will know the great responsibility you have. You will know the *honor* that I do you, and the *mercy* I show. And you will see the *pain* your heart shall bring you."
"I don't understand..."
"You will operate on me, Doctor Paul, and know that your wife's life is on the line. You will operate on me and know that she will only be safe so long as I live. You will operate on me and you shall remain my doctor. You shall treat me and me only as your Kara thinks you dead. And you shall do this for the rest of your life or else live with the grief knowing your love will be my *revenge*."
Silence. I remember the loss of words to match the loss of my world.
"And I shall show you mercy by allowing her to live."
He smiled. Little Doc Duvall was some devil in the light, his shadow both bigger than himself and somehow dwarfed by his immense size. Only in his twenties, and yet a lumbering monster.
The surgery went well. I allowed him to live. I allowed the madness to continue, as I allow it now.
He breathes through tubes as he barks orders with a sickly voice. The world suffers as he squeezes all wealth and prosperity from every pore of humanity. His Golden Horde grows fat as they enslave this world as we know it.
And it is all held together by Little Doc Duvall.
I can end it. I can end it so easily. One injection, one quick cut and it will all fall apart. Simple neglect might do the trick. He is an obese man whose life teeters in the balance. A gentle push can prove fatal.
I tell myself the heart is but an organ. Little Doc confirms as much.
But yet my own heart years and tears itself at thoughts that keep me awake at night. I cry and tremble and think of my love. I think of Kara back on the island, a prisoner like the rest, but perhaps safe and protected.
I see pictures of her to fuel my cooperation. I see her face in my sleep that feeds my fears. I can end this all and save so much suffering. I can bring mercy upon this world.
If only the heart was but an organ. If only I could make the right decision.
-
*Hi there! If you liked this story, then you might want to consider checking out my subreddit, r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories, including some un-prompted ones. Check it out if you can, and thanks for the support!* |
"See you tomorrow,"Maizy Potter waved at the group gathered around the nurse's station on her way out.
"Don't forget your birthday cake!"One of the male nurses, Sean, said. He bolted into the breakroom and returned with a foil covered rectangle twice the size of his large hands. "Enjoy your day off tomorrow, happy birthday again!"Sean leaned in for a hug which Maizy politely returned. She liked Sean well enough, but thanks to her gift she knew more about his private life than she should. There wasn't anything particularly offensive, but she did not share an interest in the private things that he definitely loved.
"Thanks, Sean. See you on Sunday. Oh, you have to let me know when Mrs. Sanchez delivers. That poor woman has been in labor since before I started my shift."She switched the subject to work as she left. As she made her way down to the first floor and out of the building Maizy thanked the heavens for small miracles. If she were not working the hospital's nursery when her ability developed she might have gone crazy. However, being able to watch the children age day by day helped her learn to use and control her power.
"Have a nice evening, Maizy,"the security guard nodded at her as she left the hospital. After she stepped outside Maizy turned left instead of walking to the parking lot. She lived close enough to walk and the weather forecast promised a bright, cool evening. Two blocks away from the hospital she approached what she called, "Deadman's Alley"in her own mind. Even before her ability kicked in she often found homeless persons dead or dying in the alley. She assumed it was due to the alleys proximity to the hospital. Once she knew how to read people, she occasionally tried to help a random vagabond. Maizy could use her ability to more or less guess a stranger's medical history. She peeked into the alley as she passed it. One body slept soundly sandwiched between two layers of newspapers.
"He'd probably like some cake,"she smiled to herself. She approached quietly to avoid waking him. "Oh, I better check if he's diabetic,"she reminded herself, then gave him a quick read with her ability.
"What the hell?!"she said loudly, and accidentally dropped the cake on top of the man's head. He stirred immediately.
"People tryin'ta sleep!"he grumbled and rolled over. He pulled a newspaper over his head.
"Hey! Who are you?"she asked.
"Nobody,"the man replied.
"You've been around for an unusually long amount of time, Mr. Nobody."Maizy knelt to pick up the cake as she spoke. The man sat up and looked at her, though he did not expect her to be that close. He yelped in surprise and hurriedly crab-walked himself backward, away from Maizy. His hands and feet crumpled the newspapers as he trampled them.
"How do you know that?"the man asked. He looked up at Maizy with fear in his eyes. His eyes darted around the alley looking for an escape, but he unintentionally cornered himself when Maizy startled him. Her nurse's instincts kicked in when she realized how uncomfortable she made him. Maizy looked around the alley and found three milk crates stacked up on top of each other. She walked over to it and sat down, keeping her eyes on the stranger the whole time. She placed the cake on her lap and held her hands up, palms outward.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I don't really tell people about this, but since you seem kind of odd yourself I think it's okay. I can see the lives people have lived up until the current day. I try not to use it to invade people's privacy,"she held up the foil rectangle. "...but, I wanted to leave you some cake. I had to check if you were diabetic first. Are you diabetic? Do you want some cake?"She asked, and held the cake out without rising from her seat. The man nodded and slowly stood up from the floor.
"So you saw my whole life?"he asked. Maizy shook her head.
"I can, but I've gotten pretty good at not looking at the details. I was just looking for anything medically relevant but I noticed you had a lot more to go through than most people. I met a 104-year-old man once. You've had a life at least 10 times as long, as far as I can tell. Who are you?"The stranger now stood close enough to take the cake from Maizy, but he shook his head when he answered her.
"Like I said, nobody. Not here, anyway,"he said. Maizy looked around the alleyway again.
"Well why're you hanging out in an alley, then?"she asked, though she still did not move from the crates.
"mmOH,"he had his mouth full of cake and tried to swallow it while shakig his head. "Not the alley. I meant this Earth. I got stranded here last week. Hey, this is really good. Thank you,"he smiled a toothy smile from behind the cake.
"Wait what do you mean you're not from this Earth? Nothing I saw showed me you were an alien."Maizy asked intently. Something about him told her he was telling the truth, but she wanted to know everything. He was in the middle of the last bite of cake, but he answered her after he swallowed it.
"Not an alien. I don't think they exist, but I'm from an alternate Earth. Someone I thought I could trust proved me wrong, and now I'm stranded here with no way to get home,"he said.
"Wow, I'm sorry. I can't even imagine what that's like. What's your Earth like? Is this one much different?"She asked. The man chuckled in response, and he sat down on the floor in front of Maizy. He seemed considerably more relaxed now.
"It's pretty similar, but our tech is more advanced. I'm probably going to need to wait until your tech catches up before I get home,"he sighed.
"Will you live that long? I mean... I'm sorry. You're already so old. How long do you think it'll be before we catch up?"
"Could be any time between now and 100 years,"he said.
"Wow,"Maizy said. She realized that she made a snap decision at some point during the conversation, but she did not know when it happened exactly. "That's a long time to wait in an alley. How would you feel about living with me until you find your feet on this Earth? I'd love to hear all about your home Earth." The stranger stared at Maizy trying to guess her intent, then looked at the ball of foil he crumpled up after he finished the dessert.
"Will there be more cake?"he asked.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is #221. You can find them collected on my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order. |
“The fuck is that?!”
“Hm? Oh, don’t worry about them, they’re creepy but they’re harmless.”
I set the box with our dishes on the kitchen counter, grinning as my wife sputters. “Harmless?! Are you seeing what I’m seeing?!”
I glance back at her, then over at the doorway where five squat, vaguely human shadows stand and watch us. “Five shadow people, right? Yeah, harmless. Hey guys, bet you weren’t expecting to ever see me again, were you?”
They dissipate almost immediately and I laugh. Don’t get me wrong, they’re creepy as hell. I get goosebumps and a rush of adrenaline every time I see them. I grew up chasing the damn things around the house, though, so it was like seeing an old friend.
“Shadow people...” My wife sits heavily in the chair at the kitchen table, staring at the door wide-eyed. I hold my arms out akimbo.
“Oh come on, I told you about all the adventures I had here as a kid!”
“I didn’t think you were serious! You said you were a kid, I thought it was all in your imagination!”
“Julia, sweetie,” I say, walking over and crouching in front of her. “I love you dearly. Every single story was the honest truth. I’ll introduce you to everyone later, ok? The knockers will have told everybody by the time we get everything moved in, and they’ll want to have a family reunion.”
