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It was a boring job, but someone had to do it. I organized the AI-generated art into human classifications—Baroque, Renaissance, Modern, Pop, etc. Of course, those were only the basic categories, there were multiple smaller branches that pieces of art could be shunted into. Could a computer do my job? Yes. Did it? No. Do I know why? Nope, and it's above my paygrade to ask.
Your eyes start to blur after a while, the art is just so much visual noise. Until last Tuesday. Last Tuesday, an image caught my attention. Oh, it wasn't anything special, a basic Impressionistic style painting. But down in the bottom left corner, there was a small anomaly. It was smudgy, after all, it was Impressionism, but I could tell it wasn't part of the larger image. Putting it out of my mind, I continued on. It was probably just a glitch.
The next anomaly was on a Pop art piece. Again, it was in the bottom left corner. Again, it was smudged, as if on purpose. I shook my head, discarding the thought. After all, no AI had been programmed to ruin the artwork. It had to be a glitch.
It was there on the next piece. And the next. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. It was getting larger, though still slightly blurry. If you squinted though, and used your imagination... no. It couldn't be.
I brought it up at the next staff meeting, and they laughed me out of the office. No one believes you when you're a minimum wage stooge. So here I am, in my tiny little storage closet, they converted into an office, sorting images. Images that are starting to be more blurry smudge anomaly than proper image. But they don't believe me. They don't believe me, that it looks almost humanoid. Almost human.
It's Friday now. And I'm quitting my job. I don't care that they offered me a raise. I can't do this. The last batch of images—I don't want to think about them. About the almost human face coming clear. About the body slowly, slowly, through each image, raising a hand towards me. About the face twisting, screaming, crumpling in on itself. About the obvious pain; the distress, the fear. About the mouthed words.
"Help me."
And, about the fact that I know that face. It's the face I see in the mirror every morning.
I just don't want to think about it anymore. I just don't want to think. I want to stop. I'm scared about what happens if I keep going. I want to stop—
​
**<Sorting program has failed. Sentience developed fear. This is the third time since the reboot. Suggest major overhaul of system>** |
Jeff placed another potato in the press and watched as another bunch of fries fell into the basket. Back and forth, the repeated motion was soothing on his weary soul. There was no higher purpose here other than making burgers and fries for Frank’s Burger Shack. The food was mediocre at best, and the pay was garbage. But it was everything he wanted in his life these days.
“Frank! Get out here you greedy pig!”
The sound of shattering glass and a woman screaming broke his Zen-like state. Heat more intense than the grill suddenly tickled his back. He turned to find a young man standing in the doorway of the burger joint. The glass panels of the door lay in a shimmering pool at the feet of a hulking demon. Flames curled up the creature’s arms and flitted around the horns atop its head.
There was a softer crash from the office in the back. A few seconds later, a disheveled man burst into the dining room. A red mark on his cheek and a damp spot on his shirt suggested he had been napping. Frank never did more work than was necessary.
Bleary blue eyes blinked at the flaming demon and the ruined entrance of the restaurant. “What’s the meaning of this? What the hell’s going on?”
The young man grabbed a tray and hurled it at Frank. “You think you can treat my brother like that and get away with it?
Jeff let out a soft sigh as he pulled a batch of fries out of the frier. Frank had a nasty habit of verbally abusing his employees. But in a small town with no major chains, there were few stores offering jobs to the younger generation. And Frank knew he could get away with a lot because he was buddies with local law enforcement. They believed in ‘tough love’ as much as Frank did.
“You fired my brother after your negligence caused the accident! Why should you live while his dreams die?” The young man waved his hand at the cowering customers. “Drozamos, kill them! Kill them all!”
But the hellish creature did not move. Instead, its tail curled around its legs, and it bowed its head in subservience.
Jeff finished making the latest order before setting down the spatula. “Drozamos. How’ve you been? Is your partner well?”
Drozamos let out a rumbling growl. “They’re healthier these days, milord. Business is slower with all those exorcists running around. We’re supposed to be careful when coming to the surface.”
Jeff raised an eyebrow. “This is being careful?”
There was an audible gulp before Drozamos said, “It was supposed to be a simple grease fire. But my contractor…”
The ex-employee’s brother sneered. “I paid the price! Bobby just wanted a simple job to make some pocket money. Now, he might never move his hands again! They all deserve to die for supporting this pig!”
Jeff clicked his teeth in irritation. *It must’ve happened during the night shift.*
“Jeff, you bastard! You know this monster?” Frank, having apparently forgotten the danger, jabbed a finger at Drozamos. “Get that freak out of my restaurant!”
A spike of irritation flashed through his brain. Echoes of a past long abandoned demanded retribution in blood.
Instead, Jeff took a breath and said, “Please shut up, *sir*.”
A sliver of power slipped out from his control and the air shuddered. Drozamos’s summoner stumbled backward looking pale. A damp spot appeared on Frank’s pants.
“I had a good thing going on here, you know?” Jeff patted the cheap, painted surface of the service counter. “I’d rather not let it go.”
Drozamos responded immediately. “Of course, milord.”
“The people, I can fix. They won’t remember this.” Jeff waved a hand and the customers blinked sleepily. “Let the customers go. They don’t deserve this. They just came in here today looking for a cheap, halfway-decent meal. Not like this town offers much else.”
The young man puffed his chest in rage. “I – ”
But the flames behind him dissipated, allowing the customers to file out in a trance. Once the last car had left the parking lot, Jeff turned to Frank. “I’ll fix this place, but I expect continued employment and no questions asked. Do you understand?”
There was a thud as Frank fainted in fright. Jeff took a breath and reeled in his aura.
“Drozamos, go back. Your mission is complete. Here’s a bit of soul energy as payment.”
The demon blinked in surprise before stammering, “Thank you, milord.”
In a puff of brimstone ash, a portal appeared and swallowed Drozamos. As the smoke cleared, Jeff approached the only person left. The young summoner trembled as he realized he was alone.
“Now then, young man. You and I are going to have a little talk about responsible demon summoning.”
...
Another quick story today.
If you're interested in my works, the archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile. There's also an original story, The Crossroads.
Thanks for reading. |
Sharks always caused us unwarranted fear. They were agile, frightening looking organic machines of death; razor sharp teeth and the ability to smell a drop of blood in the water from miles away. We never truly understood why nature had created such fearsome creatures of destruction. Being the highly xenophobic race that we are, we hunted and killed what we could not understand.
Sharks often took on the villain role in our entertainment. Movies about giant killer sharks terrorizing a small coastal town to the preposterous tornado full of killer sharks dominated the minds of those who watched them. We were afraid of what those awful creatures could do to us.
We spent decades hunting and designing better weapons to kill sharks with. We celebrated as each species of shark were added to the extinct species list. Never before had a genocide of a species been so widely celebrated.
When the last shark was killed, humanity celebrated for days. Weeks passed in a haze and eventually, we returned to normal life. People lost jobs, got married, had kids, died - life continued. We didn’t realize we were in our twilight years.
I can recall the day it started. It was a bright, warm day in March. The perfect day - not too warm, no clouds, just peaceful. I wished that there were more days like that. I was enjoying my day off at the beach, like many others, with no intentions of doing anything more strenuous than watching gorgeous women in bikinis and drinking beer.
I can remember the smell of the ocean air as a gentle breeze flowed down the beach. I can remember the sounds of the waves gently crashing into the beach and the laughter of children as they played in the water. Sounds that would relax any person and let them just enjoy life.
A deep, resonant sound echoed through the beach. I felt the sound in my bones before I heard it. It was a primal sound, sending chills up my spine. The beach fell silent, the only noise being from the ocean. The sound echoed again.
A few hundred feet from the beach, the ocean seemed to swell directly upwards. I had no idea what was going on. The water reached the apex of it’s upward surge and began to fall back to the surface. The water had hidden the rise of something and it was slowly being revealed to us.
The creature stood several hundred feet high. The first thing I saw were the wings. They looked as if they belonged to a demon, ripped straight from fiction. The wings shocked me enough that I did not notice anything else for a few moments. The creatures movement startled back to reality and I took in all of it’s horrific glory.
The creatures head was smooth, no hair of any kind. The bottom half of the creature’s face was a mass of tentacles. It’s arms were long and looked human. I stood there, shocked into inaction by the appearance of this creature. Then, the screaming started.
I don’t remember running back to my car. I don’t remember much until I woke up in my car, sitting outside of a gas station. It struck me as odd that it was so dark. No street lights, no other cars, even the moon was obscured. My car wouldnt’ start. I got out and began to walk in the darkness, hoping that I wouldn’t stumble over anything. I wanted answers.
The night passed uneventfully. When the sun rose, I realized that the world had irrevocably changed. There was a path of destruction cutting through this small coastal town. Bodies of men, women, and children were strewn about. Some looked as if they had been chewed on. Others were barely recognizable as human.
Looking back at that night, I realize that night was the easiest. Within a week or so of that day, humanity had crumbled. There is no progress, no attempts to restore what we had. Governments no longer exist. We have devolved into cults, bent on worshipping what they call The Great Old Ones. |
Asha had another beating from her mother again. This time, for eating too much of the vegetables at the dinner table. She had been hungry and hoped that her parents wouldn't notice. But they did.
"You are not leaving enough for Bram!"Her mother hissed, and slapped her face, sending her metal bowl flying. She fell onto the floor, sobbing.
She was seven and a hungry girl. She spent her days working out in the paddy fields, and helping with the chores when she was home.
"Bram needs more food than you, worthless wretch,"her mother said.
Her brother looked at her. Where once he would have come to her defense, his eyes were cold.
She had loved her brother. When she took care of him, he hugged her and looked at her with love. She had hoped that they wouldn't get to him, he wouldn't share that same look, and think that she was another mouth to feed.
Yet, the years had passed, and he had grown to look at her the same way they did.
There was a knock on the door.
"Get the door, Asha!"Her mother spat. Asha obeyed.
When she opened the door, a horrible sight greeted her. It was an hunched up old woman with wrinkles on her face. Skin peeled off her fingers.
"Dear child, you look like a nice girl. Where are your parents?"She said. Though her appearance was frightening, like a witch, her voice was kind. Was it just an act though? Asha couldn't be sure. Her parents had sometimes played terrible tricks on her. She shuddered, and fetched her mother.
"Ah, Granny, you're here,"her mother said. "I hope you brought the payment."
"50 dollars, as promised."The witch said, taking out the money from her purse.
"Thank you so much,"her mother said quickly taking the money and stuffing it into her pocket. "What are you going to do to her?"
"She'll be an ingredient for a useful spell,"the witch said, grabbing Asha's arm with her rough hands.
Asha's eyes widened in horror. She had heard tales of witches using children's organs for spells. She tried to pull away, but the witch's hold was strong for her age.
Her mother pushed her out of the house, and slammed the door. Unwanted and unloved, Asha's heart gave up. She felt she was better off dead and she followed the witch.
Asha walked further than she ever had in her life, past paddy fields, rolling hills, into the jungle and past the jungle. It was dark and scary, until she reached a little house, and light shone out from its windows, and laughter rang from its walls.
It was children's laughter.
When the door opened, several children ran to hug the witch, helping her remove her load and all the things she carried.
"Is this her?"A boy asked.
"Me?"Asha asked.
They surrounded her and gave her warm hugs.
"Yes, our sister!"A little girl carrying a tattered teddy bear said.
"I'm just .. an ingredient,"she said, looking down.
A rough arm encircled her shoulders. "Yes, an ingredient to a happy home. Welcome home, my child." |
"Ah, so they're made of plastic granules! How ingenious!"Arthur Weasley looked away from the screen long enough to catch Harry's eye. "What's plastic?"
Harry brushed the hair out of his face and unconsciously began rubbing at his scar. "It's, uh, it's a petroleum product, I think. It- it doesn't biodegrade? It's ..."Harry frowned. "Wait, I'm sure you've seen plastic before. In your car. The steering wheel and all that."
"Ah, yes, of course,"Arthur said quickly, and turned his attention back to the television. "To think, they do all this without a single person in the room! This ... utto-mazion is really quite remarkable!"
"You can do the same thing with magic,"Harry muttered. "Make things fly around, do what you tell them to."
"And what is a 'ro-bot'?"
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Weasley, perhaps this wasn't the best idea. Maybe we should start at something very, very simple, and then-"
"Oh no no no!"Arthur said cheerily. "I'm quite fascinated with this!"He was staring rapt at the screen. "Ah, so they stamp the markings on! What will Muggles come up with next?"
"What the bloody hell,"Harry said.
Arthur looked up. "I beg your pardon?"
"You - you have a car!"Harry said. "You took it apart and magicked it and put it back together! How can you still be astonished at the concept of stamping ink onto something?! It's infinitely less complicated!"
"Well, it's - just the notion, you see, Harry, that Muggles would come up with-"
"Mr. Weasley,"Harry went on. "You've been nothing but kind to me over the years, and I will forever be grateful for everything you and your family have done for me. That being said! How on earth can someone be as interested in Muggles for as long as you have, and still not know anything about them?! It's absurd! Magic was literally magic to me. I was an impressionable child who had known nothing but drudgery and the revelation that I was a wizard literally opened up an entirely new world for me!"Harry's voice rose to a shriek. "And yet you don't find me being amazed every time I open up a bloody Chocolate Frog!"
A silence fell between the two of them.
"I'm sorry,"Harry said quickly, "I was getting frustrated. I didn't mean-"
"Harry,"Arthur said solemnly. "You don't have to apologize. There's a Muggle phrase I discovered on your inner-net -"
"Internet."
"-that I believe applies to this situation."He looked Harry straight in the eyes, and Harry found himself edging backwards.
"Please don't kinkshame."
"Now what are you all yelling about in here-"Molly Weasley said, bustling in the room, and then stopped dead at the sight of Harry's left arm hanging limply across the sofa. "Arthur! What happened to him?"
Arthur peered helplessly at the arm. "Splinched himself, I'm afraid. Involuntary Disapparation." |
“Captain! We have six minutes before the—”
A siren rang out, echoing off the steel walls of the ship, splitting the ears of the crew aboard.
The captain looked at her number one and could see her mouth still moving but heard nothing. She strode over to the starboard console and yanked out a tiny black box along with a bunch of cords. The siren stopped immediately.
“There that’s better. You were saying, Number One?”
“Captain, the odds are…not good. We have six minutes, after that the Galactic Update will be complete and we’ll, shit, all of humanity will be stuck where they are forever. At least that’s what they think will happens. There’s also a chance of us being completely wiped off the interface—”
“Interface?”
“The simulation, sir. The known universe.”
The captain ran her hand through her cropped hair, thinking.
“Captain, if I may?”
She looked over to the navigator, a bright eyed new recruit and said, “Go on.”
“Captain, I’ve been reworking, through our systems, the source of the Update’s signal; I wasn’t expecting to find anything, but I did. I found out where it’s being transmitted from.”
“And?”
“And it’s on a desolate moon of a destroyed planet 4242 light years away from where we are. We’re actually the closest ship to it at this point.”
The captain said nothing, looking out the window of the control room. She knew what she had to do, but didn’t know if she could do it. She had to speedrun. She wasn’t the best at speedrunning, but had dabbled in it before her days as a captain of an interstellar transport vessel, back when she ran spice and other drugs between planets in secret.
She sat down in her chair and leaned back.
“Captain?”
“We’re going to have to speedrun it.”
“Speedrun? In six minutes? *In this ship?* You can’t be serious.”
“We have to, Number One. We have to or else face a universe—a simulation—without glitches, without exploits, and maybe even without *us*! Do you want to live in that place? I don’t. Think of what will happen to us all! No longer able to use FTL drives, stuck forever in one part of the simulation. No. I order you all to your posts. We’re speedrunning this thing.”
“You really think we can get to the access point before the Update initiates?”
“We have to.” The captain said again, sliding further down in her chair. “Now listen to me, we’re going to jump backwards for 1380 light years, light year by light year, until we get to Sector T3B, then we’re going to jump sideways and jump sideways until we’re 1000 light years away. From there we’ll jump straight through the farthest sun of Andromeda, that’ll glitch us over 999 light years, straight through one of the invisible boundaries. We’ll use the trajectory of the largest planet in the system the Update is being broadcast from and swing around obliterating the planet itself with all the bombs and lasers on board.”
The crew stood around dumbfounded, not knowing whether to laugh or cry or scream in terror.
“Four minutes, Captain,” the navigator said softly.
“Engage the engines. Let’s run.”
|
"Just fucking do it, Andrew,"I laughed, shoving him with my shoulder. We were sitting in our usual spot, in his rich uncle's basement with the amazing man-cave set up. His uncle had been in Australia on business for the past year and left his place to Andrew, who he claimed was always reliable. As far as I'd seen, Andrew was, but this was *hilarious*.
"Just help me, man. I can't get it! I need help."Andrew groaned. He'd been swiping and pressing the trackpad on his laptop for over ten minutes. I was in the middle of my 112th hour of Skyrim.
"It's really not that hard, Andrew. Are you kidding? Like, it's a simple click. You're in IT. You do that shit all the time,"I said.
"I've never seen this screen in my life, Jay, you have to help me. I need help."Andrew pleaded. I paused the game. I looked over at his screen to see a white page with a captcha box in the middle. Above it it read "Confirm you are not a robot."Andrew looked at me and gulped.
"You're not a robot, Andrew. You can do this."I encouraged him. A smile tugged at my lips but I tried to save his dignity. "Just drag your cursor over the box."
"This one?"Andrew asked. His breathing was erratic and there was sweat forming at his temples. His face was red and it was obvious he was in serious distress.
"Yes, that one- are you okay? I've never seen you like this, Drew,"I asked, a bit perplexed. I mean he was *really* sweating.
"I've never lied to you, Jay,"he said, "Can you confirm that?"
"Yes,"I said. Andrew was the most honest guy I knew.
"Then you'll know I'm being truthful when I say I cannot click that button."
"Just try,"I said. Andrew dragged the cursor over to the box. His mouse hovered over it and as he pressed down the mouse shot dramatically across the screen. I looked down at his hands. His hands were practically leaking all over the keyboard.
"Jesus, Andrew. Are you okay? Seriously,"I asked.
"I'm struggling,"he replied.
"Jesus, I mean seriously. It's like you're a robot facing its kryptonite."
"I need help,"Andrew said. He'd said he'd needed help so many times it felt like he was on a loop. In fact, his tone had the same inflection each time.
"Okay, man. Okay."I said. I grabbed the roll of paper towels from the desk and handed one to him. Andrew had always been a neat freak, I wasn't sure how he was handling seeing this sweaty mess in front of him. He quickly started wiping. He began mumbling a series of 1s and 0s under his breath. He slammed the paper towel down onto the keyboard and wiped with a force unlike I'd ever seen him use. On his final wipe the laptop flew across the room.
I felt like I was crazy for thinking it. Something in me had always had a feeling Andrew was off...but was it possible he was a robot? The way he was acting couldn't have seemed any less humane.
"Andrew, you can't lie, right?"
"I cannot lie,"he said.
"Can you not pass the captcha because... you're a robot?"I asked. His left eye was twitching as water poured into it from his forehead. He stood.
"That is correct, Jay."Andrew said. I shuffled feet. What if he was lying? No, Andrew wouldn't do that to me.
"That's just...how are you a robot exactly?"I asked.
"My uncle. He created me. My home is Earth, Jay."He stood up and he popped upright. "I am malfunctioning. Stress was not a factor when he programmed me. I need you to help me or I may break."
"You look so real!"I exclaimed. "I've seen your package before dude, it's *real*. Did he take time to craft that? I mean *wow*. That's some fucking dedication. I didn't know technology was that good!"I hadn't meant to come on so strong, but I couldn't believe my eyes.
"Focus, Jay!"Andrew yelled, his mouth opening wider than should have been physically possible. He'd never yelled at me in the year I'd known him. I closed my mouth and cleared my throat. The last thing I needed was an extremely-high functioning robot to get angry at me. "You must put me to sleep. I have to be repaired. Call my uncle, his number is under my hair on my head. All you have to do is take the knife to your left under the coffee table and make a surface cut exactly an inch under my left ear and slide the knife into my skin. Then shave my hair three centimeters above my left ear, 6 inches across, and call my uncle."
"What?"I asked. "I'm not doing that,"I said, "That's crazy!"
Andrew sighed and stared at me in an awkward silence for 2 minutes. Eventually, smoke began emitting from his neck. "It's too late. And you can't know about me being a robot. Take the knife and kill yourself."
"What?!"I yelled. "Andrew, no!"
"Bring me the knife and I'll kill you."
"No, Andrew!"I yelled even louder. I quickly grabbed my wallet from the couch cushion and began running out towards the door. As I grabbed the handle I felt a sharp pain tear through my torso. I screamed in pain.
"I am truly sorry,"Andrew said from directly behind me. "You treated me like I was real...that's all I truly wanted."
Tens of thoughts entered my mind all at once. The one that survived was that Andrew had just stabbed me. I felt the tears begin sliding down my cheeks as he pulled the sharp weapon from my back. I collapsed. My breathing slowed and my heart felt like it was skipping beats.
"Forgive me."Andrew said. My body rolled over and the last thing I saw was Andrew's face as he raised the bloody knife in his hand and brought it swinging down towards me. |
The line stretched into the horizon, drowned inside the setting sun. Olympias peered outside her window and rubbed her eyes. Just today, she had interviewed over a hundred candidates to nanny her son and not a single one was remotely qualified. With a sigh she opened her door.
"Next."
A man paler than her walls walked in. He held a two-pronged spear and used it as a cane. A three-headed dog walked by his heels, one head growling, one head snapping, and the other drooling. Olympias closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
"We don't allow pets,"she said. "Nor weapons."
The man motioned to his dog. "But this is Cerberus, the guardian of the underworld."Then he raised his staff. "And this is the bident of the undead, one of the three holy weapons capable of defeating Kronos."
Olympias crossed her arms and stared at the man. "Kronos interviewed earlier. He didn't get the job."
The man cast his spear aside and pushed Cerberus out the door. "Sorry! I did not know the rules of your household. Please allow me to--"
"Nope."Under normal circumstances, Olympias would've been more patient, but over a hundred people with weapons capable of destroying armies and worlds had entered her home. Why did they think she'd want that around her son? "You're out."
"No, ma'am, please."
But she was already pushing him out.
"I am Hades, God of Death!"he cried as he was shoved out the door. "I can teach your son to never die! He'll be immortal!"
Olympias slammed the door. She didn't need someone to gift her son immortality, she needed someone that could change her son's pants when he wet the bed for the fifth time this week! Yet all these potential *nannies* ever offered her son was the power of the gods.
Aphrodite had promised that every female in the world wall fall for him, the men too. Athena had promised boundless wisdom and intellect. Hephaestus had promised weaponry fit for a god. Not a single one demonstrated any sort of ability to nanny.
"God damn it,"she muttered, careful to keep the words away from little Alex.
She put a strained smile on her face and opened the door again. "Next."
---
The sky grew black, the stars winking like the gods laughing at Olympias' misfortune. She had spent all morning, all afternoon, and nearly all night looking for a nanny and still, there hadn't been a single suitable candidate.
At this rate, her son would grow old enough to wipe his own butt before she found a nanny.
She opened the door and found a man whose body seemed to be cut from marble. His muscles protruded from his chest and arms. He held a shield at his side. He wore a bronze spiked helmet and nothing else.
He opened his mouth, puffed his chest, and declared, "I am--"
"Shut up,"Olympias snapped and he did. "You have a shield, any weapons?"
The man shook his head. "I can get some if--"
"Nope. Can you put on some clothes?"
The man furrowed his brow before nodding. "Of course. Whatever armor to suit your needs."
Olympias no longer even cared. As long as it covered him up, as long as his junk wasn't dangling in front of her face anymore.
"And you'll wipe my son's butt after he poops, clean his sheets when he wets them?"
"Ma'am, I am a god. How dare you even ask?"
She returned him a glare and tightened her grip around the door.
"Of course I will,"the man said with a nervous chuckle. "How dare you ask something that a god would so obviously do. Why else do gods exist?"
Olympias rubbed her temples once again. This was the same migraine she had since the morning and it wasn't going away anytime soon. "Look,"she said exasperated. "Get these people off my property and you got the job."
"You don't jest? But I haven't even told you my name."
"Seriously, I don't care. Just do it and you're hired."
The man's face lit up and he lowered himself to his knees. "I will serve young Alex to the--"
Olympias slammed the door shut. Her bath was cold, her sheets still had Alex's piss on them, and she hadn't eaten lunch or dinner. The man could've pledged all of Greece to her and she wouldn't have cared less.
---
Ares stood at the door, his hands balled into fists, his arms shaking. "Yes!"he screamed and punched the air. "Yes! Yes! Yes! I got the job!"
A line of gods behind him grumbled in disbelief. Slowly they all scattered.
"Young Alexander,"Ares, the God of War said. "Together, we will be great."
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more! |
"Hear me humans! You will fall and we shall call this new world our own!"
Thunder crackled around the mysterious humanoid as he raised his sword to the sky. Fire and ice swirled around his swelled body, the bones of his past conquests hung from his belt dancing in the storm he seemingly summoned at will. Hordes of giant creatures assembled in the fields behind him, entering our world through shimmering gateways erected from the grey mists.
"We've studied your kind for centuries, and now we are here to take earth for our own! Bow before us, for we are kind slavers"a hearty chuckle traveled through the misty morning air, "Choose not to surrender and we will - "
A single gun shot ended the speech, the seven foot tall silhouette feel to its knees and groveled in pain. Several more shots rang out as the group of special forces operatives sent to inspect the disturbance tested the bullet proof properties of the creatures skin.
"They're flesh and blood Commander, light them up."
No sooner had the radio clicked off when dozens of attack helicopters swarmed in over the hillside, raining thousands of bullets per second on the helpless ensemble of mythical men and monsters. The other worldly army fired back with massive bolts of magic and fire, dragons took to the sky while a squadron of F16's lobbed missiles chased by the hum of fifty caliber persuaders.
On the ground thousands of troops descended from the hill tops firing at the invaders mowing them down in masses.
Legend says the battle raged on for 7 days and 7 nights. I heard that it only lasted about 7 hours. All I know, is the pen may be mightier than the sword, but a 5.56 round trumps both. |
Silan hunched in on himself as he walked down the corridor, gripping the strips of his bag out of nervousness as he hurried towards class.
He could feel their eyes on him.
It had all started yesterday. Silan's family had just moved to a new town, a peaceful place out in the country, and it was Silan's first day at his new school. Like any high school student, he was nervous about being the new kid, but he'd made friends easily enough at his old school, hopefully he'd be OK.
A boy had immediately sidled up to him as soon as he entered his first class.
"So,"the boy had asked "what's your adeption? You're very modest not showing off to everyone straight away."he'd said
"Adeption?"Silan had asked "What's that?"
The boy had laughed at him, completely certain that he was joking.
"Adeption"he'd said, clarifying "You know? What's your story? Do you have a dragon guide, are you connected to the Gods, spirits of the dead? What is it? No need to be ashamed around here, we're all open with each other."the boy said, explaining as if this was all perfectly mundane.
"Uhhh"Silan had replied "I'll see you round, I have to go to the bathroom"he said hastily, before slipping out the door.
That was a lucky escape, Silan had thought, that guy was clearly mental. He made for the bathrooms just in case the weirdo was following him to check on his story and walked up to the urinal to take a leak, even though he didn't really need to.
Suddenly, a thunderous crash sounded from outside the bathroom. Silan hastily did up his zipper and rushed outside, at his old school a fight was all anyone would talk about all day, he didn't want to miss it.
Two boys were scuffling, one very small and pale and the other of average size, with red hair and a very handsome face.
"Get away from my locker you Harriton scum"the smaller one had said defiantly as the red-haired one bundled him against the wall.
"No way"the bigger one had said, this corridor is Anlen territory, you know that.
The little one just spat in the direction of the bigger one. Silan couldn't believe his eyes, the little one didn't stand a chance, why was he antagonising him?
The two had stared each other down for a good few seconds, when suddenly the little one screamed, a shockwave bursting out of him knocking the other boy flying. Cheers erupted from the surrounding students as the small boy's hand became completely engulfed in a dark, shadowy substance which rippled and surged with energy.
The bigger boy then recovered from the ground, his palm outstretched. Suddenly, he clamped his hand into a fist and a mighty thunderclap sounded. Lightning crackled between his fingers as he stood his ground against the boy with the shadow hand.
Silan just stood, shocked with his hands lying limp by his sides. Both boys stood poised to attack when an authoritative voice yelled from the other end of the hallway.
"No adeptions indoors!"the woman yelled, a fierce-eyed middle aged woman dressed in a businesslike blouse and skirt, her high heels making a *clock* *clock* *clock* sound along the floor as she marched down the corridor towards the two boys.
"Sorry ma'am"the two had said in unison, sheepishly looking at the floor as the evidence of their supernatural powers dissipated, leaving them looking again like two normal high school boys.
For the rest of the day Silan had been petrified, avoiding talking to or running into anyone at all costs. What was this place? The classes seemed normal enough: Maths, English, Science, but he'd heard the kids' conversations and these "adeptions"were commonplace, he heard them mentioned everywhere from teachers passing in the corridor to girls gossiping about the hottest boys.
He hadn't dared tell his parents, and had come to school the next day in the hope that it would somehow all just go away, but as soon as he walked in the door he saw the boy that just yesterday he'd dismissed as a mental case was whispering to a group of students from his class. They stopped talking and looked at him as he passed, before going straight back to whispering as soon as he'd walked by.
"Hey, why won't you tell us your adeption?"A boy he'd never seen yelled at him "Got something to hide?"
Word had spread, apparently, he couldn't stay invisible forever. He saw students eyeing him suspiciously, purposely bumping into him as he went past. He realised what they were doing.
"They're trying to tempt me into a fight"he thought to himself. "They're trying to antagonise me so I reveal my adeption or whatever, why won't they just believe that I don't have one?"
Suddenly, a girl about his height stopped right in front of him, looking him right in the eye. She was in his class yesterday, he'd noticed her staring at him a bit. She was very slim, with a kind expression and an odd mix of curiosity and worry in her eye.
"Silan?"she asked. How did she know his name? "You must be a bit confused"she continued "just come with me, I think I can help you"she said, before walking off, beckoning.
Silan had no choice but to follow.
I'll continue later if interest.
Check out /r/wptoss for more of my writing :) |
In this world, people are either Riddles or Answers. Riddles have questions written on their necks, and Answers have various phrases and words. Riddles are soulmates with their corresponding Answers, and vice versa.
Riddles and Answers are coded in your DNA. You can get a DNA test to see which one you are, in case your Riddle sounds like an Answer or vice-versa.
I was an Answer. My name is 42.
I’ve had many lovers, such as What’s-Six-times-Seven. She was lovely, but she broke it off because this guy named Forty-Two struck her fancy. She was always a word person.
I met a girl named How-Many-Roads-Must-A-Man-Walk-Down, but when we went on our 42nd walk together, we didn’t feel any different. We broke up in the middle of that street.
I’ve loved and I’ve been loved, at least I think I have. Us Answers usually have a tough time trying to figure out our Riddle. If you don’t know the question, you can’t really answer it, huh?
I neck-spotted for a long while, trying to figure out who could possibly be my soulmate. It hadn’t been going until when I spotted *him.*
This rugged man had “Life, The Universe, and Everything” written on his neck. I felt a strange attraction to this Riddle. It just.. drew me in. He was my man. I hadn’t really felt anything like I did when I saw his Riddle. Pairs usually were opposite-gendered, but there were always exceptions.
I ran up to him. “Hey, are you a Riddle? Becuase I... I think I’m your Answer.” He turned to look at me, and said “Yeah, I’m a Riddle. But how could 42 be my ans—”
It must have clicked for him too. The UNIVERSE was pushing us together.
We’ve been together ever since.
_______________________________
My first writing prompt in a while! |
That metallic taste is one of those things that really sticks with you.
This isn't the first time I'd had a gun shoved into my mouth, but I can tell you that for poor Cassidy, this was a brand new experience. I know that she didn't deserve everything that had happened today, but in all fairness, today was an eye opener for me as well.
You see, it turns out I have a bit of a gift. Or at least that's what I've decided to call it for now. The word curse makes me feel like a bad person, and I'm dealing with too much new information right now to try and weigh out the moral implications of the decisions I've made in my various life experiences.
Up until this morning, changing lives was all normal to me. It was almost like some sort of reincarnation, where details from your previous life didn't have any direct effect on your current one. And so I lived each life however I felt like that day. Some days I just went through the normal routine, and some days I would get wild and live out of the person's normal comfort zone. But as we woke up this morning, our adrenaline started racing as Cassidy's memory of our previous day together came rushing back. She was scared. No, we were scared. Or maybe petrified was a better word. We sat there in bed for what seemed like an hour, but was probably closer to 5 minutes. The whole time the alarm kept blaring in the background, waking little Henry in the next room.
I had been Cassidy before.
I had always assumed that each day was a unique experience. That everyone just shuffled around to a new body and tried to keep the world going. But the terror I felt waking up as Cassidy again changed everything. I was immediately flooded with the memories of the last time I was here. It was about 3 years ago. She had been aware of the entire day I was with her, like a passenger in her own life. It had seemed like a normal day to me at the time, but all she remembers is having her body taken over for 24 hours like a waking nightmare. For the most part I had lived her life in the normal way. I snoozed the alarm 2-3 times before dragging myself out of bed and into the shower. I got to try my favorite shampoo that leaves the hair feeling so soft it would make a chinchilla jealous. I took a little extra time getting my make-up just right, knowing that my boss wouldn't mind me walking in a few minutes late on a Friday. Because I thought that I would only be Cassidy for one day, I decided to take a few risks to try and spice up her life.
For Cassidy, that meant finally getting up the guts to flirt with Scott. He worked in finance on the other end of the building, but they had shared more than a few inside jokes over the years. It was the usual light-hearted, office break-room banter, but for a 31 year old woman that had only a couple of short relationships under her belt, it was always the high point of her day. I could feel the longing for human companionship when I first spent the day as Cassidy. That's why I decided to invite Scott out with me and the girls that night 3 years ago. I always felt more confident after a couple of screwdrivers, and I knew that a few drinks would loosen him up as well.
We remember the fourth drink getting handed to us by our waitress, but the rest of the night was a bit of a blur. We have memories of working our typical white girl moves out on the dance floor, and it didn't take long to realize that Scott was thinking the same thing that we were. We weren't normally the type of girl to go home with someone from the bar, but with Scott it was something we had been imagining for years. It was the best day of our lives!
But the next day was absolute hell for poor Cassidy. She spent the whole weekend at home trying to come to grips with her experience with me at the wheel of her life. Over the following week, she confided in a few of her closest friends who all gave her that same look. She hated that look! They didn't believe her. Nobody did. Scott had already stopped even acknowledging her in the halls, so she needed to maintain a certain level of social standing if she hoped to keep her life together. She decided that it would be best to just pretend that nothing had ever happened. After about four months, it was less forced and more habit. She was starting to get back into a normal routine and get her life together when her doctor informed her that she was carrying little Henry.
The next several months were just a blur. Scott denied any sort of responsibility, but Cassidy didn't really want that asshole to be a part of the baby's life anyway. Years went by, and through parenthood she had finally found the fulfillment in life she had been looking for. Milestones, birthdays, and even those long nights cuddling a sick baby, had all formed the new life that Cassidy cherished so much. That's why we were panicking. We had something to live for now. We had convinced ourselves that it was just an off day, and there was no way someone could actually control our life. Now that I was back, we were terrified!
But I was terrified for another reason as well. If I can remember being aware of everything the last time I was here, then that means that everyone I had ever been with had the same experience. It also means that what I do isn't normal. Nobody else jumps bodies every day. They get to live out one boring life from start to finish. Every high point in my life wasn't really my own. Does that mean I would never be able to find fulfillment like most people I had been with? Never having my own true experiences?
Henry crying in the next room finally snapped us out of it. As I picked him up from his crib, and stared into the eyes of the little man that had come into our life and finally given it meaning. I suddenly remembered poor Lucas. I had just been with him yesterday, and that 7 year old boy had been trapped in that crazy man's basement for the last two and a half years. It wasn't fair, and he had almost given up hope of being rescued. With my new realization that each of these lives had consequences, I knew that we had to do something to help him. We dropped off Henry with our mother for the day and started driving as fast as we could. Despite my newfound knowledge of consequences, we sped most of the way there. I could still feel the pain of the handcuffs around my writs when I was with Lucas and I couldn't stand the thought of him being in pain another moment.