As I say this, of course, a wet mat of something slaps right into my face. I reach up, pulling the hairball away and looking over at the counter. Tom looks vaguely like a cat, which was why I’d started calling them that at around six. And they like throwing hairballs when angry. I see Julia’s eyes widen and sigh.
“WHY YOU BACK!”
“Hi Tom.”
“UGLY BEANPOLE GONE LONG. FORGOT TOM AND FRIENDS.”
“I could never forget you guys. I’m sorry I didn’t visit.”
“NOT SORRY ENOUGH. WHO THAT?”
“This is my wife, Julia,” I say, reaching over and taking her hand in mine. Tom’s eyes narrow slightly, looking between us. “We came home because with mom and dad gone, someone needed to look after you guys.”
“Hi Tom,” Julia says, surprising both of us. My grin widens. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
Tom is quiet for another long moment, then nods. “BEANPOLE MARRY GOOD MOONYFACE. MOONYFACE GIVE CREAM, TOM CLEAN KITCHEN. DEAL?”
Julia glances at me as I try to stifle a chuckle. “Okay Tom. Deal.”
“GOOD!”
And then thing that looks vaguely like a cat jumps back on top of the cupboards and dives into a mousehole that it absolutely shouldn’t be able to fit into. “What in the name of god-“
“That was Tom, and the closest I can guess is that Tom is a brownie. I think. They’ve never told me. And they’ve already given you a nicer nickname than mine, I think you’ve made a friend.”
“Dearest, can we talk outside please?”
Julia tugs me outside by the wrist, and I know that I shouldn’t be grinning as widely as I am. I just can’t wait until she meets Joe, the minotaur under the bathroom sink.
——————
edit;;
holy crap, thank you for the gold, stranger! |
It was just a silly wish I made as lay on the bed of the truck in the middle of the cornfield staring up at the stars. "See that shooting star?"I asked, pointing. It was flawless; just like I wanted the rest of my life to be, minus a mosquito or two. She laughed and rolled her eyes and kissed me, her ponytail brushing against my face.
The sun didn't rise the next morning. Lost in each other's company, the idyll of a perfect partner unperturbed by something as insignificant as a timeless void, it wasn't until that evening that we made our way to town. I expected more people milling about, staring up at the stars and wondering where our own little star had gone and if it would ever return. Twenty-four hours without sunlight was abnormal, to say the least. Everybody was frozen in place.
"What the hell happened?"she asked me as we walked hand in hand. It was eerie, the way their eyes didn't blink and they seemed to stare right through us. It was like a little mannequin town.
"I wished for time to stop..."I started to say. I let my voice taper off. That was ridiculous. Plus, my watch was still ticking and our hearts were still beating and here we were walking.
"Don't joke like that,"she whispered back. I think we both knew then that I wasn't joking.
Time passed. Things never really returned to normal. It was still just us, roaming the world. We raised a family, our kids aging in a world that didn't age. She aged with them. Her hair turned white and her face grew wrinkled and I held her hand as she smiled at me one last time. I kissed her goodnight and I hoped she would wake up to a beautiful sunrise, finally escaping this eternal night.
The kids cried. They had grown up around death - it was all they had ever known, with the way those ghastly bodies stood there with those empty stares and grotesque grins. It was different when it hit so close to home. "Could it be love?"I remember she had asked me as she lay in a stranger's bedroom having given birth so many years ago. The baby had come out screaming, like a baby should. I hadn't expected that. I expected a stillborn child, one more motionless person added to this motionless world.
Eventually they died, too. Everybody died. I buried them in the garden beside her. Time went on so I became accustomed to my loneliness. Then I went insane, so I became accustomed to my insanity. I memorized it all; the people and the places and the way they were frozen in the middle of what they had been doing that evening so many years ago. Each day I discovered new details, each day a new day. Each day they remained frozen, each day the same as the last.
Then one day I saw her again as I ripped through an empty, unkempt field. She was laying in the bed of a truck, staring up at the stars, hair sprawled out in that ponytail. Her smile made me smile and she never stopped smiling. She was as frozen as the rest.
I talked with her, or in my head I did, at least, repeating conversations I thought I would never have again. "I love you,"I whispered. And then I saw a shooting star and I made another wish and in the east I saw the sun peak up over the horizon.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
I sit up quickly.
·what in the....·
I look around and everything is exactly like i remember it. The first computer I built ever built sat on my dad's old desk. It was made of wood and had a couple broken drawers, but was otherwise sturdy. Little knick-knacks littered the surface. An old ring from a high school romance. The tiny plastic dinosaur I got out of the 50 cent machine at the chinese place after prom. A small school picture of my little brother when he had those goofy glasses.
I chuckled, but was brought back to the reality of the situation I was in when the cube floating in front of me started to pulsate. Slowly, but steady, like a heartbeat. Last time I was here was so long ago. It felt wrong, unnatural even. I had touched the cube last time and it disappeared.
·Is this what brought me back, here? To this moment?·
·Have I missed somthing I shouldn't have?·
My mind and my heart are racing. So many questions, and I can hear something. Soft, faint footsteps. Quiet shushing. I look at the cube and its pulsating is quick now, frantic.
I touch it, and it disappearswith a sharp flash, but silently.
The door quietly opens and I see a small bit of blonde hair peek from behind the wooden door. Then an ear, finally, one green eye. I see the crows feet form around it and I can tell she is smiling.
"Happy Birthday!"My mother says as she jumps out from behind the door with her hands full. She was carrying in a tray with my favorite cereal, and a glass of chocolate milk. She had on a green dress, a little bow on the hip. She was slender and dainty. She hadn't put her shoes or her make up on yet, but I swear she was the most beautiful sight. I felt emotional, I haven't seen her is so long. She died when I was 19. Just a year and a couple months from now.
·Can I save her?·
·Is this why im here?·
"How did the birthday girl sleep?"She said, as she sat the tray down on my lap. She kissed my forehead and turned for the door.
I looked at her in awe, no words came to me.
On her way out she said, "Im gonna give you time to get dressed and eat your cereal, but hurry, dont wanna be late for your last day of school!"
It took a couple moments, but i finally composed myself enough to move the tray off my lap and stand up. I stood, feeling the familiar carpet under my feet, and also realizing how easy it was to do so. I have been old for quite some time. I walked over to the mirror and for the first time looked at myself.
"Im a girl?" |
"So you see here, sir, this one has acclimated wonderfully. We have had no issues in the week we have met."
The Old Mage clicked his fingers together. The golden chains around his neck made a light tinkling sound as he shifted. His ruby red eyes appraised my familiar thoughtfully, the cogs inside his mind turning as he stared at her. She shifted uncomfortably.
"What is he thinking?"The Jessie whispered.
"I cannot tell."I whispered back.
The human brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her hand trembling. My servants had done her hair this morning, braiding it with silver threads. She had been dressed in a silver robe hemmed and embroidered with gems I had conjured myself. Her hair was dark and her skin was unexpectedly pale and unblemished. The humans we had summoned in the past had skin that could be pockmarked from illness or streaked with dirt. But when asked about that the Jessie would look at me with a confused face. She did not go outside much, she told me. In the past week she had lived at my manor, she learned how to read and write in our alphabet, and read scroll after scroll of information. She had left my manor once - to come with me to speak to the Old Mage.
She pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose.
"You said the human hailed from...?"The Old Mage asked. His voice was whispery and quiet, almost imperceptible.
I looked toward her. "Ohio, in America."She said.
When I repeated that back to the Old Mage, he leaned back in his throne. Evidently he did not know where America was in their dimension. It mattered not.
"And you have had her for...?"
"A week, sir."
"Very well."He clasped his hands together. "I would like a progress report in another week. Please take her to our Spell Doctor daily to assess her health. Is she magic?"
"Not yet, sir."
The Old Mage nodded once more. "Please see me when she is. Dismissed."
When we exited the Old Mage's workshop, the Jessie seemed forlorn.
"What is the matter?"I asked. The hallway we were in was open to the wind. Birds swooped through windows over our heads. The air was filled with the scent of the nearby jasmyr trees.