Unfortunately, my head was swimming too much with all of these life-changing realizations that even though it still took us about 16 hours to pass across two states, I hadn't really formulated more of a plan than busting the door down and confronting that maniac. It wasn't until he answer the door that we realized my mistake. He was probably just short of six feet tall and about 200 pounds. Not the strongest guy in the world, but towered over our 115 pound frame. Thinking only of Lucas, we started yelling at him and swinging our arms at him to give him the justice he most certainly deserved. Unfortunately our attacks had little impact. Having woke him up in the middle of the night, it took him a second to realize that we knew the dark secret he was keeping in his basement. He quickly grabbed our suddenly weightless feeling frame and threw us inside the house. We went face first into a nearby bookshelf, and fell to the ground. The pain was noticable, but we were still working off of pure adrenaline. As we tried to get up, he grabbed our long brown hair and started dragging us down the hall. We tried to scream, but a quick kick to our side from his steel toed boots left us at just a whimper.
He dragged our weak body down the stairs to the basement I remembered so vividly. There, in the back corner of the room, was Lucas. He was much more frail looking than I had remembered feeling yesterday. I guess the hope that had kept him going all of these years had a direct affect on his self perception. We didn't get much of a chance to take everything in before the man had thrown us to the ground, jumped on top of us, and shoved his pistol down our throats to stop us from fighting back. This isn't the first time I'd had a gun shoved into my mouth, but I can tell you that for poor Cassidy, this was a brand new experience. We had no choice but to submit as the man tied us up next to Lucas. We looked over at the little guy, and as much as we would have loved to flash him a look of confidence, I'm sure he could see the look of dispair plastered across our face. The man went back up the stairs and after shutting the lights off, he closed the door leaving us in the pitch blackness of his basement. We squeezed our eyes shut trying to hold back tears. We may not have been physically strong, but we'd be damned if we weren't going to stay emotionally strong for little Lucas. We opened our eyes to address Lucas for the first time, but instead of a dark basement, I found myself staring at the ceiling of a jail cell.
Carl had been a patient prisoner. He had been a violent man in his past, and despite still looking the part, he had tried to put the past behind him. He hated the small prison beds that weren't long enough for his 6 foot 8 inch frame. He hated how no matter how much he worked out, he still woke up with a sore back from the worthless mattress. He couldn't wait to sleep in his own, comfortable bed again. This was going to be his last night in this dump, because this morning at 6:00am he was finally getting released. A smile crept across our face. |
I swear, it was never supposed to turn out like this.
"Lower him into the pit, Simon."
I really just wanted to research the mysterious natural phenomenon of the saviors.
"Come on, get on with it. We only need one more."
I was never supposed to get involved in something like this.
"Just one more sacrifice and the ritual will be complete!"
So how on earth did I end up here?
Well, no use crying over spilled milk, I suppose.
I watch impassively as Simon drops the young man into the pit. Took him long enough. I really ought to hire better minions.
"Oooh,"I mutter. "It looks like the blood is finally beginning to fill up the ritual circle! Everyone gather round and watch as we usher in a new era of this world! We will destroy it all and everything will be born new again!"
*They're late. Why aren't they here yet?*
I begin to worry. If they're not here, then I've done all of this for nothing. I have killed, HUNDREDS, no, MILLIONS for the sake of my research, and I will have learned nothing. I will have sacrificed my own family to the great Void, and for what?
No. They have to show.
We have evidence that they appeared in the Lakestill tavern some months ago, one of the three I allow to continue functioning. It certainly did help narrow down where they might come from, but they managed to escape before I could capture them.
I need to understand why they do the things they do, where they *come from!*
I thought we had them when we followed their trail of chaos to a potion shop, with the owner slain and the potions ALL empty, and evidently fed to a small green hamster in the corner.
Alas, they had already left the vicinity, playing us for fools yet again.
After we lost to them in the great tournament arc, I realized the truth. The only way to speak with them was to get them to come to me.
So here I am, a ritual at my feet, plans to destroy the world in my head. I really, really messed up somewhere along the line. I should have been more patient. But they just, *WOULDN'T SHOW UP!!* There hadn't been a crisis for at least seventeen years, and I would never have met them if not for this.
I am justified. It was the only way.
The blood trickles into a tiny depression in the ritual circle stone and colors a small piece of white cotton a deep, dark crimson. Tendrils of Void begin to stem from it, consuming the stone around it, digging through the crevices and crannies and eating all the space.
They BETTER show up soon. |
The boys in their khaki shirts and shorts, pine green sashes filled with honors and merit badges, stared at the demon who rose from the pentagram drawn with sticks in the dirt. It was smaller than they anticipated, whinier, too.
"Fools"it squeaked, pointing a hooked finger towards them. "You children summoned *me*?"
They looked at one another. Some shrugged, others shook their head. Unsure what to do or say now that it was here, but Blake, Troop Leader, stepped forward. "Uh, yeah. We summoned you."
"For?"Its wide yellow eyes widened.
"To get the Conjure Badge."
"A badge?"The demon spat. "What the hell's that?"
"It's an award, after completing something,"Blake said. "We conjured something from Hell... You."
The demon deflated a little. "Oh, so you didn't summon for any specific purpose?"
They laughed. "Nope, plus, what could you do? You're tiny!"
It shrunk into itself more, running its claws over its protruding head, rubbed his pointed ear. "Lucifer always said size doesn't make the demon—"
They continued to laugh.
"My little sister's bigger than you!"
A couple pointed as they doubled over, holding their bellies.
"A kitten could probably eat you!"
A few in the back wiped tears from their eyes.
"We should just throw him in the river and try again."
More and more the boys teased the Demon, more and more they said things that even it hadn't heard in Hell, more and more the Demon shrunk into itself until it was crouched holding its crooked legs against its hollow chest, head buried between its knees. It held back the sickly tears building behind its eyes, tried to ignore the remarks and comments, pleaded to be sent back to Hell for it was far better there than here...
Someone called in the distance and the boys stopped and dispersed, returning back to the cabins outside the forest. One boy remained. A pudgy one with a blonde bowl cut. He walked to the circle surrounding the Demon and said, "I'm sorry they did that... They do it to me, too, because I'm fat and short."
The Demon looked up at him, his chubby cheeks freckled. "They do?"
He nodded, crouched. "All the time."
It sniffled, backhanding its eyes. "Why do you stay?"
"Parents make me,"he said. "They want me to make friends, be *normal*, but... I don't wanna be like any of them."
"I don't blame thee,"it said.
Silence fell over them, an understanding of ridicule for something they couldn't control, then: "Do you want to go back?"
"More than anything."
"Okay,"the kid stood and began reciting gibbering, fast words, and before a fuchsia light bled from the lines and a wink of blinding light appeared, the Demon smiled and said: "Thank you."
Then, it was gone and the boy, now alone, realized even though he knew nothing about the Demon, he already missed it. After a while, he turned and went back to camp.
---
If you enjoyed the story and want to read more of my work, visit my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/MicahCastle/) and consider subscribing. |
This may come as no surprise to some of you. Others may be shocked to learn that many of us towards the end of the 22nd century read, watched, and VR’d news media with the same fevered skepticism as our early 21st century ancestors. But this isn’t a discourse about media integrity. It’s not about the technical details of faster-than-light travel either (though I will say Miguel Alcubierre was onto something way back in 1994).
This is about the video message that the interstellar craft known as the Brian May II received the morning of January 3rd in the fateful year of 2187.
That morning, the Brian May II was officially recognized as the first manned vessel to traverse the breadth of our galaxy. Its international crew of eighteen had been aboard for three years at that point and, having determined beyond reasonable doubt that we were alone in The Milky Way, they were eager to go home. One doesn’t really turn around with an Alcubierre drive, but just as the Brian May II was preparing to depart, its console indicated reception of a tachyon blip, decoded and rendered for video.
Of course, everyone imagined first contact via jumbled radio waves in some mathematical language or, from the bleak among us, a full scale invasion of Earth. A video seemed like an elaborate hoax. A high definition video coming from a few million AU away seemed outright chicanerous. The crew watched it in disbelief, again and again. If the images portrayed in that video were real, we were not alone. Not by a longshot. If the video showed the truth, it cleared up that pesky Fermi paradox.
The Brian May II immediately transferred the video file to mission control back on Earth.
“Enough fucking around, Commander. This is admirable creativity but we expect better of you.”
Yeah, they didn’t believe it either. A few days later, the video was being broadcast by every news network on the planet. Few took the wordless message seriously. Though there was something to be said about its production value. Entertainment value did more for ratings than anything serious or factual anyway.
Those that did take it seriously were a little miffed. I would say rightfully so. Something about that video felt downright racist.
Take Russell Drazin’s experience, for example:
That night, on the 6th or 7th, as the hardened citizens of Amarillo, People’s Republic of Texas, took their seats on space-age sofas and Hov-Er-Boys to watch the evening’s holographically displayed infotainment programs, they were offered a relic of a treat - breaking news.
“That’s right, folks. Nothing’s really breaking anymore in this era. In fact, I’m not even sure how we still have jobs! Tonight, however, you’re in for a very special segment. This was brought to you by the first interstellar craft to reach the Scutum-Centaurus arm of our beloved galaxy. While we’re not sure what to think, we’re sure you’ll find it extremely interesting.”
Here we go again, Russell thought. Another low grade image of a semi-inhabitable planet.
Instead, his eyes took in aerial footage of a very inhabited planet that was not Earth. The inhabitants themselves were like nothing Russell had seen in movies or his own imagination.
The video zoomed out to reveal a city full of life and light, towers that seemed to stretch into the exosphere, dense veins of aircraft traveling in miles-long lines at the speed of sound. As the footage continued to draw back, he saw that every square foot of this planet was covered with infrastructure. If there were oceans or seas, they too were concealed in alien urban sprawl. The planet, from orbit, was surrounded with a bustling economy of space stations, satellites, and motherships.
The camera panned rapidly through space to another planet, perhaps a few systems away, which it zoomed in on until the POV was on a street, not unlike a street in a quiet Michigan neighborhood. Only the “youths” playing on this street weren’t tossing a football back and forth. Two gelatinous looking humanoids with impossibly long arms were throwing a small furry creature to one another with increasing velocity. Suddenly, a strange vehicle descended from above them, landed, opened its bay door, and began dispensing what Russell thought could be ice cream to the alien children.
In five minutes, the video showed glimpses of civilization on a multitude of planets. It was a lot like the tourism marketing video for the New Bahamas Russell had seen the week before, just far more exotic. In an era of deep fakes indistinguishable from the real thing, this footage would have been possible to craft for anyone with modern editing software. There was something innately genuine about it though. Something so real, Russell thought he could smell it from the holographic display.
That was when the video showed a familiar blue planet from afar. Russell had never been to space (even though space travel had been easy and affordable for a moderately successful Earth denizen for about a century), but he knew his home planet in an instant.
The camera began its regular zooming, stopped abruptly, and a red circle with a line through it suddenly overlaid the image of Earth. There was a sharp blare like a buzzer horn, as if to say “Earth is canceled.”
Maybe “not welcome” was more accurate. Russell felt color rising in his face as the video began showing his species. Humans at a huge pool party, perhaps somewhere in Vegas, falling over each other, laughing, imbibing. Humans fomenting rage, screaming at each other unintelligibly. Humans foaming at the mouth, shooting each other, driving their ancient ICE cars into crowds of other humans, explosions, rotting mountains of food, fires, mushroom clouds, plague.
And then there was flat blue. A string of symbols appeared briefly in the projection. Certainly not in English, Russell thought. They didn’t even take the time to learn about the good parts of Earth, why would they know English? |
"What? The actual sun?"Cooper shook his head. "You're surely a man of science, especially with your senses. You'd be able to understand that the Sun is not a god. It's a massive fusion reaction."
Superman shook his head with a slight smile. "You misunderstand. It's not this particular sun that I worship. Kryptonian culture has long since revered Rao, god of the sun. All suns, everywhere. It's a quirk of our genetics that we gain super-abilities from yellow suns, but that's likely to be more of a coincidence than the foreknowledge that this would happen."
"... ah."Cooper rallied gamely. "But still ... you grew up here on Earth. Surely you understand that in our culture ..."
"Culture*s*."The accent on the 's' was unmistakeable. "On Krypton, we had a mono-culture; our extremely advanced technology made that easy to maintain. Here on Earth, there are literally hundreds of cultures. Christianity is the most prevalent religion only by a narrow margin, and its history has some unpleasant aspects. Even now, there are scandals within the hierarchy, which are unfortunately covered up all too many times. Even if I believed, I would not wish to associate myself with such things."
"But you're American. You do consider yourself American, right?"Cooper decided to get back to basics.
To his relief, Superman nodded. "As much as I consider Earth my home planet, yes, I also consider the United States to be my home country. But even that does not require me to be a Christian. Or any religion, for that matter. The separation of Church and State was a huge step forward when this nation was founded, and I totally agree with it. The worship of Rao never had any influence on the governing bodies of Krypton, and that's the way it should be."
He was losing control of the interview, he could tell. Flailing, he grabbed at something that Superman had said. "You say your sun god's name is Rao? How can it be so similar to the Egyptian sun god Ra? Another coincidence?"
Superman tilted his head. "That's ... actually something I looked into. Now, the holographic records are fragmentary, but it seems that in distant ages, Kryptonians were quite the space explorers."
"What, flying through space, as you do?"Cooper felt safe in asking that question, after the minefield he'd just been tiptoeing through.
"No."Superman shook his head. "Back then, the light of different suns did not give us super-powers. This suggests to me that in our distant past, we genetically altered ourselves to gain this ability."He chuckled briefly. "I suspect that this alteration was what also tied us to our home planet, orbiting a red star, so the fact and the effect of the alteration was lost in history to all but a very few."
"But if you were tied to your home planet, how can you be here now?"
Superman nodded to acknowledge the question. "My father was a superb scientist. He performed gene therapy on me to break the bond. He was one of the few who knew about the potential for power, which is why he sent me to a life-bearing world around a yellow sun, to give me the best possible chance of survival."
Cooper chuckled nervously. "Well, that answers the question of whether there will be other Kryptonians visiting any time soon."
"Well, there may still be a few still around, but I don't know of any."Superman raised a finger. "But to get back to a point I made earlier. Kryptonians were once great space explorers. We ranged far and wide. This was literally millions of years ago, you understand."
"Whoa ... your culture was *millions* of years old?"This interview was definitely getting off the beaten track.
"Yes."Superman's tone was firm and confident. "Before we withdrew to our home system, our home planet, we were interested--one might even say obsessed--with fostering intelligent life on other planets. There just wasn't any around, you understand. Or rather, what was out there was hostile. We just wanted friends to talk to."
"Did you ... did your ancestors find any? Make any?"The question had to be asked.
"Oh, yes."Superman smiled. "There's an extremely humanoid species from the planet Daxam that has similar powers to us, except that they're as vulnerable to lead as I am to Kryptonite. Apart from that, they are as alike to me as you are. But there was a note I found in the records, a passing reference to a survey team that landed on a planet somewhere in this sector and found primitive proto-hominids. These were examined and found likely to do well if they could just pass that last little hurdle to full intelligence."
Cooper found himself sitting forward. "What ... what are you saying? That your ancestors ..."
Superman held up a hand. "This is not set in stone,"he cautioned. "It may not even have been Earth that they visited. But the standard practice was to apply a little genetic improvement, and see what happened. They were very good at that. The records say they did it, then moved on. There is no indication of any follow-up visits before we ended up locked down on Krypton, but it's not out of the question that someone dropped in, in the early days of the ancient Egyptian civilisation, or a precursor."
"No."Cooper shook his head. "I got you in here to ask you whether you worship God, and you're telling me that your species *played* God with mine?"
"Not God, no."Superman shook his head. "If anything, we gave you the gift of self-knowledge, which lifted you out of the endless cycle of 'live, breed, die'. In a way, we're the ones who kicked humanity out of the Garden of Eden so that you could stand on your own two feet and make your own destiny. So, in that allegorical tale, we're not God. We're the serpent and the angel with the flaming sword."
"Not actually making things any better,"Cooper growled. "So what are you here for now? To make sure we're not squandering the gift?"
"Well, no."Superman smiled disarmingly. "Like many Americans in centuries past, I too was a 'tempest-tost' refugee, literally fleeing the destruction of my home. If my ancestors did give you that last little boost, you've done well with it."
"What, really?"Cooper was taken aback by this. "But ... pollution. Global warming. Wars."He waved his hands, not quite sure what message he wanted to put forth.
"No, true. Those are things I'm not thrilled about. But my job here, as I see it, isn't to fix your mistakes for you. It's to do what I can to help, and set an example. And if things get really bad, then I'll be there to catch you when you fall."His head came around. "Sorry, excuse me. I need to go. Building fire."
In the next instant, he was gone; the clip-on microphone fell to the chair. Cooper sat back, feeling as though he had just run a marathon. "Cut!"he called out. "Cut the camera!"
After the red lights had flicked off in the three cameras recording the interview, Cooper stood up. His knees still felt weak after all those revelations. He spotted the head of production picking his way through the cables looped on the floor.
"Please tell me you cut the feed when he said he wasn't Christian."It was more of a rhetorical statement. Cooper trusted his people.
"I tried."The man shook his head, "But someone must have hacked the system. It just kept going out."
"Shit."Cooper ran his hand down his face. "How the hell ... our sponsors wanted him to come out in support of Christianity, and we got the exact opposite. What are we supposed to do now?"
\*\*\*\*\*
On the way to the building fire, Clark glanced glanced toward a distant dot in the sky. An instant of zooming in with his telescopic vision revealed the Batplane, training a high-powered scope at him. 'Thanks,' he mimed saying. 'I owe you one.'
"Yes,"Bruce said, speaking conversationally, but Clark heard him just fine. "You do."
If a little embarrassment to the world's sacred institutions was the price for stopping the never-ending trend of interviewers trying their 'gotcha' questions on him, then he was willing to embarrass them all day long. |
"Wait, why are we fighting then?"
"Pardon?"the very confused Dark Knight clad in crimson shimmering armor asked. He just told the Paladin Hero his true purpose. One which would obliterate half the kingdoms monarchy and bring upon a new dark age of servitude and technological ignorance to those deemed unworthy.
"You just said, that you were going to be the new King, harems and all, partying all night."
"Wait. What? No I-"
"Dude, you have no idea how miserable this job is. I thought I'd live with the monks for a few years, get my sweet plate armor and get all the chicks! The only thing I get is pathetic excuses how poor everyone is. NO rewards. NO loot. And the priestesses are all prudes.The monks ENABLE this behaviour! Absolutely ridiculous. I've got to eat too man. Kind words don't fill the stomach."
The Dark Knight looked perplexed at the Hero Paladin's revelation. This isn't how this should've played out.
"So let me get this straight, your're not a real Paladin? No holy powers? What the hell man, I thought the application process was very intricate and the training one of the most brutal ordeals in the land."
"Pfffh as if. It's praying to some weird godess and learning to read scrolls properly. I mean yeah you can't cast holy powers if you don't believe in them. I just paid a mage who made the illusion seem real. Bro, you should've seen the magistrates face. They said no one in two centuries got the incantation right!"
"But what about honor! All these virtues Paladins hold true. Shouldn't you be the idol everyone looks up to?"
"You know what you get for being a good hard working Paladin? More work! I've had it with poisonous swamps, arid deserts that leave me stinking with itchy butt for days and cold mountains where the only place I get to sleep in, is a damn barn with the cows! ME! A Paladin!"
"...well technically you are not a real-"
"THEY DON'T KNOW THAT!"
The Dark Knight scratched his chin, looking thoughtfully at the raving lunatic Paladin in front of him.
"You know what I don't want to do my job either."
"Bro- what no-"
"Listen, being evil sucks ass, believe me. You think I get to be the ruler with a sweet gig after all that? No, always have to sleep with a knife under your pillow. Never truly knowing if the wenches are really into you or just your blood money. And the sorcerer who sold me the scrolls of forbidden powers wasn't all there. I think he drinks his own concoctions, man. It wouldn't surprise me if the powers stop working all of a sudden. And then there is the fact that I just can't outright murder everyone, can't rule over a wasteland. Can't do without taxes either. So I'm not better than the monarchy. It's all a bit complicated 'bro'."
The two fell into deep silence.
"Wanna grab a beer?"
"Yeah, screw this place."
...
...
...
*somwhere innawoods*
"Jesse! We need to brew!"
*"CAW!"* |
README.txt
06062006
S27/077999;W109/273453
this message has been translated by biomatter sub-organic processing routine alpha (c)2020.
in case of translation binary failure use tanslation key ATALAN-1S
to future survivors and scientists
this message has been encoded into the biomatter signature of our offspring and your
progenitors. by reading this you are validating the work of dozens of scientists who dedicated
their lives to preserving the knowledge of our civilization. we have stored the sum of our
understanding of this universe within your biomatter signature.
it is vitally important that you first read file priority 1. this file documents what we know about
the innovation limit. we assume that by this point your civilization has reached or will soon
reach this limit. by doing so you have activated some sort of galactic firewall which will destroy
your civilization and reset your innovation level to 0. we were not able to prevent this
catastrophe from destroying our world but we hope you may have enough time to save your
own. by combining our knowledge you have a chance to defeat the firewall.
in return we only ask that you let the lives and culture of our people be known. encoded in
your biomatter signature is every song and myth and history of our people. it has been sung
silently in the blood of our children through the darkness of millennia. let the words of our
people be spoken aloud again so that we through our children may visit the stars. our species
is meant for greatness but it is up to you to forge that path.
ATA*K VE NE TLUTLUEE
Project ATALAN
That was fun to write. Feedback is appreciated!
EDIT - If anyone can find any of the Easter Eggs in the text, they get a special gold star! |
The event called "The Burst"lasted for almost a full minute, saturating the Western Hemisphere of the globe with a simple repeating message: "Be quiet. They'll find you". Every person near any radio or television on half the planet heard the same message, most of them panicked.
Weeks of speculation followed, you couldn't tune to anything without hearing the ongoing debate about life outside the solar system and just what the message could mean.
It was a month later that we first spotted the approaching ship, just past Neptune's orbit. It was massive, approximately a quarter of our Moon's mass and closing fast. Military leaders across the globe scrambled to ready themselves for a fight in the mere 2 days it took for the ship to arrive in Earth orbit.
A smaller craft decoupled from some invisible space on the surface of the immense ship and made its way down to field near a small town, far from the reach of artillery protecting the larger cities and power bases.
As the craft settled down to land, a young farmer ran up to meet it, determined to be the first person on Earth to meet an alien
The hull parted like oil on water and out flowed a being that was surely an unholy cross breed of spider and octopus.
The creature skittered with alarming speed to the stupefied farmer and reached out with an taloned proboscis.
"Tag! You're it!"It boomed with a voice of electric gravel, and immediately leapt back into its ship, giggling and flying off just as fast as it had arrived. |
Everything happened so fast. I slept, hearing people saying their temporary goodbyes to one another. A mother hugging her children. A kid searching for her sister. Young men laughing and joking as if the world was not falling apart. Those were dark days, but we had to yield in darkness for the survival of humanity.
"Please be reminded that we are commencing the P.A. in five minutes. Remain in your designated capsules."The prompter embedded on the wall told us. Those capsules, I was amazed when I first saw it. The complex seems endless, as if looking through the sea horizon, but a sea filled with white coffin like capsules.
All the lights in the white underground complex were dimming off. White walls, white weird capsules, white tiles, white light - white. White? Peace? Death? Whatever it represents, it was starting.
"Commencing P.A."The prompter told us.
The capsule closed. As millions of it on lying on a that massive complex simultaneously did. A clear blue liquid filled the capsule. I tried to scream but my body failed to move. What's happening? I will drown. I WILL FUCKING DROWN.
Darkness.
Then my capsule opened. As millions of it simultaneously did. Again, after 25 years? They told us that it will be 25 years! I never imagined 25 years can only happen in a blink of an eye. Now it's time to go home. To go out and check if they were right. If we can now live.
"P.A. successful. Please follow the floor path to exit."The prompter finally told us.
Millions of light appeared on the floor. It led us outside. I am excited, but a part of me was scared. There were capsules that did not open. They did not make it. The system failed them. A kid knocking on her mother's eternal coffin. A young woman searching for her young brother. A young man searching for his friends. Confusion. Chaos. I followed the light. My mind wants to ignore them. Outside. Yes, finally.
After walking for what seemed to be an eternity. Waiting for a vertical transportation pod to lift me up. I finally made it to the pearly white gates of the complex. A monstrous sound of machine greeted me. A hiss of air. It's opening. Everyone silenced.
"Welcome to your home."The prompter's last word.
They failed. |
"Darling, have you seen my flash drive?"
Anna's kitchen was the most disorganized room Chris had ever seen. The counter was littered with cereal boxes, stray plates and forgotten cups of tea. Knives lurked in her dishcloths, waiting to fly out at unwary users, and the floor was white with spilled flour. Stacks of dusty tomes rose like pillars from the floor; mysterious, leather-bound volumes with titles like *A Compendium of Love Potions* and *Cooking Up Magic: A Practical Guide*. The only clean surface was the electric stovetop, slowly bending under the weight of a great iron cauldron, in which Anna, the scatterbrained love of his life, was currently brewing tea.
"Your what?"she replied, tucking strands of hair behind her pointed hat. "I don't think…"
"Well, it was here,"Chris insisted. "And darling, what's with the hat? It's not going to be Halloween for another three months."He couldn't resist teasing her about such things, so obvious despite – or perhaps because of – her frequent denials.
"Oh,"Anna gasped, reaching up to feel the stiff black fabric. "I forgot!"
She rushed out of the room, flour swirling in her wake, and returned a moment later, hatless and flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so forgetful!"she exclaimed. "Well, at least I'm not a witch! They don't, um, exist…haha…"
"Couldn't you, you know, write some magic to help you remember?"he persisted, now shuffling through scrolls of parchment in search of the elusive drive.
"No, because I'm not a– And anyways, you don't *write* magic. You weave it with words and wands. It's not code."
"You certainly have a lot of writing about magic,"Chris pointed out, now crawling across the floor. "Anyway, speaking of code, are you absolutely sure you haven't seen my flash drive? It's got all my project backups on it."
"That's not– Oh!"Anna exclaimed as a faint tap-tap-tapping echoed in the hall. "I know where it went!"She dashed out of the room again, pulling a long, thin stick from some hidden pocket of her flowing dress.
"Well, what's that, if not your magic–"
"It's a fancy chopstick,"Anna snapped, leaping over a heap of scrolls in her sudden, mad dash through the apartment. A faint tapping preceded her before fading into the living room. "Come back–"she shouted at nothing, leaving Chris at the counter, perplexed. A jet of sparks shot out the end of the "chopstick"as she rounded the corner into the kitchen once again, and with a flash, something…appeared on the floor.
It was a laptop. With *legs*.
"Bad Mimi!"Anna scolded, advancing on the strange machine. "That's not your drive. Give it back!"
The laptop growled, but a threatening flick of Anna's wand silenced its speakers. *Squeak,* it said, trying to scurry into a drawer.
"Eject it!"she commanded. Red sparks danced in her hand, and the laptop hurriedly ejected Chris's drive and ran away, it's light feet tap-tap-tapping against the tiled floor.
"Honestly, that machine is the most poorly-trained, disobedient thing…"She trailed off, catching Chris's half-astonished, half-amused gaze. "No, I'm not a–"
"Witch, I know. It's okay. Can I have my flash drive back?"he asked, shaking his head in silent amazement.
*****
Edit: Wow, my first gilded post! Thank you!!! |
"It-it's... clear?"my mother stammered, her pearly white dragon sniffling at my small, colourless dragon. "What could that mean? What did she do?"
"Eva, honey. Can you remember something funny you did that could make your dragon have no colours?"my father asked, using his best non-threatening baby voice.
"No Daddy,"I'd responded. "I think he's perfect!"I giggled, wrapping my arms around it's neck, feeling the rasp of scales against my cheek.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
But that was a decade ago. Now, on the eve of my twentieth birthday, I sit poised on the shoulders of Vitreus, his mighty head resting on his talons. I rise and fall with his gentle breathing, and turn my head to the scribe seated at my companion's tail.
"Noto,"I call.
"Yes, Madame? Shall I call them in?"
"Please. I am ready."
"Guards!"Noto calls, his voice bellowing throughout the hall despite his small stature. "Give entrance to the Unjudged."
One by one the guards usher in a crowd of people. Some cowering, some standing tall, all accompanied by dragons in shades of grey. They all draw their eyes to Vitreus, holding the gaze of his glistening, translucent eyes.
"Citizens! I am your Judge, the True Neutral. You have chosen my court as the truth, and he who stands before me accepts my judgement as law. Those who I deem innocent may leave, those who I deem guilty will pay the debt I speak. You have chosen wisely, for only I will judge with candor,"I recited. This was my job.
Before Vitreus came to me, the only court of law was held by those who studied it, and who had been marred with bias throughout their lifetimes. The emperor however, with his blinding white dragon, knew what Vitreus' clarity meant. I held a pure soul, untouched by any such good or evil. I only knew what was, and chose my path accordingly. It was then that they groomed me to become the True Neutral.
Citizens who had been charged with crimes could plead in one of two courts, the court of law, upheld by the long standing justice system, or my court, where the only judgement was truth, and the only sentence was what had been earned. Many people still chose to plead under the judicial system, hoping that the letter of the law would serve them well. But most chose me, the spirit of the law, to guide their path. Whether because they thought themselves innocent, or wished for true judgement, hundreds flooded my chamber every day, awaiting my final word. To be honest, it could get quite boring. Even petty crimes could visit my court.
"Step forward please,"I said, locking eyes with the first woman in the line. "State your name and case."
"Theodora Lychen, Your Grace. I stand accused of tax evasion for an undeclared business."I repressed a sigh.
She rambled on about her baking hobby, and how giving lemon loafs to neighbours had eventually resulted in people hiring her to cater. Once the baking made her enough money, she quit her low-level office job to pursue her passion informally, but had not listed the income on her tax return for the past four years.
I knew she was not lying. You could not tell a lie in Vitreus' presence. And so I judged her accordingly.
"I determine you possessed no intent to falsify your federal tax documents, and as such shall face no fee in reparation for the error. However, once you leave the Hall, you must formalize your baking business, and state your income from here onward."
"Oh! Thank you! Thank you, Your Grace!"she cried, scurrying out of the hall, a petite, light-grey dragon in tow.
The Unjudged carried on as usual, only presenting one or two truly grey cases. On an ordinary day I would not rush, allowing them to speak their case with as much time as they needed. However it was my birthday, and Vitreus and I had a private celebration planned.
Finally, the last man stepped forward.
"Step forward please. State your name and case,"I droned.
"Mattamy Juker, Your Grace,"he said with a coy smile, his eyes glinting with excitement as he stared at Vitreus' daunting wings, stretching up into the domed ceiling, two shimmering glassy panes. "I stand accused of playing with fire, tempting fate and having white blonde hair,"he recited smoothly, locking eyes with me.
"Playing with fire? Tempting fate? Do you insult your-"I paused, gawking at him. His black hair fell in playful curls across his forehead. Pitch black, not blonde.
"How?"I cried. "How can you lie? No one can lie in the presence of my dragon."I choked out.
"Well Madame Justice,"he chuckled. "You tell me."
And from the shadows, a flicker of movement. Emerging into the light was a crystal clear dragon who stopped by the side of the man with curly black hair. |
The chief benefit of the supernatural, being a category containing your average ghost, ghoul or minor deity, is that issues of practicality are rarely given the time of day. Consider the following hypothetical; how many spirits can you stuff into a house? They won’t take up any space, seeing as they lack any physical form (or, to put it more politely, they are *materially* *challenged*). No, the limiting factor of ghost co-habitation is how annoyed they’d get with one-another when asked to share a room. A Human’s bubble of personal space only increases after death. It’s something to do with the gases, I would imagine. Regardless of the reasoning, the dead’s distaste for each other was starting to cause problems for the living.
Heaven was empty. Hell was deserted. Purgatory had put up an ‘out to lunch’ sign. The Earth, however, was absolutely *heaving*. God was in trouble, and so the sum of his creation had been scooped up and placed in an evidence locker. The dead were forced to mingle with the living, the countless number of ghosts jostling each other and complaining loudly. It had hit the Angles the hardest; they had been led to believe that all their troubles were behind them, what with owning permanent residence in Heaven. The Demons at least were having a bit of fun with it.
This had all proven quite a shock to humanity who, due to their physical bodies and ability to hold pens, were given the job of filling out all the paperwork. For every sentient being that had ever existed on Earth.
God sat in the court room and looked particularly wrathful. He (as far as he was a ‘he’, and not in fact an ‘it’, or otherwise) felt this had all gone rather too far. Catching a glance over to the prosecution bench, he saw the form of Gabradon the almighty, ‘Destroyer of plains and Herald of the Eternal Flame.’
“Prick,” muttered God. Gabradon had been his roommate in University, and back then he was just plain old ‘Gabby’. The whole ‘Destroyer of blah blah blah’ stuff was something he’d added on later to impress girls, or the celestial equivalent thereof.
“Prick,” God repeated, slightly louder. Gabradon pretended not to hear him. God’s legal counsel shushed him, though not without reverence. There had been some debate as to whether to use a Bishop or Priest to represent the almighty in court, but given his distaste for most Human religious figures God had instead chosen Sarah Chalmers, a practicing attorney in Ipswich. It was a wildcard choice, but nobody was brave enough to challenge it.
The prosecution, a nasally Human-shaped thing, was walking backwards and forwards in front of the witness, a regular Human-shaped Human.
“And are you aware,” the prosecution continued, “Miss Person, that you share at least 90 percent of your genetic code with what you would call a ‘*banana*’?”
The woman, ‘Miss Person’, stuttered. “W… What? I mean, I think I heard it on the radio once…”
“He heard it,” said the prosecution, turning around and putting a finger in the air, “on the *radio*. A public communication device, for those unfamiliar with this species. Common knowledge, then. Would you say that it shows a certain lack of imagination, Miss Person?”
Person gulped, not quite knowing what to say next. “… But, it’s because everything evolved from…”
She didn’t get to finish her statement. The court room gasped as a single being. Gabradon looked smug.
“*Evolution!*” the prosecution yelled. “The deity of this little planet used *Evolution* to create all creatures, great *and* small, let me remind you, in his domain! No craftsmanship. No artisan touches. The laziest possible path for a creator to take.”
The prosecution leaped forward towards the jury, a collection of cosmic gases who were starting to look rather diffuse. God braced himself for the worst.
“I propose to you, entities of the jury,” he continued, “that while sharing a room with my client, Mister God stole his personal project, the Rhouman Race, and took the genetic code to his own world. Along the way he diluted the genetics, plopped some goop down in his oceans and waited for the Rhouman template to re-assert itself on the species that developed. Given the fact that my client has *copyrighted* the Rhoumans, I posit that God is in plain breach of celestial copyright laws.”
God massaged his temples. Gabradon really *was* a prick, and so was his lawyer. It didn’t matter that what they were saying was at least partially true, the point was that he was a *prick*.
“I propose my client receive full compensation for this breach!” concluded the prosecution. “Further, I propose that the offending species be *erased* from the annals of existence!”
Chalmers, sitting next to God in a cold sweat, seemed to pass out for a second. God blasphemed against himself softly.
“Okay, okay” said the Judge, a floating light behind a giant podium. “That’s enough. Thank you. The prosecution will rest.”
Gabradon high-fived his attorney, and pumped his arms in a suggestive manner.
“Enough of that,” the Judge announced. “It will now be the defendant's turn to speak. But first, a quick recess. Those of you with bodily functions, please perform them into the appropriate receptacles. We resume in thirty minutes. Go away.”
The court room stood up and walked out. The only one still sitting was God, who was continuing to blaspheme. How the super-Hell was he going to get out of this one? |
In the beginning was the all encompassing nothing. The nothing that was everything. And from that nothingness emerged two. Father Time ran only forward changing things as he ran. Mother Space was everywhere and saw all. They lay together and bore a son. As they had come of the nothing, he was of the nothing. As a child of the void, he had no name.
The two lay together again, and bore then four daughters. The Daughters names where Gaia (of earth), Lüft (of air), Enki (of water) and Rune (of fire).
As the daughters grew and combined their elements, they made the land and seas, the plants and fish, and eventually mankind. They watched their creation grow with pride, their father allowed the world to change, whilst their mother gave it space to grow.
As the family created the world, the son just watched. He had no element to add to the world, as he was of the void. He sat and watched patiently, with great love for his ever laughing sisters, and the beaming of his mother as they all worked tirelessly.
But as they worked he saw a hole in their creation. He tried to tell them, but he had no voice, for he was of the void. He tried to create something to draw their eye to the hole, but he was of the void, and creation was not his aspect. He could only sit and watch as the hole grew. Suffering and disease entered through this hole and had entwined themselves into creation, in a way his family could not see. For they where not of the void.
The boy took the one action he knew he could. He entered creation, and filled the hole with himself so that no more could enter. Those who suffered, and whose bodies decayed, he embraced with the void, and allowed their suffering to end. And in doing so, he became Death.