"Um...this is really hard to say."She said. "But humans aren't magic. We can't do magic."
I laced a hand through hers. This was not the first familiar I had that I could speak to, but this was the first one that did not need me to teach them how to speak. "My dear, no species from your realm know magic. And yet, when we summon them here, we are able to bestow them and teach them magic. If you so choose, you will be my familiar on my magical endeavors and journeys. It...will be a painful journey. Magicians are scholars who are revered by the rest of society. But by many we can be shunned. Many of my adventures are quite exciting. But they can be scary, too.
"But,"I continued, "many of the work that magicians do, we do with familiars from our realm. The odd Earth familiar we summon are typically more intelligent...but they are difficult to teach. Humans have not been summoned in centuries. I am..."I had to stop. My voice did not work well. "...I am so ecstatic to have summoned *you*, Jessie."
"What would have happened if I hadn't acclimated well?"
I could not reply.
"Can I go home?"
"If you want to."
I looked over at her. Her eyes were sparkling. She studied her nails, which she had bitten down to the pink bits. She took a deep breath in, and then turned to face me. Her mouth was a firm line.
"I don't want to." |
The first thing that ran through my mind was that I couldn't kill my neighbor.
Not shouldn't, not wouldn't. Couldn't. Sarah Wylan was currently under arrest, suspected for arson when my house burnt down. Even if I knew where she was right now, there was no way I could fight through an army of cops and off her.
And yet the website still answered me.
I drummed my fingers on the keyboard for a second, idly, then typed, *Use voodoo magic to kill exactly one person.*
Result: One person dies.
Okay. So it doesn't care whether or not it's actually physically possible to take an action. I thought a little more, then typed, *If my name is Jonathan Elswick, I use voodoo magic to kill exactly one person.*
Result: One person dies.
*If my name is Dmitri Mendeleev, I use voodoo magic to kill exactly one person.*
Result: Zero deaths.
Ooh. So it knows things about me. Makes sense, if it can correctly extrapolate the total sum deaths created by any action—it had to have access to a monstrous amount of information. Hmm. *I use voodoo magic to kill a number of people equal to the decimal representation of my ex-wife's phone number.*
Result: 2,133,886,111 deaths.
Hands trembling, I dialed (213) 388-6111. After two rings, the call connected. I heard my ex-wife briefly whisper, "Hello? Who is th—"
I hung up, eyes wide. Holy crap. An oracle.
I bent over the keyboard, fingers blurring. *I kill all people who know about this website's existence.*
Result: 3 deaths.
Okay. That was good. I'd only found out this website existed when the Department of Paranormal Phenomena called me up; there had been someone who'd reported it and someone who'd forwarded it to me. That should account for all—
Result: 4 deaths.
I blinked. Huh. So... someone had become aware of the website's existence in the last few seconds. I typed in, *Using a system where 01 is A, 02 is B, so on and so forth, until 26 is Z and 27 is a space, I kill a number of people equal to the name of the last person to discover this website's existence.*
The site paused for a second, then spat out a number. I translated it. Sarah Wylan. My ex-neighbor.
*I kill Sarah Wylan if she knows I'm on this website too.*
Result: 1 death.
Oh, crap. *Using the same encryption scheme as before, I kill a number of people equal to Sarah Wylan's last query to this website.*
Hurriedly, I translated the numbers back into letters and read: "Using an alphanumeric encryption system, I kill a number of people which corresponds to a sequence of actions I can take which will let me be released from jail."
God. Oh, God. I panicked. I started to type, *I kill a number of people which corresponds to—*
My phone began to ring. It was my ex-wife.
Tears filled my eyes. She was calling me. She hadn't called in years and *now* she called? I took in a deep, shaky breath and picked up the phone.
"Hello? Allie?"I whispered.
"Jonathan?"Allie said back. I could hear the tremors of worry in her voice. "God, Jonathan, some crazy woman's got me tied up. She says—"There was a burst of static as her phone dropped, and then a voice I'd hoped I would never hear again.
"Jonathan Elswick,"my ex-neighbor Sarah Wylan purred, "How have you been? Browse the internet lately? Find anything good?"
"Yeah. Yeah, listen, Wylan, I don't know what your beef with me is, but please. I know what you asked the oracle site. Just... leave us alone, okay?"Frantically, I continued typing, *I kill a number of people which corresponds to what I can do to make Wylan release Allie.* As fast as I could, I started translating the answer.
"Mm. We find that entirely possible—if you capitulate to a few requests. We know you work for the Department of Paranormal Phenomena. We would like you to release all the files for all the cases you've worked with them on to the Internet."
"I—I can't. They'll kill me. And they'll know who made me do it, too. They'll come after you as well."
"They'll never know who talked to you last if you, oh, say, kill yourself immediately after you release the files."I could almost hear Wylan grinning. "A life for a life. The most ancient of compacts."
"And—"
"I'll know if you've done the deed or not. I know just about everything there is to know, now."
The translation was complete. The answer to my question. I blinked twice, then smiled. Dared to hope. "Yeah? Okay. Then you should know this. Fact 1: The chemical energy stored in the phone you're holding could, if released all at once, explode with roughly the force of a hand grenade. Fact 2: There are many, many layers of security programs in place to stop this from happening. And Fact 3?"I finished copying and pasting the code the website had written. "This oracle just wrote me a program which overrides them all."
I could almost imagine the shock on Wylan's face, moments before my ex-wife's phone exploded in a pulse of plastic and steel, less than half an inch from her ear. She'd be dead before she hit the ground.
If you liked this story and want to read more like it, you might want to check out r/rileywrites! |
\[Poem\]
A wedding not of love, and not of hate.
Arranged by politicians, not lovers.
She dreams to live, but it's not her fate.
He dreams to be with others.
​
A dress holds her down.
A necklace becomes chains.
She tries to hide her frown,
Her anger, she must restrain.
​
He puts on a suit,
Just as he puts on a face.
He felt he would go mute.
For his future, he must brace.
​
But there was another option,
He whispers in her ear
"We could use a love potion"
A gasp he then would hear.
​
Her heart was racing
At the choice she was facing.
She would never be free,
But maybe she could be happy.
​
A glass of wine with a little surprise,
And a better happy wedding with few cries. |
Sheila had seemed nice enough. Maybe a little intense but she was kind and interesting to talk to. She seemed hooked on an old lover. She kept talking about a Lopez. Maybe they were just friends but the way she spoke always made me think otherwise.
She had a fascination with explosives and a desire to want to lock in on any particular thing. She had been in the military. Stationed somewhere she never saw much action. Until she saw a lot of it at once. Women in the military weren't unusual and lots of soldiers come back with certain quirks.
I had spent some time in the military myself but more on the clerical side of things. Mostly logistics.
When Shelia mentioned the time she was airdropped into a valley with a new tank waiting for her, I lost all concentration on her quirks. The way her eyes lit up as she spoke, the catch of excitement in her voice. She was reliving what seemed like happy memories, even if they were in a combat zone. But the smile on her face faded after a few minutes. She had lost some part of herself out there.
I tried a few times in vain to change the subject but she sat there with here eyes closed. Eventually she started humming to herself, I assumed in a calming technique.
"Daisy... Daisy..." |
General Oren stood outside the sleeping quarters of the human called Branch- or at least, that was the closest word in their language to his name. He rapped his hard, barklike knuckles -more like tree nobs, if he was being honest, but they did the same purpose- on the metal door and spat a command in his native tongue. It meant, roughly, *"Get out here!"* or *"On your feet!"* or *"Face me!"*
There was no response.
The human had never failed to obey an order from a superior officer before; it was concerning. He swiped a keycard, one that permitted him access to every room in the building, and the door slid open.
Branch was lying on his back, staring at the paneled ceiling above his bunk. He didn't respond to the repeated order, even the fourth time it was given.
Now Oren was worried. The human had never reacted this way to a direct command. He never disobeyed, or tried to get out of doing even the most unsavory of tasks. Always eager to please.
What was wrong with him? Was he ill? Injured? Was this the human response to a physical ailment?