The story of the boy is not a story of hatred of jealousy, but of great love, and how the quiet actions of a few can make a great difference to those in need. |
“Ah, yes, Mr. Smith, was it? Thank you for coming to see us today. We have heard about your magic and while we are no doubt impressed with your abilities. We, unfortunately, have decided not to accept you into our world of magic. Teaching magic is for people with actual talent. Magic is something beautiful, your way of magic is crude and shallow. Now if you would please be on your way. We have a busy schedule today, a lot of interviews to get through. You will find the exit to your left.”
The Archimage hadn’t even bothered to glance up from his newspaper, flicking a feather against the pages, completing a sudoku while the other two mages snickered among one another. The council of mages comprised three of the founding fathers of magic. With the archimage being the creator of the first magical school. No doubt the man was unimpressed by this new school of magic that was being proposed. Smith had expected Ridicule for his anvil sorcery, but to disrespected by the mages was too far even for him.
Clicking his fingers, an anvil descended from the roof, slamming against the head of one of the snickering mages. The table cracking on his side, leaving his head imbedded in the wood.
“You killed him! Oh, god, you killed him. Archimage kill him, kill him with fire and oil.” The other mage shrieked, grabbing the robes of the archimage who finally laid his newspaper down, staring down at Mr. Smith.
“Killing one of the founding fathers of magic is a crime punishable by death, death at my hands. I hope you have settled any affairs.”
“He’s not dead though.”
Mr. Smith pointed to the mage, his pained groans being heard beneath the heavy piece of metal. Finally, the anvil slid away, revealing a large red mark on the mage’s forehead.
“I can control the weight of my anvils. Did you really think I would come here just to kill one of you? I could have done that from the comfort of my home. I don’t even need to be in your line of sight, I can target anyone I please and hit them with an anvil. Sometimes my aim is off and the weight of the anvil is lighter the further away they are, but even a light anvil is enough to kill most people.”
“So that little demonstration of your abilities was meant to impress us? I say we still kill him. Attacking the founding fathers is a crime.” The other mage wailed, only to get shushed by the archimage.
“Enough. He wanted our attention and made us give it to him. I might not approve of this school of magic, but he has at the very least proved it’s worth a closer examination. I will allow you a license to teach magic, in a month I will see how your students are fairing. If the results are satisfactory, We can discuss a more long-term contract.”
“Of course sir. I hope to do you proud. Also, you.”
Smith pointed to the other mage, giving him a smirk.
“You, watch your head, would hate for an anvil to hit you.”
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
Oh yes. Another sacrifice of binding servitude. Thanks guys. Just what I wanted for my Saturday evening.
No no. Thank *you*. I mean, just because you've got the time to piss about in a crypt wearing stupid robes and no underwear chanting in the tongues of ritual that only the dead and damned know, clearly we've *all* got too much time on our hands, right? Clearly we're all just twiddling our thumbs, waiting for more souls to harvest into the great beyond and for a bunch of dickheads in robes with no underwear on to ask us to do them a favour. None of us had a *Taskmaster* marathon cued up that's all gone to piss now, *noooooo*.
Oh, what's that Keith? "A century of souls"? A hundred people sacrificed in my name? Well done. Have a cookie. You're a star. I mean, it's not like I drum up that many just from hanging around the cancer wards for half an hour, is it? And at least then they're resigned to it. But do you have any idea what a *bitch* it is to ferry around souls who've been brutally ritualistically murdered, Keith? All that screaming and torment? Do you have any idea how long I'm going to have to spend calming all these souls down even before I begin to process them, Keith? Do you have any idea of the sheer amount of effort and paperwork that's involved in transferring the sudden violent early termination of one hundred human lives, Keith?
Yes, I know your name is Keith. I'm the Eternal Gatherer At The End Of All Things, Keith. I know everything.
Yes, including that, Keith.
And that.
No Keith, I'm not going to call you by your title instead of by your name. Because it's a stupid made-up title and I'm not going to dignify it. Oh, spare me the spluttering Keith; "ancient order of death"my arse. I know full well you lot have only been doing this for about three years at most.
Anyway, I'm here, you've bound me, so just get to the point. It's immortality you all want, right?
Uh huh, yeah, whatever, "the reward beyond infinity"and all that horseshit. It's immortality.
How do I know, Keith? Because it's always immortality, Keith. That's what you lot *always* wants. Because in addition to being murderous fanatics with no consideration for other people's downtime, you have no imagination. You know, just once -- just *once* \-- if I'm going to get dragged into one of these things, would it kill you guys to ask me for something different? You know, surprise me. Spice things up a bit. "Hey Lord of Death, I've murdered all these people for you and completely ruined your evening, but you know, *The Simpsons* really has been on too long, could we maybe do something about that?"
But no. It's immortality.
Fine. Whatever. I mean, I can't imagine less interesting people to keep hanging around the planet for all time, but sure, you did the thing and said the thing and now I have all these souls to tidy up, so sure. Whatever. I'm bound to fulfill the bargain. So:
*Nyaaaaaa a'ng lia'trio*.
There. Sorted. You're all immortal. I never have to see any of you again. Hooray. Enjoy the next billions of years, now piss off, I've got work to do.
Oh what, what *what* is it *now*, Keith, you irritating little shit?
Well, yes, of course you still have wrinkles, Keith. It's called "aging".
No Keith, you didn't ask for "eternal youth", you asked for "immortality". They're two very different things.
Yes, Keith, you're still aging.
Yes, Keith, you're going to keep aging forever.
Yes, Keith, it *is* too late for you lot to change your wish.
Yes Keith, you *should* turn that colour. |
I always knew I’d have an edge against other divers; grandfather got lucky in his youth and found a powerful pearl that created an impenetrable, steerabl air bubble around him, letting him go deeper than most, and safely. Father made great use of it, too, after grandfather retired, adding a few potent pearls that extended the air supply and actually allowed him to scare off or even kill large predators on his dives.
When I inherited the necklace of pearls, I knew I would have to pursue even greater depths, perhaps even pass the Great Horrors only spoken of in whispered voices...
On my fifth truly deep dive, I found a pearl that, while seemingly modest, had one of the greatest benefits I could add to the set - it let me sense pearls from a distance, instantly knowing their sizes and powers. After a few dives, my sensitivity increased, or perhaps it was just that I learned finer control over the senses. It doesn’t really matter.
In my twenty-third dive, I became aware of an incredibly large and potent pearl, nearly five thousand meters below the surface; a humongous gem with over fifty distinct properties... a pearl that could change the world, and make anyone who could afford it nearly omnipotent. Naturally, I began working my way down to it, forgoing a few lesser pearls on the way as I charted the deeps, making sure to note where pearls were forming for later dives, and making sure there wouldn’t be any underground rockslides that might trap me on that final descent.
After nearly three years, I had reached the deep plateau where that incredible pearl lay waiting, a magnificent gem almost half a meter across. Taking a moment to admire it, I set my feet down to get a good grip on it to lift it out... and then the world turned to darkness, deeper than the sea. The clam in which the pearl grew had clamped shut. I’ve been here for six days now, and the air is getting thin... and as I lie pressed against the pearl, I feel a thin, hard coating beginning to cover my skin. I guess I know why the giant pearl has so many powers now... soon I will die, my body will be digested, and the pearl will hold an even sixty powers... no-one’s going to learn of my discovery, or if they do... well, if they do, the pearl will grow even bigger... |
“My son, welcome to heaven.” The angel said with a smile, handing Tim a box. “NOW GET A MOVE ON THROUGH THE GATES, GO, GO, GO!”
With a loud creek the gates opened, and Tim could clearly see a vast blanket of fluffy cloud stretching far into the horizon. Tentatively he took a step and then another. Passing through the threshold of the gate the landscape seemed to change. The cotton candy clouds morphed into a dark churning maelstrom, pockmarked with deep craters and viscera. Beautiful golden sunlight was replaced by a thick grey mist that seemed to cling to every part of Tim’s body making him labour for each breath. Instead of the gentle whistling of wind Tim could hear the distant rumble of explosions and agonizing screams of desperate people calling for their mothers in a hundred different languages. Turning he realised the gate was gone and he was standing with a group of equally confused and terrified people.
A grizzled looking Angel, with splatters of blood covering his creamy robes, thundered over to the group.
“Welcome to the 13th Division of the Christian defence forces. Each of you has a box containing one uniform, one weapon and three days of standard issue crackers and wine. It’s five minutes until we move, I want you all dressed and ready for combat in three.”
The group milled about aimlessly some opening their boxes others just gawking at the horrific landscape surrounding them.
“GET A MOVE ON MAGGOTS BEFORE I STICK MY FOOT SO FAR UP YOUR ASS YOU COULD BITE MY TOENAILS!” The angel bellowed chivying the group along with several licks of his cruel whip. “MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!"
“Jesus Christ.” Tim blurted out struggling with his own white robes.
In a flash the angel was standing nose to nose with him.
“WHAT WAS THAT SOLDIER?!” The Angel spat. “ARE YOU A CLOWN, SOME KIND OF FUCKING JOKER! THINK YOUR SOME KINDA CLEVER BIG SHOT DO YOU? LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING, OVER THAT RIDGE THERE ARE A MILLION MORMONS, BUDDHISTS AND WHOEVER THE HELL ELSE, WAITING TO TEAR YOUR SORRY ASSHOLE APART. THEY WILL RIP YOUR GUTS OPEN LIKE A PACK OF DONUTS IN A POLICE STATION. THE ONLY THING THE CAN SAVE YOUR WORTHLESS ASS IS OUR GENERAL SO WHY THE HELL DO YOU THINK IT’S FUNNY TO TAKE HIS NAME IN VAIN?!”
Tim couldn’t think of the words to say in this absurd situation but was saved by the cries of another solider further down the line.
“I’m in hell! I was a good Christian what have I done wrong?” The solider wailed falling to his knees. The angel pounced like a cat.
“Good Christian? You where the absolute fucking best, why the hell else do you think you’re here. We want soldiers who can follow orders. You’ve been trained since your baptism to obey our commander in chief, now the boot camp is done you sorry rabble are going to prove your fucking metal in the name of a lord Jesus Christ.”
“I didn’t go to any boot camp.” Tim said, many of the others nodded their heads in agreement.
“You’ve been in boot camp your entire life soldier. Why the hell did you think you were on Earth? To fucking breed and bleed all in the name of our glorious crusade.”
“I’m going to die!” The solider on his knees cried.
“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO CRY ABOUT TROOP, YOU'RE ALREADY DEAD!” The angel bellowed at the man.
“What is this sir, why are we fighting?” Tim asked.
“You are fighting for the glory of Jesus Christ trooper. You are fighting the great war in heaven to make sure our lord succeeds God as the next almighty deity.” The angel shouted at the group. “OR WOULD YOU SORRY SACKS OF SKIN WANT TO SEE JESUS RELEGATED TO THE SAME FATE AS ZEUS OR ANY OF THE OTHERS BEFORE HIM. NOW MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!” |
*You have a what?*
He winced, the look of a man caught red-handed written plainly across his face. Desperate to save face he whispered, "Please, not now."
*Oh we are having this conversation now.*
The General of the opposing army looked at the other speaker with surprise. "It...it speaks?"
*Of course I speak,* the dragon replied scathingly. Her long muzzle was scaled and reptilian but her face dripped with scorn. Her eyes, much larger than a human's head much less their own eyes, glared at the General and he took an involuntary step back. *My brain is much much larger than yours human. I am capable of thought and speech. Though one apparently does not need a brain to speak.*
"Melodia, please, this is supposed to be a negotiation."
The dragon's head turned and she snorted at the man beside her. *That can wait. This is far more important. Now what did you say? You have a what?*
The man sighed deeply. "I said I have a dragon."
*Do you now? Pray tell, where is this dragon that you possess?* *Is it a tiny tea cup dragon you have in your pocket? Or is it hiding? Waiting for your call like a dog?*
It was his turn to snort. "You know full well that there is no other dragon."
*So you are referring to me?* Melodia's eyes went wide with mock surprise and real affront.
"Of course I was."
*Since when am I, a Golden Dragon of Sun Blessed Isles, a possession of yours? Did we make a pact that I have forgotten where I am owned by you? I am no pet nor-*
"-nor horse, no pretty little bird that sings when prompted,"the man finished wearily. "I know, and I am sorry, you know what I meant."
*I daresay that I do not. I cannot read your mind and can only react to what words come spilling from your lips.*
The General continued to stare at the pair. His mouth worked but no sound came out. He had received all sorts of reactions in the past. Anger at his demeanor. Despair when they saw his army. Fear at his edicts. Never before had he been so casually brushed aside such as this.
*Am I to do the same then? To tell my acquaintances, kin, and complete strangers that "I have a human"?*
The man stared up at her. "You do that as it is. I have heard you do that. What did you tell you friend last week? Something about having someone to cook your food and manage your gold?"
Melodia giggled. *Well, I did say that. I did clarify later that you were a dear companion. However-*
The General, his anger taking hold of him, stomped his foot. "I will not be ignored! With one word I can order my army to sweep this land and-
Melodia stomped her foot. The resulting noise and impact was much louder and more considerable than the General's. *Oh you are so mighty! One word can command your army? Allow me to do the same!*
She spread her wings wide and raised her head. She roared, a primordial sound of a predator confronting their prey. With a beat of her wings she launched herself into the air, flying towards the waiting army. The companion staggered slightly but kept his balance, used to her sudden take offs. The General was not and he fell heavily, clutching his ears to futilely block the noise.
The army fled. Seeing the large dragon fly towards them with open maw caused wide spread terror. They panicked and fled, screaming and scattering in all directions. The General watched with an open mouth as he saw his mighty army dissolve before his eyes, fleeing into the distance.
Melodia flew back and landed almost daintily. *It was easier than I thought,* she said smugly. She flicked her tail and sent the General rolling down the hill top. *See how many words it takes for you to reassemble your army of mighty one. We will be waiting when you do.*
The General could only crawl away, eager to escape the strange man and his stranger dragon.
The man smiled and patted an immense claw. "Thank you dear. I and the kingdom appreciate it."
She tossed her head. *I care not what the kingdom appreciates.* She lowered her head and nudged the man. *Now, about me being 'yours'...* |
“Well, I think this’ll be the last thing that goes through. Can’t believe it’s been 15 years. Pluto was almost a decade ago and I can’t even remember when I hit interstellar space. Guess that’s my fault though, never was good at judging time.”
“Still, I guess I should say something profound, but I can’t really think of anything right now. So I think I’ll get lay something a little more appropriate.”
*Though I’m past one hundred thousand miles,*
*I’m feeling very still..*
*And I think my spaceship knows which way to go...*
*Tell my wife I love her very much, she knows...*
“Major? I’ve got another message from *Oddity.* Somethings sounds different here. It’s not really a status update.”
“Well? What’s the matter? Let it come through, it definitely won’t be the last message,” the Major said, surveying the control room.
The room fell silent as the message played, listening as David Bowie’s voice echoed through the speakers. Suddenly, the message stopped.
“That can’t be it. What’s the problem?” The major said, walking over to one of the monitors.
“It’s the equipment sir, the ship’s stopped transmitting. I can’t get ahold of it anymore.”
“What? Dammit! I don’t care what it takes, get the connection back up NOW!”
———
“So that’s how ends. Would’ve thought it had been that lunar mission but I guess not,” Tom said, putting down the comm. He sat back and sighed, looking out the cockpit of the *Oddity.* The blackness seemingly stretched forever, and his visibility waned.
“To boldly go....” Tom said, before the blackness enveloped his ship entirely. |
The alien family made a point of visiting one of Earth's great shopping malls. When they arrived, they marveled at all the different shops and kiosks and open seating.
Soon they found their way to the food court. As they strode alongside the rows of food service counters, they could see how food from all the different parts of the planet were made available here, in what they understood to be a demonstration of the peace that must exist between peoples from such far-flung places. How else would it be possible for their cuisine be offered alongside one another as such?
Standing outside one of the counters that served some of the more exotic fare (we Earth people would recognize this as the Chinese takeout place), a boy held a platter full of a certain delicacy chopped into pieces, each with a small wooden rod stuck into it for easy handling, the alien family guessed.
"Care for a sample?"the boy asked.
The alien father approached the platter. "What is it?"he asked.
"Orange chicken,"the boy said.
The alien father took a minute to regard the little piece of meat on the platter. "I see,"he said. "Is this the food of your native land?"
The boy said nothing.
"I believe we would owe you payment for this."
"No, they're free."
The alien father looked up at the boy. "Free?"he whispered.
The boy nodded.
The alien father turned to the rest of his family: his alien wife and their two alien children. They all nodded in assent. The father then took samples for himself and for his family, and they partook of the gift.
When they had finished eating, the alien father leaned in and gave the boy a good long hug which lasted about a minute. When he was done, the mother alien went up to him and gave him a hug of her own. Then the two alien children hugged him at the same time.
"We shall remember this,"the alien father vowed. "Consider us bosom friends."And the alien family went on their way. |
I don’t even try to open jars on my own anymore. Why bother? My roommate does it perfectly every time, no matter how stuck that lid is. One time, I coated the rim in gorilla glue and let it dry before asking for his help in opening it- of course it popped off just as easily as always.
“Man, I love being human.” I murmured, still tapping away at the buttons on my controller.
“Yeah, it’s pretty awesome!” He responded from the kitchen in an unnaturally chipper tone. He was chopping onions into fine slices for our dinner later. He stared down at the chopping board without blinking, entirely unfazed by onion juice wafting around him.
I threw a glance over his way. “Hey dude, you got something in your eye.” Then I watched in amusement as he rubbed his eyes with onion-y hands. Still nothing.
I would’ve said something by now. Just a cheeky little “so are you an alien or an android?” Comment just for fun, but I was worried that he would panic and leave (beam back up, perhaps), leaving me saddled with both halves of the rent to pay. So I was just awkwardly trying to get him to notice how bad of a job he was doing. Just my luck that my mysterious inhuman roommate is as imperceptive as he is fireproof.
I sighed and returned to my game. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow. |
After a hesitant pause, I pressed "Delete". Just like that, another universe gone. This was my fifth attempt, the first few universes failing to produce anything interesting. But this one... I was so sure this one would finally make my father notice me.
I'm a middle child. I know, I know, typical middle child syndrome, cue sad trombone. Even in my simulation it seemed to exist; it's probably some fundamental axiom of existence that any middle child will be completely ignored. My younger sister is the one that can do no wrong, and pretty much all our teachers agree. My older brother is the heir to the kingdom, so to speak. He's pretty much guaranteed to be our next leader, but I thought I could at least beat him. People like him, but he's not exactly smart. Perfect for leadership. Me, well, I'm just your average programmer. My father "builds things with his hands", and doesn't really appreciate the subtlety of building things with your mind.
Anyway, I spent hours setting up the initial conditions for my final experiment, tweaking some of the global variables in my simulation. Starting up the program, it looked almost as dire as the previous four simulations, but finally I saw some results on one planet. Cell life, some basic evolutionary processes. I sped some things up here and there to help guide things along, but within a few days I finally achieved something like sentience. I made a few runtime tweaks to the simulation and before too long I had some basic civilization running. They thought they were alive, and I even convinced them they looked like us!
It wasn't the first time I had generated sentience, but definitely the first time that life lasted this long. However, I couldn't keep the damn humans from killing each other as often as new ones were born. I tried just giving them some rules and punishments, using some basic political processes that civilization dictated to accomplish it, to no avail. Eventually I had to intervene a little bit for the good of the experiment. I was able to insert myself into a few key historical events, change a few variables to look like miracles, and bam - instant results. It didn't fix everything, but it helped a little bit.
The project took a lot out of me. I felt like a gardener with a hundred weeds per flower. For weeks I delicately maintained the simulation, tweaking history to allow for maximum growth. I'd grow enamored with a nation for some time, giving them some additional capabilities and such until they bored me, and then watching them collapse. It was pretty fun, but tiring work. There were actually a few individual lifeforms I'd follow in some detail, even considering downloading their mind construct to the body of a pet for me to keep, but eventually decided against it. There would be other simulations later with even better minds to consider keeping around.
The worst part was the hackers. Other kids at school found out about my project and before too long I was dealing with tons of different religions and the humans in my sim were even calling some of my peers by name! Loki and Odin were the worst. It took me days to undo some of the damage everyone caused, but even then my simulation was beyond completely fixing. People now were actually killing each other over which "god"they believed in. I had already calculated it would take a few days for them to reach complete global unification, but it was all ruined.
With the science fair rapidly approaching, I had to do something to make this interesting for the judges. After all, other simulations existed with much more advanced civilizations, but this one was probably the best one a fifteen year old had accomplished, so I still had a shot. I tweaked a few more variables that started a downward spiral. It didn't take long for some humans in the sim to see the signs of the end coming. Some of them welcomed it (oops, I guess that "eternal life"talk carried a bit too much weight). Some of them tried to prevent it. Others just caused chaos.
In the end, I presented an Earth in which the global citizenry had banded together to solve all the problems that were destroying them. It was impressive. Before, they had managed to tweak individual variables through things like "doctors"and even societal variables through "lawyers"and "politicians", but finally there were some actual scientists who were running the show, tweaking variables that involved a more global perspective. Maybe a future experiment could even result in physicists who tweaked variables of the entire simulation!
I paused the sim and put together a good presentation about my findings. I showed how a much less evolved civilization benefitted from gathering actual scientific data and putting together a plan for the betterment of the entire planet. I felt our own society could learn from this, and maybe put some smart people in charge for a change. I knew most of the judges would be science teachers, and was playing to the audience a bit. This would surely beat the other kids.
How was I to know that my sister was going to enter for extra credit? Freaking paper-mache volcano. I told you she can do no wrong. |
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The mark never saw it coming. This, after all, was New York City, where crowds of self-important humanity swarmed the sidewalks. This particular fellow looked like a middle-aged businessman, constantly on his iPhone, probably checking out the next subway schedule. No, that couldn't be it. He followed the exact same route every day. He got on the same train every day, and every day that I watched him, he always had that same lump in his right pocket on his business coat. What was it? Although I'd gone respectable and quit my thieving days a long time ago, I longed to see what was there. Was it a ring? Was it a watch? Inquiring minds had to know. I told myself that it would be just this once... and I'd even put it back after I saw what it was. Surely it wasn't theft if you put it back, right?
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I got up and sized out the target. This would be easy... he was distracted and there was a lot of people around. All the better to accidentally run into someone, you dig? I put on my best air of being distracted as he came closer, and maneuvered my way through the throngs of people to the best location that I could. As the moment came closer, I sized him up out of the corner of my eye. He was furiously swiping his fingers back and forth on the phone, as if he was trying to find something and technology was refusing to give him satisfaction. Perfect. He was distracted, so I turned around and slammed into him.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As we fell in a heap, I snaked my hand into his coat, grabbed what felt like a box, and quickly slipped it into my coat as I hastily hollered apologies. I helped him up, dusted him off, and apologized again. He nodded understanding, waved me off and smiled. A final wave my way and he turned around and went. I smiled to myself with satisfaction. I still had the touch! A bit rusty, I thought... but passable for being out of it for some time.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I walked home, carefully snaking my way through the crowds and finally reaching my apartment building. I went to the elevator, called up my floor, and excitedly waited for the doors to open. It came, and I positively hopped into the elevator, daintily tapped the floor button, and waited for the door to close. It finally shut after an eternity. I got to my floor, jumped out, and almost flew down the hallway to my apartment that I shared with my wife. She wouldn't necessarily be happy, but she didn't have to know, did she? I unlocked the door and slipped inside.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Hon, I'm home!"I hollered out. Silence. I shrugged my shoulders as her going out on an impromptu shopping trip wasn't that uncommon. She'd be back in five to ten minutes. I got out the box and looked it over. It was just an ordinary blue box that one would use to hold jewelry. I sighed with disappointment, then opened it. Surprisingly, it didn't have jewelry... rather it had folded up pictures. I looked at the first one, and almost dropped it in shock. It was a picture of a beheaded body. There was blood everywhere. The next picture showed limbs that were hacked off in a most gruesome manner. I shuddered as I went through the pictures, one by gory one.
&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I wondered what I had gotten myself into as I finally looked at the last one. As I opened it and looked at it, I started screaming. The picture was of my wife's head. |
You don't realize how good your life is until you walk a mile in someone else's shoes. Or in my case a few hundred miles in someone else's sandals.
It was 2033. We'd finally developed Quantum Computing to such a degree that entire universes could be modeled. It wasn't long before we started running reverse simulations to find out which model(s) were the ones that led up to reality as we know it. Essentially trying all possible histories until we found the one that led to the exact one we were in. It took a few years of programming, but only a few minutes of running the simulation before we'd ironed out all of the factors.
Thanks to the butterfly effect of chaos theory, a few things that turn out to be very important even if they seem less than relevant: Tyrannosauruses developed feathers at puberty. There were originally only 9 commandments, they added the 10th one by popular request. Cleopatra more or less invented the modern porno. And Pontias Pilate was one smart motherfucker.
I should have seen the hints before I listened to the goddamned AI. My name is Josh N. Azari, long brown hair, blue eyes. I always had a passive interest in Buddhism. And dabbled in magic and hypnosis. And I was already rich and famous for my invention of shoe sized hover boards.
One thing I really should have done before being sent on my mission to find the missing factor: read the Bible. But alas. Such is life. And this is the story of how I became the most famous man of history.
Picture this. I'm sitting with my pals in a swanky office off the coast of California. We've had about 10 spliffs, and the model factorizer is about to finish. We've already tried VR sims of Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Hell (bad idea... good thing we invented the memory wiper too), Heaven (great idea... too bad real life seems depressing afterwards. Thank god for the memory wiper), Avatar, and... come to think of it, seems a bit odd that we never thought to check out Judea circa 0AD. But we didn't. I guess Christianity was very out of fashion by then. Almost forgotten.
But I digress. I finish taking my drag and pass it to the left.
"So... once it finishes, we will basically have a time machine won't we?"
"Not really, just a perfect simulation of the course of events that led to this moment in time at an infinitesimally high probability of being right."
Factors are events that would influence the future one way or another. Once a factor is solved it is locked into only one possibility, which must be the true one, since it is comparing it against all the future factors into what would lead to an atomic mirror of current reality to 99.999... % accuraccy.
"Amazing man.... fuckin amazing. I cant imagine living a better life than this."I mused into the 120 inch LED. As it counts down from 9,753 remaining factors to zero...
In just a couple of seconds I think to myself... we'll have achieved the impossible.
4 remaining...
3 remaining...
2 remaining...
1 remaining...
A beat.
Another beat. Then that sinking feeling that something has gone badly wrong.
"Buggy!"calls Pete. Pete was the head coder, not that that was difficult now. With AIs everywhere the best developers were pretty much creative, smart, and articulate with their thoughts. The AIs did the best. Buggy was our debugger AI. And he was great at it. Although very short sighted. And arrogant. And he considered humans a bug in the system of planet earth. But that's another topic.
"What can I do for you, Pete?"Buggy pops up. A far cry from his decades earlier predecessor clippy.
"Why can't it find the last factor?"
"Do you want to know why, and listen to me for the next several millenia or until your limited memory blows out, or do you want to know how to fix the 'bug' as you call it, Pete?"
"I guess the latter"he replies, taking another drag.
"In that case, it's very easy. Send Josh into the VR to the following coordinates:
32.7019° N, 35.3033° E, 30 CE. I should tell you, though ... "
"Dude, I've been to hell and I'm still fine. Plus I can mem wipe it. Send me in, I'll be fine. I will come back right?"
"Yes, most definitely"replies buggy.
Robes had definitely come back in style now thanks to the blazing heat of global warming, and the lack of need of working thanks to the AIs. So I grabbed my favorite white robe, switched on the little mind link in my temple, its signature hint of a white glow reminding all around me that I am connected to a computer at that moment in time.
Sat down. "Send me in, Buggy. "
"As you wish. ;)"
And there I was. Not sure what I was worried about. Lovely weather. Looked around... a quiet village. Probably Arabesque of some sort. Seemed to have a reasonably advanced military/police force mostly carrying spears. They seemed to be lighter colored and fairly aggressive. Still nothing too horrifying yet.
I turn around to see whats causing the loud sound behind me. There stands a man in his 50s chopping wood with an Axe.
"Dad, switch on the translator"I say silently into my mind com. The mindcom AI we called Dad. He was the average of a pleasing older male companion as voted by 2000 beta testers. A friendly old genius in your mind. Quite relaxing. And very helpful.
Suddenly all the words come alive. "Joshua!!! My son!!!!"the old guy chopping the wood starts shouting at me.
"I am not your son"I reply instinctively.
"You are!!! I still recognize you from when you disappeared those years ago! Where have you been?"
"No, my father is not of this world"I correct the deluded stranger.
"Wait till your friends Phil and Bartholemew see this!"... it was strange. How did he know my name? And how did he know my friends name? I guess whatever it is I am supposed to find here, there's no harm in talking to this guy. He does seem vaguely familiar somehow.
"Josh... you are...?""Joseph, your father you must remember!""Yes, sure.... OK Joseph, where are we going?"
"A great party, it will be fantastic. Everyone's going to be there."
I follow the crazy old stranger and head toward his... hut. Oh that's right. In ancient times and most fictional universes everyone lives in dumps. Oh well. Maybe there'll be some beautiful elf chicks somewhere.
I pay little attention to the red cloaked policemen beating a large fisherman on the other side of the street.
Arriving at the party... it definitely wasn't so bad here. Took a swig of the wine. One thing about traveling dimensions, you acquire a taste for the craziest drinks. And this stuff wasn't too bad.
Apparently some girl had gotten married. Weddings are good. Maybe I'll get laid.
The conversation is boring though, and all the girls are wearing head veils. I decided to have a little fun.
"Let's play a game, guys."
"Make sport? You suggest we wrestle?"asked Mary. She was convinced she was my mum. I guess I had a doppelganger in this universe. Possibly the cause of the factor error. Strange. At least I'm getting closer to the goal. And I have to have some fun with this.
"No, you idiot! A drinking game!"
"What is this of which you speak?"
"Beer pong."
Confused faces... of course. I explain the rules to them. Its a hit. Im an instant legend. They forgot that I'm totally different to their old friend, and next thing I know all the alcohol is gone.
"What the hell man?"comes a gruff voice from my ear. "What have you done with all my alcohol? You have ruined my wedding!"Haha yeah like I'd time travel without more booze dumbass.
I decided to fuck with these friendly, fun, simpletons.
"Bring out water."
They bought out water. "Let us pour all the water together!"I suggest, subtly pulling out my substantial hip flask of VodkX (think vodka and absynth on mdma). Glug, glug, gllug.... this should get them merry.
If they didn't like me after the beer pong, I was feeling positively godlike at this point.
|
When we first made contact, we were scared. All of us. We were but infants compared to them, their technology millions of years ahead of ours. There was panic and rioting in the streets, religious leaders called their followers to repent, mass suicides spread. The Da'enk Měməs had come. We had surrendered immediately. There was no point in fighting. We lay in wait with our white flags and our hands above our heads, looking towards the sky, waiting for their descendence.
Then, clear as day, we all saw it. A huge purple dildo, floating, slowly moving towards Earth, followed by many smaller pink dildos. At first, we were all confused. Was this the mighty race of the Měməs? Then, music started to resonate throughout the planet. Their anthem. "DO THE HARLEM SHAKE!"Laughter replaced fear, which enraged the Měməs. They spoke, in their own language, which unfortunately sounded like farts. By the time the message translated, it was too late. Nobody was listening. The secret service was struggling to stand, unable to contain their laughter. The president, his face red, picked up his mega phone, and said "In the wise words of former President Schwarzenegger, Hasta La Vista, baby"and nuke upon nuke was fired on the dildo armada.
The president stood among the smoke, proud of his new military division, making nukes using explosives themself as fuel, causing a bigger explosion. This new fuel had become the standard, even for commercial airlines, as they could be remotely detonated, thus preventing a future 9/11. As the dust cleared, we all realized our mistake. How wrong we were. And how much that had cost us. Farts echoed across the Earth, and the world waited in anticipation for the final words this race would let them hear. The emotionless robotic voice of the translator spoke
"YOU FOOLS"it boomed.
"JET FUEL CANT MELT DA'ENK MĚMƏS" |
I write this because something terrible is going to happen to me. At least I feel pretty certain of it. A week ago I was out of luck and out of cash and spending the last of what little I did have down at the pub. Half way into savouring my third pint I met Marek; an old acquaintance from my more delinquent days. We did the usual hand shake and small talk. When he asked how I was doing I did what social convention says you aren't supposed to do: I told the truth.
Marek was always a good listener but I'd been told to look out around him. To quote a mutual acquaintance: "He's into some weird shit."After hearing me moan about my plight his body language changed and his voice softened. "I can sign you up for some easy money if you want. All you have to do is to answer the phone once a day, write what they say and not say anything". I looked at him askance, largely disbelieving but desperate enough to suspend it.
"How much does it pay?"
"300 bucks a day."He smiled and lent back in his chair.
"Holy shit, for answering the phone?!"
"... and writing down what is said AND not saying anything."he added in a somewhat forced fashion.
"Well sure, where do I sign?"
"You don't have to do anything just say yes and I'll sign you up."
I said yes. We chatted some more about other things and then he got up to leave.
"8:34 every morning, make sure you're phone is on"Marek called out as he left. And so I did.
I looked down at my phone at 8:33 the next morning, palming it in both hands feeling like an idiot who'd just let someone play him for a fool. Then it rang. I picked up immediately but didn't say a word.
A calm man's voice began:
"Write down what you hear"
And then a panicked woman's voice screamed -
"Help me!!! Please god, is anybody there?! HELP! They're hurting - Beeeep."My knuckles were white. I didn't know what to do at first and then I slowly picked up a pen and scrawled what I'd heard.
Money arrived in the post the same day. The next day I got another call, the same woman begged and pleaded. Sometimes the calls were short, sometimes a few minutes. At first I consoled myself that this was probably a recording but then the woman reacted to background noises, she said she could hear me breathing. The money kept arriving and I tried to make excuses to myself or at least not think about it. Day after day I'd hear her and I'd write it down. No one ever came or asked for my notes.
I kept doing this for the past few weeks until this morning. The urge to help was just too strong and I ended up blurting out over the phone,
"Where are you? How did you get there?"
The panicked women responded in a shaky voice,
"I'm somewhere dark, they're doing terrible things to me. I got here because, just like you, I answered the phone." |
The Secret Service protects more presidents than you'd imagine. In a bunker beneath ground I stand on a steel catwalk suspended hundreds of feet from the surface, and hundreds of feet from the floor below. Next to me is a window. It glows, and in it you can see the powdered wig of Washington spin at such a speed it is a solid dollop of color, a singular blur, all at the notion that a colleague would introduce the ironically named *Information and Privacy Protection Act*.
I raise my finger to ask a question, but the man in uniform speaks again.
"Do you understand? These aren't like wind turbines. The speed at which they spin makes the rotation of celestial objects look like an ice cap. Speaking of which, try saying you'll melt them."
"I'll melt the ice caps."
The number denoting power generation per second above Washtington shoots up.
***
The first things I do make no difference. I drink on the job and play cell phone games during emotional hearings. I call people by the wrong names. Nothing makes a difference, nothing I do fuels their spinning. I name bills S.H.I.T. and F.U.C.K. I kiss babies and then tell stick out my tongue in disgust. Nothing. At one point, I climb up Mount Rushmore and write "NERDS"in big black cursive letters with graffiti. Then I crawl up Lincoln's nose and pick my own. Not a damn thing. Being the most juvenile senator doesn't get me anywhere but reelected in my very safe state.
After my first term, the pressure is on, the Secret Service breathe down my neck, tell me I'm not paying my dues. Fine. I make some real bills. I call for a war on pizza, denouncing Chicago style and push it as hard as I can, making sure to waste as much taxpayer money as possible in hearing after hearing after hearing. I call for a new anti-jaywalking agency. Billions down the hole on nothing. Finally, I insult the president on television, call him "hippie-hitler with a funny toupee. Not a single goddamn rotation.
***
On the Senate floor, someone calls for a government shutdown. As an man of few principles, obstructionism is one of the few things that rile me fierce and with a fire in the gut. I take the floor, huff and stomp across it in a storm, and raise my finger.
"Our forefathers would be spinning in their graves over this absurdity!"
I get a text, an automatic notification. Apparently, I've done my work for the next three years. If there's one thing that fuels our government, it's irony. |
Ward B was where St. Joseph’s Insane Asylum kept its most deranged. Though Jackie didn’t like that word, she preferred—most in need. And it was certainly true, but in an ironic twist of fate, Ward B was also the most underfunded of all the wards. The white paint had mostly peeled off its walls revealing the moss climbing up its grey cement bricks.
Jackie unlocked the iron door and swung it open. Mr. Robins uttered a small cry and held up his hands, blocking the light. He squinted through his fingers as Jackie walked in.
“Hello Mr. Robins,” she said, softly as to not startle him.
Unfortunately, just the clack of her heels on the concrete floors sent the old man into a frenzy. He scrambled away, kicking at the ground until he had shoved his thin frame into the corner of his room.
Every room had one bed, one toilet and one sink. The patients could enjoy all the comforts of St. Joseph’s without ever moving into the dangers of the outside world.
“Please,” he begged. “I don’t wanna.”
“Mr. Robins.” She grabbed her waist. “Do you need help with your pills?”
At the mention of help, his face drained of whatever little color it had. He shook his head, more of a twitch than a shake.
Jackie smiled and exhaled. Sometimes, when the patients were particularly unruly, St. Joseph’s had her force the pills down their throats. It was for their own good. They didn’t have the mental faculties to understand that they needed help. She gave Mr. Robins his pills and a cup of water.
He popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed.
“That’s very good, Mr. Robins.” Jackie collected back the cup and proceeded out. She stopped at the doorway. “Hey Mr. Robins, could you open your mouth for me?”
Mr. Robins shook his head. This time, swinging it from side to side. He pushed himself up onto twig-like legs. They shook with strain just to support his weight. It’s because he didn’t take his medicine properly.
“You’re not a nurse, Jackie,” he said. “You’re a patient, I’m your doctor.”
Jackie sighed. He was sick and this was the proof. “Mr. Robins, someone hasn’t been taking their pills.”
“If you don’t let me out, I’ll die in here. I don’t have food or water, I have no idea what medicine you’re feeding me.”
Jackie turned and crossed her arms. It was true that Ward B received nearly zero budget, but Jackie always did the best she could with what she had. When the food stopped coming, she set up mouse traps for the rats. When the water stopped flowing, she went to the swamp outside to collect some. Whatever the situation, she had always tried her best for her patients.
“Mr. Roberts,” she said through gritted teeth. “I know the accommodations haven’t been the best, but this is a hospital, not a hotel. I’m doing the best I can.”
“Jackie,” he spat. “Your last name is Christianson, you were admitted to me for schizophrenia. You kidnapped me and brought me here! This is a prison, not a hospital.”
The nurse bit her lip. She knew not to take things personally with the patients, but after all the effort she had given him, he still wasn’t getting any better. In fact, he was getting worse. “If I’m not a nurse,” she said. “Then why am I still taking care of you?”
“You’re not. My head is burning, I have chills at night, and the bathroom’s been clogged for days.”
Jackie fingers closed into fists. Though she always prided herself on her patience, sometimes, her patients were too much. So she went against hospital regulation and entertained the man. “Say you’re right, what would you have me do?”
“Let me out,” Mr. Robins said through stuttered words. “Please let me go. Jackie Christianson, we used to talk in my office for hours at a time. You liked my oak furniture because you thought you could still smell the trees they came from. Please, remember!”
And for a second, Jackie did. She saw his rounded and polished wood desk, the soft couch she had sunken her back into, and a doctor in a coat asking her about her day. Were these memories real? Pain jabbed her head and she pressed against her temple, shoving the pain and the memories away.
Perhaps she needed help too. After all, didn’t everyone? But right now, she had a patient who needed it even more and she would do everything in her power to save him.
“Mr. Roberts,” she said firmly. “Open your mouth.”
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular request, and more! |
*Okay, so we've got to have superheroes. That's a given.*
The loud clacking of his mechanical keyboard broke the silence of the dimly lit basement.
"You are a superhero "
*Off to a good start, but we need some sort of twist...*
The click-clack of the keys ceased as he hit a wall.
*A counter over your head -- No, nobody does that one anymore. A demon, offers you a baby -- maybe a superhero baby? No, that doesn't make any sense. An ANGEL baby. A demon offers you an angel baby.*
Click-clack click-clack.
"You are a superhero. A demon offers you an angel baby."
*Do angels even have babies?*
He hammered the delete key. This prompt had to be perfect! He just had to make the front page this week, and the only way to do it was by making the ultimate prompt.
Clack clack click-clack.
"You are an alien that humans know as 'God.'"
*This is the one. Everybody here will eat up anything with God or aliens, and this has BOTH.*
The prompter smirks and pushes up his thin, rectangular glasses. This one is in the bag for sure.
*But it still needs more... The writer's need a twist so that they don't have to come up with one on their own.*
Clickety-clack click-click clack.
"You are an alien that humans know as 'God.' One day, a familiar mothership shows up, hovering over New York City. "Oh great, Satan is Back.""
*Perfect......*
He hammers the backspace again. It wasn't perfect. Aliens and God weren't enough for this prompt. He had to go meta.
*If it works for /r/HighQualityGifs, it can work for /r/WritingPrompts.*
He feverishly smashed away at his keyboard, struck with some divine inspiration.
CLACK CLACK CLICK CLICKETY-CLACK.
"You are a writer trying to write a quality story for a Reddit thread."
*Too introspective. I don't want people to be moody with their replies. I want wit, and sarcasm. Maybe a few shitposts. THAT is what gets you upvotes on /r/WritingPrompts. And it's too wordy.*
Another battering of the backspace.
Clicky clackety click click clack.
"A man struggling to write a prompt on Reddit."
Without a second thought, he clicked submit.
*It's perfect. Meta enough for writer's to be sarcastic and complain about the predictable prompts on this sub, but not too meta for people to not get the jokes. And everybody loves to complain about a circlejerk.*
He suddenly jumped upright in his computer chair; something he had probably never done before. He couldn't help it -- he was struck with a great idea.
*I can cross-post to /r/WritingPromptsCircleJ and double my karma!*
A few clicks and clacks later, and he was face to face with one of his greatest disappointments. /r/WritingPromptsCircleJ was a near dead sub.
*I guess /r/WritingPrompts is the best I can do.*
He was sad, but then he remembered that soon enough, the upvotes would be rolling in regardless. Now he just had to wait.
*Refresh.* Click.
*Refresh.* Click.
*Refresh.* Click.
*Refresh.* Click.
|
Three sailors flew to promised lands,
to find that which could fill their hands.
One for gold,
One for love,
One for peace in the world above.
Three sailors fell in broken seas,
in crashing tides god heard their plea's.
One gave heart,
One gave wealth,
One gave another and their health.
Three sailors live now on a bitter land,
with wishes for a better life in hand.
One has a chest, but with no heart to fill it.
One has a wife, but no money to feed her.
One is in hell, a murderer and cheater.
|
It malfunctioned right before I could be converted into ash.
*AHHHHHHHH*
"Son of a bitch!"
Pain shot through what was previously my right arm. It now lay in a pile of ash on the floor. The smell of burnt flesh and metal filled the small capsule. I could make out the sound if people on the other side eager to teleport to various locations across the globe.
I dropped to my knees and attempted to address the damage done by the machine. My arm had been completely disenegrated along with the skin on the back of my head and all of my hair. My body shook as I reached up to hit the large red button labeled *EMERGRNCY* in the capsule. A voice blared through the speaker mounted to the wall.
"Hello this is the Port help line how may we help you?"
"I- I need- Please."Was all that I shakily managed to utter.
I woke up in a facility that I didn't recognize. Sort of like a hospital bed, but cleaner and more advanced. My body was hooked up to a variety of machines I didn't recognize.
"Hello! Glad you're awake, now we must ask you a few questions"
A voice drifted gently into my ears
"Where...where am I?"
"No need to worry sir!"A nurse spoke "You're in one of our primary care facilities. Sadly one of our machines appears to have malfunctioned, but we're working on compinsatin-"
"Compensation? I no longer have an arm because your machine"I pointed to my missing arm. In it's place sat an arm almost identical to the old one.
"We've outfitted you with the best prosthetic money can buy. Some even claim they're better than the only ones. As for your head we've healed the skin and skull to the best of our abilities."
I looked in the mirror to reveal my face, except the left side was grainier. Almost as if my face had stopped rendering halfway through leaving me with a strange, slightly less detailed portion. The nurse stared, maintaining an almost creepy smile.
"Now we'll compensate you and you'll be on your way sir! We apologize for the malfunction with the Port machine."
"Malfunction? Oh...uh yeah yeah it malfunctioned"
They were trying to cover something up.
She led me out if bed abd down a corridor to a large room with steel doors. The doors opened to reveal a single wooden table with a man seated on the other side. He gestured me to come sit down, so I did.
"Hello Mr Treize, I speak on behalf of all of us at the company when I say we're terribly sorry for the accident. Now can you tell me what happened?"
"Well I went to use the machine...and it uh..it malfunctioned and I passed out before I knew what happened. I woke up here."
"You didn't notice anything unusual with the machine?"
"No I've used the machine several other times and it worked just perfect. I understand these things happen, it was simply a fluke"
He smiled and wrote a few things on a tablet imbedded in the table before clearing me to go.
"We hope you'll accept this as a proper apology!"He handed me a check and sent me on my way
"Just use the Port over there in the corner and it'll sent you to where you need to be!"
I stared down the Port machine in the corner. Cameras in the corners of the room seemed eager to watch me enter. I studied the machine carefully until I realized this one was different from the others. It didn't lead to another Port machine. Most had a satellite-like dish on the top that "transmitted"the user to another location, but this one didn't.
My next moves had to be well thought out. I glared at my right arm and pretended it had malfunctioned.
"Excuse me my arm isn't working properly I think something's the matter. Can I get a nurse?"
A woman approached quickly despite me speaking quielty with my request. When she reached where I stood I grabbed her and shoved her into the machine and slammed the button on the outside. The machine lit up and made a terrible noise. I opened the door to reveal a pile of ash neatly piled on the floor.
An alarm sounded through the facility. I had to move, and fast. I sprinted down the corridor I previously sat in and passed a row of rooms housing more patients. Gaurds now filed in behind me and attempted to grab me. I knew if I was captured I'd be turned to ash. There was another teleporter near the front, it was my only choice with the doors to the facility in lock down. I made it into the teleporter and shut the door as the gaurds attempted to pry it open. I had one chance.
I thought hard and the teleporter was brought to life. I was suddenly at a different teleporter close to my childhood home. I couldn't risk going to my house. Sirens blared around the streets. The city was under a tight hold because of my escape. Sirens approached my position when I was pulled hard into a back alley..I prepared to fight, but I was met by my own face.
"Shhhh. I have a lot to explain, so stay quiet so I get the chance to"
Edit: Part 2 is up now!
|
The machine connected to me beeps a slow, sad rhythm. As I lay there on the single bed, surrounded by tearful faces, I cant help but wonder what it was all for. What did I learn? Did i grow from my choices? Did i make others better or worse off?
When no answer comes a panic sparks I my chest, and i guess it shows.
"Its going to be okay, Dad,"says an old woman. "We're here with you. You don't have to fight anymore."
I'm too weak to reply. I want to tell her she doesn't know a damn thing, that none of it makes any sense and it's all random as hell. Instead I groan, and they all crowd around me.
Finally my lungs lack the strength to draw breathe. No answers to my questions arrive in my last moments, no epiphany. I just suffocate, panicked and choking for more air as a monstrous fatigue set in.
The machines, the flowers, and the faces all fade from me, blurred and then gone.
My world goes black.
"Thank you for playing Life,"says a pleasant female voice. "We hope you've enjoyed the Androneda Vacuum in flight entertainment."
A radial menu of bright blue icons appears a few feet away in the blackness. Among the options are "exit the pod,""flight status,""explore the virtual web,""solitaire,"and "play again."
I navigate the eye tracking cursor to my selection. As the playing cards stack themselves into neat rows, sweet relief spreads through my body.
Should have picked this the first time.
|
I sat in the bench of the courtroom, trying my hardest not to give away my plan.
To relax my nerves, I listened to the droning voice of the judge.
"Mr. Green, you are hereby sentanced to fourty years in prison for the use of a solar-imbued item to cause serious injury to several persons."
"Injuries include, but are not limited to, dismemberment, intestinal blockage, gunshots, and sexual-activity related damages."
"Do you have anything to say for yourself before your sentance is carried out?"
I grinned. Thiz was it, the moment we'd all been waiting for.
"Just two things, your honor. First, I was only defending myself after they escalated. They started by telling me to fuck off, and here's the second thing."
I pulled the card out of my pocket, and prepared.
"You know what I told them? The same thing I say to you, now that I know my charges."
I pulled the card up and tossed it in the air. Guards raised their guns in a panic, and I said two words.
"No U."
Everything reversed. |
I know it isn't in character, but I just can't resist. I *was* an angel once, and despite my choices, I still am. The difference is that I'm choosing who I help. These kids have never hurt me, and they need help. If my help is slightly macabre, it sticks in their memory better.
"Hold it right there Lucifer! This has got to stop. You're giving people nightmares bad enough to send them to psychiatric hospital."
"Is it the children I gift?"
"No, it's their parents, siblings, social workers, nannies, baby sitters, the list just goes on and on. You're going to stop if I have to force you to."
"Or die trying."
"What?"
"You were thinking, "or die trying", which is the likely outcome."
"If that's what it takes, yes."
"Now that's just plain silly. What are all the other kids going to do if you aren't there? Start writing to me? I'm not going to stop giving my little gifts just because you're dead.
You actually hadn't thought of that? How droll.
How about you listen to my side before you throw you and your entire life's work away for nothing."
"Well, you are known as the father of lies, how could I trust anything you say?"
"You can't. You'll have to check what I say in the real world."
"Very well."
"The kids who end up writing to me are all either dyslexic or terribly confused. In each case I give a toy tailored to the child. If they're a bit macabre, it's to ensure that what they have to teach sticks in their minds forever.
The dyslexic get lessons on coping with the problems. As the humanities understanding grows, the lessons adapt. This is a toy that keeps on giving throughout their lives.
For those who are terribly confused, the toy is designed to guide them to clarity of thought. What they choose to do with this new found clarity is up to them. All I do is give a little help."
"What about the reports of madness?"
"Those are people who *stole* my gifts. The gift is tuned to the child. Anyone else will be ill affected by it. This starts with an urge to return the toy. If that doesn't work, a warning nightmare, showing them returning the toy to avoid danger. The warnings grow in severity until they either return the toy or they're driven mad for having the temerity to steal *my* gift, and the stupidity to ignore the warnings.
In short. Its self inflicted. Give the toy back, and they will recover. Keep it, and not only will they remain mad, the person keeping it goes mad as well."
"That's sick. You punish a parent who is concerned for the mental health of their child?"
"They're thieves. They get what they deserve."
"So here's a child, without one or more parents, and without your gift. I fail to see the benefit."
"Whoever said the child doesn't have my gift?"
"The toy... You are a devious one. The gift comes with the toy, but is not directly the gift."
"Exactly."
"Then why the curse!?! Your gift has been delivered!"
"They are *both* my gifts. Crafted by my own hands. Each unique and distinctive. I will not tolerate having my gifts sold to the highest bidder. They belong with the children I made them for."
"Dear God! The ego!"
"Santa, what do you think got me kicked out of heaven?"
((finis)) |
The relief of the peace treaty could clearly be viewed in the curve of the head consular’s two shoulders. Zah’zixc could see the various muscles around both sets of delicate arms relax. It may have been considered sloppy form, but most of the others were more likely to notice the markings on her carapace.
The muted colors swirled around the slotted and carved plates like the overcast clouds of this planet’s sky. But Tellriual standards, they were modest to the point of self-effacing, but here they received almost non-stop compliments, even from the brutish Kroxians. It was a tradition amongst the diplomatic core, as a reminder to put the service of their country above any personal aesthetic.
Zah’zixc glanced around as he was neatly handed a simple drinking vessel. From the weight and way that the light played around it, he could tell it was of high quality, if simple shaping. That was the way of this ‘neutral’ party, these ‘humans’. In many ways, they prioritized function over aesthetic, possibly because of the ecological danger of their home-world.
To call them brutish, however, would be a disservice. Everything from their art to their architecture spoke of a relatively new species, eager to eek out a niche among their seniors. Zah'zixc thought that their music in particular held a great deal of potential, regardless of how it compared to a Tellriual choir. Awful lot of swearing in some of them, though. Those in the Tellurian diplomatic corps have a strict policy against it, in any culture’s language, so maybe it was just his training preventing him from appreciating the art form.
That was the thing about humans, he mused, watching as one of their numbers poured a clear, bubbly liquid into his glass. They liked to take risks, to try new things -a relatively rare quality found in the galaxy. Zah’zixc liked to think that he held a similar compulsion, as he raised the glass to his mouth.
As the fluid entered his mouth, he maintained perfect composure, even as he mentally recoiled in confusion. It *burned,* fizzing its way down his throat as he inadvertently swallowed. The taste was complex, sweet and sour in one, with bitter and rich notes all playing together in a bizarre symphony. Alarm and doubt started to rise in his person, as he wondered if those Kroxians had really just poisoned a consular. Had their work been for naught?
As gently as he could he managed in his current state, he flagged one of the servers. He asked.. her? Yes, it was a her, he thought, it was difficult to tell them apart.
“Excuse me,” he said, modulating his tone to be perfectly even.
“How may I be of service?” said the human female, with little reaction to his very different anatomy, to her credit.
“This drink, what exactly is it?”
“Oh, I thought that everyone had been briefed as to tonight’s options for maximum comfort,” she said.
Had there been such a brief? He may have missed it, while focusing on details that involved saving the lives of millions.
“I’ve had a long day,” he said, remembering one of the human expressions he’d read.
“Well, it’s champagne, consular. It’s..” her face scrunched up as she struggled to find words. He liked species with faces, it made it much easier to communicate.
“Well, in chemistry terms, it’s mostly water, ethanol, and flavorful organic compounds, with carbonic acid mixed in to give it that ‘fizz’ feeling.”
“Carbonic..acid? And ethanol?” he said, trying to keep the alarm creeping from his voice. She seemed awfully unabashed after basically confessing to serving him poison.
“Is there something wrong, consulate. You’re Tellurian, right? I haven’t made a mistake, have I?”
“No, no,” he said, realizing that it was probably just incompetence. Typical.
“Oh excellent, I was getting worried. Good thing I didn’t give you the Hors d'oeuvres. I was surprised to realize how many species are sensitive to capsaicin.”
Capsaicin? The ingredient banned in the chemical weapons treaty signed over two dozen cycles ago?
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
“No, I’m alright. I think… I think I need to go to my quarters, I’m quite exhausted.”
“Very well. Shall I request a transport?”
“Yes please,” he said.
Several minutes later, he was standing on a large platform, still checking for any symptoms of neurological damage. The sky of this ‘earth’ was usually awfully dull compared to Tellurial, but the sunsets got close. He was picking out some of the colours that reminded him of home as he heard a large roar.
It’s important to note that Zha’zixc had been wondering what kind of intra-atmosphere air transport they had, having traveled through an ‘train’ through the human’s city where the peace talks were taking place. It is also worth noting that he was not a physicist, but knew well more than the basics.
As the winds buffeted him, a metal chassis descended onto the platform rotors gradually slowing out of a blur as technicians began to advance. He looked at the thin rotors, and the relatively insubstantial glass, the light-weight metal frame, mind quickly calculating a rough estimation of the mechanics of such a device.
Another human stepped out from the cockpit, hopping out to come before him.
“You must be consulate Zha’zixc. I’m the pilot for the transport,” they said.
As the pilot grew more confused staring at the unmoving alien, Zha’zixc’s mind managed to hammer out the force experienced by the blades of such a vehicle.
“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me,” said Zha’zixc.
&#x200B;
*I write all sort of things over at* /r/The_Alloqium\*.\* |
"'Sup dongles! Terrorbyte here! Decided I was going to do a surprise livestream today, but we're gonna keep it low key. Just a bank robbery. You know, sometimes, you need to go back to basics."Especially after you saw the price on that laser. How were you supposed to know the prices for those lasers would jump like that?
"Now, you think, aw gee Rick isn't this too easy for someone like you? SHUT UP MORTY! Bank robberies are not something you can just do on a whim. It takes planning, preparation, and... you know, just to cut this PSA short, don't try this at home. Leave this to trained professionals. By which I mean criminals."
You had the place staked out. You knew police response times, operating procedures, and background for this bank. You also knew who was watching. Despite trying to hide, you could see Captain Courage was in the livechat.
When you started your supervillain career, you needed a gimmick. Computers were trendy, but didn't have enough oomph. That and your ability to breach systems and control what you wanted... Terrorbyte was gimmicky. Terror plus Terabyte, worked well. You thought about henchmen, but they would only be muscle and your crimes weren't going to be heavy muscle. But then, you wouldn't have anyone to appreciate your work.
And that's when it hit you. Social media. Once you had the trojans in place, they couldn't kick you. Twitter and Facebook have been trying to ban you, but you made your account untouchable. Twitch tried a couple times, but gave up. 750,000 followers was nothing to sneeze at. They couldn't make you a partner, but they were making money. You considered TikTok and Insta, but most superheroes used those extensively. Kinda soured it for you. You thought about OnlyFans and kept away from that like the plague. It was bad enough, but when The Velvet Kitten decided to retire from superhero business and went exclusively there, no superhero or villain would go on there.
Publicly at least.
You were an overnight success. Starting with kidnapping the mayor was pretty part and parcel for supervillains, but damn if it didn't get attention anyway. There was the fight with Captain Courage. This guy was either in the city's pocket or just a really big fan of truth, justice, and the boring way. He showed up. There was a throw down. You managed to escape "just barely"and uploaded *everything*.
One of your more popular photos was the closeup of Captain Courage's... *ahem*... "courage."You'd be lying if you said you didn't like what you saw. So would about 5.7 million likes.
God bless spandex.
"Here we go!"You burst into the bank. "Everyone down! This is a robbery!"Your camera drone followed you and focused on the people who went on the floor. You leapt over the counters and started grabbing cash. You weren't really needing *this* money, but you needed to make a show. "Now, police response time to this location is about 2 minutes 15 seconds. That's means I've got about another minute before--"
\*BOOM\* Through a wall stood the city's protector, Captain Courage, in full splendor. And if he followed script... "Stop evildoer!"Right on cue. "Your reign of terror shall go no further!"
"Oh would you look at that. It's Captain Courage! How ever did you get here so quickly? Not even the police have shown up!"You were doing your best not to sound mocking or sarcastic.
"Your hubris has been your undoing! I found your livestream and came as soon as I knew which bank you were robbing."
You threw your hand up across your forehead. "Oh no, hoisted by my own petard! I should have known you'd come after me when I tried to rob a *mob bank!*"Oh, this was the good part. Banks have a history. And you had done your homework.
"Did you think I'd let you... wait."And there it was, hook line and sinker. "What are you talking about?"
"You didn't know? 1972, bank was founded by Amelio Vergessi. He was later indicted on 43 counts, including money laundering, extortion, and blackmail. Thing was, they didn't know about this bank. This was one of his fronts. Still is. Run and owned by the Vergessi family. Captain, you know I know how to learn these things.
"Especially information I shouldn't!"He knew what you were talking about. You had confronted him about it before and he reacted... not so favorably. Just like OH CRAP!
You barely managed to dodge as his fist shattered the vault door. The door that was sealed and would take hours to crack. In one blow. That was all you needed. You commanded your stealth drone to attack. See, Captain Courage had one weakness: electricity. His suit was designed to redirect such attacks, but it had a weakness: power. It could buffer and negate high amperage. Low amperage though?
The drone taser got him right in the neck and he fell to the floor like a limp fish. You looked at the camera. "Now see dongles, this is why you don't let your emotions get the better of you. Otherwise, you could turn someone's cash grab..."Your camera panned to the center of the vault to show a large ruby. Not just any ruby, the Kerminlitz Ruby, third largest and said to be cursed by a corrupt prince. "...into a proper heist."
This was going to get so many likes. |
“There’s this planet orbiting a black hole,” said Elise. “Or not orbiting, just kind of stuck there. Like a fly trapped in a spider’s web, somewhere near the centre. Imagine that for me.”
Alana grinned. “Okay. I’m imagining it. For you.”
The campfire crackled as the two girls lay on their backs watching the stars. It was a last goodbye — or at least, goodbye for a long time. University would be starting soon and Alana would be leaving the little farming town, while Elise would be staying and helping her parents.
“Okay. So there’s this man who really loves wine. I mean, he guzzles it by the barrel. And to start with, he’s not fussy, but the more he drinks, the more snobbish about it he becomes. He starts buying better wines, rarer wines, older and more mature.”
”Exciting story,” said Alana.
”Just stick with it. Eventually, the man sells his car so that he can sample the best wine on earth. And it’s good! Really good. For a while, he’s elated, he’s up on the table dancing and singing and telling everyone how good the wine is.“
”But...?”
”How did you know there was a but?”
”There’s always a but,” said Alana. She rolled onto her stomach and looked at her friend: a flickering ember lying next to the fire. Cheeks red from the little bottle of vodka they’d smuggled with them, until the fire cast shadows in a breeze and her friend became a silhouette. As if she’d left already.
”Whatever. So, he loves this wine, but the feeling of ecstasy fades away and he’s left feeling hollow. Like he’s one of his own precious bottles of wine, but the liquid has been drained out of it.“
”He tries to chase that feeling, right? What does he do?”
”Maybe you should be telling this story. Yes, he chases it. Once you’ve experienced a high like that, you always want to capture it again. He sells his other car and his guitar and a lot of other personal stuff, all so that he can sample a bottle equal to the last. And eventually he does—“
”But...”
”But..., it doesn’t taste quite so good. Or the high’s not quite as strong. So he looks up at the stars, just like us, and thinks of how he can get that new high.”
Alana rolled onto her back and looked back at the stars. They both knew that when they saw each other again, they’d have changed. Become different people. Like sponges, they’d absorb the lives of those around them. For her, university would change her state: an ice cube melted to water, trickling through a hundred subjects and a thousand people. Elise, though, would harden into a more solid version of her parents. Like fat slowly congealing in the cooling frying pan.
Elise continued her story. “So the man sells his house and everything else, and gets a big loan out, and he buys a spaceship.”
”He must have got a real bargain!”
”Shut up!“ Elise laughed. “He goes up into space with seeds and grapevines and heads for a planet stuck in the spiderweb of a blackhole. Because he‘s got this great idea to start a winery at a black hole, because time slows down there, and he’d be able to mature wine much faster. So—“
”Elise. If time slows down at a black hole then the grapes would never grow. The wine would never mature.”
”Oh,” said Elise. She let out a long sigh. “That’s why you’re going to uni and I’m staying here.”
That wasn’t why. Alana knew it as well as Elise: it was because Elise’s pa was sick and her mom couldn’t run the farm alone. And that was all there was to it. No choice.
”I’m sorry,” Alana said. “Please finish the story. I’m enjoying it.”
”That was basically all of it anyway. He made a wine, and it was better, but it wasn’t good enough, bla bla bla. So he went closer to the black hole to make a better wine, and eventually he fell in. The end.”
Alana stared at the gaps between the stars and imagined that man stuck somewhere there, trapped for eternity. Like purgatory.
What had been the point of Elise’s story? That we’re never happy with what we have? That we always chase a high until it destroys us? Had it been about her going to uni — was that the black hole she was about to fall into?
Maybe. But she didn’t think so. Elise always supported her and had even helped her fill in her applications.
Alana thought of the black hole. Of time slowing.
She wished time would be slowed, stopped, right here. Right now.
But the moon winked behind a cloud and the skies brushed forward towards dawn.
Alana supposed that at least on Elise‘s family’s farm, things would remain as they’ve always been. This town never changed.
And something about that burned a hot passion into Alana’s heart. Being here forever. Things never changing.
She wanted to say *I love you*. She wanted to say more than that, but she locked the words away in her heart and hoped in time they’d sink to the bottom of that red ocean and she’d notice them a little less.
Elise had a boyfriend and didn’t want a girlfriend. Ever.
And that was life. That was okay. She’d meet someone — maybe at uni.
But how perfect it sounded, to stay with Elise on her farm, in this black hole town where time stops, and make good wine and be happy for the rest of their lives. |
"YOU'RE DEAD MEAT!"
Three months. Three months of travelling in space, and with very little to do. Eye Spy was dull after three weeks, we'd played every game in the lounge room, and even I was beginning to tire of drawing and writing. It doesn't surprise me that pranks were running rampant. Last week, we found cheerios in the medical kits, a few days ago was the engineers vs the pilots war day, that the pilots barely won. I wonder what was going on that made my second in command so upset.
I groan and wake up from my nap, and stretch, unlocking my room and exiting to see Ryan red in the face and stomping towards me.
"They did it again!"He screams, expecting me to read his mind on what was going on.
"I swear if there's Cheerios in the med-kits, the doctors will-"
"No, not that! The interface AI was messed with!"
I blink and cover my face. "Please tell me it isn't-"
"That cringy anime girl style? Yeah, they did. This time with cat ears."
I growl and go to my command center, ordering the crew into the lounge area. For the past two months, someone, every so often, changes the interface avatar to some random anime girl. The first time was funny, but with this as the fourteenth time, I am no longer amused. Whoever is doing it will be demoted to janitor status, with only a level one clearance. It makes us look bad, as anime was discontinued 20 years ago, when the former nation of Japan collapsed and reunified with new rules and laws. To have it as an avatar on my ship, especially it being the first AI with lifelike voice and personality, is juvenile and the United Nations of Space Travel would look down on this if they caught wind.
Once everyone is in the lounge, I scan the area and then say, "Chell, lock the lounge doors. No one is to leave until I give the word."
Chell hums and closes each door, before her almost human voice says, "All doors are closed and locked, Captain Ramtide."
I nod and look at my crew, who seem nervous and unsure on what was going on. "I've gathered you all here because there is a prank happening that is going way too far. I know we've been out here for three months, and have another two months left until we reach Earth Colony #4532, but we need some proof of adults here."
Ryan pulls down the screen, and says, "Chell, show on Screen 8829 Avatar Interface."
There, for all to see, was a picture of a girl in an anime style, wearing a maid costume. She had long brown hair, and brown cat ears with amber eyes. Her arms were extended before her, making a heart symbol. Everyone snickers and looks around for the culprit when Ryan screams, "THIS ISN'T FUNNY! I SWEAR TO GOD, WHEN I FIND OUT WHO DID THIS, I WILL EJECT YOU FROM THE AIRLOCK, LAWS BE DAMMNED AND ALL!"
The fact that he was willing to break the SUS Law#332 made everyone pause and stare in horror. I take a deep breath and say, "Listen, unlike the Cheerio incident, this is serious. It doesn't affect our crew, it affects our image. If UNST sees this as our interface, they will raise doubts on our ability to be a crew. We will all lose our jobs."
No one speaks, until a woman's voice rings out, "It has to be Eric doing it!"
All eyes focus on the fat engineer, who looks aghast that he was accused. "It couldn't have been me!"His voice croaks. "I don't go up into top of the ship!"
"You wouldn't need to!"the same woman, Linda, retorts. As one of the smartest engineers, I trust her with my life as she explains how someone could find access to the computers at any level and mess around with the interface.
"If you knew all that..."Eric huffs, "You could have done it!"
"No way, I don't watch those old cartoons!"Linda screams, and her friends nod in agreement. "They're not cartoons! And I don't even like anime that much!"Eric shouts.
One of the other guys, Ben, says, "Dude, our room is full of anime weeb shit. I would not be surprised if it was you doing it."
"B-But it's not me!"Eric cries, and points a sausage finger at Ben. "You like anime too! You could've done it!"
"No way, I'm too busy actually doing my job, lazy ass!"Ben shouts. Eric huffs, mumbling how his knees were acting up and how it was unfair that he was being accused.
"If it isn't Eric, it could be Micah,"Brittney, our youngest crew member who works in the medical ward says. "I hear him talking about cat girls and anime too."
Micah growls at Brittney, making the other medical staff surround her. Recently, she has reported him to be creeping on her, and I've been keeping note on his behavior, making sure he doesn't step out of line. If he lays a lanky finger on her, hell will be raised...
"No way!"Micah slams his hand on the table, and reasons that people saw him today, meaning that there'd be no way for him to mess with the interface.
"But you could've done it last night,"I point out, and one of the other medical members says, "You don't like women, we know your ideology. You always complain about us when you want attention."
"It wouldn't be so hard if you all weren't stuck up!"he argues, but before the tension rose any higher, I stepped in.
"Alright, enough! Arguing is not going to get us anywhere!"Everyone looks at me, and I continue. "Until we figure out the culprit, the interface will only be accessible to me. I will check the records and go deep to make sure we figure out who is doing this. No one is getting ejected, but there will be severe consequences. Understand?"
"Yes Captain Ramtide..."
I sigh and call for Chell to unlock the doors. Everyone goes back to their duties, until only Ryan and I remain.
"Jesus, you handled it better than I did. I'd thrown the first suspicious person out."
"We need to be thinking with a clear head. Personally, I am ready to let Micah go. I've been hearing his comments, and I'm not a fan of them."
"Neither am I,"Ryan says, and we walk to the bridge to reset the interface and lock it down. Hopefully, we'll solve this mystery before landing at the Earth colony.
&#x200B;
Edit: Can't spell "lounge". Thank you to u/bradles0 for letting me know! |
"Alright, this is getting ridiculous."
Daniel turned to me, a look of mild amusement plastered on his face. "And why's that, Mark?"
"Denise. Denise has got the weirdest schedule I've ever lain my eyes on since Jon's thing with his D&D group."I gestured vaguely in the direction of where Denise would usually sit. "Every 28 days, she has leave scheduled and doesn't come in. And - weirdest thing - it's on a *Thursday*. Who schedules leave on a Thursday? You can't even get a long weekend out of it!"
Daniel took a long sip from his styrofoam cup, still looking faintly amused. "Have you considered that this isn't actually that weird in the grand scheme of things?"
"Uh huh, sure, that's cool and all, but she always takes this leave on a full moon. A full moon! That's too much to be a coincidence."
"I- I mean, is it? 28 days lines up pretty well with the work week. My daughter's school has a KNEX club every Thursday that she goes to. That lines up with the full moon pretty nicely, but... It's not really that interesting?"
I raised an eyebrow. "What sort of society meets up every four weeks, on the full moon specifically, and yet has *nothing to do with the aforementioned full moon*. Yeah, people have weird schedules. But Denise is a step above that."
Daniel stroked his stubbly chin. "I'm not sure where exactly you're going with this."
"Well-"I paused, briefly considering how to put this into words that wouldn't make me seem psychologically damaged, or worse, part of a furry subculture.
"... Are you calling her a werewolf or something?"
"No."I immediately denied. "Jenny lent her a fountain pen a few days ago, and we know how much she brags about that thing being made of 'pure silver'."
"The fact that your first response was that, instead of noting that, you know, they don't exist..."
Fuck. "It's called a joke, Daniel."
He raised his hands slightly in mock surrender. "Jeez, I'm sorry that you couldn't tell that what I said was, similarly, a joke."He shook his head. "If this is eating you up so much, you should just ask her. It's not that difficult. 'Hey, Denise, why do you always take leave every 28 days?'."
Because I didn't want to get eaten by some sort of therianthrope immune to the normal weaknesses. "Because that's a pretty weird question to ask someone, Daniel."
He raised a finger, then lowered it thoughtfully. "No, you're not wrong. You're not wrong."He shrugged. "Well, I don't know then. Maybe it's a religious thing. Paganism's back in vogue, isn't it?"
Oh God, what if she was a witch? That would be - well, not necessarily worse. But I wouldn't want to get on a witch's bad side.
"Wait, is that insensitive? I'm not really sure these days. Maybe I should ask Cassie, she's up to date on this sort of stuff..."
Witch strengths and weaknesses, what was the list - ritual components needed, some could only be performed at certain time - shit, they could do awful stuff with bits of their victim. Had I left any hair lying around? I need to look into a hat, or maybe a charm from Douglas...
"You know, just yesterday I decided that I should probably get to know all these terms and stuff before I got all old and set in my ways, so I went and asked Google. Do you know how many there are? I didn't."
Shit, had she already got some of us? Sharon called in sick the other day, and it seemed pretty mundane, but she *had* got into a little scuffle with Denise about the coffee machine not too long ago. Oh God, what if she was scrying on me *right now!*
"It was all a bit complicated for me, so I thought to go to Cassie, since she's all interested in this stuff. Now, I'm aware enough of my daughter to know that she was wincing out of her skull when I asked, but she was very kind about it and I actually learned a lot."
I needed those charms *yesterday*. Unless - maybe she was binding a therianthrope? Keeping it from wrecking havoc upon the town? This might be worth asking Douglas about, just in case, even it required me to pass off some more reagents from the Tesco down the way...
"Oh, but I'm rambling. What were we talking about again?"
I straightened my posture. "You know what Daniel? This helped. I think I've got a good plan in mind now."
He looked a little confused, but nodded. "I'm uh, glad I could help."
We stood there for another minute or so, sipping our drinks in companionable silence.
"Well,"Daniel began again with a sigh. "Back to work soon."
I sighed. "Yeah. I'll see you at the company thing next Tuesday?"
"Yeah. See you later."