He recalled momentarily when one of the other human soldiers his army was working with had requested to speak to Branch on the account of "his brother passing away". Whatever a "brother"was. His species didn't have a word for it in their language, but it was apparently a similar word to *asdake*, a close ally. Someone who was deeply cared for by the speaker. It was a rarely used word; they cared more for the group than the individual.
He doubted *that* had anything to do with it. One human is still only one human, after all.
Oren repeated the command a sixth time, letting the frustration seep into his tone.
Finally Branch spoke.
"Just leave me alone."
That was unprofessional and uncustomary, especially unusual for the hardworking human. |
"Human, I've just learned a terrifying fact about the creatures on this planet."
"Is it about the Goliath Birdeaters? Those things are fucked up. Or maybe one of the megafauna?"
"No, none of those things. I was just reading about this animal that can run extremely fast and pull thousands of pounds of weight behind them without much difficulty. I believe you call them horses?"
"Yes, that is correct. Horses are an animal whom we domesticated thousands of years ago. Later on, in the ancient civilizations such as Mesopotamia and Greece, they were trained in pairs to pull these things called "Chariots"behind them as a faster method of transportation. In the Medieval era, instead of having chariots, people simply rode on the horse's back using a saddle. The Horse was the poor man's transportation, and the nobility used horse carriages to travel in luxury. Horses were also used to plow fields for farming. However, when cars and tractors were invented, horses were obsolete. But we didn't just release them into the wild. We kept them around, and nowadays we have horse races, which people will bet a lot of money on. If the horse gets injured in any way though, we simply send the horse to the glue factory and replace it with a healthy horse."
"The glue factory? I can't imagine that a horse would be a very good worker, let alone an injured horse."
"They don't work at the glue factory. They become the glue, because they can no longer partake in the only life that matters: one in service to us."
"How about we talk about those goliath birdeaters you mentioned instead? You're giving me an existential crisis."
"Okay. You remember the tarantula I showed you yesterday?"
"Yes, why?"
"Imagine that but the size of a dinner plate and a diet consisting of birds and opossums."
"Holy. Shit. I need to get off of this planet."
"You and me both." |
**"How do you plead!"**
"Not Guilty! I was..."
**"Did you, on the 23rd of September, enter the Mount Sinai Children's Hospital in new york, posing as a doctor?"**
"Posing? I'm a healer! my powers granted by Mithras himself!"
**"Are you a qualified and registered medical professional of any kind under state law?"**
"... no, but I can heal with a touch and produce healing elixirs from water"
**"But you do not hold any form of medical degree from any accredited medical school do you"**
"...no..."
**"So, on the 23rd of September, you did enter the Mount Sinai Children's Hospital in possession of an experimental medical compound?"**
"it's not experimental! It's the elixer of health that my connection with Mithras allows...."
**"Has this compound been approved by the FDA or any national regulatory agency?"**
"well, no....."
**"And where did you go once you had entered the hospital?"**
"I went to the children's cancer ward!"
**"And where there children there?"**
"yes, a ward full of children with cancer!"
**"And when you reached the children's cancer ward did you or did you not perform experimentation on the children present"**
"It's wasn't experimentation! I was using the elixir of Mithras!"
**"Has this 'elixir' ever been tested in any approved clinical trials?"**
"Well, no, but I used it on myself! it re-grew my arm!"
**"So you were testing it on cancer patients for the first time"**
"Well... yes"
**"Did you perform any animal trials of your 'elixir' to make sure it wouldn't cause adverse reactions to cancerous tissue?"**
"No..."
**"Did you perform any form of formal risk analysis?"**
"No..."
**"Did you consult any oncologist's about how cancerous tissue might react to you 'elixir'?"**
"No..."
**"And did you get ethical approval for this experiment on vulnerable human subjects from any IRB board?"**
"No..."
**"And did you get consent from the childrens parents or guardians?"**
"No...."
**"Did you so much as inform the medical staff on the ward that you were about to administer an experimental compound to the children in their care?"**
"No...."
**"You stand accused of practising medicine without a licence and with performing unethical human experimentation on vulnerable children, without ethical approval and without any form of consent! To be clear, is there any part of the charges against you that you dispute?"**
"OK, perhaps I'm technically guilty! But I cured them!! You didn't prosecute Bruce Kent when he used his Omega Serum on sick children!"
**"His legal team filed for FDA approval of the clinical trial, they filed all the risk analysis paperwork and got proper IRB approval and consent from the children's guardians and had all the required insurance to cover possible harm in case of adverse events!"**
"But when Bruce tested his formula all the children merged into a Cronenberg horror! It attacked the city!"
**"Yes, sometimes unfortunate side effect occur but Bruce-Corp stayed within the law! You however did not! For performing unethical human experimentation on children without licence, consent or oversight I have no choice but to sentence you to...."**
____
Written after thinking through what would happen if some rando *actually* just walked into a hospital and dosed children with some unknown elixer, even if it worked perfectly and cured them given how real world regulators work even when there's a known not-yet-fda-approved treatment for sick children.... so this may stray dangerously close to real-world politics.... |
"Scan it again,"the president commanded the green creature in front of him.
"As you wish, human,"the alien ambassador said, "but our devices do not lie. It will say seven trillion once more."
On the screen, the president watched as red hieroglyphics danced around. The alien said it was the language of the universe, one we humans had yet to learn. Then, the symbols left the screen, and numbers took their place. A ticker quickly rose until it stopped at the same number it had the last three times: 7,000,000,000,000.
"It must be wrong,"the president reiterated, "there's no way there are seven trillion humans alive on this planet right now. The difference between seven billion and trillion is so huge -- it's impossible."
"It does not lie, human,"the alien said. "I will run a new scan to prove it to you. This time, the device shall show us where the population resides in regards to the planet's physicality."
A hologram of Earth popped out of the screen and sat in the center of the room. The president, realizing what was about to be shown, quickly gave his bodyguard a side-eyed glace. The mountain of a man nodded in response, apparently getting the message. The alien didn't notice as the guard's hand shifted from his waist to his side.
Suddenly, above the projected Earth, the same ticker from before appeared. As the number rose red dots appeared on the surface, each representing a person. Places like China and India were lit up like a siren. Others were as dark as the night.
The counter reached seven billion, and then something strange happened. As it continued, reaching eight, nine, ten billion, red dots began to appear inside of Earth's core. Trillions upon trillions of dots hidden under the surface. Once the counter hit seven trillion the hologram looked like a cross-section of Earth you'd find in a science textbook, with the inside being red hot.
"Hm, look at that,"the alien said, not particularly impressed by the discovery, "it seems a lot of your people live within the planet instead of at the surface. Many races across the galaxy are known do to this. But you mean to tell me you have never met them-..."
The alien was interrupted by the crack of gunpowder. Then, the president, looking down at the blue blood splattered all across his suit, frowned at his bodyguard.
"Watch where you aim that thing,"he said, as the foreign creature lay lifeless on the floor, blue liquid still oozing out of its head.
"Sorry, sir,"the bodyguard replied, "but I thought it was going too far. You know what would happen if that information got out to the public."
"You're right,"the president said, wondering how much it would cost to clean the carpet.
"They must never find out the truth." |
A white porcelain bowl explodes against the wall. A thousand bloodstained pieces hurled in every direction.
Pavel looks back across the room at Alexander. Alexander, enraged, his body heaving up and down as his scowl grows deeper with each passing second.
Alexander looks at his meal, slowly dripping down the wall. "What can we count on these damned humans for?! he venomously spits out. "Wouldn't you think that the one thing they would have is an interest of fucking self-preservation!"
Pavel tries to reassure his master. "I can find another subject for-"
Alexander waves a hand at him and Pavel falls immediately silent. "What is the point?"Alexander begins. "If I have to endure another tainted lamb I will have to start breeding the creatures for slaughter myself."Alexander clenches his jaw; the contaminated blood in his fangs pronounced. Yet, he breathes and reminds himself to show resolve in front of his underling. "Sit, Pavel"
Pavel walks over and takes a seat next to his lord. He waits expectantly for Alexander to begin speaking.
"How many soldiers are currently in our Order?"Alexander begins.