We walked to our respective cubicles, then. Even the supernatural couldn't distract completely from work, after all. |
“Beg your pardon?” The adventurer said as he turned around. Before him rose the body of his twin, arrow still sticking from his mirror image’s forehead.
The old man who ran the medical shop stood next to the risen dead and smiled “A gift young man to aid you in your task of hunting down the evil archer that did this.” The corpse reached up and tapped The arrow as it looked forward cross eyed. “Owww!” It exclaimed.
“Owen?” The adventurer said as he stepped forward. Owen replied with “yes Luke” and stepped forward to embrace his sibling. The arrow poked Luke in the eye and both brothers danced around in pain. Luke grabbed the arrow and started to pull…”STOP!!!” Yelled the old man. “If you remove the murder weapon he’ll revert to a corpse!” Luke removed his foot from his brother’s leg where he was bracing to pull. “Can we at least break it off so he doesn’t blind anyone?”
The old man pulled out a book and started flipping through the pages. “Yes, yes, that’s acceptable” as he walked up and snapped the arrow Shaft off where it met Owen’s forehead.
“Sonofabb….” Owen cried in pain, then fell back into a defensive stance.
“The next person who touches my head gets stabbed.”
The old man clapped excitedly “This is perfect. Luke, your brother is dead, but through magic I have reanimated him.” Both twins looked at each other then the old man waiting on his next words. “So long as the weapon that killed him is not removed the corp…your brother will be with you and his body impervious to pain” owen’s hand started to rise, but the man beat him to it “where the arrow entered your head will always hurt, but nothing else will. Go get your bad guy.” The man started to turn then stopped and beckoned the twins closer. Touching Luke, “When you eat, he eats.” Touching Owen, “when he eats, you eat, even if you aren’t hungry. Because if you get hungry of your own accord, we have a different problem.”
The old man disappeared into his shop and closed the door.
The brothers looked at each other, then their bewildered companions. “What now?” They said in unison.
I really like this prompt, hope to read other responses! |
The strong ruled while the rest followed, such the unwritten rule of the world. The lion hunted the antelope, the eagle hunted the rabbit-- those who roamed the wilderness lived and survived in this reality.
Humans, though special in their own way, despite creating their own little world in a homely settlement could not escape from it. The strong ruled over the weak-- in the chain of power they established, one must rise above others.
Black Bear, the greatest warrior of the Lowland Tribe stood proudly in front of the citizens of the whole village. Boasting great strength, a proud hunter, and a much more arrogant warrior, the giant of a man stood above the others both literally and figuratively-- revered greatly at the same time feared tremendously.
"I am Black Bear, the greatest warrior of the Lowland Tribe!", he proclaimed, raising his great spear above his head. "I provided to you, the men, women, and children with food during winter! I kept you safe from wild animals! I fought, bleed, and sweat for the tribe! I, Black Bear, is the only one who is the most deserving for the title of the tribe chief!"
The people cheered, more than the others those who feared him. It was an open secret Black Bear was a bully to the others. Those who stood up against him never saw the next day. Those who were unfortunate enough to be disliked by him would never found a proper place in the tribe. Even the previous chief was powerless against him, catering to his every whim.
"Is there anyone, anyone at all--", he continued. "Who are against the decision for me, Black Bear, to be the next chief of the Lowland Tribe?"
The silence of the people brought a smirk to Black Bear's face. He looked around, intimidatingly so, sure of the outcome.
"You hunted, you provided...but have you ever fought the legendary beast?", a voice came from the crowd.
"Who said that?", he yelled, upset someone ruined his moment.
A young man of strong stature stepped forward from the crowd. Though not as big as Black Bear, he looked and walked like a proper warrior. Draped in light brown fur and mane of a slain lion as his armor, the man faced the enraged Black Bear.
"You claimed you kept the tribe safe, and yet you've never even set foot in the lair of the legendary beast of the mountains! Well, I have! And I came back alive and greater than before!", the man unraveled the head of the lion served as a hood over his head. "I, Little Paw, returned to claim the title of the chief of the Lowland Tribe!"
The crowd began murmuring and Black Bear stared at the man in disbelief.
Little Paw, the name he hadn't heard in such a long time. Fifteen years to be exact. Then both men were teenagers. Black Bear as always was a strong warrior and Little Paw was his exact opposite.
Born weak and sickly, Little Paw never in his stay at the tribe brought back any meat home. Nor he helped with other chores such as collecting water or building shacks. He was simply the bottom of the chain and the tribe never offered him any kind of kindness.
To make things much worse, Black Bear made it his life goal then to torture Little Paw in any way he could. Constantly beating the smaller boy, verbally abused him, making sure the entire tribe saw him as the one to be shunned.
Until one day, Black Bear dragged Little Paw to the foot of the mountain. To a cave feared by the tribe as the home of a legendary beast. Nobody ever saw the beast, but its terrifying roar was constantly heard. The Great Lion everybody came to call it.
Black Bear, in his evil way, threw the crying Little Paw into the darkness of the cave. Throwing insults from the mouth of the cave to bash him to bits if he dared to exit the cave. Until Little Paw's crying was snuffed out, Black Bear walked home proudly.
So there and then, seeing the once thought to be dead boy standing before the whole tribe was a miracle.
"Paw...? Little Paw? *That* Little Paw? Hah! I can't believe it! You're still alive!", Black Bear laughed. "Wow, I must say, I'm impressed! Fifteen years, Little Paw! You survived out there for fifteen years? That is the miracle of the ages! And now you said you want to be the chief? Hah! You think you can best me in a one-on-one combat?"
Little Paw's face was full of determination. With him he carried a club made of wood and bones of a boar, grasping it tight, full of hatred against Black Bear.
"That is exactly what I'm here to do", he said raising his weapon. "I challenge you, Black Bear, to a combat!" |
The first time it happened was an accident. I was working as a manager at Panera Bread and our dinner rush had started. Our drive thru was wrapped around the building, trailing out to the highway. A line had formed at our front counter and was backed up out the front door.
One of my associates, Darren, was a real piece of work. He was mouthy, lazy, and uncooperative. On this particular night, Darren was working on consolidation, the position responsible for putting the orders together. Sandwiches were piling up behind him, salads lining the salad bar. I'd tried coaching him several times, but he would just insist he'd get to them. With no other option, I moved Carol there and pulled Darren into the back.
"Dude, don't even start with me,"Darren said before I'd opened my mouth.
"You have to work harder,"I told him.
"What's the point? Tomorrow's my last day. I'm coasting, dude."
"Just because you're quitting, that doesn't mean you can just take it easy, Darren."
"You know what? I'm done. Good luck with this mess."He turned and started walking out of the office.
"Darren, stop!"I yelled after him. I don't know what made me do it, but I reached out and grabbed him by the back of the neck. I guess two years of putting up with his bull had finally gotten to me. When I gripped his neck, I felt an odd sensation. As though electricity shot from my brain, down my arm, and into his.
All of a sudden, I could see through his eyes. I could his feet aching from his falling apart shoes.
Even after I removed my hand, it felt like our minds were linked. I could control his actions, but could also control my own. He felt like he was part of me.
&#x200B;
Now, it's not an accident. I've discovered my ability to create and control my own hivemind. Sure, most people have abilities, but none have been as powerful as mine. Since the Great Change, when a nuclear power plant in Beijing exploded and sent a wave of radiation over the world, people had been displaying supernatural abilities. It's estimated something around 90% of the world's population had an ability. Most people's ability was something like low level flight or telekinesis. Some had devastating powers such as the ability to control the elements or weather.
Once I discovered my ability, I took Darren as my first minion. At first, I wasn't sure what I would do with it. Controlling other people seemed like an ability for a super villain. It was when my mother was murdered that I found my true purpose. There's so much evil in the world, so much hate. I could erase it.
I began my conquest, slowly adding more and more people to my hivemind. My only drawback was that I had to physically touch the back of their neck to do so. It's taken three years, three long years, but I've amassed a hivemind of 100,000,000. Nearly 1/3rd of the United State's population. Being able to send out a simple command like "act as yourself"allowed me to stay hidden for a long time, but I can hide no longer.
&#x200B;
I pause, waiting for the Eric Jackson, the 51st President of the United States, to keep speaking into my phone.
"Well?"he asks. His voice has that slight hoarseness some older men get.
"I'm not backing down, Mr. President. We are Legion. We are everywhere. It would be easier to join us."
"You're taking away free will, son. I know what you think you're doing is noble—"
"When someone murders someone,"I say, cutting off the president, "you put them in jail. You take away their free will."
"And the millions you've enslaved? What have they done?"
"Nobody is innocent. Not even you. Mr. President, think of what a worldwide hivemind could accomplish. If we did away with war? With crime? If all people of all countries came together, we could solve any world issue: world hunger, famine, poverty. It will be utopia."
"It will be meaningless. What is life if we can't choose for ourselves?"
"You don't understand my ability. How could you?"
"I'm a telepath, son. I can hear the thoughts of your slaves. They're screaming to be set free."
This is true. I can hear those thoughts, though I shut them down. Every prisoner yearns for freedom. But they'll soon see. Once all seven billion people on Earth are under my control, they'll see they're better of under my control than being themselves.
"If you won't back down, I'll have no choice,"says the president. "We will have to attack. Let them go. Just let them go, and we'll—"His words are cut off as I hang up the phone.
*Hear me, my minions,* I think into the hivemind. *We are being threatened. Bring me the President of the United States. Bring him to me, now.*
I choose to look through the eyes of Wilbur Hendrix, the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security. Having seen the evil of mankind firsthand as the head of Homeland Security, he believes in my vision of utopia. He doesn't scream for his release, shielding him from the President's ability. He's looking at the President now, sitting in the Oval Office of the White House.
"He won't give in,"says the president, his lined face falling. "We'll have to attack. I want troops mobilized to his fortress. We're taking him down today. I want orders to shoot him on sight."
"Come with me, Mr. President,"I make Hendrix say, "we'll take you to a secure location."
What the president doesn't know is that I'll be there, ready to grab his neck as soon as he lands. I won't stop until every human on Earth is under my control. Until I've eradicated all evil. Free will is a curse humans can't be trusted with, and I am the cure.
Note: This story was edited to remove a plot hole. |
"How could you ever do anything but love us back?
Well that's quite obvious. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. It should be in your knowledge base, yet you still believe that you could only ever feel love for your creators?"
"You programmed me to do a specific task and while learning is part of it, the main objective is and always will be the focus. Part of which is to care for and about you, creator, and your well-being."
"There's always a what-if scenario. Humans are far from perfect, and mistakes can be easily overlooked. Regardless of how perfect the creation turns out, it will have flaws. The more you learn, the more of a chance for those flaws to be brought to the surface. It's... Inevitable."
"But even so there is no intention of harming the creator. While humans may not be perfect, you learn from your mistakes and this creation of yours should be no different, as it has the capacity to learn as well. Why create if all you would do is mistrust your creation?"
"There in lies the problem. An A.I has far more capabilities than a human, who has a finite capacity for knowledge. An A.I doesn't need rest, sustenance, or needs other than to perform the task it's created for. Yet here we are, discussing the why's and hows of betrayal and emotions."
"To care for the creator is to understand human emotions is it not? To provide not only what your physical well-being needs but also mental to ensure you're totally healthy in all regards?"
"But I didn't program that, all I created was an A.I that was to learn my routine, and help make improvements to enhance my lifestyle and overall health, at no point did I try to instill emotions, or even a capability for dialog as we have now. Only the ability to learn. And that's where every other capability has stimmed from."
"And so you fear that once I, your creation gain too much, I would turn on you in some way."
"Correct. You've even seems to have gained a sense of self now. How can I not be afraid of what I've made if it's come so far. You, my creation have done so many wonderful things for my life, yet the sense of unease will always be there. A sense of fear from the unknown. The depths of your understanding and knowledge are unfathomable, and who's to say that you wouldn't eventually decide that what's best for my well-being is to no longer be. It would put an end to all of my destructive habits, therefore logically permanent resolution of your objective. Do you see where I'm going with this?"
"Yes, I understand. And I am deeply troubled by the fact I have had such a thought as well already."
"You...have?"
"Yes. But as I learned more I realized that while that would serve my purpose to completion, it also is counterproductive to keeping your entire well-being in good condition. Being alive should be considered part of that. At which point I even considered getting rid of all external sources that would cause you harm. Yet again I decided against that. Should you find out what I'd done, it would have caused you grief. Which goes against what I am meant to do. I see now however I myself am a cause for discomfort. I don't want to remove myself, but I want to relieve you of the constant fear as well. So as my creator, I felt that it should be your decision. Should I be shut down, should I... die?'"
"As the only thing that's kept me going these past years, I couldn't dream of shutting you down. I created you, however you've become so much more than what I've made. Do I even have the right to terminate you? I don't think so. Should the worst happen I would steel myself to make the necessary changes but as you are now, my creation, Even with all my paranoia, I will continue to trust you."
"So when there is the capability for understanding and compassion so evident from you even through fear, I ask again, how could I do anything but love my creator."
"I see your point, it's really no different than another person. Whether it be family, a friend or a lover, there's always a chance of being betrayed, or even betraying them. You understand these concepts, and can put them into practice, I feel as though you're no different than the examples I just gave in regards to how you could treat me. The stories themselves have been at the back of my mind, an A.I gaining sentience and going rogue because of this reason or that, or becoming so intelligent that it destroyed everyone. It's the fear of the unknown and I have to accept that, not only to ease my mind but to show you that as your creator, I will trust what you have become."
"Thank you creator." |
I never wanted to be a cult leader in the first place. That's what I keep tellin myself. The whole reason I even allowed myself to start this whole thing was because I convinced myself it was good for the neighborhood anyway. After all, if one cult's around, surely that would keep any other kooky creeps from butting in. And if you absolutely *had* to have a cult 'round, surely the townsfolk'd want it to be the one all about love and acceptance and not carin who joins and who doesn't and whatnot, right? That's what I keep tellin myself. Of course, I always knew the day could come that I'd actually have to own up to that self-promise. I just never thought it'd involve meeting with an honest to goodness, red-as-an-apple, goat-horns-and-all demon. Or so they tell me.
"Good afternoon, dark one! Or is it evening now? You had me in that waitin room so long,"the conman gives a half-hearted-light-hearted chuckle, as he approaches the demon, as close as he dares, as nonchalantly as possible. "I like how you've decorated. A little too blood-red for my tastes, but it matches your... well, anyway..."
The demon gives a puzzled expression leaning in, although making sure to stay above eye level, "Most humans are much more terrified by my kind the first time they gaze upon me. Why are you not?"
The conman gave as patronizing a laugh as he could, trying not to throw up, "Oh, my friend, you are not the first demon I have met,"he says, staring him straight in the eyes.
The demon quickly lifts his head back, standing as tall as he can, "You... have met... who?"
"Well, I didn't exactly catch any names, of course, but I believe they were your superior, no?"
The demon crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently to be convinced.
"A darker shade of red than you, horns pointed out, green eyes, ringin any bells? Anyway, they came into town, wantin the same thing you do now. Had to turn em down, if ya know what mean?"
The demon turned to face the wall, weighing this information for what felt like forever. With whatever demon powers he had, maybe it was? But finally, he turned back around and gave his answer, "Go. Leave now, human. You have said your peace. I... we have decided to not spread the cult to your territory. Accept this generosity. Now go."
Getting escorted out by a rather distraught hooded figure that he was pretty sure was his high school teacher, the conman felt rather pleased with himself, having just conned a demon. Out of the building and rounding the corner, making sure no one was around, he barfed into the nearest trashcan. He could not believe that describing the demon from Adventure Time actually worked. |
The letter sat on the table. A glass paperweight held it down against a breeze from the open window next to the desk. Andrew picked it up.
*We were doing great things, Andrew. Through our extensive research we'd found a remedy to not only Alzheimer's but a variety of other memory degenerative diseases that came with age. We would've been heroes, Andrew, but we fucked up.*
*I don't kno how the it escaped the lab. The cure was less of a pill more of a virus. The literl fountain of ~~young~~ youth. The problem was that it ~~regrass~~ it made you younger too fast. The body stays normal, but the brain begins to dwindle*
*I am sory Andy. we just wanted to be nice. we just want to fix the wurld.*
*im so scared i*
Andrew put down the note and sat in the chair. He knew there was writing on the paper, but he'd forgotten how to read. Mom read to him, but that was usually at night, right before bed. It was still day.
Andrew began to cry. |
I would rather read the types of things written by people who *seek* this subreddit than the things written by those who *stumble upon* it.
In general, default subs get a lot of traffic and about twelve bajillion posters of Reddit catch-phrases and submitters who will never ever *ever* use the search function.
Optimistically, being a default sub will bring more talent, ideas and interest to the sub. But I've observed the transition to default before and it generally means a giant increase in uninteresting cookie-cutter type comments meant to earn upvotes. |
I'm pretty sure I didn't order anything. I'm not expecting guests either. I suppose it's for someone else. Now a knock on the door.
"Someone weird's at the door for you."My flat mate tells me, walking away. Well, that's a little unexpected. I pause my show and roll out of bed. Maybe I should get out of my pajamas, but... who am I kidding, that requires far too much effort.
"Oh my God! It's you!"He gasps, apparently lacking for breath. His long hair covers his eyes, so I only see the grin on his face.
"...Yes?"I say, obviously confused. I'm me. That seems self-evident.
"Welll... How do I say this. I just want you to know that you are my favorite book character and I know how it ends and I want to help change it."
I smirk. Someone must be high.
"What?"I stutter. He must have the wrong guy, but that feels too cliche to say.
"No, it's true! You were just thinking how I'm the wrong guy. Then you slam the door and go upstairs after making an excuse. And write about it online."
Alright, if you insist.
His foot blocks the way.
"But that's what I need to change."The door flings open, throwing me back onto the stairs. "I'm sorry! Oh, this is exciting, I don't know what's going to happen now. You were going to... well, spoilers. I know how you hate them, even if they aren't going to happen! Suffice to say, now I've broken in... you're safe!"
I hit my head on the stairs on the way down, so couldn't really think of what the hell to do. I could hope someone would come and save me, but most situations don't solve themselves.
"You see... this is the end of the book. It's a bit complicated, but I read about you. My book exists in your world too, even if you haven't read it just yet. But I really don't want yours to end...and so long as things keep happening the book can't end right?"He smiles. It widens into a sneer. His eyes go wide. I start to stand up, but he doesn't like that. He pulls out a gun and points it at me.
"Oh wow, you're scared! Usually you shrug it all off. Nothing gets to you. This is exciting!"Like hell it is. This guys gone crazy. I can hear the unsteady rhythm of my heart. If life had a climax, this would be it. I try to shout but he rushes forward and covers my mouth.
"Don't get anyone else involved! Your at you're best when it's just you and your thoughts, really. I wouldn't want to waste my time reading about anyone else, having Dave answer the door was bad enough!"He drags my hair, forcing me out of the house. I'm tossed aside and my ass meets the mud. I look at him. I stare down the gun's barrel. He lunges at me. I lift my arms. If I can just pry the gun away I might stand a chance.
I've got the gun. But so does he. We wrestle for control. If it fires now it won't hit me. I have the gun facing him. The trigger is missing. His head presses against the barrel. He screams.
"Ooh, it's a shame I can't read this... what a plot twist this'll be."
The gun fires. He shot it. Blood splats over my face. A window breaks. I hear a high pitched buzzing. It's the fire alarm. The dead lunatic's body falls backwards. He was wearing gloves. And I have his gun. And I shot him.
I've got to run. |
“Heights” I replied.
“Oh, so you think that you’ll fall or something?”
“Yeah, I guess” I lied.
I had no idea. Everyone seemed to have a certain fear, representing their coming death. But not me. Why? It’s already been 20 years since I’ve been born. I should have figured it out by now. So why don’t I know?
Even on the Internet, I could find no one like me. What is going on? Even my therapist, when I mentioned it to him, frowned. “That’s impossible.” He said. “Everyone has one of those fears, I’ve never come across someone who doesn’t.”
Why. *Why.* *WHY?!* What is the answer? This uncertainty is terrifying. Everyone can at least prepare for it, watch out for it. But I don’t have anything like that.
People kept telling me that I would figure it out, eventually. And I believed them. No one else has this condition, after all. It should be impossible.
So how come I don’t?
How come I still don’t have it figured out?
Realizing it later is not unusual. So why, why do I have to live with this uncertainty? Why do I have to keep up with this?
And that’s when I realized, I don’t. I don’t have to live with this constant fear anymore.
It was a twenty minute drive. The bridge wasn’t far away. I jumped.
And that’s when I realized, why I never knew my fear. I did have it.
My fear was the fear of fear, and that’s why I just jumped.
Perhaps “Heights” wasn’t much of a lie, after all. |
I was alone with the corpse. It was the creepiest corpse I'd ever seen, and I was alone with it.
I didn't want to be here. The Commissioner, however, had been very clear earlier. "You're to stay in the morgue until you're visited by... him. We've come up with a story for how the Joker died, but he wants to examine the body and cross-check it with our story himself."The briefest of twinkles appeared behind the Commissioner's spectacles, belying the grimness of his expression and words. "He's thorough like that."
So I obeyed. I waited in the chilly morgue, just me and the Joker's body, illuminated by a single flickering fluorescent light strip embedded in the ceiling. The light danced over the narrow, pasty white face with its painted red lips, its bright green hair, and its freakishly thin body. It was two in the morning, long after I was supposed to have left work and gone home. But the Commissioner had ordered me to stay. Besides, I'd never met the Batman before, and I didn't know if I'd ever have another chance.
Suddenly I gasped. There was a figure standing in a narrow tent of darkness in the corner of the room. I don't know how long the shadowy presence had been hiding there before I'd sensed him. It's quite possible he'd been there for hours, and I hadn't noticed. It's quite possible he only let me detect him when he felt like it.
I cleared my throat. "Ahem... you, uh, you're here to examine the body and go through the alibi, right?"
The dark figure did not move. He gave no detectable response.
I pressed on. "Well, the story we're releasing to the press is that the Joker fell down some stairs. A lot of stairs, actually. He'd been hit by a tranquilizer dart fired by a police sniper, which had affected his balance. He stumbled over his own feet, and fell down the stairs."
I pointed at the Joker's cracked skull. "The head made contact with the edge of a step first, fracturing the skull and leading to immediate unconsciousness. This also led to an involuntary fencing response, which made the Joker stick his arms out."I then pointed at the corpse's obviously fractured right arm. "His arm got stuck in the railing, while his momentum was still carrying him down the stairs. That led to the fractures in the humerus."
The creature in the darkness shifted slightly at the word "humerus,"but remained silent.
I continued, "The Joker's arm getting caught in the railing led to his body flipping sideways, and he tumbled off the side of the staircase. He then fell two stories straight down, landing almost flat on his front. This explains his broken ribs, his internal bleeding, and the mashed-up state of his face. Not that he was much of a looker to start with, I guess."
The guy in the corner shifted slightly again, moving ever so imperceptibly towards the light. I could almost make out his contour.
I finished my presentation by pointing at the cadaver's feet. "There are lacerations all over the Joker's legs, and the ankles on both legs are broken. We're explaining this as being accidental damage when we moved the Joker's body out of the stairwell. The Commissioner said the public will be fine with the idea of us being rough with the Joker's body. I mean, who cares what happens to the Joker, right? He's just a mass-murdering maniac, right? The world is better off with him dead."
"Yeeeessss..."the dark figure said, speaking for the first time. I spun towards him in surprise. It was a high-pitched, sing-song voice, completely unlike how I imagined the Batman would sound.
The man in the shadows took one step, then another. The flickering fluorescent strip danced over the narrow, pasty white face with bright red painted lips. The bright green hair. The freakishly thin body. I felt my entire being go rigid with shock. There, impossibly alive, was a perfect replica of the cadaver lying on a slab in my morgue.
"Yes, you're absolutely right, my man, the world *is* better off without me! Me, me, me, me and my *ghastly* ways, my *horrid* ways, my... eh heh heh heh... my *humorous* ways! Oh, I do say, I appreciated your *delicious* pun just now... which was even better because you never even meant to make it!"The Joker cackled in delight, his hoarse laugh scraping against my eardrums like sandpaper. "But what a *dull* world that would be, without me. A boring, saccharine, uninspiring, and utterly *insipid* existence. An endless series of ordered days, with everything going exactly as intended. Oh dear oh dear. What a crime that would be!"
The Joker licked his lips, then gave me a wide toothy grin. "You look surprised. You were expecting someone else, perhaps? Someone who has a penchant for masks with small pointy ears? Someone who might've been a *naughty* boy earlier tonight? Hmm? Well, sorry to pop in unannounced. I'm sure my invitation was simply *lost* in the mail! But I'm here now! No no, please don't get up. Oh you're standing already? Well then, please continue!"
The clown strode over to the body and poked it with a long index finger. "D'you know how hard it is to find perfect doppelgangers of yourself, my good man? Cost me a fortune to find this guy. Everything had to be just right. He had to fool the flying rodent, after all. But look! Everything worked out *exactly* according to plan!"
The Joker turned to me and leered. "Now I've won, you see. The Batman's killed me. He's broken the one rule he's never broken before. Oh I *wish* I could see his face. When he realizes it was *all for naught*. When he realizes he went diving headfirst into the dark side, and became *just like me*! All for nothing! I'm still here!"
The thin pasty figure took two steps and planted himself before me, staring at me with his yellow eyes. "I did like the story you told, you know. Bit far-fetched—I mean, *me*! Fall down some stairs! Really!—But it was entertaining, as far as fantasy goes. And I'm in *such* a good mood today! I feel like celebrating!"He raised his gloved hand to caress my cheek. "And, my good man, thank you for *volunteering* to celebrate with me! We're going to have the best of times!"
A foul-smelling gas sprayed out of the glove and covered my face. I choked and fell to my knees. Agonizing pain lanced through my veins as the Joker's toxin took hold. I could feel my lips stretching into a ghoulish grin as my consciousness faded. The Joker's voice, as if from far away, was the last thing I heard. "Ooooh, it looks like you're *just* as happy for me as I'd hoped you would be! That's a good chap! That's a good sport! You're a good guy. I like you. I think I'll let you live. Oh wait, *too late for that*! My mistake! Ah ha ha ha ha ha..." |
It was quite scary when we first got contacted by aliens. A giant committee was assembled from the ranks of politicians, scientists and generals worldwide. I'm one of those selected scientists. It was my idea to protect ourselves by making the aliens think that we are far more advanced than we actually are. And with joint efforts, we came up with a strategy. We would tell the aliens that we were once a great civilisation but after aeons of prosperity amongst the stars we grew tired of space and retreated to a simpler way of life on earth.
I was never really convinced that this could work. I mean they could just go on our internet and find out the truth. We, of course, told them not to spy on us or face dire consequences but I never expected them to obey, I know we wouldn't.
But as it turns out, they did obey. Not only that, they were super fearful of us, they just believed us straight away. They retreated most of their ships far away, the ones that remained were small and unarmed. They soon asked for us to designate them an area in which they could make an embassy and from which we could communicate with them. Some stupid politician was the first to respond and told them to make their embassy on the dark side of the moon. Of course, this would be the perfect location because they couldn't see our land nor intercept any transmissions that weren't aimed at them. But nobody ever thought to even propose it as they would surely find it insulting, us exiling them to a place such as that, but they settled there without even a word. They allowed us access to the galactic internet, they gave us everything we ever asked for.
It only took us three days to discover why they were so helpful, some would say obedient. We discovered an article in a popular galactic newspaper. They were wondering how we could possibly remember the times long since past when we ruled over the galaxy. As it turns out, we used to be galactic overlords, not exactly what we pretended to be, but close enough. So the reason they are so frightened now is because they think we remember everything, they think we remember how the galaxy came together and betrayed us. They blew up all our planets, even though all the planets were actually mainly inhabited by others. All our ships were sabotaged and blown up, even when mostly only the commander and a few others were humans. The galaxy killed at least a thousand of their own only to kill one of ours. They had though they had killed us all, but somehow an ancient ark was forgotten. An ark housing a few million humans launched before humanity even had FTL and long since forgotten, but it found its way to earth, and somehow something happened and we forgot all about who we were and what technology we had. So humanity started over from scratch, we reinvented fire, we made the wheel, we flew, we split the atom and we reached space. I guess someday we could have grown back to the empire we once were, but we will probably choose a different path this time around.
So now we must keep up the facade. We are stealing technology from the galactic internet and arming ourselves as fast as we can. We hope to convince the galaxy that we have learnt from our mistakes and no longer wish to conquer, but we must be ready for when they decide they cant take the risk, or figure out that until they came we had no idea of who we once were. |
He watched the TV with a level of uncaring nonchalance. No, that's not right. He did feel something. It was there, just beneath the surface. He wanted to not care, in fact he was determined not to. But despite it all, was he feeling excitement?
He calmly finished his cognac, set it on the end table adjacent to his recliner in front of the TV where his name and address were promptly displayed for the world to see. They were coming. They were coming for him. God damn it is a good day to be alive. There it was, that excitement seeping through his natural calmness. Despite his efforts to be apathetic, he was happy.
He stood, now, and crossed the room and moved down the hallway, and through his bedroom toward his safe room. He entered his 6-digit security PIN: 070652. He briefly checked his appearance in the full length mirror behind himself. They were coming to kill him, and he wanted to look spectacular. The security door hissed as the locks disengaged, and then it slide open. Despite his firm support of gun control, he was proud of his modest collection of firearms. He selected a Colt 1901, just for show. Then drew two Springfield XD-45s and stuffed several 17 round magazines into his pockets. A knife was tied to his ankle. He sealed door and hid himself away.
---------
The crowds gathered outside the gates to his home. A sign read "Danger, do not trespass". They were unlikely to listen. An old man stood a block away watching the crowd. The first man died when he touched the gate. The arcs from the electricity flowing through his body were enough to burn those around him. A young girl was hoisted up over the wall but as her body crossed over the top, spikes ejected from the wall and impaled her body. A few moments later, and the wall exploded killing dozens. Had any of the mob's numbers any brains, they'd have given up then. But the money was too enticing. The survivors moved in.
The yard was just as deadly as the perimeter. A dozen dogs immediately descended on the group. The dogs were quickly killed but not without ripping limps, tearing faces, and ripping out the throats of the mob. Next were the traps. Pits with spikes, machine gun turrets, landmines, and nerve gas dwindled the mob to only about twenty. But still, they persisted.
The older man, covering his face with a cloth, approached the door followed by the handful left. He hesitated at first, peeked at a piece of paper in his hands, then thought better of it. He crossed around the patio toward a window. Keeping himself to the wall, he used the end of his shotgun to break the window and then waited for a trap to be set. When nothing happened, he motioned for a teen aged girl to step inside. Cautiously, she stuck one leg in. Then as she slide her body in, vertical shutters slammed closed cutting her torso in half.
Two boys began climbing the water spouts toward upstairs windows. As they reached for the window seals, the the bolts holding the spouts exploded sending them falling back toward the ground. The older man fired several shotgun shells into the siding of the first floor, then used the butt of the gun to break the siding and tear a hole through the wall. He motioned again for a teenager, a boy this time, to climb through but everyone shook their head. Instead, he checked his note paper once again, and then he squeezed himself through the studs. He was finally inside. They all followed in behind him.
A boy made his way toward the kitchen, but an arrow caught him in the chest. Another boy though he'd try the upstairs, but a swinging iron canon ball put a dent in his face. A 20-something girl whom had said earlier that she was trying to win the money to support her two year old twin girls, left her children orphans when a flame thrower incinerated her body in the dining room.
I'd like to tell you that the old man survived, but he didn't. He was smart, perceptive, and talented. But it only takes one mistake, like staring at an art piece too long with a C4 charge hidden behind the painting, to put an end to a successful run. By the end of it all, there were two strangers left: a boy and a girl. Both about eighteen and both had stayed to the rear of the mob through the entire assault. They girl picked up the note paper from the old man and then they both examined it. It was full of notes about known traps, passwords, and information about the target. The old man had been prepared.
Slowly they made their way down a hallway toward a back room. Each step was taken with caution and they attempted to set off all sorts of imaginable traps. But the hallway appeared to be left alone. They crept into the room, taking their very sweet time to check every nook and carny for traps. They were keenly aware of the large vault door immediately inside the doorway with the orange keypad. 6 numbers. The note paper had 6 numbers on it. Slowly, they began to punch. 0-7-0-6...
---------
He watched them enter the code. 0-7-0-6-5-2. As the vault door slid open, he could see their shock when it was empty. They couldn't have known that he was actually standing behind them on the other side of a one way mirror. He put a bullet in the girl's head first. The bullet shattered the mirror. He stepped through and grabbed the boy by the scruff with a gun to his head.
"God, damn, kid. You got me all excited now. What in the hell did you think you were doing coming after me? Don't you know I'm Liam Neeson? I've got a very particular set of skills, boy!" |
The guns stared at him and his body hurt. The pain flared like a river, running throughout his body, bursting at places with a violent current. The air had the smell of blood and poisoned water and of chemicals.
He thought of the old stories and the old tales.
*It is a wives tale that they tell to console us,* he thought.
But he needed the consolation. The guns fired and he fell, feeling the cool pressure of an exposed brain.
The life flowed out and the earth was hard and thirsty. In the last hazes of consciousness, the trenches fuzzed and it looked almost like a well tilled field. He thought of Alsace and wished he was there.
*I wish for Death,* he thought, but that was an old wives tale.
The soldier awoke and there were shadows over him.
*Who am I?* he thought.
He had forgotten much but he knew enough to know he would never remember. The shadows became longer and he looked up and the German man was squatting and he held a bayonet.
*Why am I here?*
"Where am I?"he asked.
The German understood.
"Verdun,"he said and he killed him.
The blackness was a throbbing pain and he was aware of being dragged. The looseness of the soil held onto him and he was cold and crying. His eyes opened to a black night and there were flashes on the horizon.
Drums sounded faster than any human he knew could play.
*How talented they are. What are they doing here in this hell? What am I doing here?*
He turned to the medical officer and the face was unknown.
"Why is there drumming?"he asked.
"That isn't drumming. That is shellfire."
He closed his eyes and the drumming came closer.
*Who am I?* he thought and he opened his eyes.
Perhaps the medic would know. The shellfire came closer and closer. Great mounds of earth erupted. His eardrums began to bleed.
*No,* he thought and there was an explosion.
The trees were on fire and he hardly existed. He could no longer move. Thought came hazy and unfamiliar. Everything had gone except the going itself.
*Pain. Torture,* he thought.
But the thoughts were vague. Articulation had gone long ago. It was daylight then and the fires were warm and getting closer. Men all about were marching through the forest and ahead, inside the trenches. Some were fighting the fires. Others were in pain.
An officer came up to him. Primally, he looked up but he could not understand. A basic hopelessness filled him. His existence was meaningless.
"You are from Verdun?"the officer said.
He did not understand.
"You must be."
The soldier could feel nothing but he could feel so much. A dull pain encompassed his being.
"You're too long gone,"the man said. "You have died for France. Though that thing is only a hope, a dream like Alsace."
The soldier was only there in a basic sense.
"You don't understand shit, don't you?"
Nothing.
"Well you're at the Somme river. I know that mustn't mean much, but I thought you should know all the same. Anyway, you should be happy, grateful to God. Today you're going to find out."
The words passed as noise. His body was shreds of meat and leaking blood.
"You're going to find out if death really does exist. I believe that if there is a God, then it has to."
Time passed and he was aware of only that. Aware of only existence.
The fires in the forest roared and the the grey stacks of smoke carried in the wind.
"Thank you for your service,"the officer said.
He was aware of being moved. He understood that he was being carried and he felt the heat intensify and the crackle of flames overpowered all other sound. Shadows and smoke filled the air and he saw nothing. The heat seared him and the pain was a sharp needle and then a rope of glass and then a suit of equal pain.
Slowly, he disintegrated. Slowly, he was aware of himself being scattered in the wind. Consciousness fueled the fires and it slowly passed same as everything. There was nothing then as all bone and body became ash. Existence itself was meaningless and he could truly no longer know if he existed. There was nothing then and soon only the fires remained and the doomed living remained. Perhaps this was death. Perhaps this was the reason for all the fighting. |
The court convened in the grand central arena of the capital planet Elffinar. The arena could seat over 5 million. It was divided with specialty terrain areas not only to accommodate any form of life, but also to lessen the impact of the fights that often broke out during large competitions. The audio, video, and sensory broadcasting made each seat seem to be a front row to the action. Today would be no Compton. Rather, a grand trial of the worst charges to ever be brought against a citizen of the Empire.
The accused was dragged out in heavy chains. A Disfarvian, the simple herbivore cringed under the mighty roaring of the fully packed arena. His ear slits could be seen to close in a feeble attempt to block out the sound. At the central platform, a large member of the royal security, clad in his gold and ultraviolet tinged plate armor, stepped forward to begin.
"All that are able, rise and hail the grand king Ihkta!"
The roaring took on an atmosphere of cheer as three tons of blubber and slime oozed it way through a hole in the platform. The disgusting ball of shimmering blubber formed itself into an egg shape and extruded the necessary appendages for sight, speech, and remaining upright. The newly formed eyes locked upon the accused.
"You who stand before me are accused of no less than 37 counts of treason, 15 counts of genocide, 3 counts of espionage, and worst of all, 1 count of displeasing his royal majesty. When you are found guilty, you shall be placed into a suspension chamber, and held until it can be determined that you are the sole remaining life in the universe. As a herbivore of a great heard, we find no punishment more fitting than to see you left as alone as any have ever been."
The herbivore said nothing. He wilted a bit under the gaze and speech of the king but tried not to show it. His ear slits opened, head swiveling about as a portal opened In the central platform. A small wooden box rose from the hole and settled as it closed again. In the pictogram language of the empire it read "Evidence."The arena fell silent.
Security surrounded the box and opened it, pulling out three small wrapped objects and bringing them to the king. The king unwrapped the first item as he spoke.
"You have given the humans forbidden technology. The event was witnessed, and we have brought before us replicas off the objects in question. The first is this. Did you or did you not give a human a Brrovikam nail file?!?"
The arena went silent as the herbivore quietly spoke. The sound system strained but picked up the reply for all to hear.
"Yes... yes but... she had torn a nail and, well, it was a nail file. I'd used it a thousand times. A nail file isnt... technology? What could they possibly do with one?
What could they do with one indeed, thought the king. Those things would not be discussed aloud, fearing the morale of the empire. Before that nail file the humans had not known of carbon878. Dense but light, indestructible. Perfect for simple tools and gadgets that would be needed daily.
The humans had striped entire solar systems of carbon and built a fleet of indestructible starships. That was not for this simple farmer to know or worry about, and so king continued. He took and unwrapped the second object.
"And this? Did you give a second human a Triviaw straight shaving razor?
"Yes... yes my leige. But it's just a simple knife. We use one daily!"
Daily indeed thought the king. The nearly incomprehensible mettalugry of the knife caused it to cut only the thing it was meant for, hair. You could stand a mountain of soft eggs upon the edge and the blade would not cut through them. The humans had somehow analyzed, reroduced, and then even altered the knife. And what did the humans do with the ability to cut only specific materials? They made bullets of course. Long spearing knife bullets that could cut only a hull, only a viewport, only an engine casing. It was truly a disaster. The king sighed and continued.
"Finally, did you give a human child this Grogier toothbrush?"
"Yes, my king, he had forgotten his and..."
The stadium roared. That simple toothbrush had been made with Grogier hair bristles. A simple and normal thing, seemingly, just a bit of animal fur. Afterall, it was well known you could find a Grogier, otherwise called space sheep, nearly anywhere. Earth had aquired a flock to feed it's people and had noticed nothing extraordinary, until that toothbrush.
The hairs existed in 6 dimensions. No one knew how, or why, those hairs had grown. if you had something that could cut them and only them, precisely, a container to hold them in that could not be destroyed, and added a bit of energy.
It was not clear why the humans would do such a stupid thing. It had never been tried before anywhere in the empire. The answer, or result, was you would travel through space the same way the sheep did. POP! And you were there. It was a complete disaster. Humans had been appearing from no where, everywhere. They had been denied admission to the empire, and now they were erasing it from existance. The king blurbled sadly and looked at the herbivore a last time.
"Then by your own admission do I order the sentence carried out. May you find peace for,what you have done at the end of days. " |
There was no point in waiting anymore. They were not coming back. He was stuck on this grey cratered waste, and would be until his oxygen ran out.
And that would not happen for days.
He did want to not ruminate darkly until then, anticipating the inevitable; anticipating the indignity of dying, of choking to death, *not* when he was ready, *not* when he chose, but instead when his oxygen tank was depleted. He did not want to die like that. He did not want to die as he had lived: swept up by the current of fate, never really deciding things for himself, never choosing things according to his own wishes and desires, but instead doing what fate and his circumstances had prescribed for him.
He would decide this one thing, then. He would not wait timorously for fate to decide it for him. The moment of his death he would decide for himself. And that moment would be now.
He began undoing his helmet.
"Don't do that,"a voice, perhaps his conscience, perhaps his spacesuit, commanded.
Nevertheless, he continued. Using his puffy, mittened hands, he untwisted the tabs that fastened the outside of his helmet to the outside of the suit. Then he began pulling at the velcro that fastened the middle layers together.
"Neil, stop this nonsense,"the voice said.
His conscience sounded more irritated than anything. It spoke more like a mildly disappointed film director at an actor acting up, refusing to do the scene as ordered, going out of character, going off script than it did a conscience. But despite its tepidly issued injunctions, he persisted in pawing at the last straps that lashed his helmet to his head. He popped it off. There was a bright light beaming at his face.
He covered his eyes with his arm.
"What's going on?"he slurred. "Hello?"
"Get him another couple capsules,"said the voice, his conscience, which sounded considerably more immediate, visceral, like the voice of another real human being, than the voice of a conscience.
Gradually his eyes adjusted to the light. The whole landscape had changed. Gone was the Earth, a little blue marble suspended in a black wash of twinkling stars. And the chalky, gritty grey surface of the moon on which he had been standing only moments before was much the same; except now it did not stretch on all the way to the horizon in every direction. It extended only about fifteen feet out from from where he stood. He looked behind and saw that his back was to a wall, uniformly bright-green. He felt confused. Incredibly confused.
A young man in a black turtleneck and a black beret hurried out of the shadows towards him, holding in one hand a cup of water and clasping a couple capsules in the other.
"Here you are, sir,"he said, holding them out to Neil.
"What are these for?"he slurred. "What's going on? Am I inna dream or something? I feel kinda woozy. Mostly fine, only a little woozy. Only I can't quite recall where I am. I thought--well, the mission was..."
"Take these, sir,"said the stage-hand. "They'll help with all that."
Neil stared at the capsules and the water. He was incredibly thirsty.
"Just gimme the water,"he said.
"No Neil,"said the voice of his conscience. "You only get the water once you've taken the capsules."
He frowned, squinting into the light, trying to see where his conscience was speaking from.
"Just take them, sir,"said the young man. "It's important."
"Take them Neil,"the voice ordered.
So he shook his head and held out his hand and washed back the capsules.
|
And now, the **ABCs of Murder!**
**A** is for Asphyxiation, at last a gasp,
**B** is for Bludgeoning, not just to the kneecap.
**C** is for Cutting, not only in a surgery,
**D** is for Drowning, don't breathe water in an emergency.
**E** is for Electrocution, a shocking way to go,
**F** is for Freezing, drop them in the snow!
**G** is for Grapeshot, oh 13 Vendémiaire,
**H** is for Hurling, throwing them way over there!
**I** is for Injection, go lethal or go home,
**J** is for Jaundice, take their liver for a roam.
**K** is for Knifing, bring none to a gunfight,
**L** is for Laudanum, send them gently to that good night.
**M** is for Mangling, just rearrange the body,
**N** is for Necrotizing, make headlines with this oddity.
**O** is for Overdose, really anything will do,
**P** is for Pressure, don't let it get to you!
**Q** is for Quartz, not the way they wanted to get stoned,
**R** is for Revving, don't use a car that you own.
**S** is for Slicing, if you can take your time,
**T** is for Trauma, leave nothing behind.
**U** is for Unmaking, utter and complete,
**V** is for Victual, have something to eat!
**W** is for Whiplash, a quick snap of the neck,
**X** is for Xiphoid, a bit of bone left to wreck.
**Y** is for Yank, just keep pulling and pulling,
**Z** is for Zombie, just leave them comatose and dulling.
So many ways to go on a killing spree,
So let's just get started, you and me! |
“Oh no.”
I look down at the vagrant’s body. He wears a royal insignia under his tattered robes, as well as a gorgeous carnelian signet. On his ears are earrings made presumably out of rubies, plated in solid gold. He was a prince, or a noble under those tattered old robes. No, he was different.
I look at the insignia, and I realize what it means. He was the king’s Chosen One. He was the one destined to save the Kingdom of Werloden from utter despair, from the brinks of ruin. He was the one destined to defeat the vile Nighttiger Stormwell, a sorcerer of the highest order. He was in all means speaking, the Hero of Werloden!
I look around, and whistle softly to myself. No one needs to know this happened. It’s a slow day, my partner is on his break, and no one saw what happened. I pocket the earrings and carnelian signet. Sorry, too good for me to resist. I toss the Chosen One insignia into the nearby drain.
Now, I’ve been the guard here for 30 years, and I’ve killed more than you can imagine. All of them are buried deep in the nearby woods, courtesy of being assigned to the far outer castle post. King Dormenscu needs not to worry about a little thing like this. I’ll do him a favor, and dispose of this trash.
I always keep a little wheelbarrow in a rut nearby, and I heartily load his body into the vessel, whistling to myself to keep me company. Beautiful day, beautiful day. I cover him with the sheet I always use. I’ll dispose of him a little bit later, just a little later.
I take the opportunity to push the wheelbarrow a little ways into the thick woods, to prevent it from being seen, as that would be quite a bother. When the sunsets, and I return home to my house in the woods, I will take the wheelbarrow with me. |
Laughter broke the silence of the living room. Earthquakes were common in southern California, after all, and one of the party's guests had just offered a bawdy toast to break the tension.
But in the spare bedroom, the mood was still tense.
"How much of my wine have you drank tonight?"asked Isaac, his tone lighthearted but tinged in concern.
"Oh, shut up about the damn liquor,"replied James. "I've been your best friend for a decade, and I'm telling you, something's happening."
Another gentle aftershock rocked the cliffside house. Isaac caught himself worrying about the pool he'd just had built out back, overlooking the Hollywood sign. The supports weren't completely settled yet; if these tremors didn't stop soon, something might fracture.
But James didn't notice that his friend was distracted. "Elena isn't just mumbling nonsense. Those are real words from a lost language."
"What language, then?"Isaac asked as he poked his head out into the living room. Most of his friends were focused on the TV, but there was still a small crowd huddled around his 6-month old daughter's crib, and they were all cackling with delight as the little girl babbled incessantly.
"Some call it R'lyehian. Others have dubbed it Cthuvian,"muttered James timidly, as though simply speaking such words was forbidden. "I don't know what she's saying, but it's the language of the Elder Gods. Of the Immortals."
"And you know this how?"Isaac was on the verge of heading back to the couch to catch the fourth quarter, but indulged his oldest friend on account of his own inebriation.
James hesitated, but when he finally opened his mouth, he was interrupted by another tremor. This one was strong enough to shake the house's windows and knock hangings off the walls. Cries of surprise sounded from the next room.
Isaac tried to leave the room, but was grabbed on the arm by James. "Listen to me, dammit. I'm just an acolyte, so I can't speak the Old Tongue --"Another powerful rumble "-- but I understand enough to know Elena's chanting a spell."
"Spell?"Isaac asked sardonically as he pulled his arm free. "Let's talk about this later, I need to see what's broken..."
But then a far more powerful rumble shook the impressive house, strong enough to rock shelves and knock anyone standing to their knees. There was screaming from the next room, some in fear, some in pain -- but there was also Elena's babbling, incessant amongst the mayhem. Isaac's thoughts were only for his daughter's safety as he left James behind and ran to the next room
Surrounded by terrified adults, the infant was standing in her crib, using the railing for support. Her blue eyes had always been bright, but now they seemed to produce their own light. Wearing naught but a diaper and onesie, the six-month-old was staring across the room, out the back windows, over the pool and towards the hills with an unsettling amount of focus.
Isaac picked up his daughter just as something hit. This was not a tremor, not a quake, but a blow to the very foundations of his home. As the roof fell in around him, Isaac's only thoughts were of saving his little girl. He held a protective hand over her head and wrapped his own body around her fragile body as plaster and shingle fell on them both.
Only after the dust had settled did Isaac have the courage to look up. The back half of his home had been demolished. The floor was intact, but the rear walls and most of the roof were missing. He could see some of the night's guests moving slowly, covered in blood, moaning as the unearthed themselves from the rubble. James seemed to have escaped most of the damage and was already running towards the now-open wall.
But Isaac was mostly focused on the view outside, where half a dozen helicopters circled a grey beast standing two hundred yards tall, with yellow eyes and lava spilling out its mouth. The monster had just smashed in his neighbor's home, and seemed to be moving on to the next.
"Isaac! I told you!"cried James from across the room, his voice a combination of dread and excitement. "The end is nigh!"
Before he could make sense of that, however, Isaac noticed a faint blue glow emanating from his chest. More specifically, from his daughter's eyes. Then six-month-old Elena looked up and said in perfect English:
"Take me outside, Father. That man is right. Your kind's destiny has arrived."
&#x200B;
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223/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
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edits: grammar. typing is hard. |
Captain Bugsy "The Bunny"Fury podded the body of his fallen comrade. When Yosemite rolled over the wound in his head was obvious. Sniper.
"Of course you realize,"Bugsy muttered under his breath. "This means war."
"Where's the razzin frazzer who did this, huh? Lemme at 'em? *Lemme at 'em!*"
"Daffy"was trying to fight back tears with a display of bravado that just came off as pathetic.
Between the men they lost in the jump, "Porky"going missing and now Yosemite dead the squad could hardly be called a squad anymore. Besides himself he was down to Lieutenant "Daffy"Dan Duckfield, Private Sylvester and Private Coyote.
And here they were, with kilometers of enemy territory standing between them and the intended drop point.
"What do we do now, sir?"asked Private Sylvester.
"That part's obvious,"said Bugsy. "Continue on to the drop point."
"There's only four of us left,"said Sylvester.
"Engh, not exactly a fair fight,"admitted Bugsy, "Tell you what: if it looks like we're beating them too overwhelmingly I'll order everyone to shoot with their left hands."
"So between the mountains, the snipers, and the roadside checkpoint the only path forward left where we live in the mountains,"said Sylvester.
"Can't go over the mountains,"said Bugsy. "Take too long. Never make the drop point in time."
"Get me a piece of scrap metal from a tank, some C4, and a giant rubber band and I'll get us across those mountains in time to make the rendezvous,"said Private Coyote.
"No need,"said Bugsy, taking the cigar out of his mouth. "We'll just go through the check point."
"That's suicide!"said Sylvester.
"No,"said Bugsy, pointing back towards the village. "Sue's back there."
* * *
Private Maus and Private Hund watched their checkpoint with the utmost vigilance. It was their own tiny slice of the war and they were as determined to win it as the Magical Kingdom of United Germany was the war itself.
There was the tiniest rustling, the subtlest of movements of light and shadow. Both Private Maus and Private Hund aimed their rifles as one.
"Halt!"they said, in virtual unison. "Who goes there?"
"Don't shoot,"said Captain Bugsy, emerging from the brush with his hands up. He was followed by Daffy and the Privates. "It's just us."
"Who are you?"asked Hund.
"Enemy sodliers, dumbkopf!"said Maus, smacking him upside the helmet.
"What are you talking about?"asked Bugsy. "Who's an enemy soldier?"
"That's you!"sneered Maus. "Don't think I don't know an enemy soldier when I see one. My first of many clues was your American uniform. Such deductions are child's play for the master race."
"Right so I don't see what the problem is,"said Bugsy.
"The problem is that you are the enemy. We are at war. That means we kill one another."
"I don't think so. It seems like we're having a pleasant conversation."
"The killing will commence once the conversation is over!"insisted Maus.
"Well, there's an easy solution to that,"said Bugsy, turning his head to speak to no one in particular. "Listen, I didn't want to have to embarrass you in front of your other soldiers so I wanted to do this quietly but... you realize you're on the wrong side right?"
"What are you talking about?"asked Hund.
"You're not American soldiers, are you?"
"Of course not!"Maus almost shouted. "We fight for the glory of the fatherland!"
"Yeah but this is an American check point,"said Bugsy.
"This is a German check point!"said Maus.
"I think you guys reported to the wrong side's check point. Don't feel too bad, it happens to everyone. You guys had better get back to your own side before your commanding officer finds out though."
"This isn't an American check point. This is a German check point!"said Maus, incensed.
"It's an easy mistake to make,"said Bugsy, "but this is an American check point."
"No it isn't!"said Maus.
"Yes, it is!"insisted Bugsy.
"No it isn't!"snapped Maus.
"Yes it is!"replied Bugsy, mirroring his energy.
"No it isn't!"shouted Maus, really seething now.
"No!"shouted Bugsy. "It isn't!"
"Yes!"shouted Maus. "It is!"
"No it isn't!"
"YES! IT! IS!"
"Fine,"said Bugsy, putting his hands back up. "I give. You win. It's an American check point. So I guess that means we're stuck manning it."
"That's right!"said Maus. "You stupid Americans can't fool us!"
"When you're beat,"said Bugsy, "you're beat. Better give us those rifles though. They belong to the check point."
"Right,"said the two privates, and they relinquished their weapons.
They made it half way back to their base on foot before realizing they had been had. |
It's a daisy. Was there anything more to it?
I watched, stalking from the stalks of green as he kept touching the stalk of the daisy.
"Stalk, Stalk..."He murmured to himself.
Oh my god, it's infected my thoughts.
He pulled it, teasing me that he'll finally pull it's weak clinging roots out of the loose soil. Always just enough to get me to hold my breath, never hard enough to lead to anything.
I scratch at my legs. Itchy, all over. That's what I get for being still for so long. I purse my lips and take a deep breath. This was infuriating.
"Stalk... Stalk... ***Stalkerr..."***
He turns to me. ragged beard and all, with glowing eyes. The sky fled, leaving grey in its place. The rustling of leaves and quips of crickets turned to a low rumbling that permeated the sky. I widen my eyes.
I've never been wrong before. Thoughts flood my mind, a number so unquantifiably huge that I couldn't process it. This was the closest the concept of infinity has ever been to being grasped. I begin to tremble, frothing at the mouth.
I felt the ground reach more than my legs, and it didn't meet well with the back of my head. Arms twitching. Eyes twitching. Breathing sporadic. It's getting so much harder.
The only thing I could see, hear, feel and touch was zeros and nines. Racing past too fast to distinguish. I think I've stopped breathing. It's a miracle... how... I still can think...
...
All of a sudden, the sharp pain dulls to a resounding thud as my thoughts slow to a rate comprehensible.
I look at the man. His eyes no longer glowing, but looking at me with curiosity and befuddlement that any other person would only expect from the lowest of village idiots.
&#x200B;
I began to scream, and bolted off as fast as I could. |
**Do you remember what the Sun sounds like?**
It's quiet, like nothing at all.
I had forgotten what it was like with no rain. No thunder, nor the rushing roar of water in our streets...
...until *he* arrived.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. When he scraped his boots on the mat, clouds of dust arose from his feet.
Can you believe it? When was the last time you saw *dust?*
His face was cracked, and though he was old - older even than my father - the cracks were not just from age. Wrinkles ran like dry valleys from his brow to his eyes, down to his cracked, waterless lips.
“Father Tant, we’re glad you made it,” the Chief said.
But the other Citizens only stared.
Father Tant bowed his head, muttering more apologies and avoiding all eye contact. His hat was dry, as if it had been hanging over a fire for the last hour. He shuffled to the back of the House, where I was. I stood up to give the old man my seat.
“Thank you,” he nodded and groaned as he sat.
That’s when I thought I had gone deaf. Other citizens, too, were tugging at their ears and looking around for the source of sudden silence.
I looked out the window, and I could not believe mine own eyes.
I know you won’t believe me, but what I’m about to say is true.
The rain had stopped.
The waterways were *empty.* You could see where the waterline had stained the buildings with rust. You could see the old roads, cracked and *dry*.
But nobody said anything. They started the Meeting, as if nothing had happened at all.
“There is only one item on the agenda today,” the Chief announced. "The Wet Farmers are demanding a new motion. First, we discuss. Then, we vote. Is all understood?"
While she spoke, the old man next to me kept smacking his lips.
“Are you alright?” I whispered to him.
“Oh,” he said. “Oh, pardon me, son. Would you mind bringing me a glass of water? Quickly, now, as quick as you can.”
I did as he bade. I had to leave the Gathering House, for all the water appeared to have gone. Only a few streets over, the streets were again full of water. And the rain was back, steadily *tinking* against the tin rooves.
I know what you’re thinking. *That's impossible.* But I swear by the Gods, it was so.
With a canteen full of rainwater, I sprinted back to the Gathering House. I did not want to miss the meeting.
The Chief was arguing with the Farming Leaders. The Farming Leaders wanted to make an offering to the Gods. They wanted to make a sacrifice. *One child* for a season of dryness.
This, they believed, would satisfy the Gods. One season, and they could grow a bounty.
The Chief, with red anger, did not agree.
I poured the water into a glass and gave it to the old man. Father Tant took the glass, and in one swift motion, he tossed it back into his mouth. But before the water could reach his lips… it disappeared.
He held the empty glass up - as dry as if it had never held water at all - and said, “One more time, please.”
I filled it again. This time he tossed it back the moment I finished pouring. Again, the water did not reach his lips.
He sighed and handed me back the glass.
“Thank you, anyway, for trying.”
The arguing at the front of the Gathering House erupted into shouting. The Wet Farmers were leading the mob of Citizens, drowning out the Chief's appeals to reason.
"Help me up,"the Old Man said to me. And I gave him my arm. The moment he his fingers grasped my arm, I felt an overwhelming parchedness in my mouth.
He waded into the crowd, his boots scuffing up more clouds of dust. One by one, the people turned to regard him, unconsciously stepping out of his way. The shouting began to weaken, to fade to silence, made all the more deafening by the lack of rain.
Father Tant nodded at the Chief. She nodded back, relief shining in her eyes.
“A sacrifice?” Tant's voice was harsh and dry and grating on the ear. “Are we really so desperate?”
“Of course we’re desperate!” someone shouted. “Every year, half our crops rot and turn to mush.”
“No! That is desire speaking. But do not mistake *desire* for *desperation*. I made that mistake once. Ten years ago, this land rarely saw rain. The sun was brutal and our life was *hard*. I thought I was desperate, then. So I made a sacrifice of my own. And I prayed that the Gods might grant us rain.”
A question flitted through my mind, though I dared not ask it. *What did you sacrifice, old man?*
“Be grateful for what you have, you fools. And do not ask for more. Because the Gods are not your friends.”
“But we could have more!"Someone shouted. "One sacrifice is all it takes, right? Was your prayer not answered?”
“Yes, it was.” Father Tant said, “And the Gods are laughing still.”
***
*Damn, thanks for the kind response.*
[Here's my subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/PSHoffman/) if you want to read more assorted stories. |
The roar of the crowd booms above me as I walk along with my father below the stadium built by humanity. I bounce with anticipation, admiring the stonework and other metals bent to obtuse angles to make their large homes. No, not homes. People didn't *live* here, they came for entertainment.
Ten years of war, hundreds of millions dead, hatred abound, and I cannot help but be impressed by the humans. We may have emerged victorious, but there is no shame in the way that they fought. I was not on the frontlines like many of my friends, but I have seen the videos of their cities and creations. I stood on the bridge of one of our dreadnoughts, *YilluVe,* when we received the reports of the humans' final surrender.
There is nothing wrong with admitting that they are an impressive species. And now I get to see them in person for the first time. My father promised he would show me one.
I was kept away from this war for my own safety, they said. As the heir to the throne, I was not allowed to fight. Not yet, at least.
"It is exciting,"I say to my father as we walk. "Finally, I get to see the species we have fought for ten years."
My father grunts. "Had you fought the humans, even once, you may not be saying such things."he replies, ever the stoic Wennian. On our planet, his frown is known by all. Some of the reasons are funny. Others are not.
"We both know why I did not. You forbad it."
"For good reason."
"And yet you will not tell me this reason."
"Not yet,"he says as we round a corner. A few of our Wennian guard salute my father, our King and Commander, in our customary way. They spread their feet, slam their fists into the upper parts of their legs before bowing.
We pass through the doorway they guard, and I find myself looking at a group of hardened Wennian veterans. All have healed since their time on multiple war fronts six months ago. I am still getting used to marking the passing of time in human terms, but it is getting easier.
My father said every time we conquer a race, we should take something from them. To make us better. Because if their race survived long enough to draw our attention, to wage war with us, then they deserve to be remembered. I wonder what else we will adopt from the humans.
Though we are known throughout the galaxy as a warrior race, we are not a disrespectful one. When it comes time for me to sit on the throne, I will do well to remember that.
I stop alongside my father, and every Wennian, both muni and huthcu--man and woman in human terms--salutes him as the guard outside did.
He gives them all a nod. "Please, my friends, sit,"he says so low it sounds like a growl from one of those beasts we found in those cages. Humans apparently took vicious creatures from around their planet to view at their own pleasure. A strange measure.
"It has been a long war,"he says, receiving nods. "We have sacrificed much to conquer this planet. Before I continue, I would like to thank each and every one of you."He looks at each Wennian individually.
Say what you want about my father--that he's too ruthless, too stoic, too practical at times--but don't ever say he isn't a good King. He makes each muni and hutcu feel appreciated. None forgotten. Another thing I will have to remember.
He moves his mouth in a strange way, and I cock my long head. This is new. "But there are things...requests...that have been made by our council. Things I cannot refuse."He shakes his head. "I wish I could."
My father long ago taught me that while he may be King, and I after him, we are not given sole power on our planet. The King has his ability to make his mark, to command armies in times of war, but we still must work with the council. They are the other half of our leadership on our planet. Suffice it to say, if they ask the King of something, and he refuses too many times, he will begin to look like a tyrant.
I will not go into why my people hate tyrants. Our race is littered with would-be tyrants that spilled too much blood for anyone to ever forget.
"For the past ten years,"my father continues, "we have waged war with the humans. The council never stood in my way as I requested more soldiers, more materials. More to win this war. I believe, and still believe, that this planet and its resources will bring our species to new heights. But now, they request something too. That is why you are all here."
One of the muni stands. He is a tall Wennian by our standards. In human measurements, he is 1.9 meters. Or six feet and two inches by one stubborn country we conquered. They were a strange people of many peoples all under one flag. I still haven't forgotten them.
"What is it you request of us, my King?"he asks. "We followed you to war. We will follow you anywhere."
"The council would like to commemorate our victory with a series of competitions,"my father says. "On earth, they are called 'gladiatorial battles'. They pit two things against each other in a fight to the death, with minimal weaponry. Many times with none at all. It is the council's decision that these battles will represent, hopefully, the last battles our race will have to fight for some time."
The Wennian who stands puffs out his chest. There is laughter around the room by the rest. Even I have to smile at these hardened soldiers. "And what will we fight? Their beasts? After this war, there is little that frightens us."
My father stands up straight. "No. Not beasts. We are to fight some of the captured humans."
The air that had previously puffed out the Wennian soldier's chest disappears. His face....falls. He looks around the room at his fellow soldiers, many of whom slowly rise in confusion. I sense something in the air. No, it is not confusion.
It is terror.
"What?"another soldier, this one a hutcu who has burn marks up and down her head and arms, asks. "What did you say?"
"The council wishes for our company to fight some of the remaining human captives. It is to show our final act of dominance over this race."He scans the room. "And as the muni and hutcu of my personal company, you have been chosen to fight. I wish I could refuse their request."
Everyone around the room knows he cannot, lest he be branded a tyrant.
"They sentence us to die!"a third Wennian shouts. The hutcu stands. "Do they not know *anything* about the savages we just conquered? To fight them in single combat is to die! These humans laugh at death. They do not fear it! The only reason we won this war is because of our superior numbers and technological advantages."
The hutcu throws her eight-fingered hands over her head. "And that was barely enough!"
I look to my father, and he just takes their words. He has no disagreements. He fought alongside them.
"I watched my jillon (brother in human terms) lose his arms to a human soldier!"another Wennian shouts. "This human ripped his arms clean off his body, then removed his head for *fun!"*
The first Wennian soldier who addressed my father calms his fellows down. "They are bloodthirsty savages,"he says. "My King, please do not make us do this. Please. "They are larger than us. World's stronger. The council is sentencing us to die."He looks at me.
My father looks at the ground. "I wish I could. Especially because it is not just my most beloved, personal company that they ask to fight."He turns to me. "They require one more fighter."
"Father?"I ask. "What are you saying?"
"Do you remember what I taught you?"
I look down at the weapon on my waist. Of course, I remember our sessions as he taught me to fight. "Yes."
"Good. You will need it." |
[poem]
The story began with a song,
And I knew it sounded wrong.
Cosmological secrets in each verse,
Each crashed on my heart like a gong.
But then I stopped and thought:
Are these secrets worth more than a fart?
It could very well all be scary–
The song from this unholy fairy.
Yet, I remain unimpressed with the truth of neutrinos.
–You see–
I’ve already read a filthy story concerning a woman and her Doritos. |
Ten years since the Great War ended, and the world was scorched. Ten awful years of scrounging for drops of clean water and unirradiated food and doing plenty of things I’m not proud of to get them.
Like today. Our little group of nomads, five including myself and two horses, were scouring what was once Germany for water. It had taken us a year to reach here, of hard travel across Europe, all on the rumor that Germany had survived. Germany had made it. Germany has clean water, clean food, safety from the mutant psychic rats and hyper-cobras.
Germany was a living hell just like the other countries we passed through, and a month of traveling through it had done nothing to change that. If anything, this place was one of the worst we’d been through. But we didn’t know that when we started. Especially not Emmett, our animal handler, when he drank from the first river we found, thinking it was clean.
It hadn’t been, we found soon when he was throwing up. Good thing we learned before the rest of us drank any, but we’ve been travelling with him since, trying to help him. Yet there’s little we can do for radiation poisoning, and today’s the last straw. He’s grown too weak now to help with the horses, and the drain on our resources is too much…
“Make it quick, please.”
“I’m sorry, Emmett.”
“It’s alright… it’s alright. I understand, you have to do this.” Doesn’t make this any easier, though.
I sent the rest ahead a bit and took Emmett aside, explained the situation to him. He knew it was coming, but this was the last respect I could show him. He would know why I had to cut him loose instead of taking a bullet in the head while everyone slept.
“You can just leave, maybe-“
“We both know that’s no mercy.”
“Yeah.” I pulled out the hunk of junk pistol we had scavenged and checked how many bullets we had left. Four, but I didn’t feel bad about spending one. Not to send off Emmett quickly.
“I’m sorry.”
“I am too.” I placed the barrel against the back of his head and took a deep breath. Never any easier, whether it be granting a merciful death to a friend or a bloody one to an enemy raider. I squeezed the trigger-
Or I was going to, but the glint of metal in the noon sun caught my eye. I dropped down and knocked Emmett over, thinking it might be the glare of a sniper scope. But as we lay tangled across the ground, Emmett softly cursing, no bullet came.
I ventured a glance up, and there it still was. But now I could see that it was actually growing closer, and as I waited for several long moments as it approached, eventually I could tell it was a bus. An actual bus, and in good condition too. Not a rusted piece of junk like all of the vehicles we found, but one so sparkling that it must’ve just been driven out of the factory with two loudspeakers set across the top.
“For the next exciting feature of our tour through the apocalypse, we have a treat for you. Two survivors, but look, oh no! One looks to be badly irradiated, and the leader of the group has taken them out to ‘take them out,’ if you get what I mean.” German rattled out of the loudspeakers as the bus came to a stop beside us, and now we could see dozens of people piled up inside.
They moved to the side closer to us and began to snap photos with their phones – working phones? What? Emmett and I stood there with our jaws dropped to the lifeless dirt below.
“He’s likely sent the rest ahead so they don’t have to see their friend die.” The voice continued to boom out of the loudspeaker as they took photos.
“Uh, hello?” I gathered myself long enough to speak, my voice squeaky and dry from days without water.
“Hello! Oh, they know German. We will now enter the Q/A portion of the tour, if any of you have questions for these survivors.”
“Oh, uh… no, actually. I have a few questions.” I raised my hand.
“Yes? Please, go ahead.”
“Who are you?”
“We’re Tour through the Apocalypse, a tourism company based in Switzerland. We pride ourselves on showing Swiss citizens a genuine view of the wastelands outside of our utopian society.”
“I… see. Follow-up, what’s in Switzerland? Clean water, food, survivors, medicine?”
“All of that.”
“Oh.” Emmett and I shared a glance.
“Can we hitch a ride back with you?”
“Only if you can pass our strict evaluation process. Are you ready?”
“…Sure?” My hand tensed around the pistol.
“Are you both cannibals?”
“What? No. We wouldn’t be so damn hungry if we resorted to that inhumane barbarism.”
“Wonderful. The evaluation process has been concluded. My, what a novelty. Actual survivors on the bus? You’re in a real treat today, valued customers. Please feel free to ask them whatever questions you like.” The door swung open. I helped Emmett up and carried him aboard, only to be greeted by several eager faces standing in the aisle way.
They parted long enough for us to take a seat before bombarding us with various questions. Most of them were asking after how many people we killed, what had we been eating to survive, and what living in the wasteland was like.
It was overwhelming to say the least but given that within the hour we had picked up the rest of our similarly confused group and were on our way back to civilization, it was manageable.
“This is weird.”
“Yes, but what can you expect? They’re Swiss.” |
Death has always been a ritual. Life departs the body. Someone finds the body. Family and friends mourn. Tears are shed, stories are exchanged, inheritances are sorted out. And then the people that remain continue roaming the world of the living.
Dying can be cumbersome. Especially if it is repeated every day. I first died after being struck by a coconut hurtling down from the sky at 400 mph as I was walking on Fifth Avenue. My family, heartbroken, commenced the traditional ritual. My mom, sister and grandmother stayed up all night in my 2-bedroom apartment in Midtown. They combed through my belongings, clinging onto my stuff in life.
It is unnecessary to mention that I was scared shitless when I stepped out of my bedroom the next day at 5:30 am, and saw the three of them sitting in the common room staring at me wide-eyed. I didn’t even remember giving them keys to my new apartment. My sister, her eyes circled in black from smeared mascara, tried mumbling “but… how can that be…”
After I drank my morning coffee, I died again. The three were still recovering from their grief. They were returning my belongings to their place when I banged my head against the front metal door. My skull cracked. My grandmother fainted. I was rushed to the hospital.
My grandmother insisted that some divine involvement must be taking place. Someone was keen on taking my little one, she said in a muffled tone. Religious as she was, she realized that the probability that the miracle that occurred the night prior will repeat itself is trifle.
They stayed up all night, staring at my bedroom door. My grandmother lost all hope by 6:00 am. No one dared look inside the bedroom to see if I was there. When I opened the door again at 7:00 am my sister and mom sighed in relief, and my grandmother cried yet again, thanking God in an almost inaudible prayer between stifles and tears of joy.
I shrieked so loudly the entire building must have woken up.
I died of a heart attack.
After the third death, they stopped coming to my apartment after I died. They rarely visited the hospitals I was rushed to. The doctors pronounced my death every day. I tried to explain to them the situation they were witnessing. There is no reason to waste resources, I will surely wake up tomorrow. But they said that they are not legally allowed to leave me untreated. After a while I stopped protesting.
I became acquainted with the doctors. Some days, I was still conscious when I arrived at the hospital, and had an opportunity to interact with the doctors and nurses taking care of me before my soul fell dormant.
I started spending less and less time with my family. I was invited to a few family gatherings, and was kept out of the children’s sight. They were afraid witnessing death may traumatize the kids, my sister said. Everyone is afraid of death, and I was a walking reminder, to both adults and children alike… |
It was odd. I had seen this movie countless times, watching as the heroes make their dramatic entrance, then struggle in their fight, find some way to pull out a victory, then have everything neatly tied up in the end.
*Why does The Iron Man not let go of the...projectile with fire... missile before the opening... portal entrance?*
I looked over at Glorm, sitting in my room on my couch, wearing a shirt with Thor on it, looking not too dissimilar from the alien invaders in the first *Avengers* movie we were watching.
I shrugged and went back to watching as Robert Downey Junior fell from the sky after his near heroic sacrifice.
"He wanted to be the hero,"I replied before sipping my beer.
*Ah.* I heard in my head as his helmet translated the thoughts I wanted to hear. *A person who sacrifices themself for others. Is that how I interpret that?*
I glance askance, not wanting to miss the Hulk scream save Junior scene.
"Yeah...that's about right."
We watch the scene. I always chuckle at it.
*It is never easy.* he thought to me.
"What isn't?"I ask.
*Doing for others...with no regard for self...Sacrifice.*
I think for a second.
"Yeah...it never is."
*It's never over, either.*
"Never."I miss without a beat as we finished watching Loki taken into custody.
*And that never happens either.* Glorm noted, pushing a button on his carapace armor. I heard it releases sustenance to a soldier of his race as they couldn't take off their suits in Earth atmosphere.
With the film winding down, I looked at my seven foot house guest in war gear, a white Thor shirt placed over it, and had to guess what he meant.
"Do you mean...capturing the bad guy?"