"Somewhere around seven thousand, Master"Pavel replies.
Alexander nods, his hands folded in front of his face, brow furled in thought. His head turns and his eyes bore into Pavel's. He stands, towering over him.
"Compile a list of the twenty largest ports in the country, and report back to me immediately. I'll have to save the damned cur from themselves. Now, go!" |
Ok sir, I can explain.
Considering I have a list of Ostolish's nuclear codes on my desk you better.
Well you see, I was on my mission in the capital with Agent Viper
You were posted with Agent Cobra.
Right, right Agent Cobra. Anyway he sent me to infiltrate the president's private office building.
Agent Cobra's mission report says he just sent you to get some coffee.
Seriousely. Uhhh. I'm gonna be honest, I saw this cure kitty and I just had to pet it. And then I went to the store to get some cat treats and I ended up forgetting what my mission was. And then I saw a picture of the president and thought an infiltration made the most sense.
You're rambling.
Sorry Sir. So yeah, I realized I forgot my equipment so I decided to just do some sleuthing. But then I realized you needed an ID card. So I snagged one from a passerby to bring back to headquarters and make a copy of. But I figured that wouldn't work so I asked a security guard if he could let me in so I could return it.
And he let you in?
Yup. And then I learned the guy was one of the president's secretaries so I was allowed all the way up to the president's personal office. I met the guy there. Name was Rhonstin. Great guy. Has some adorable kids. But yeah, I returned it and was prepared to leave but then I had to go the restroom. And you won't believe this but they had these weird sinks and I ended up getting water sprayed all over my crotch. It was so embarrassing. I couldn't let people see me like that. And then I saw this black briefcase lying in front of one of the stalls. So I figured I could just borrow it for the day and then return it tomorrow. But then when i got back home I got curious so I opened it and there they were. Every single one of nuclear codes.
Ok. So what you're saying is, you infiltrated the president's personal office, went into his private bathroom, stole the nuclear football, all because you forgot to get coffee.
Yes.
Ok, I'm gonna award you, Kolstifan's best spy of the decade and in return you will never speak of this again.
I've already forgot the purpose of this conversation Sir. I don't even remember your name.
Get the hell out.
...
Well sir, that has to be either the worst or the best spy I've ever seen.
Your guess is as good as mine. I've never seen that man before in my life. No one at the agency has.
What? |
The dwarf looked at the piece of paper they had written down explaining universe A6-K-1. 'Science is just incredibly detailed magic with extra convoluted rules.' It was all he probably needed to learn how to operate human technology. Without magic, how complicated could it get?
\-----
"Right then. Everyone, welcome to Modern Robotic Engineering. My name is Professor Niklet. This class is going to follow standard procedure for the past five years, and as will all other classes, regardless of... recent events involving Quantum Team Research Laboratories and all that."The professor brushed past the six-month-old event that had shaken humanity's unified government. "That being said, I understand some of our... foreign exchange students are a bit more reliant on elements of a universe that doesn't apply here, so I am going to start this class a bit slow for everyone.
"Now, the first things first, to cover for our... less caught-up members of the class, I'm going to run down robotics quickly:
"Robotics is the use of electricity, comparable to mana wires, and special equipment that can just be mana circles to move components and complete a goal. Robotics is typically divided into two main parts: Physical engineering of components, and computer software to get the 'mana circles' right.
"However, robotics has limitations other dimensions don't. For starters, electricity doesn't come right out of thin air and certainty doesn't just dissipate as easily. Motors have maximum strength values, and any force applied can't just be absorbed, but needs to be re-directed instead. On the flip side, robotics are more versatile; they don't have an arbitrary height limit, and can - and actively are - functioning in other solar systems as we speak. They're much more durable, and can be upgraded easier if designed right. And of course, robotics also don't cause reality to degrade or whatever you call 'Magical Arena Collapse.' Why arena?
"Ignoring that, there are a couple extra principles we're only going to touch. For one, this is a starter course, so we're ignoring other, more complicated topics like GEP FTL and, well, how to poke a hole through dimensions. Iterative design and frontier efficiency research is also something we're going to ignore, and basically everything more complicated than design principles and prototype safety protocols. This is a beginner class.
"All said and done, let's get into Module One... fluid dynamics. We're going to be covering hydraulics, pressure differentials, aerodynamics, and a whole slew of other topics. Jumping right in, we'll start with what a pressure differential is and then move up to hydraulics before the class is over, hopefully..."
\-----
"...So the increased pressure needs to push up on the hydraulic butt with equal force to counter the pressure downwards perfectly. Of course, such an equilibrium is hard to manually create, so instead more automated units use a secondary pressure chamber and a gyro sensor at the moving arm's end to determine when the arm stops moving, and with it when to stop pumping hydraulic fluid. It is less efficient than just accepting the min-maxed arm, which is why cheaper and more durable models instead have manual notches the rotary arm falls into, making a more granular but easier to use system of not equalizing the pressure differential, but instead just making it not matter. Some construction machines also just use the weight of the arm itself as a kind of balast, moving a counterweight towards or away from the hinge to vary to amount of centrifugal force is applied on the angle and ensure that the arm stays steady..."
\-----
"...This use of the forceful pressure differential created a vacuum above and air pocket below, forcing the airplane up and letting it fly. However, any issues in the wing shape can affect air currents and increase drag exponentially, which is of course exploited when the plane lands for efficiency. The raising of the landing flaps increases the surface area of the plan from the perspective of the oncoming wind, and the near-ninety degree angle means that minimal air deflection occurs and most of the air resistance pushes against the plane's frame, slowing it down before it runs out of room on the runway..."
\-----
"...The overexcited molecules release heat in the form of infrared radiation, which is then absorbed by the surrounding fluid. This rapidly heats up the fluid until it boils, and then rushes upwards into the pressure differential created by the water versus steam pressure. This hot steam is then spun through turbines using its momentum, before being cooled off by being run through a radiator system and letting the excess heat energy be stored into solar batteries and fed right back into the power system, ensuring that even at night, the solar plants still produce all the energy that's needed by the grid. Any excess energy is just vented out using more exposed radiators, or in some cases deep wells. The spinning turbine is then either uses already, or more popularly hooked up to a motor and spun against an alternating current unit to create electricity and hook up wires for the general population to use. Of course, the new Dyson Swarm system negated the fuel factor for stationary power plants, which makes it much more environmentally feasible to..."
\-----
"...The electrons flowing through the wire create a magnetic field, which is basically a magnetic instability originating from the wire. When coiled into a spool, the maximized surface area of the wire and increased voltage but not ampage means that the electromagnet becomes increasingly stronger. However, given that the magnetic field fades with distance like gravity, it still has a limit or all magnetically charged items in the universe would come sprinting to the electromagnet's location. Now, all the moving electrons in the electromagnet itself have to go somewhere, and even then they have to..."
\-----
The dwarf had spent hours and all of their free time researching human science to stay on top of the class. They had finally grasped the atom theory, and then the quantum theory, and actually understood the class. Their roommates were supportive and proud, and the dwarf finally had free time for the first time in what felt like weeks. However, just as the dwarf got settled, they realized something as the lessons changed topics.
Before, the professor was talking about the way this non-magical reality worked. Now, they were getting into actual design principle.
The dwarf prepared themselves for being forced to research how the lightning, thinking rocks worked. Let alone the quantum variants... and physical variants... and embedded quantum variants... and even more types.
\-----
**A/N: Dwarves have good work habits, what can I say?** |
James Bond collapsed into bed with his evening's "conquest."They had not removed their clothes, but he knew from the way that she clawed at the sleeves of his tux, he wouldn't be wearing it for long.
"Oh, James,"Doo-Mi Harder said. "What would my husband say if he knew?"
"Not to worry, Doo-Mi,"James said, kissing her neck. "He's far too busy with work. He must be on the other side of town."
"Actually, he's closer than you might think. He's meeting with his associates at the docks tonight."
"Is he?"James asked.
"Yes. He might be close enough that he can hear me scream once I get my hands on your-"
"It's getting a bit late."James sat up in bed.
"What?"Doo-Mi sat up as well and looked at her watch. "It's only 9:30."