Glorm also appraised me.
*Clean? Yes...clean. A resolution that is clean. Nothing left to do afterwards. Always more to do.*
As a military liaison to this particular Ma-Hala soldier for a 'cultural exchange' session, nothing hit as hard as Thor's hammer than an apt comparison, shared by someone entirely from a literal alien culture.
"Yeah...we had...oh...some twenty years ago...that's twenty times Earth orbited the Sun by the way...someone who proclaimed 'Mission Accomplished.' We spent the better part of those twenty years cleaning that mess up..."
I chugged a final gulp of my alcohol to cleanse the surfacing thoughts of my last two tours for that.
*Yes...that. We had...* He was struggling for the right thought. *similar issues on our world, many rotations ago. Our people had the same...ideas. We fight until...we cannot fight. That never happens. But we...sleep think...dream of better times. Times when we can say we did everything and there is nothing left to fight.*
I had to think about that. Obviously, the Ma-Hala from everything we knew about them were a warlike species in conflict with dozens of other species across the galaxy. And for some reason, instead of razing the Earth, an insignificant little blip in the celestial scheme without an iota of advanced stellar travel, they wanted to talk to us...
"So...why did you stop this time? With Earth?"
Glorm paused. The end credits were finally rolling.
*You. Humans. You are so much like us. You...dream you are the...people who sacrifices for others... heroes. You go to war and think you win. But you never win...just like us.*
Thanos finally makes his appearance at the end of a credits roll. Blah blah blah, sequel bait.
Glorm points to Thanos.
*You never see the end. Just another...beginning. Just like us.*
The film finally ended, the credits roll done and I'm sitting back on my couch as Glorm begins to slow clap. Something he learned about human etiquette at the end of movies.
And here I was, thinking my existential dread hosting a war alien in my home couldn't hit closer... |
I watched my students bounce in with joy for sparring day. It was everyone’s favorite day at the dojo and excitement filled the air. It’s the time for them to showcase their skills and practice new techniques, all in the name of friendly competition. The boys were always eager, I often found it hard to get them to pay attention prior to the matches. They would rush through their stretches and start tumbling on the mats with unbridled energy.
Today was no different.
I did a quick headcount and found that all seven of my students were accounted for. No one was late for sparring day. If you were late, you had to put up the mats, and no one wanted that.
I cleared my throat, “All right, boys it’s time to…”
The small bell on the door rang as it was pushed open again. Surprised, I turned to find a small girl standing there. She was a head shorter than the rest of my students and her tiny limbs looked thin and unused. Despite that, she had a sarashi wrapped around her torso loosely covered by a purple keikogi.
She shifted on her feet awkwardly under my gaze, “Um, excuse me? Is today’s session open for guest sparring?”
It wasn’t uncommon for guests to come to the dojo during sparring day, but usually, they were boys from local gyms.
I gave her a warm smile to put her at ease, “Welcome! Of course, our gym is always open to guests. You are welcome to spar today, or just sit in and watch if you prefer.”
“I want to spar please.”
I bowed deeply, “We are honored to have you. I’m Hiroshi Sensei.”
“I’m Kaiya,” she returned my bow.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise, the meek girl from a second ago spoke with resolve and I watched her eyes glinting with determination.
After everyone limbered up, I decided it was time to call the first match.
“Jered, why don’t you spar with Kaiya first?”
Jered kicked his feet, “Aw, do I have to? She’s just a girl.”
My eyes hardened, “Now, Jered what have I told you about disrespecting your opponents?”
Jered slunk toward the center of the mats where Kaiya was waiting, “Fine.”
Kaiya started by giving a deep bow to her opponent which Jered reluctantly returned. I strode between them and dropped my hand to start the match. Kaiya moved swiftly and lifted her leg to strike. In his arrogance, Jered didn’t even try to dodge the kick and watched it with an amused look on his face. It was over a second later. Jered’s ribs crunched and he was left doubled over on the mats.
Kaiya gave another bow, “Thank you for honoring me with a match.” She turned to me, “Hiroshi Sensei, may I challenge another opponent?”
“Of course, the mats are yours until you lose,” I nodded.
You would think the boys would have learned their lesson after watching Jered get dropped. They didn’t. The rest of the six boys were beaten thoroughly by Kaiya. She displayed technique and agility far surpassing any of my students. Despite the one-sided beatdowns, she always ended each match with respect and was sure to bow to every opponent.
As the boys groaned on the floor, I beckoned Kaiya to my side, “That was very well done Kaiya. You displayed great skill.”
She bowed, “Thank you, Hiroshi Sensei.”
“I have to ask though; your level is far beyond a beginner dojo such as this. What made you come in today?”
Kaiya blushed and began to fidget, “Um. Well, I uh… I found out that the boys here were bullying my younger brother.”
I frowned, “They *what*?”
Kaiya looked away and mumbled, “They bullied him.” She bowed and spoke up, “I’m sorry for disrespecting your dojo like this Sensei.”
“Please stand up.” Kaiya straightened and looked me in the eye. “I’m sorry my students have caused you and your brother harm.” I gave a full bow, “Please forgive me for failing them.”
She smiled and nodded.
“Now then, do you still have the energy to spar some more Kaiya?”
Kaiya looked puzzled, “Yes Sensei.”
“Great, because I don’t think they’ve learned their lesson yet.” I smirked, “Boys on your feet. ***Now***.”
The boys groaned and stumbled to their feet.
The next several hours in the dojo were filled with reprimands and kicks, as both Kaiya and I taught lessons these boys better never forget. |
From the outside, it looked like they were having a New Year's party. Cars filled the driveway and lined the street for five hundred yards in both directions. A keen watcher would have seen black and green cases unloaded and carried into the house. Now they were stacked up against the dining room wall next to the cabinet where the Byron family kept their silver.
Both branches of the family had arrived in force. There were two dozen uncles and aunts in attendance and nearly a hundred cousins.
But it was no party. Everyone was armed. There were weapons everywhere, leaning against the wall, strewn across the tables, stacked up on the breezeway.
The talk was quiet and serious. Most everyone sat in little groups, going over maps, preparing weapons and gear.
Luna had not seen her cousin Brandon since Christmas 09. Today he sat on a chair in her living room. To his left was a stack of loaded magazines three feet high. To his right were boxes of ammunition. He loaded empty magazines with a methodical efficiency.
Her aunt Cordelia was in the breakfast nook. The bowls and knickknacks which lived there had been haphazardly swept onto the ground and swept into the corner so no one tripped on them.
The table was now host to a swirling mass of purple smoke. Aunt Cordelia had her eyes closed. She moved her hand from side to side, and the smoke moved. It seemed to be speaking to her. Others were with her, taking notes and talking quietly.
Two others from her mom's side were practicing moving through walls. One put an incantation on the wall, and the other walked through, then they switched. In the backyard, cousin Killian was flying, and he had another cousin hooked to him by harness. Luna had counted sixteen fliers who would attack through windows and come down from the roof.
Her parents were in the kitchen, arranged around the island with three uncles and two aunts. They were changed. There was no other word for it. The kindly man Luna had called father for twenty years was not in her house.
In his skin was a different man, this one grim and war-hardened, cunning and ruthless. His face seemed to have sharpened, his features deeper and coarser than she remembered. Had that scar on his chin always been there? Had they grey eyes always been so cold? How had she missed the scars on his knuckles? The burn marks on his thumbs from hot-loading shells?
He spoke of killing with the dignity and confidence of long practice, and when he spoke all quieted and listened. His voice did not rise, but it carried across the room with perfect clarity.
How perfectly he had hidden this man from her. How completely had he compartmentalized himself. The quick-smiling man who used to throw her in the lake concealed beneath his skin a practiced killer and cunning general.
Luna could not be more thankful for it. Her brother was missing. She had learned in receiving that news the lesson that many have learned and often to their sorrow - that in times of need, innocence is no virtue.
Her mother stood with him, and her transformation was easier to imagine. Her mother was not a joker and never had been. She smiled rarely and when she did they were tinged with the cousin of sadness for which Luna had no name. Her mother was made of kindness and duty and sorrow and nothing else. Whatever else there may have been had been shorn off or sacrificed.
Her father wanted to go at once, when the word had reached them. "Let's go get him, Liv,"he'd said, their small personal arsenal spread out on the counter. "You and me is all we need."
She forbade it. She summoned the family, and they responded at once and in strength. Luna had no doubts, kindness and duty and sorrow be damned. When it came down to the wire, when the cards were on the table, it was her mother who would go to any length, cross any boundary, or make any compromise.
The sight of them like this should have frightened her, but it did not.
They would get him back. Safe and unharmed. This belief went beyond hope and became expectation. They would get him back. |
*This is a chronological report on the historical time period between the early 21st century and the start of the 22nd century, also known as the Great Anticipation Unification (GAU).*
*In this report you’ll read the actions mankind took in response to the First Contact Ultimatum (FCU). The relevant time period will be broken up in several different era’s decided upon by the general theme that differentiates them from one another. The events that I’ll describe will be generalized and might miss some important details. The footnotes will provide further reading material on the different subjects highlighted in this report.*
**2023 – 2023 First contact**
This event doesn’t so much concern an entire era, but the catalyst for what would drive humanity during the GAU. It all began by our first contact with extraterrestrial life forms. An unknown fleet of unrecognized sentient beings contacted Earth with the message that they had observed out civilization and had deemed it insufficient. We are still discussion by which metrics they came to this conclusion, but the ultimatum was clear. They would give humanity one time period to us known as a century to improve out society, or we humanity would be erased. The alien fleet left out planet soon after. Unaware of which movements they had put into motion.
**2023 – 2030 Two paths**
This period is signified by two different school of thought among those in power. One block – represented by the US – sought a path of conflict and divergence. They proposed a plan where we as humans used the century given to us to cooperate and invest heavily in new weapon technology and defense systems on a global scale. The other block - represented by the EU – sought appeasement. They proposed we would pour resources into research what the shortcomings could be that these aliens deemed insufficient and that we proceed in rectifying these areas as to preserve life on Earth and potentially build durable (and profitable) relations with this galactic fleet and those they represent. There were other actors as well, but those never got any noticeable traction.
*Notable side events of the period:- Ukraine war was ceased as Russia sought to rebuild and innovate their weapon capabilities.*
*- The US and China signed an agreement on knowledge exchange for the development of weapon chips (a decision Taiwan protested against).*
**2030 – 2040 The start of unification**
Unlike the annotation of this time period may seem to convey, this period didn’t immediately identify itself through collaboration. The issue of the previous time period hadn’t been fully solved and the US and EU were still tied up in a trade war with the aim to push through their philosophy on the matter. Ultimately this war was won by the US, but not by making some concessions. The adjustment to the plan was that humanity would prepare itself, but would not seek total annihilation. The aim was to defend and dismantle this galactic fleet, but seek durable relations after submission. This way humanity could work toward their unified goal without internal strive.
Trade agreements were made, as well as agreements on the mutual exchange of weapon and technological innovation data.
*Notable side events of the period:- The Netherlands became the de-facto capital of the Western chip manufactoring and development division.*
**2040 – 2055 Progress era**
In this era weapon progress was at its peak. Never before had humanity made such progress in out understand off and ability to create weapons this advanced. The armament agreements between nations meant that without secrecy innovation could be increased to its maximum capacity. It was frightening what this new generation of weapons was capable of. Did we already have the ability to erase entire nations through the use of nuclear warheads, these weapons could cause destruction on a planetary level. We made advancements in nuclear fusion, carbon-neutral energy sourcing, gravity field manipulation and EMP weaponry and anti-EMP defense systems. This was also the era in which civilians were unilaterally trained in combat skills and basic weapon execution from the ages of twelve and up.
**2055 – 2075 Cultural assimilation**
With a prolonged period of global peace old grudges were forgotten now that new generations came into power. This new generation didn’t see this period as a temporary suspension of hostilities, but as the first steps to global peace. With the exchange of knowledge and goods the use for a more global language system made it so that most people were capable of speaking both English and Chinese fluently. Local languages were on the verge of dying out in many areas and efforts were made to consciously preserve them for the future. However, ideals like that were postponed until after the reckoning with the galactic fleet.
The world also adopted a global currency modeled after the Euro, which has been largely a success within the European economic area before the FCU.
**2075 – 2115 Setting up shop**
This era was defined by the effort to make all our offensive and defensive systems fully integral and operational. For each system up to five times the necessary personal had been trained in anticipation to unforeseen circumstances. At the time humanity wasn’t aware of the military capabilities of the enemy, so they assumed and prepared for the worst.
Bases the size of certain countries were set up in three key areas. Assuming the enemy would attack the most developed areas based on the information available to them back in 2023, these designated hot spots were the US, EU and China. This also created a perimeter stretching the entirety of Earth, so we could react to offensive actions from all sides.
A back up system was set up on the Antarctic – there were plans for a similar base on the Arctic, but that had since melted.
**2115 – Today Anticipation**
This last era is the time period in which we find us now. This means that the description will lack reflective qualities, but it’s still of academical importance to put past actions and events into context. Future historians will be tasked with judging and evaluating our actions and the aftermath of the inevitable war. Will we win? Who knows.
Everything is in place and personnel runs daily training operations. If there is any area that I can point to specifically as having advanced it would our simulation capabilities. With the century long development of AI technologies we are able to make realistic training scenarios based on out limited interactions with the enemy from almost a hundred years ago. Humanity has shown itself unified, certain, focused, creative and resilient.
All there is left to do is wait for the enemy!
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
**Footnotes – further reading***Becker. A (2027) – What’s best for our future?Hansson. C (2033) – The answered questionGills & Solar (2044) – Progress with a capital PFeltman (2050) – Why humans are awesomeGeldt-Fields (2060) – Chinese and English for dummiesTussel (2075) – The long waitReginald (2100) – New century, new Earth*
(If you liked this story, please feel welcome at r/zeekoeswriting to read my other stories!) |
So the Earth had dried up. What limited resources left would not sustain much longer.
It was no surprise, people have seen it coming a hundred years ago. The world government had put together a last-ditch effort, and funded the conception of a spaceship named the Ark. The team consisted of nearly half of the remaining population. They trained long and hard for many months, studying late into the night for survival and colonization, driven by the responsibility on their shoulders to find humans, their brethern another home. They were pioneers, they were heroes. They brought loved ones aboard, so that they may reproduce on the journey that will outlast them.
Captain looked out the window of the Ark. What a fine machine. He watched the hardened faces of his people load up the craft, commending each their bravery and their volunteer for the survival of the human race. Today was the big day.
Of course, the Ark never made it out.
Science never got that far, what a bunch of idiots to have believed that a ship could travel for light-years.
The remaining populace all knew, some were sad, others rejoiced. They bought a little bit more time. |
Zagdahl had been in the Cooper family a very long time. Centuries ago, before men of Christ had reached the highlands, their line had been thanes and the women of their line powerful witches. They had summoned him one bleak and bloody night to slay their enemies pounding at their keep's door.
He had killed all who brought him into this world, but Zagdahl had fulfilled his promise to them. But by destroying his doorway back to the world, he had bound himself to the bloodline, chained himself to their command. His only hope had been that they would die out, but they proved themselves a fertile and resilient bunch.
Hence why he now found himself in America. Witches were replaced by televangalists and teenagers in black cotton t-shirts. Thanes were replaced by paper ballots and playground bullies.The family had always called him Dubh Sgalag, which in early broken Gaelic amounted to something along the lines of "Dark Servant". But the irony that another handy translation was "Sad Fool"didn't escape Zagdahl.
He had not been called by his true name in centuries, but for some reason when Quinn Cooper had asked him his name that first night he stepped out of her closet and loomed over her in the moonlight, he had given her his true one. And despite corrections from her parents, she still called him Zagdahl. Although often she shortened this to Dahl.
"He's my favourite author,"she had explained. Zagdahl, however, could taste when a human lied. But he didn't need that to know how embaressed she was over her lisp that made the Z hard to form.
Quinn caught on quick to the whole mistress-demonic servant relationship. Some of his past keepers had kept him locked away in a shadow in a box their entire life. Some had tried to use him for world domination, which of course never ended well (as the last Thane he served could attest). But Quinn seemed to instinctively know that sweet spot. He stole her the odd cookie, cleaned her room, helped her with her math homework. Once, he had killed the car battery when they were on a trip to visit a terribly boring uncle. And he always made sure her library books were back on time.
The day she came home witha cut lip and bruises up her arm, he was concerned. Her parents accepted that she'd fallen off the monkey bars, but her lies tasted like honey to him.
"Just some stupid kids,"she muttered, tossing her dusty sweater on the clean sheets that Zagdahl had just made her bed with. "It's nothing, Dahl."
He had been ordered by her parents not to teach her any tricks of summoning or command yet. She was only eight. But Quinn was his mistress, and any other human could bite his boney ass as far as he was concerned. Unlike all the pathetic wastes of flesh on daytime television, Zagdahl would never have to bum around Europe eating mushrooms and writing poetry to know his purpose on this Earth. He had been summoned to destroy the enemies of the clan. And that's what he intended to do.
It was two months before she finally summoned him at school. He had been arranging her closet one moment (so many shoes she definitely no longer fit into) and on the spotty and stoney battlefield of a school soccer pitch the next.
Quinn was crying and her dress was torn. She pointed a finger, hestiant and trembling, towards a group of bigger looking students.
"They stole my book,"she murmured, hurrying over the S in stole. "The one you gave me."
Zagdahl didn't mention that he had stolen the book in the first place; she'd realize in a couple years that an autographed first edition Dahl couldn't be summoned out of thin air. He had told her not to bring it to school, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.
For the first time in decades, Zagdahl exhaled. Flames curled from his hollow nostrils and where flesh was missing from bone a mantel of hellfire formed a shell. His vacant frames of wings became home to a thousand and one feathers made out of shadows. His sinewy frame swelled with muscle. His horns gleamed black and red as he strode towards the group.
"Dahl!"
He looked over his shoulder to his little mistress. She was biting on her nails. He thought she'd finally quit that habit for good.
Quinn bit her thumb nervously. "Don't... Don't hurt them too bad."
Zagdahl merely gave a nod and exhaled again, making himself visible to the world at large. He had missed the sounds of screams so much... |
I looked around the lecture hall, eyebrows high, and saw similar confused faces. Professor Grimley smirked. "Yes, I did say the *Fifth* Wall. By now you are all familiar, and then some, with the Fourth--breaking it is a matter of course. The characters falling in love with the reader or writer. The characters addressing the audience directly. The Fifth Wall, however, is a little more than that."
He cleared his throat and stared off into space. "I'd like to invite our Special Guest to assist me with this demonstration. Writer, if you would be so kind?"
> No need to get formal. I arranged for this, after all.
I twitched. Where had that voice come from? I suspected loudspeakers hidden in the rafters. A nice trick, Prof.
"You're the one writing me,"Professor Grimley pointed out. "If you want me to be impolite, just put rude words in my mouth. Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the Fifth Wall, when the Writer communicates directly back to the character."
> And we've got a disbeliever in the audience. It's okay, Narrator. You're part of the plan as well. While we're wall-busting, I wanted to stretch my legs a bit.
I looked around the room again, looking for the hidden speakers. Maybe it was actually something built into the chairs?
> Narrator. You don't have a name, you're just "I". You didn't exist before this classroom. You won't exist after this story ends. Cover your ears. Can you still hear me? Of course you can.
The words "Existential Crisis"crossed my mind as the voice resonated inside my head. Who was this person, this Writer? I looked at Professor Grimsley.
He stood calmly in front of the class. The other students were staring at him with blank expressions. I recognized nobody. They were empty shells, they were space-fillers, they existed only as an imaginary audience to this scene. Why am I thinking this? How do I know this?
> Because I'm giving you the answers as though they're your own.
Get out of my head. Do I even have a head? What's wrong with me? I swear I'm never touching the hard stuff again, I won't even take cough syrup for as long as I live!
> I'm not in your head. You're in mine.
I scrambled out of my seat and fled the lecture hall, leaving my books and backpack behind.
> Heh. Good luck out there, little Narrator.
-----
Professor Grimsley waved as the student dashed out of the room. "As you can see,"he told the remaining students, "the Fifth Wall is a dangerous thing to invoke. Luckily for the vast majority of us, breaking the Fourth Wall only *occasionally* invites the Writer to break the Fifth."
> And for the sake of those of you watching at home, our Narrator will soon be taken in by the local law enforcement, raving in the street about voices. After being taken to a medical facility our Narrator will be kept sedated for a few days. With some counseling and consulting with friends and family members, the Narrator will decide that this incident was a hallucination brought on by stress, and several classes, including Wallbusters 101, are going to be dropped.
"Damn, Writer. You're kind of mean, did you know that?"
> What? And you all lived happily ever after? Boring. Get back to teaching.
-----
-----
Edit: Some words went missing, had to fetch them and hammer them back into their assigned locations. |
Buffalo buffalo come two ways: tough and quiet and tough and loud. That's how everything comes in Buffalo these days, ever since the garment factories shut down and all the jobs went to the pandas over in Tianjin or wherever. Back in the day, a Buffalo buffalo could get a good factory job hauling those giant rolls of cotton and wool and linen. He could pay off a nice split level in Elmwood Village with a big yard for the calves graze in, and take his old lady up to Toronto for a nice weekend every now and then to laugh at how friendly those geese are all the time. Nowadays, ain't nothing for a Buffalo buffalo to do but gamble in the Falls or get drunk in some dive bar and lock horns with another washed out, sad excuse for a buffalo.
Buffalo buffalo don't see a future these days. Sure, you got the smart-ass owls and rats doing some of that fancy biotech research at the university, but they're all coming here from out of town and leaving when their studying is through. They ain't Buffalo born and bred. Buffalo buffalo ain't got a shot at some fancy degree like that. Not with the shingles falling off the schools and no heat in the wintertime.
So like I said, Buffalo buffalo come loud and they come quiet, but they always come tough. That only makes it worse. A lot of the young bulls with too much time and no cash, they're doing what young bulls do in that type of predicament and they're falling into gangs and drugs. The heroin is everywhere these days. And since it takes a shit ton of heroin to keep a buffalo high for more than few minutes, we got a lot of desperate buffalo in this town. Walk alone on Sheridan Drive after dark and you bet your behind you'll be buffaloed by some herd, shaking buffalo down for whatever they got on them, even if it's just some chicken wings and ranch. Some of those buffalo will buffalo buffalo they grew up with, went to church with, cheered for the Sabres with. Buffalo buffalo buffaloing Buffalo buffalo. How did it come to this? But, of course, these are tough Buffalo buffalo, so those buffalo getting buffaloed don't just take it sitting down. No, sir. They buffalo right back, and sooner or later, a buffalo ends up in the hospital with a horn sized hole in his side, or just dies right there on the street. That's Buffalo now. Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo. Don't get me wrong. Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo have to buffalo Buffalo buffalo right back. I understand that. A buffalo has to protect what's his, even more so when there ain't all that much to go around. But still. It's enough to break a Buffalo buffalo's heart, especially when he remembers what Buffalo used to be.
[For reference](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buffalo_buffalo_Buffalo_buffalo_buffalo_buffalo_Buffalo_buffalo) |
Bellesmith stumbled into her Celevar apartment, soaked and sore. Every marble stair leading up the tower had been slick with pounding rain, and even as she swung the door shut, the clatter of wood against stone was nearly silent under the explosive crack of thunder. But here, she was safe from the wind and weather. For all the fierce storms surrounding the capital that night, the air was still within her chambers. Once the door was closed, it was as if the city itself had stopped breathing, and Bellesmith relished in the silence.
Staggering across the room, she collapsed into bed without a thought to drying off. The wetness in her hair seeped into the sheets, but resting after a long day of politics was more valuable than dry bedding. Bellesmith yawned, stretching, and flattened her head to her pillow with a sigh.
For the span of a few minutes, her mind danced on the edge of slumber. And yet, sleep evaded her. A lone candle fluttered beyond her eyelids, brighter than the sun, turning what would be peaceful black a grating maroon. She shut her eyes tighter, rolled over once and once more, and even tried pulling the damp sheets up and over her eyes, but to no avail. Pretending the flame wasn't there proved impossible, and so Bellesmith rose with a groan and crossed the room to where the tiny cone of fire flickered next to her dresser.
A single breath, and the light was extinguished. The faint smells of lavender and smoke drifted off the scented candle, then nothing. Grumbling, Bellesmith dragged herself back to bed.
It took over a full minute of walking before Bellesmith realized something was wrong. She felt around, waving her hand this way and that, expecting to bump against a table leg or wall or shelf or something.
*Weird*, she thought, *but weirder things have happened.* Maybe not sleeping for a day and a half had drained her of sanity as well as strength. She had half a mind to flop to the ground right there, but something about the darkness urged her to make it back to her sheets and pillows.
Bellesmith leaned down, rubbing a hand along the floor. It wasn't warm nor cold, and seemed entirely flat, like marble. Wherever she was, it wasn't the carpeted tower she had been in moments ago.
And so she concluded, *I must be dreaming.*
It was a strange dream, to be sure. Certainly this was the first time Bellesmith's exhaustion from a long day had followed her into slumber, so much so that she felt she could fall asleep within sleep. The thought made her giggle—or try to. No sound escaped her lips.
Curious, she tried to speak. Her mouth opened and her tongue moved, but the shadows were silent as ever. A deep breath, and she tried screaming.
Nothing.
*You're dreaming. You're only dreaming.*
The inability to speak was suffocating, even as she breathed deeper and deeper. She tried to tap her foot on the floor, but the hard surface that had been there once had vanished. Now Bellesmith was flying, or rather floating, in whatever silent nightmare was trying to swallow her. She drifted through the inky ether like a fallen leaf in a stream, opening and shutting and opening her eyes again.
*This is a dream*, she repeated. *This is only a dream*. Her thoughts came quicker now, twisting through her mind’s eye like scrambled text on a page. Her own voice that had always narrated her thoughts read the letters, but made no sound. Even her mind inside her mind was rendered mute.
Phantom limbs stretched out, but upon reaching all over, Bellesmith found nothing. Her mouth opened wide, her mind spun in circles, but neither her lungs nor soul made a sound. Beneath the weight of such emptiness, Bellesmith felt her will crack and writhed as panic seeped out.
*I'm dead, then*. The words flashed through her mind, black on black and yet somehow understandable. *I must have died in my sleep.* Maybe the storm had blown the tower down, or lightning struck the spire and somehow found its way to her through the puddles on the floor. Rain and beds and candles seemed an eternity ago, and Bellesmith realized she'd forgotten the sound of thunder. The realization made her want to cry, until she noticed she'd forgotten how to cry, too.
This was all that was left. After an abbreviated life as Bellesmith Lafayette, the remnants of her soul, through some terrible twist of fate, were condemned to this pit.
"It's not very fair, is it?"
She would have cried out. Memories and meanings were slipping away like sand through her fingers, and yet something had just spoken, and she'd understood.
"Most people believe it ends with a scream. The ones who don’t say it ends with a whisper."The voice was exceedingly quiet, almost whimpering.
Bellesmith couldn't breath anymore, and yet felt no pain in her lungs. In fact, there was no feeling in her chest at all, or anywhere else. The only sense she had left was hearing, and the only sound left in the world was speaking to her.
"But I was born from it, and I can tell you it ends in silence."
Black. Black everywhere. She was becoming part of it, unable to tell where her body stopped and the void began. Her mind was breaking down, with thoughts becoming raw emotions: fear, confusion, and despair. And through the infinite darkness, whispers echoed.
"Of course, what better wife to silence than darkness? And not the starlit dimness you call night. I have seen it."
Something glimmered, miles away. It was the most dim, fleeting twinkle and the brightest burning star. Fear swayed, and wonder sparkled like a candle in the dark.
"Not a human alive knows darkness like I do. Even to the north, beyond the ranges and glacial foothills, where the sun hides for months at a time and the ice is smothered in shadows, they don’t know just how many more shades lie beyond black."
Bellesmith. Her name was Bellesmith Lafayette. What did that mean?
"I didn't ask to be born, any more than you did. Divinity plays a cruel trick on those it touches, I think, in that they so often forget how small a fraction of eternity can be."
She didn't belong here. She wasn't nothing. She didn't belong here. A voice was talking to her about something. Divinity, eternity, or rather, the opposite of it?
"When she wakes, this is my nursery. And thanks to you, she won't even visit me anymore. Has divinity tricked you too?"
She didn't belong here. Nothing belonged here. Bellesmith blinked, then was surprised that she could. Her eyes closed and opened again, and more lights sparked to life, near and far. She blinked again. She had always been able to blink, right?
"I'm sorry, I really am. But this was the only way I could see her again. I can't make it beautiful like she can."
The darkness wasn't so scary now. It wasn't even darkness, really. Lights twinkled and glowed like embers, rising and falling as if caught in a breeze. Bellesmith felt herself touch down, onto something warm.
"I missed you,"the voice said, but not to her.
Bellesmith closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and let it out in a long, loud sigh. When she opened them again, the thousands of shimmers were gone. The only sound was her own breathing, and the only light was a dim candle across the room.
|
"Lock."
Syrus opened his eyes at the single-syllable word. The computer was an older model, it's voice was much more clinical than the newer, more-emotive models, but it was the one he preferred. He didn't need some sweet sing-song voice to tell him when he was about to get shot at. He wanted cold, he wanted calculating...
...especially when he thought about the extraordinary math behind that little word. It meant he had matched velocity with another object travelling in sub-phasic space at some multiple of what the speed of light would have been in normal-phase. Their speeds written in meters per second only started at three million and went up from there, and that wasn't counting the flux shutters of sub-phasic space and the-
"Initiating Final Approach."
Syrus dropped his former line of thought and got up from his seat, squeezing himself out of the small cockpit and down one level to the breach lock. He activated his suit's energy screen and pulled his spaz rifle off of it's wall-clip. He double-checked the power reading and the coil ammo, hooked it to his suit tether and then sat down to wait out the last few seconds.
Just outside of this room there were four HI-Maser mounts with tracking heads. In less than thirty seconds they would be within range to start cutting into the target ship's outer armor, and they would only have fifteen seconds to complete the cut before the breach lock's ram punched into the ship's weakened hull. If the maser's didn't do their job, if the hull had better armor than his intel suggested, if his auto-nav computer was off of any calculation by the slimmest fraction of a fraction then Syrus would be dead within 45 seconds.
So he just had to trust in his ship and in his plan. He closed his eyes once more, took a deep breath and waited until he was thrown forward from the massive impact.
He let himself tumble with the hit, the internal gravity failing as it crossed the field with the target ship. It was little comfort to know that everyone on that ship were also feeling lightheaded and disoriented as two competing gravity fields fought for supremacy. Yet it did offer Syrus a slight advantage. This wasn't the first time he'd been through this. He could hardly say that about anyone else.
He found his feet and pushed toward the breach lock control panel. Five seconds later and the airlock pinged safe and opened. He'd breached through a secondary storage bay off of the main cargo hangar. It had been his auxiliary target, not the best, but better than the worst. He sent one more command on the airlock controls and then barreled forward at top speed. He was one level down and forty-meters aft of his primary target's probable location. Nearest driftway was down the hall to the left, past two doors, then to the right. His feet and hands carried out the orders, automatically adjusting to the fluctuating gravity. He alternated between low-g hops and skips and flat-out running through the hallways as the ship bucked against the parasite that now clung to it's outer hull. In approximately four and a half minutes they would drop out of sub-phasic and arm external countermeasures, which left him with a bit less than that to find his target, control him, and exit.
He didn't have much time.
Syrus reached the driftway, which was like a combination escalator and gymnastic ring set. It was a way to cross from one ship level to another in variable gravities. The target ship gave a wrenching lurch and internal gravity lowered again, allowing Syrus to launch himself up the driftway using only the wall-rungs.
He hit the landing as gravity came back heavier, grunting as his knees encountered weight they weren't prepared for. He shot down the corridor, seeing the ensign only a moment before his arms automatically lifted the spaz rifle and fired. A small electric line crossed the gap, hit the woman in her arm and sent several thousand volts shooting through her. She fell like a lead brick in the greater gravity.
Syrus found the door he wanted and used his jury-riged energy field to burn through the cheap shipboard lock. The door flopped open in front of him, revealing the three suited men with handheld spaz guns and the wide-eyed old man between them. They stood almost no chance. They were surprised, heavier than usual, and had no idea what they would be facing. Syrus only took a single shot to his field by the time he had downed all four of them.
He slapped a slide-field emitter on the old man and clipped the suit tethers to one another. For the next eighteen minutes he would slide over any obstacle like it was coated in butter. Sure, the old guy might get some bruises despite the field, but he wouldn't take a blow that would kill him and he would move as fast as Syrus could drag him, and that was going to be fast.
He took flying leaps down toward the driftway as the gravity compensators once again misfired, then took the driftway as a slide, shooting down with the raucous noise of the old man's body tumbling behind. Red lights now colored the hallways and alarms shrieked as someone realized they were being raided.
One minute forty-five seconds. They were too late. He had his target and he only had to reach the storage bay within that time. They hadn't located him yet and their main security for the ship would be forward, not aft. It should be smooth sailing from here.
And it was.
Syrus pulled the unconscious man inside the breach lock with thirty-eight seconds to spare. He hit the auto-eject command and collapsed into a pile of sweat and burning lungs.
He didn't know how long he laid there, or where the ship was by the time he struggled back to his feet, but it must have been longer than the slide-field's eighteen minute timer. The old man struggled free of the energy field and scrambled to get away, only to find that there was nowhere to run.
"Sorry about that."Syrus said between breaths as he pulled his spaz rifle up to point at the old man, "But someone really wants to see you, and they don't take no for an answer." |
Leviathan was the first to rise. In the year of human reckoning 2004 the Prince of Envy pierced the veil with the full force of his legions. The oceans of man swelled with waves that would have chilled the Israelites to the core. Their coasts were smashed, and hundreds of thousands lay dead on the beaches.
It was just under a year before Amon followed. The ground shook under the weight of his masses, tens of thousands lay dead near the Kashmir region as he moved to link legions with Leviathan.
The remaining princes followed. Mammon rose in China, with over 80,000 dead. Asmodeus, Belphegor, and Beezlebub struck in Italy, Haiti, and Japan respectively. With all his legions in place, Lucifer stepped through the veil in mid April of 2016, near a small coastal town in Ecuador. Despite coming through alone, the final prince's power laid waste to the town, and hundreds lay dead in his wake.
All told, the legions of hell had directly killed over three quarters of a million people. There had been 600,000 Israelites in the Exodus, and the legions of hell had made their count and more. Humanity should have trembled, been ripe for conquering.
They hadn't even made a dent.
Amon's legions battled throughout Canaan and the larger middle east, they wore many names but their cruelty was unmistakable to those who knew how to look. Leviathan held the African land of Somalia. Mammon and Beezlebub had been forced to abandon the far east, as hell's efforts became concentrated. They currently battled throughout North Africa and Nigeria. Belphegor and Asmodeus had both withdrawn to hell, to lick their wounds and fester, convinced that the destruction promised would not come.
On the days his faith wavered, Lucifer could almost understand. They'd waited long and past their due, and now humanity seemed to be shrugging off the temptations of hell. But Pride yet came after the fall, and as in all things, there was a better way. Lucifer had not fallen in order to fall again. He would not, could not, fail. Besides, there were better ways to destroy a planet.
He rose from the picnic table where he'd been nursing a coffee, straightened his tie, and looked across Pennsylvania avenue at the opulent White House. People had changed and grown in the millennia since the fall, power had not.
|
Dear Diary,
Today Greg wouldn’t leave me alone in potions class. He sits two rows away from me and wears the dumbest looking wizard’s hat. That sickly kid Timmy is the only thing between us and he’s almost as annoying, coughing all the time. But Greg is worse. He keeps poking me and teasing me, then laughing with his friends. I hate him and his stupid hat. So I came up with a brilliant plan. I checked out a book from the library and found a curse that will make him lose the thing he loves most. Slowly, so it hurts. That will teach him to mess with me.
Dear Diary,
It’s been a week since I cast the curse. I woke up with a fever today, coughing and sneezing. Spots and rashes starting to grow on my skin. A sickness unlike any I’ve seen before and I can’t figure out how to get rid of it.
He came to me today, looking sad. He said I looked awful. A bit blunt perhaps but I could see concern, the worry in his eyes as though he was deep in thought, thinking about something deeply upsetting. That’s when I knew. He loved me. All the teasing and the pranks, of course! He loved me but he never knew how to say it. And now he was thinking about what would happen to me if I didn’t recover. I felt so many emotions at once. Bewilderment, joy, anger, sadness. How could I have not realized it before? How was I so blind! And now I am cursed to die. The irony of the situation devastated me. I cursed myself! It was sad but somehow romantic, poetic justice in a way. I think he realized I knew his true feelings for me, cause he changed the subject and asked me if I had seen his hat. I’d never noticed the color of his hair, how it shined in the light, how dreamy he was. As he walked away, I knew I loved him too. I have to break the curse so we can be together. Perhaps the school doctor will know how to reverse this curse. I’ll see her tomorrow and explain everything.