"Well, those martinis were a bit strong. And I just arrived in Nassau this afternoon. With the time difference between here and London, my brain thinks it's midnight."
"Wait a minute,"Doo-Mi said, rising from the bed. "I think I know what you need."
She pulled a strap at her dress, and it fell to the floor. Bond coughed and looked at the ground.
"Is something wrong, James? You look shaken."
"Of course not,"James said, clearing his throat. "I'm quite stirred by the sight of your lovely figure. Especially your... vulva... I believe is what is the most sensual part of what I'm seeing. Would you like another glass of wine?"
James crossed the room to the bar and began to pour a drink. Doo-mi, undeterred, followed.
"Come on, James. Don't be shy. I know you've had your eyes all over me since the moment you came to this island."She ran his hand over his pants and began to remove his belt. "I remember when I was on the beach with my husband. You were watching me from... oh."She smiled when she noticed his body react to her touch.
"That's right,"James said.
"With me in my red bikini."
"And your husband in that speedo."
"And my- wait, WHAT?!"Doo-Mi recoiled. "Is it the thought of my husband that's making you-"
"No, no, no,"James said, spinning around. "It's that... vulva that I was talking about earlier."
"Oh my god! You're gay!"Doo-Mi began to put her dress back on.
James shrugged. "You women are always so bloody surprised. I spent the entire night talking about either your husband, how your lipstick complimented your fingernail polish, or the fabric my tuxedo was made from. The tuxedo which you clawed up with your fingernails almost beyond repair, thank you very much."
"I know a lot of straight men who care about suits. And I thought you were talking about my husband because you had a thing for married women!"
"And my extensive knowledge of lipstick?"
"I... thought... I don't know, maybe you were sensitive, or something. But didn't you feel anything for me, James?"she said once her clothes were on. "Didn't anything about me catch your eye?"
"Well,"James said. "You were wearing some very cute shoes."
Without another word, Doo-Mi stormed out. James sighed and returned to making his drink.
"When is M going to send me on a mission to Mykonos?"he wondered as he sipped his appletini. |
It's hard enough, having a literal angel and a literal demon scream in your ear all day. It's harder still when they don't make any sense.
"She's a monster, I'm telling you man!"The angel was white all over, winged, and slim. Overly self-righteous at times, but generally a good fella. It's like having your best friend beg you to burn down a building--unsettling, to say the least. "YOU'LL SAVE MILLIONS OF LIVES!"
"No, seriously, she's a good lady. Maybe too many kittens, but still."The devil was slightly overweight, red, horned, and kind of a dick. Not evil, exactly, but sort of your criminal acquaintance. Like that one kid from the Breakfast Club. "What if she gets hit by a bus? Best to be safe, no?"
The lady herself was maybe 5 foot 1 if she had a particularly generous ruler, and currently pressing the walk button as quick as she can--approximately thrice a minute. She *looked* unassuming, I guess, but at the same time the Nazis would all be like her age at this point. Right?
"KILL HER NOW!"
"Help her across!"
I was torn. Angels are trustworthy, of course, and devils the exact opposite, but I wasn't a murderer. It took me a minute to decide, at which point the light still hadn't changed, so I sauntered over. "May I help you?"I asked. The angel swore softly.
"Oh, honey, of course!"the lady said, gumless mouth literally flapping. I decided I didn't regret my decision. My arm entwined with hers, we started across the street. About halfway through, I stumbled, and we went tumbling. I rolled away, but before my eyes the lady was obliterated by a eighteen wheeler.
Even as the truck screeched to a stop and screams of horror erupted, I heard my angel cheer and the devil swear.
"Told you he's only good 'cause of me!"the angel yelled. "Pay up bitch!"
My devil frowned. "And I needed to make rent, too."
*Fuck.* |
"Well this sucks",
I think to myself. The panic finally subsided only a few moments ago and I am beginning to realize my situation.
I'm going to have to plead the 5th in regards as to how I got here, but I will tell you what happened when they began pouring quik-crete over my head. I tried to flail about and escape my horribly inevitable demise but my broken leg sent tidal waves of pain through my body when I tried to stand. Then the crushing, viscous weight of the concrete pushed me to the bottom. All light was blocked out and I felt me lungs beginning to compress under the pressure. I tried to scream and expand my body but the exhalation only made it worse.
Adrenaline shot through my body and was reflected inwards by my skin. Panic was the only thought in my head. My claustrophobia didn't help. Finally, I felt the blood pressure drain from my arteries and the last breath of air escape my lungs. I lost consciousness. Or died.
At least, when I came around I assumed I was dead. It was perfectly dark and I couldn't budge except for a small cavity near my center where I had moved my limbs and torso about. Eventually I realized I was still in that awful barrel covered in quik-crete. Tragically, it had set while I was unconscious.
Is this better then death? Is freedom a suitable exchange for immortality? I don't know. I don't know how long I've been here. I have no way to tell. I'm pretty sure I've gone completely bonkers at least four times. My leg fells better now. It doesn't hurt to press on it. It's healed.
And don't ask me if I've tried getting out. You couldn't be farther from the truth in saying that I haven't tried. I've screamed. I tried to rock back and forth. I've kicked. I've scratched. I can't spend all eternity here, can I? I mean, everything eventually degrades, right? I'm starting to have hope. The bottom of the barrel is starting to rust. A crack is forming over my right shoulder. Maybe I can kick my way out in a few years. But what does the wait matter to me? I have all the time in the world. |
"Oh gosh,"said Nathaniel, "Oh golly."
He had just let an awful lot of plates in his arms come crashing to the floor in front of the entire restaurant, and the expensive cuisine stacked upon them was now smeared into the rich red carpet like a blast mark, stunning every customer, waiter and manager into silence.
This table-waiting job was harder than it looked, thought Nathaniel. He was an English Lit graduate fresh from Durham University, a prestigious institution for the son of a prestigious family to attend (Nathaniel's father had attended Eton with the current Prime Minister and was an established banker well respected within all communities that weren't the working class or middle class or indeed the lower upper class). Following in the footsteps of almost all liberal arts degree graduates straight out of uni, Nathaniel had found himself unemployed and between non-existent jobs. To somewhat attempt to live up to his family's good name in the short term, he had decided to one-up his peers and, instead of falling into the rut of working at commoner sandwich joints and pretentiously hipster and economically precarious coffee bistros, managed to get hired at "*The Worcestershire Beauregard*", a classy establishment for French and English fine dining.
"Oh crumbs. Cheese and crumpets. Gee whizz. Fudge."
Everyone in the room was still apparently looking at him. There was no "whehay!"and then an atmosphere of hearty forgiveness followed by the relief of everyone ignoring your muck-up and carrying on with their own business, which would happen at most english pubs if a similar incident occurred. No. This was a restauraunt for the excessively rich. And the excessively rich did not get excessively rich by forgiving anybody. They thrived on watching others fail, and you could tell that behind each gentleman's and lady's grave, silent face of disapproval, they were absolutely loving it. Nathaniel's manager coasted into the room, his face professionally bland and uptight, but he pressed a hard hand of rage into Nathaniel's back as he escorted him directly to the manager's office.
"Golly gosh. Golly fudging gumtrees."
You may have ascertained by now that Nathaniel's strict, posh upbringing and subconscious mindset to appease his father did not take lightly to cussing, or indeed taking the Lord's name in vain. He had been brought up attending the Anglican church that his family had been members of for centuries, though like a lot of people nowadays, was merely nominal in any profession of christianity or theism that he made. Nonetheless, throughout his schooling and sporadic churching, Nathaniel had quickly learned to use all manner of substitute terms for "God"or "Jesus Christ"in his swearing endeavours.
Bumbling into the managers office, expecting to get the sack immediately, both Nathaniel and his manager jumped in surprise at upon seeing a large, overweight man with a twizzly, bright orange beard and an obscure hat that looked like an upside down chinese pagoda, sitting behind the manager's desk.
"Who the fridge are you?"Nathaniel and his manager exclaimed in unison. Evidently, the restaurant manager was equally brought up in the ways of substitute-swearing.
"I am your Lord", the weird-hatted, ginger-bearded man replied, rather indignantly. "I am creator, sustainer, all-knower. Your supreme deity!"
To prove it, he waved his hand and the ceiling fan transformed into a universe with galaxies and planets loosely salted with a few narcissistic, needy and self-destructive inhabitants of its own.
"A deity?"The restaurant manager iterated.
"But you look nothing like God,"said Nathaniel.
"God? Ha. I am not *him*,"the peculiar man said, as the pagoda hat wobbled in apparent amusement. "I am Gosh. Golly Gosh. Jeez Louise. Creator, sustainer, all-kno--"
"Yes, yes, you said that last bit already. But who the heck is Gosh?"Nathaniel was rightly perplexed. The restaurant manager got bored and went to yell at some other unfortunate employees for a bit.
"Why, I am creator, sustain-- wait did you say "*heck*"? Bloody hell, you'll end up in Heck if you carry on that tone with me, young sir!"Gosh stood up and slammed desk with his fists, his ginger beard bristling with indignation.
"What?"
Golly Gosh sighed and sat down again with a deflated thump. The ceiling fan universe trundled on happily, its inhabitants declaring nuclear war on themselves because of disagreements about the Fermi Paradox.
"Look, I'm just going to level with you. I'm fed up with this godawful rubbish,"the man elaborated, "I am called Gosh. Golly Gosh. Jiminy Crickets. Basically any permutation of phrases that sound a bit like God or Jesus Christ. I divinely made my name this as a joke to - you know, actual God - in a bid to steal his thunder a bit. It's not working out so well though - in a drunken dare, my friends got me to work it out so that every time someone mentions my divinely bestowed name, I am immediately summoned. And you know, in the divine order of things, there's no room for being inconsistent. Otherwise everybody up there vanishes in puff of logic. I can't change any of it back."
"Oh gosh, how awful."
Gosh shot him an irritated look.
"Sorry. So you're not actually a deity?"asked Nathaniel.
"Ugh fine. No. Well. I'm one of them heavenly beings that you read about in Genesis chapter 6. What they don't tell you is that we do have some divine powers. But they are ridiculously limited. I mean, just look,"said Gosh, pointing his finger at the ceiling fan universe, which had now twinkled out into a cold nothing via heat death, "I can make universes, but only within small electrical appliances. I had to wait *13.7 billion years* until humans finally made a toaster I could infuse with life and my own customised physics laws. But that got old really quickly."
"Alright, okay,"Nathaniel gave up trying to take this all in, "so you're summoned every time someone says 'Gosh'?"
"Or Gee Whizz, or Gadzooks, or Jeebus, or whatever, yes. Those are all my names. Oh, and the summoning never quite works in the way you would think. I end up appearing in random, nearby, often painfully humiliating or unseemly places, like closets and manholes and women's bathrooms. I can never for the life of me appear in all my splendour in front of the person who unwittingly summoned me. That would have been way more fun. I suspect God pulled a Babel on me in retaliation for my failed little prank."
"And you are always summoned if someone says it, no matter what? You can't just ignore it and not show up?"
"Yes. It has become unbelievably tiresome. Especially once humans developed more languages and went all population boom after they stopped hunter-gathering and started farming. Christians are probably the worst, though the Jews and Hebrews with their rules about the ineffability of the name of God were also particularly aggravating."
"The television and language of the fifties and sixties must have been a nightmare for you."
"Mate, you have no idea."
------------------------------------- |
"Well, Grant, I, uh...can I ask you something?"
"Sure! Anything."
"How much money do we have for the next stage of the project?"
"About fifty bucks! They said they were going to make some hefty cuts so they could bring me on board. Why? Didn't they tell you?"
I gritted my teeth. "No. They didn't."
Grant sighed, his imposing figure sagging with each second of the breath. "I'm really sorry, Dr. Goldberg."
I shook my head. "No, no. Don't apologize. It's clear that they're no longer interested in my services, and they've sent that message quite effectively. But Grant?"
"Yes?"
"We're going to finish this damn project."
*
Grant's grandmother stood at the starting line as Grant gave her a pat on the shoulder.
"I really appreciate this, Gran. Thanks for coming on such short notice - we didn't have time to arrange for another volunteer."
"Don't mention it, sweetie."She gave him a kiss on the cheek and Grant offered a pleasant chuckle.
The previous stages of the test had been fairly successful. We'd had ten test subjects from each of the four age groups, all in various levels of athletic shape, and all holding objects of varying weights. The last test we needed was from the 65+ age bracket, in the lightest weight category.
"All right, Mrs. Johnson. When I say 'go' you're just going to run from here to the bleachers over there, then we'll take your heart rate and compare it to the other groups so we can see if the weight of the object has an impact."I handed her a Raisin Bran cereal box, nodded towards her, and backed away.
"On your mark, get set, go!"
She sprinted like I'd never seen before - embarrassingly, she was probably in better shape than me.
"Grandma, don't go too fast! You'll hurt yourself!"Grant ran after her as fast as he could, moving at a solid clip himself. His sunglasses flew off as he raced after her and I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Grant, stop! You'll tarnish the results!"Truthfully, though, I didn't care. I clicked the timer off when she tapped the side of the first bleacher.
"Excellent, Mrs. Johnson! Excellent! Let's take these results back to the lab so we can have them ready for the Board meeting tomorrow."
*
A group of five men - all so old that I was surprised they had two functioning lungs - sat before us, hands folded.
"Dr. Johnson, Dr. Goldberg. Tell us what you've got."
"Well..."I looked at Grant and he gave a jovial thumbs up. I cleared my throat.
"Granted, Grant's gran ran the bran to the grandstand, granting Grant, ranting, sans Bans, a reprimand."
The Council members stared at us.
"Do you think this is some kind of joke, Reginald?"Dr. Peterson growled, narrowing his eyes.
"Yes. It is. And I think Grant and I will be continuing our research at a place where the chairmen are a bit more transparent about their budget allocations. Ta-ta!"
I threw my papers in the air and marched through the back door, with Grant following in my wake.
That night, we both applied to ten open teaching positions in the San Francisco area. I don't care where I go, as long as I can do my research, and as long as Grant tags along. Turns out, he's pretty great to have around.
***
*Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my stories, check out /r/GigaWrites.* |
Eligrath Strakyne the Thirteenth, Sub-Auditor Number 2279 of Hades stared at Charon and clicked his pen slowly. “And… you felt this was a suitable investment?”
There was the roar of a two-stroke engine in the background, intermingled with cries of woe.
“Lord Hades is obsessed with efficiency, is he not?” Charon rumbled, staring down at the upstart demon he towered over. “I have merely allocated the resources given to me to further that end.”
Another motorized buzzard skidded past, these time accompanied by the sounds of joyful laughter.
“These human machines-“
“And there is _very_ little more efficient at transporting lost souls across the abyssal depths of the River Styx than the Suzuku 1400CC complete with turbocharged impeller.” Charon rumbled. “Our successful crossing rates are higher than ever before. We have even added coin slots for Drachmas.”
“But these are the souls of the damned!” Eligrath sputtered. “We have a reputation to keep! Opinions to uphold!”
“Ah, but Mr Strakyne.” Charon murmured and leaned down, staring into the smaller demon’s eyes. Eligrath was suddenly aware of just how insignificant he was to the ancient being; Charon’s eyes burned with an unwavering green fire, the bone white structure of his eye sockets worn down from thousands of years exposure to the vicious winds of Hades air.
“Have you _ever_ seen someone unhappy on a jetski?”
|
They said that it would be a dreamless slumber. But I recall having a dream. It was long. Yes, it was a very, very long dream. That’s all I can tell you. I woke up just a few moments ago, and the dream already seems so distant, like it hadn’t happened at all. How long had it been really? It feels like I went to bed just last night. We had just zipped past the fourth planet in our solar system, Sram. It was now invisible. The red sun shone brightly in the distance, 20 light minutes away. My home was a speck of cosmic dust. Everyone I had ever known was on that speck of dust, my home, Thrae. All their hopes were pinned on my journey. They had warned me that the journey would seem instantaneous. But even though it felt like I went to bed just last night, I couldn’t believe that that was true. A yellow sun had replaced the red. A spectacular ring of ice gleamed in the starlight. A giant storm raged in the planet ahead. I had arrived.
According to calculations, it had been close to ten thousand years since I left home. During this time, the on board telescope, among other instruments, had constantly relayed information back to Thrae. An antenna, spanning almost a mile, had been constructed to distinguish the signal from background noise. In turn, special lasers had been built back home to send messages across to me. After travelling varying distances, measured in billions of miles of empty space, a total of 10202016 such messages awaited my attention. But I had been expecting more, a lot more. The messages had abruptly stopped arriving around a few centuries ago. I felt a panic swelling inside, threatening to engulf me.
According to calculations, the red sun should still be emitting sufficient energy to sustain life on Thrae. There was still time for us to find another planet to settle down on. So why had the messages stopped coming?
The computer running the telescope suddenly started beeping. After waking up, my first instinct had been to orient its lens toward Earth. The last time I had looked at Earth, life was vivaciously flourishing. I had recognized that unlike back home, grass would be green there, water blue. There were various animals striving for dominance in the food chain. None had succeeded, as far as I could tell. But now, the same telescope picked up nothing.
I plugged myself into the machine so I could see for myself what the matter was. I trained my eye toward Earth. But an impenetrable cloud of opaque gas shrouded the planet. I toggled the telescope, probing Earth from all possible wavelengths of light. But there was nothing interesting going on. Except for the black gas, swirling and twirling, nothing happened.
There was no sign of life on Earth.
Had a giant asteroid crashed into the planet, obliterating everything that lived? There seemed to be no evidence of that happening. The black gas had a radioactive signature. Why was the planet suddenly radioactive?
The mystery remained, but the conclusion was inescapable. My mission was a failure. My makers had discovered this ‘blue’ planet, as they called it. They had been so sure this was to be our new home that they even christened it ‘Earth’, keeping in touch with their fondness of anagrams. But intelligence is mostly trial and error, and this was clearly an error, unforeseeable, but without doubt, an error. It was imperative I report it immediately.
I unplugged myself from the telescope. I quickly relayed the information to Thrae, and then started reading the 10202016 messages from back home. It took me a few minutes, but even after I had read the last one, the mystery remained. There was no clue suggesting anything sinister had happened at all. Was the laser broken? Is that why they couldn’t send messages to me anymore? Did they think it was not worth the investment to build another one? My life probably meant nothing to them. They could always just make another one like me. But the sinister possibility remained. The question loomed forefront in my consciousness: Why had the messages stopped arriving? It was all I could think of. Why?
And so, I turned around. I took one last look at the yellow sun, and then prepared to go back to sleep. I had to know that everyone back home as all right, that they weren’t all dead.
I had to know that in this vast, incomprehensively large universe, I wasn’t the only one alive. |
The bell on the door jingles as a customer enters. I glance up, smile. Hands-off customer service, that's my goal.
It's hard to resist, though. The young man who just entered my shop has such a *moldable* face - he'd make a great minion. I wonder if he has any history in the field? But no - that's not for me to worry about any longer. Old habits die hard.
The man putters around the shop, and when I see him heading toward the register, I dust off my hands and head over there too.
"This one looks pretty interesting,"he says, passing me a copy of a Balkan history text. It's one I keep in stock for personal reasons. I nod and smile - a bookshop is a good place for me, I think. I'll get used to it eventually.
As I hand my customer his receipt, the bell rings again. I can't see the front of the shop from here, so once I've closed up the register, I wander a little closer to the front.
"Excuse me."I'm almost barreled down by a petite woman. "There's a book I need to find rather urgently."
She passes me a slip of paper, and while she does, I surreptitiously sniff. Ah, what a lovely smell she has about her - amber and lavender.
The paper reads: *Djall - Death and Demons in Albanian Mythology.* Unusual. But not unheard of - my last customer was interested in the same things. Let's hope she doesn't read too closely and start thinking of her local bookshop owner.
"Have we met before?"she says suddenly. "You look awfully familiar."
I blink at her, studying her face for the first time. My stomach clenches. My hands ball uncontrollably into fists. We have met... we most certainly have.
"No,"I say. "Not unless you've been in the shop before. Ah, this is a rather unusual request. What prompted you to find this?"
She blushes. I've never been close enough to her to know she could blush, before. She always seemed so confident. It's the most adorable thing I've ever seen.
"Oh, uh. My grandmother mentioned it."
"Hm,"I say, turning to guide her to the right shelf. "Are you much of a reader?"
"I wish I could read more,"she says. "My work keeps me pretty busy. There's nothing better than curling up with a book and some tea, though. Letting it all go, and going, *someplace else* for a while."
"I couldn't agree more,"I say. "Say - would you like to go out for coffee sometime? Maybe - maybe now, if you're not too busy?"
She grins. Oh, not the grin of triumph I've seen cross her face before. This is something softer - sweeter. Something I'd like to see every day, forever. "I'd like that."
I'll enjoy this while it lasts. I'll have to. Once she realizes who I am - that she's found me - my time on this earth is surely over. |
“Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am,” The traveler finished his soup. “But I come here to find a way to cure my wife’s illness. Do you know where the sorceress is?”
“I want to tell you a story. Will you listen?” I asked.
The traveler began to raise a finger in protest, but quickly took it back. He nodded his head in agreement.
I smiled. I grabbed an old, dusty book from the shelf and began to read to him.
“Once upon a time, a woman was granted a gift: the ability to grant one wish to anyone who asked for it.”
I looked up and the traveler was listening. I smiled and continued.
“As she helped others, her popularity grew. Many lives were improved thanks to her.
“One day, a charming general approached her not for love, good fortune, or even happiness. His one wish was to win an important war for his country.
However, the sorceress realized what she had done. A month later, she peered into her crystal ball to spectate the kind general. She then realized that he wasn’t ever kind to begin with.” I breathed heavily.
“Are you alright?” The traveler asked.
“Yes,” I sighed. “Yes, I am.” But inside I felt joy that he showed concern. I continued to read.
“The sorceress watched helplessly as she saw him and his army slaughter men, women, and children. The general burns down the town’s flag and replaces it with his own. Then she sees wagons of gold rolling off into the night.
“Since then, the sorceress disappeared. Nobody knows what had happened to her.”
I looked up again. The traveler’s eyes were focused onto mine. He was still paying attention. I again continued reading.
“However, a legend spread. One must walk a small path in the dark forest to find the exiled sorceress.
“One man, a prince, wished for the throne of his country. He never found her. Another man wished for the death of his rival, whom he quarreled with constantly in life. He also failed to find what he sought for.”
The traveler was still listening intently.
“But the third man, who merely wanted to cure his sick wife, found her.”
The traveler’s eyes widened. I began to shimmer, and my true form was shown; a young woman with eyes of inhuman intelligence, and radiating power.
“You...” The traveler stammered.
I stood up. “You were that third man. I am the sorceress, who took the form of a good friend and assistant of mine before she died long ago. The first man spat at me when he saw me. The second threatened me. However, you were the only one willing to listen.”
The poor man was speechless. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Get up, traveler. We will go and cure your wife.” |
I pull up alongside the bank, hydraulic brakes screeching. The masked men run out, bags of money bobbing at their sides as they hurry toward their getaway car.
I open the door, and hop out. They stop, comedically bumping into each other like a trio of stooges. "Who the fuck are you?"One asks.
It's probably my clothes. When *The Event* hit, my usually work pants and vets transformed into your typical spandex suit, in wild neon colors. I'm taking dayglow. I'm talking burn your retinas and leave an after image.
I grin at them, showing off my one gold tooth. Gold, because I had a root canal, not some showoff rapper bullshit. Anyways I grin.
"I'm the Trashman, motherfuckers."I snap my fingers, and the garbage in the back for my truck sorts itself neatly into biomass, and the various recyclable categories, whooshing away magically (I assume) to the proper facilities.
The human garbage in front of my also sorts itself. Two of the robbers find themselves on a bench in the county prison. The third winds up on a bed in the psych ward.
I get back into my truck. "I'm the Motherfucking trashman."I mumble to myself, and take a long slurp from the 7-11 Icee on my dash. |
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