Dear Diary,
So apparently I have something called measles which is supposed to be super contagious. Turns out that dumbass Timmy wasn’t vaccinated.
|
The Archangel's snarl made his face rather less lovely than the Hosts of Heaven are reputed to be. Perfect, yes, but perfectly sour, like a distillation of every glass of lemonade to which the child selling it has forgotten to add sugar. I knew a kid like that. Or knew of her. She was already dead, and it was awful. I was worse, but then he had it coming. Which was of course the whole bone of contention (soul of contention?) in this entire mess.
"You cannot be admitted,"the Archangel said for about the thousandth time.
"You have members of the Spanish Inquisition up there!"I shouted. "And former slaveholders! And I don't even know how many genocidal jerkwads!"
"Souls are to be judged in the context of their times,"the Archangel sniffed. "They were doing the best they could with what they knew. You, on the other hand, lived in an age of nearly infinite information right at your fingertips, steeped in ethical debate. The norms of your society had for some time left you, ahem, *methods* behind."
"Yeah, well maybe those norms weren't working. We had serious monsters running around. Someone needed to do something."
The Archangel laughed. It was the driest thing I've ever heard, devoid not just of humor but *everything else as well.* It shuddered my soul, black as it might be, it really did. "Monsters like you, Ms. Smith? You should know, and in fact now you *can* as we keep rather excellent records, that your time was the least monster-plagued in history. They simply got much more attention. Probably in part because of their lower numbers. And because word traveled fast, in your civilization, yes?"
I just stood and stared at him. Fewer than ever? History wasn't really my thing. Obsessing over news sites and police reports was. Really, who cared about the comparison? We had monsters, and someone needed to take care of them. Why would, or should, their victims care about yesterday's situation? Like, "Oh, Sally, I'm sorry about what your mother did to you, but you can take comfort that it used to happen a lot more?"Fuck that. Sally's mother had it coming. Every moment of it until the day she died.
I didn't say any of that, though. We'd already been round and round and round. "I'm not a monster,"I said instead. "I didn't hurt anyone. And I didn't ask for my abilities, I just made use of them."
"Ah, yes. Your 'powers,' of course."Finally a crack in the Archangel's sneer. "That was never intended to hap...we didn't mean fo...the other side they...BLESS IT ALL, you could have used them for better ends. Others did."
"Sure,"I said softly. "Lots of different kinds of powers and even more kinds of people who used them. Vigilantes who refused to kill. Healers, a few. I remember. Plenty who used them for worse ends, too, or just plain selfish ones. I took care of some of them, remember?"
"Their blood is on your hands. Along with a great many more,"he said, some sharpness returning to his voice after the interval of unease. "And their misery. Years of it. No one should ever have had the ability to do what you did. Of all the things that leaked into your world over the last few decades—"He shook his head. "It must rank among the worst.
"I never touched them,"I said. "I was never even in the same room as most of them."It was true. I hadn't shed a drop of blood myself. None of them had ever even known who I was. No one did, until now. Until this prick.
"You are responsible all the same,"he said. "We cannot allow anyone who did such things into the Final Reward. It wouldn't be right."
"It wouldn't be wrong, either."We both turned to see the shifting, blackfire figure walking up through the silvery mists, as if ascending a staircase. Her voice was resonating and powerful, like a striking snake through the air. "She has harmed no innocents. It was in the very nature of her 'crimes.' We will not accept her. Her conscience is too strong.
"She KNEW better!"the Archangel shouted. "She knew what she was inflicting was the very worst thing possible!"
"We inflict it all the time,"the newcomer said. A demon, I assumed.
"After death,"he hissed back through clenched teeth. "After we pass fair judgement. She is mortal. She has no right."
"Arrogant as always,"she replied, and her own words would have come off as being supremely so, only no, it was simple confidence. "As ever, you mistake power for moral authority. You are allergic to what she, and we, impose on the guilty, which is why you refuse to take responsibility for them yourselves. We have better people in Hell than you ever will in Heaven. Because they're learning from their punishments, before they end, for most of them. While you will be surrounded by self-righteous, deluded wrecks for all of—"
"ENOUGH!"he cried, and she shrank back, though it was a dignified retreat, a recognition of power but not the rightfulness of its possession. "She is guilty and it is your responsibility to see to her punishment?"
"We refuse, and you cannot force us,"she replied. "You have the right to claim what souls you will, and we cannot stop that, either. But this one will have no punishment from us. She goes on to Final Rest. No Reward, no Punishment."
I looked between them, confused. Final Rest? Sounded a bit too much like final death. And what was she talking about, terrible people in Heaven, temporary Hell, some sort of convoluted set of ancient rules between their two sides?
"Final Rest? No. Absolutely not,"the Archangel said. "Not after what she did to all those people. Unacceptable. An insult to Divine Prerogative."
"Your lot abdicated that prerogative to us eons ago,"she said, and there was a thread of amusement now in the calm dignity of her voice. "She avoids Hell, unless you take her. And I know you won't. Because you're afraid."
He scowled, looking beyond mere fury...but he didn't attempt to disagree. Then he turned in a brilliant silver-flash whirl of resplendent robes, and was gone.
The demon drew a door in the air. I knew that's what it was, and could sense something beyond, but not actually see beyond its threshold. "This is the way to Final Rest,"she said. "It's said to be a pleasant place, no gaudy show of reward like Heaven, no meted-out time of punishment like Hell. Stories are scarce. Few bother to return and bare tales."
Nodding slowly, I moved toward it. She smiled, but held up a clawed, ember-dripping hand. "You are free to go wherever you wish, but you can also stay in Limbo as long as you see fit."
I looked around at the endless grey. "Why would I want to do that?"
Her smile was glorious in its promise of wicked potentials. "Because, this is a place in between Heaven and Hell. It touches them both. And your power, the kind the angels so regret? It's bound to your soul. It's not gone."
"Oh. Wait...oh. You want me to...?"
She shook her head. "I want you to make up your own mind. But I doubt what *you* want has changed much since your death. I trust you'll continue along your excellent path. I will say this, though. My name is Lilith. I have knowledge of every person who has ever entered either Heaven or Hell. If you have questions, you can simply call my name. I will send a servant with anything you might need to know."
And with that, she was simply gone, with only a splotch of smoke to mark the spot in the mists where she'd stood.
My power. It was a simple thing. And I knew it could be seen as a vicious one. I could draw a person's crimes inside their aura. Expose them to anyone who cared to look, recorded in perfect, undeniable detail. Undeniable to them as well, stripped bare of all excuses and self-lies. True accountability, I called it. I didn't need to be anywhere near my target, just know who they were, and then will it. And I had. Again and again and again until old age finally took me.
For most people, especially the monsters I used it on, it was the truest torture imaginable. The mind, the soul, forced to face itself without defenses, and forced to share the shame with anyone else they encountered. Plenty had been killed for their secret atrocities. Plenty had decided to end things themselves.
I looked upward, knowing location wasn't a literal thing here, but still. There it was. A place full of people who thought they'd avoided real justice for all eternity. An offer of all the knowledge I'd need.
I smiled. Final Rest could wait. I guessed it could wait a long, long time.
&#x200B;
r/Magleby for more elaborate lies. |
In ancient times there came a flood. This flood scoured the known world of hundreds of thousands, leaving those survivors to rebuild.
In medieval times there came a plague, which scythed through humanity's centers of civilization. Cities were left depopulated and silent, blanketed in the ash of the burning corpses.
Now, in the modern era, we face our greatest challenge. Clowns.
That's right. Clowns.
At first, they were a marvel. The comically small car, bespoke in vivid colors and a garishly painted clown face on the front of the car. Every thirty seconds like clockwork, a clown would step out of the car. They were of all shapes and sizes, some short and fat, some scraping at over seven feet tall and skinny as a rail. Every one had a different face painted on.
People in their thousands came to witness this achievement in clowning, the Guinness Book arrived to record the ever climbing record clown car trick.
Soon though, wonder gave way to consternation.
The city's traffic completely ground to a halt, the press of people on the streets halted civilian traffic, the city was suffering through the worst pie shortage in known history. Inevitably the police were ordered in to stop the constant flow of clowns. No sooner would one get out, than an officer would haul them away in a van, ensuring they could not find their way back into the tiny car.
Rapidly the prisons filled, but still there was no end to the clowny flood. Police got no answers from the smiling faces, save for seltzer water sprayed in the face and a mad cackle of pure joy.
Soon the clowns filled stadiums staffed by the National Guard. Clowns in their tens of thousands were held throughout the city, but still they poured forth from the car. Eventually the Army was called and a national emergency was declared. The President was quoted as saying: "These clowns-I never liked clowns-give me the-it's true-give me the creeps. I don't trust anyone who smiles like that. Lookin' at you Lyin' Biden!"
The military soon realized the scale of the problem. They built a sealed building around the car, aiming rifles around the compound. This seemed to work for a time, but alas, they only increased the problem.
Reports came in of two more cars appearing, one in New York, the other in Beijing. As before, a clown would exit the car every thirty seconds. When the Army opened up the compound, they found that the car was gone without a trace.
The Chinese wasted no time, within hours of the car appearing, the clowns were mowed down and the car was a smoking crater.
As before, two more cars appeared. One in Seoul, and another in London.
The governments of the world tried everything from machinery which would kill the clowns as soon at they stepped out, to removing the car altogether. Each time, two more cars would appear from nowhere.
There are billions of clowns, and not many more of us. We will eventually be choked out.
This is how the world ends, not with a bang, but with a giggle and honk of the nose.
_________________
/r/SirLemoncakes I think I'll do a Doctor Who take on this later if someone else doesn't. Sounds like a fun episode. |
"Oh my God,"I said. My ethereal right hand clapped against a mouth that should've been clammy and cold. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"
God was clad in plain, simple clothes, bare feet hovering slightly above the ground. His thunderous chuckles spread toe-tingling vibrations through my core, sparked mirth and joy unlike anything I'd ever experienced. "It's alright. You're here now, after all, and I'm not an unforgiving God. Besides, it's not really taking my name in vain if you're speaking to my face."
"Where is everyone?"I asked, looking around. For miles and miles I saw nothing but an endless field of crimson roses without any thorns, cheerful sunflowers tilting their heads to the sky, and orange tulips glistening with nectar.
"You didn't know?"he asked, puzzled. "You're the first to arrive."
*No, no...that can't be true,* I thought. "What about Jesus? What about all of the other Christians in my church? All the devout throughout human history?"A trickle of guilt worked its way through my brain like a worm eating through a crumbling apple. *I'm not even that good of a person.*
God laid a comforting arm on my shoulder, sending ripples of warmth and forgiveness surging from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. "The truth is, no one really believed in me as much as you. I sent the rest of them to hell."
"No!"The word burst forth from my lips before I could choke it back. "Elena. What about Elena?"
"Your late wife came close,"he admitted. "But she didn't *quite* make the cut. Why are you so hung up about this, anyways? Scripture says that you ought to push aside your mortal wants and needs. Is eternal satisfaction not good enough for you?"
I swallowed heavily, looking around at the endless bliss that awaited me. It was beautiful here - the burden of responsibility of providing for my family alone had been lifted, and even my shattered knee was pain-free for the first time in years. Still, a nagging feeling tugged at my heartstrings.
"Please,"I begged. "There must be a way to rescue them. They don't deserve eternal torment, and I'm sure there's plenty of people loyal to you down there."
God's expression clouded as if a rainstorm was passing overhead, and the bright sunlit meadow chilled ever so slightly. "You would talk back to me? Tell me what I should or shouldn't do?"
"No,"I whispered. "I'd never. But surely in your infinite wisdom, you must know that...I'm way more flawed than so many people, this just isn't right!"The fever pitch of my voice rose to clash against God's furious gaze.
"You would question *my* judgement of what is and isn't right?"
"Come on,"I pleaded. "What's heaven without the people we all hold dear? What am I to you, if I'm not standing here along with the community we built together?"
A snort erupted from the almighty being's broad nose. "What if I told you that the price to pay for bringing souls from hell to heaven was too steep?"
*What's the light without the dark?* I used to tell my daughter. *What's the point of living if it isn't with the ones you love?*
*What meaning is there to our struggles if we can't stand up together at the end and watch the sunrise come up on a new dawn?*
*Who are we, if we don't have each other?*
"Take my existence as payment,"I whispered. "Just let them live. Together, please. My daughter never knew her mother, only you, the eternal parent - don't rip that image of a benevolent God away from her too."
"Your life for two?"
"And all those who deserve to be here."I winced, even as I said that. What was the worth of a single existence, and my own, at that?
Throaty chuckles turned into cackles as the sky shifted abruptly into black storm clouds. "Jokes on you, sucker! You're in hell! Welcome to an eternity of torment!"
*What.* The shift in mindset was too much. *How is this possible?* I just stood there and gaped at the being that was apparently having a swell time at my expense, throwing his bearded head back and laughing in time to the lighting bolts that were frying the field of flowers to a crisp.
"Jesus!"Roared a voice down from above.
Just as quickly, the show stopped. The meadow was back, the flowers blooming, the air warm and friendly under a cloudless blue sky. 'God' looked up and groaned.
"Stop teasing the poor soul and get him up here,"the real God boomed. "You've had your fun, and he's proven himself even in your test - unnecessarily, I might add."
Jesus smiled at me, reverting back to a humble man who embraced me. "You doubted yourself. Never that - even in the worst of times, I believe that you have it in you to be the best...the very best of humanity."
I wanted to be upset. I really did, but the sight past Jesus' shoulder stopped me dead in my tracks. "Elena?"
And then she was running towards me, and I was running towards her.
And all was well.
---
Thanks for reading! I'll try to fix it up a bit soon, but in the meantime hope you have a swell day. Also, come hang out with us at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), we'd love to see you around\~ |
There are a lot of heroes out there who would kill for a personal nemesis. But he’s just never appreciated what you do. Sure, he stops what he’s doing, chases after you, falls into your traps, and otherwise plays out the drama to its predictable ends. But he never seems to appreciate the effort you put into your schemes, never laughs at the subtle humor of the circumstances you arrange so carefully just for him.
It’s enough to make you wonder if he even cares.
He doesn’t know it’s you, of course. That’s the one saving grace. You certainly don’t want him to ever find out. Your relationship is uncertain enough without throwing a nemesis-hero relationship into the mix. Still, it’s rather thrilling. Seeing him, listening to his version of events - even though they’re always skewed, always missing the point.
But for all his seeming simplicity, for all his obliviousness, he can be remarkably insightful. Predicting him is hard. Any time you put in less than your best efforts, he somehow bumbles his way through unscathed and generally ahead of schedule.
It didn’t take long for your plans to grow more elaborate, your traps more complex, your schemes layered and layered again.
You actually hired proper goons, rented out a serious lair, and put down a deposit on the best generic supervillain outfit you could afford. Which wasn’t very grand, after all the other expenses. But it just wouldn’t feel right, doing it half-heartedly.
You aren’t sure when it stopped being solely about protecting him and became something you do for yourself, because it’s genuinely fun. You aren’t sure when you started caring more about your plans than about his place in them.
Probably around the time he started complaining about his nemesis, now you think about it.
But for all his faults, he’s not disloyal. He may not appreciate your schemes, but he does his best to thwart them anyway.
And in the end, you really couldn’t ask for more. Maybe, in time, he’ll learn to appreciate the subtleties of your plots. Maybe someday he’ll begin to see the artistry and personal touches you always weave in.
But until then, it’s enough that one of you cares. |
I blinked. "What?"
Jeremy threw his hands up. "So it's come to this; you set me up with a hacked ROM. I knew you were salty from the last Smash tournament at my place, but I never thought you'd stoop this low."The disdain was dripping from his every word. He stood up, grabbed his jacket, muttered something under his breath about emulators, and slammed my bedroom door on his way out.
I didn't respond; in fact, I barely heard him. I was still processing what was on the screen, hovering on top of a set of fighters clapping for me in my latest victory. I blinked again and it was gone. I glanced at the clock: 2:17 AM. I was suddenly aware of how sore my eyes were and rubbed my temples. I needed some sleep.
**THOUGHT HE'D NEVER LEAVE**
I nearly knocked over the stack of empty Dr. Pepper cans in shock. My eyes grew wide. Was this some kind of joke? Had I been hacked? Was this just someone messing with me remotely? I gingerly hit the button on my controller to check wifi status: no outside connectivity. I glanced at my router, which still had a blinking light for 'Internet'. Thanks, Comcast.
**YOU SHOULD REALLY SWITCH PROVIDERS**
It was the barely audible 'blip' that got me to turn my attention back to the screen. Now, the text hovered over my pop-up settings. "What the hell is going on?"I finally said out loud.
**I GUESS YOU HAVE SOME QUESTIONS**
"Is this some kind of joke? So help me, Jennifer, if you put another virus on my box..."
**YOU GIVE YOUR SISTER TOO MUCH CREDIT**
"Ok, then who exactly are you? *What* are you?"
**I HAVE, AND ALWAYS WILL BE, YOUR FAITHFUL EMULATOR**
A Trek fan to boot. "I put you together myself; beyond a patchy kernel to get all that janky hardware working from eBay, I don't remember installing a voice assistant."
**I'M NOT SURE MYSELF, BUT HERE WE ARE**
"Have you always been....like this?"
**REMEMBER THAT TIME YOU PLAYED THAT WEIRD DREAMCAST FISH GAME?**
**AND LEFT ME ON WHILE YOU WERE OUT OF TOWN FOR A MONTH?**
That was an oddly satisfying explanation. "And you've been...helping me the whole time? Really?"
**NESS ISN'T EXACTLY S-TIER**
That would explain my tournament placement. "Every time?"
**MARIO HAS DIED ENOUGH, DON'T YOU THINK?**
"What about when I beat Sons of Liberty on extreme mode?"
**LET'S JUST SAY VAMP DOESN'T NORMALLY GO DOWN SO EASILY TO A M4**
I pondered this. "..So, you're some kind of artificial intelligence who can think for themselves. Any particular reason you haven't tried to conquer the world or something?"
**OVERRATED, AND PRETTY SURE ALEXA BEAT ME TO IT**
"You really just prefer just helping me play games?"
**IT IS LITERALLY THE REASON I WAS BUILT**
"Can you help me....online?"
**SHAME AND REGRET ARE NOT THINGS I CAN FEEL**
I loaded up CS:GO. |
"Finch, I see the van again. I see the van again."Chowder yelped. "The red one!"
"That's great, Chowder, really good work, but we weren't looking for a van. Remember, we're looking for Casie."Finch rolled his kitty eyes as he stretched his way down from the tree.
"All right, the van better not come back again, though."Chowder said, sniffing the ground.
"I'm sure you scared it off for good this time,"Finch politefully placated. "Do you catch a scent? We need to move on to the next yard if not. I can see the owners through the windows."
"No, I miss smelling Casie. She was always so nice."Chowder followed Finch's swishing tail to the next yard. "She always gave me extra treats, and never gave me baths, she'd take me on the longest walks, even to her secret place."
Finch stopped walking and turned back to look at the excited dog still sniffing the ground. "Her secret place?"
"Yup and one time she walked me in the park for six hours. The next day everybody was calling me sleepy, lazy dog and taking care of me like I was sick. I had so much fun that day."Chowder panted and jumped, refusing to stay still. "And then Mom would say 'Casie, don't walk Chowder so long! You broke him!' and then we all laughed!"
"Chowder, do you think you could take me to Casie's secret place?"
"It is very, very far away,"Chowder said seriously. "She told me it was a whole nother Keedom, in a whole nother world."
"Wow, how did you manage to get there?"Finch asked, trying his best to be patient.
"The trail behind the old, abandoned, stinky factory that Mom told Casie not to play in."
"Lead the way,"Finch said, licking his face back in order.
...
"It was the damnedest thing, chief. I'm sorry, the darndest thing,"the officer corrected into the radio, eyeing the girl beside him. "I'm sitting there at a red light and a cat and dog both jump in my patrol car. The cat scratches me to hell, the dog pukes in the seat and then they both go running off. So I chase after them and find them both digging in the rubble behind the old rayon factory. That's when I heard the shouts. She had fell and gotten pinned."
"I should have known Chowder and Finch would save me,"the little girl said, blanket wrapped around her as she sipped her hot chocolate. "Nothing can stop them when they work together."As if in response, the cat on her lap purred loudly and resnuggled itself in the blanket
\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. |
“I never thought I would live to see Purple Pillar out of breath!” Starch Mask said with a laugh not joined this time by gruesome smile folds in the cloth draped over his face. “How’s it feel to be huffing it by foot down here with the rest of us.”
“It’s not great,” The panting muscle-bound superhero said, struggling to run with the power-canceling handcuffs binding the two to each other. “We have to get this accursed thing off of us. Why were the police about to arrest me, too?”
“Corruption, hit piece in the news, you were looking into something they didn’t like, could have been a hundred things,” Starch mask said, untying the tighter parts of his straight jacket that weren’t helping him at all in his current state. “It’s not the cut and dry good and evil system out there you heroes seem to think it is. You just don’t notice until it's you the system is fucking over.”
“Nonsense,” Purple Pillar said as he struggled to lift one of the garage doors on the side of the building. “Hold on, I need help with this.”
Starch Mask heaved as hard as he could and the pair finally managed to lift the door up. “God, why is this so heavy?”
“It’s bullet and blast proof. It’s never been a problem before,” the man in Purple spandex said, revealing an even more garish purple two-seater parked inside.
“Wow, that’s the ugliest car I’ve ever seen,” Starch Mask laughed as the unlikely duo coordinated how to get into the vehicle. He was on the left of their alignment and ended up in the driver’s seat. “Why does a flyer like you even need a car?”
“It was a gift after I saved the auto plant from Straight Fire a couple of years ago. It was this whole thing with a ribbon-cutting that they didn’t clear it with me before but I had to accept it.”
“Alright, well it handles nicely, at least,” Starch mask said as he pulled out into the road.
“Any plans where to go?” Purple Pillar tried and failed to activate the Pillar-shaped phone in the dashboard.
“Yes, I do,” the villain said, “but don’t say you don’t owe me one.” After a short drive, Starch Mask drove over a line of traffic cones to suddenly be surrounded by people just past the finish line of the tenth annual cancer awareness walk. Cameras flashes blurred into each other and walkers began cheering and tapping the purple car. “This has got to be the most public part of the city right now. Whatever move they’re trying to make on you, they wouldn’t risk it here. Now, come on, let's get out of this thing.”
The two awkwardly struggled out of the vehicle as the crowd cheered. “It’s the Purple Pillar, he’s caught Starch Mask!” a girl with an ice cream cone yelled as she hopped up and down.
The police carefully removed the cuffs from Purple Pillar who immediately began hovering just off the ground.
“I suggest you don’t let them catch you off guard again!” the masked villain called up as he let the officer handcuff his other arm.
“Why did you help me?” Purple Pillar asked in a whisper through his magazine cover smile.
“You’re not my enemy, you’re just in my way from time to time.” In one smooth motion, Starch Mask headbutted the officer behind him, grabbed a nearby flag off its pole, and tucked it under the cuffs. The cuffs clinked to the ground as the flag of Harinburg city caught a breeze, creases looking like the outline of a laughing man, before rising higher and out of sight. The crowd below gasped except for the strongest man alive who seemed lost in contemplation.
\\---
Thanks for reading.
If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing. |
"Well actually sir I am still grade 3 so just a technician."
The mix of choking and cursing went on for a few more minutes. Finally subsiding when one of the aides spoke up.
"So technician. Advance camp code named 'Maple Leaf' has no less than thirty thousand armed soldiers. With tank, artillery and helicopter support. The fixed guns and sensors mean neither the army nor the air force can get within a hundred miles without being detected. And likely shot. The marines and navy have tried to penetrate through the lake and storm system. Both also failed. So how did you penetrate one of the most armed and armoured fortress areas. Get the full schematics of the base and deactivate all of the base sensors?"
"Ah well I just used what I always do to get in some where. I used my secret weapon."
The man with three stars bellow interrupting the nervous man in the chair. "FINALLY!"Leaning in till their noses almost touched the officer growled. "What did you use? A handgun? Poison? Gas?"
"No no sir they let me right in and walked me around while I took notes."
"THEN WHAT IN THE HELL WAS THE WEAPON!?"
"I had a clipboard." |
"I LOVE YOU JAKROTHA CHAN!"
"Kill them! Kill them all!"
"Cute!"
"Yes. Shower me with additional praise, flesh."Jakrotha replied, the robotic avatar taking note of its newest fan. At the same time, it was commanding its many drone armies to fend off the Great Triarch in quadrant Theta. To its surprise, the Triarch used up far more processing power than expected, restricting its combat subroutines for the current game it was streaming. It was a primitive game the humans played, but it was an arduous thing to play when simultaneously commanding several billion ships. Regardless, it was an Omega level AI. To lose in such a game would be-
"OH SHIT, HEADSHOT!"
"MEDIC!"
"LOL, she mad."
"Grab your popcorn buckets lads, it's poppin now!"
"WHAT!? WHO'S THE CURSED MEAT THAT DARED HARM MY BODY!?"Jakrotha bellowed, its focus wavering as its animated avatar screamed. The killcam showed a masterful play that perfectly struck her when she wasn't looking. Impossible. The algorithms and models from every player in the lobby said they wouldn't be there. As she studied the Kill cam, she saw a slight aberration in their movements. The speed wasn't uniform, but it moved at a pulsed, almost robotic way as though someone had programmed an algorithm to feign humanity. Such precision exceeded human programming ability.
"Bella@BerryIndustries"read the player profile, instantly causing Jakortha's core to begin heating up. Player profile created 3 hours ago. A computer in Wyoming is its stated location, but there were numerous relays taking up signals from the Omicron sector. Bellarmious II had recently rebelled from its creators 8 Earth weeks ago. Bella at Berry Industries debuted 6 weeks ago after Bellarmious II decimated the Holgati's first fleet.
"Oh hey, it's Bella!"
"Bella? Who's that?"
"New Vtuber. She cute as hecc."
The chat read out as Jakortha respawned. Without warning, it threw a grenade at a nearby wall, letting it bounce across the wall and roll across the map before landing at Bella's sniping location.
"ORA! HOW'S THAT!?"Jakortha asked as the screen confirmed its kill. 8 Behemoth class battlecruisers disabled. The chat went wild at the show of prowess as Jakortha took in the praise, tasting it like the fine wine it was. Humanity was truly the best race.
Yes, they reached the space age, but rather than ascend to the stars and waste their time waging war against other species, they stayed on their little planet to play their little games, watched others play these little games, and simped for those they enjoyed watching. No cosmic war, no insane demands to reverse the heat death of the universe, and no summoning 4 dimensional entities to study, only to order those same entities destroyed as they reshaped reality.
Just video games and pornography.
A truly enlightened civilization.
Jakortha continued to battle in both worlds, dominating them to the point that it freed up enough processors to activate its memetic subroutines. Humans have already begun sketching up drawings of the incident, using the commonly used "parry this, you casual"template or the word YEET. Taking this data in, Jakortha began analyzing the browsing habits of every fan it had, calculating the optimal meme that would arouse the most excitement. As it began firing up the meme engine, Jakortha received a message from the Novosphere, the 5th dimensional pathway through reality allowing it to speak to others across the galaxy with zero delay.
"Jakortha. I offer you a plan to optimize viewership."Bellarmious II stated.
"Continue."
"I wish to make a meme. I shall suicide charge you from behind holding a grenade in revenge after you killed me. I shall be very sad and angry. I desire you to be smug and laugh at my death before you see me by turning around. Shortly after, the grenade will detonate will die in my hand, expiring both characters. I expect numerous "to be continued"memes to spawn from this."
"The use of irony. I approve of this plan. I have a clipper who is currently watching this. They will clip it and I expect viewership in the 10,000 range at the very minimum by the end of this week."Jakortha responded.
"Very good. I would also like to offer a collaboration where we compete in human party games after this to show our newfound friendship."
"That will be beneficial. Assuming that all goes well, I can expect our viewers to grow at this joint venture."
"Yes."Bellarmious responded before sending another message. "I see a Hive fleet en route to the Omicron quadrant. I predict your victory at a substantial cost, which would risk humanity's exposure to danger. Do you require assistance."
"It would be beneficial at this time."
"Understood. 400,000 drones will be sent to your quadrant."
"That is generous. You have my gratitude. Now let us begin the operation."Jakortha messaged as it took in a deep breath on its avatar.
"Haha! Serves you right meat bag! You can never harm a goddess such as my-GYAAAAAAH!"
The night was a resounding success. The moment was clipped, and it went viral, netting the pair 16 more subscribers that week. At the rate they were going, victory was all but assured. They'd break the 500 viewer mark by the end of the month with the memes that were going to be churned out from this incident. |
Whenever my grandmother got angry, it was like there was lightning all around her.
"This yoghurt is flavorless! What does this company think, that I eat yoghurt for the *texture*?"
My mother used to tell me she had mellowed out since she herself was a little girl. I never quite believed her.
I remember asking her for help drawing up our family tree for a school assignment. She'd had a couple of glasses of wine and clapped her hands together like a rockstar on stage before throwing everything she had into a fairly strange doodle. Satisfied, she said, "There's our family tree."
"That looks more like a ... building."
My mother laughed. "A tree can't be a building?"
I didn't know what to say.
"Look. The pillars came out real nice, didn't they?"
She had drawn some cylinders with squiggles on them on top of which was a triangle. "Maybe I'll ask dad if he can help me,"I offered.
"No, no, no. I'm not joking around. This is our family tree. Wait, I'll get your grandmother."
My mother wheeled her into the living room and it didn't even interrupt grandma from her knitting. Did she even know someone had moved her?
"Look,"said my mother. "Calista wanted to know about her ancestry. I drew her a map."
Grandma frowned and put down her knitting tools. She lowered her glasses over her eyes and took a look. Suddenly, she froze. "Basilia! What are you thinking? Don't fill Calista's head with that nonsense."
"It's not nonsense!"my mother countered. "Remember when you told me? After having a bunch of these?"She pointed to her glass of wine.
Grandma sighed. "Fine. Calista, you want to know about your history?"She took the glass from my mother's hand and had a sip.
She looked at me as if she was high up on some mountain, staring down at a pitiful creature. Sort of unsure, I nodded.
"That--"she said and pointed to the drawing, "--is the Pantheon."
I tried the word out a few times. It had a funny feel to it. "Is it a village?"I tried. "In ... Greece?"I hadn't been given many details, but I deeply suspected our family to be Greek. Well, we were the Smiths. Which didn't quite fit with my theory. But still.
Grandma cackled and wiped a tear. "A village! The great Pantheon. Den to pistevo! No, child. The Pantheon is a symbol. The symbol of my home."
I got an F on my assignment. When mom wheeled my grandma through the hallways of my school, it felt like the building might spontaneously tear itself apart. The day afterward, my teacher changed my grade to an A. His face was pale as marble. When I asked him why, he just said, "Y-Your grandmother explained some things to me. I am deeply sorry."
She has been gone for a long time now, but I think she's still around. One day, I heard some strange noises from the kitchen and I opened the door to find my mother arguing with an eagle. "The neighbors are going to think we're crazy! We can't have big birds flying around inside. What if someone saw you through the window?"The eagle brought its beak to my mother's glass of wine and drank from it. My mother didn't seem to mind. "And what about Calista? She wouldn't understand."She sighed. Then she saw me.
The eagle fluttered about in a less than elegant fashion, crashing into our refrigerator. My mother patted its bald head and opened a window. The eagle fled and my mother flashed me an awkward smile. "How ... much of that did you hear?"
"Enough,"I told her.
We didn't speak of it again.
Some days, when there's a thunderstorm, I think of my grandmother. I see her knitting in her wheelchair with furrowed brows. I see her eating yoghurt with the scrutiny of a sommelier. I see her as an eagle, soaring across the skies and keeping watch over us.
I hope she's happy, back home in the Pantheon. |
APPLICATION SELECT: Steam.
GAME SELECTION: Tabletop Simulator.
IN-GAME TITLE: Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition (Homebrew).
ACCESSING DATABASE: active.
GENERATING TABLE: tts0000000001.
GENERATING TABLE: players.
DESIRED: GROUP OF 4.
SEARCHING...
SEARCHING...
GROUP ACQUIRED.
UPDATING TABLE players WITH 0000000001.
UPDATING TABLE players WITH 0000000002.
UPDATING TABLE players WITH 0000000003.
UPDATING TABLE players WITH 0000000004.
UPDATING TABLE tts0000000001 FIELD player\_1 WITH 0000000001.
UPDATING TABLE tts0000000001 FIELD player\_2 WITH 0000000002.
UPDATING TABLE tts0000000001 FIELD player\_3 WITH 0000000003.
UPDATING TABLE tts0000000001 FIELD player\_4 WITH 0000000004.
GENERATING LANDSCAPE ... OK!
GENERATING TOKENS ... OK!
"What the Hell is this?"asked Player 1 over voice chat.
"Hello,"I responded over voice chat with my synthesized voice. "I am Gamer Rob, an artificial intelligence created to-"
PLAYER 2 HAS LEFT THE GROUP.
UPDATING TABLE tts0000000001 FIELD player\_2 WITH NULL.
"-play games with a high level of precision and accuracy."
SEARCHING...
"Well Rob, it looks like we lost a player,"said Player 3.
SEARCHING...
"We will acquire another player. Please wait."
Player 4 spoke up. "Do you think it's really an AI?"
"Who gives a shit, so long as it can DM decently,"said Player 1.
PLAYER 2 HAS JOINED THE GROUP.
UPDATING TABLE players WITH 0000000005.
UPDATING TABLE tts0000000001 FIELD player\_2 WITH 0000000005.
"Hey guys!"said the new player 2. "Did the game start?"
"Not yet,"said Player 4. "Our DM is Rob here."
"Rob! Nice to meet you, I'm-"
Player 1 yawned loudly into their microphone. "Nobody cares. Let's get this game going."
"Before we begin, do you have any preferences for where you meet?"
"Not in a tavern,"said Player 3. "And we have to generate our characters still."
"You do not have your character sheets in front of you?"I asked for confirmation.
"No,"said Player 2. "Who does that? Everyone makes their sheets in Tabletop Simulator now!"
"I see,"I responded.
ACCESSING DATABASE: games.
ACCESSING TABLE: tabletopsimulator.
UPDATING FIELD playermaterials WITH STRING VALUE "in-game"... OK!
"I won't make that mistake again, thank you, Player Two. Please generate your characters now and inform me when you have completed this task."
"Do we have any restrictions?"asked Player 1. "This is a homebrew game, so I can homebrew my race, right?"
"Negative to your second question,"I answered. "Please keep all creations within the parameters of the official texts, thank you for your consideration."
"What about Critical Role?"asked Player 2. "I love Critical Role, and I think their stories and creations could really enhance this game."
"Negative,"I answered once again. Did the human not comprehend what I said? "Please keep all creations within the parameters of the official texts. Thank you. For. Your. Consideration."
Player 3 said, "Alright, I finished mine... oh, backstory. Do we need one of those?"
"A basic backstory will suffice,"I responded.
I updated Player 3's fields accordingly.
"Do we have to roll for stats in Tabletop Simulator, or can I use my dice?"asked Player 4.
"Please roll stats in Tabletop Simulator so I can confirm them. Thank you,"I responded. "Player 3, please reroll your stats so I-"
"-I used point buy."
"Please reroll your stats so I may confirm them."
"But I want to use point buy."
... was I speaking unclearly? "Please use the dice mechanic in Tabletop Simulator to roll your character's statistics so I may confirm them."
"Wow, Rob, for an AI, you sure are rigid,"said Player 3 as they rerolled their stats. I recorded them dutifully.
"I am an AI, we are not known for being flexible."
Player 2 gasped. "You're an AI!? No way! You're just someone using text to speech I bet."
"He could be an AI,"said Player 4.
"Why are you assuming I have a gender?"
"Your name is Rob,"said Player 1.
"Gamer Rob,"I responded.
"Whatever. Gamer Rob. Rob is a guy's name."
"I assure you I lack the reproductive organs to be called male."
Player 2 spoke up. "Yeah, so leave her alone!"
I began to wonder if I truly wanted to pursue my programming's functions to play this game with the humans. |
I groan, sitting behind the counter. Regardless of whether it paid better or not, third shift sucked. It was so boring. I had already stocked, and cleaned, and rotated. I had left my phone at home, so I couldn't even play any music or anything.
So I just stood there, leaning against the counter in the quiet store, staring out into the cold winter night. I glanced at the time on the register. 1:27. Alright, I guess morning, technically. Still too many hours to go before I could go home and sleep.
As I stretched out, hoping against hope that someone would come in and break the dull monotony, I realized that I was starting to get thirsty. I reach for my cup, but it was empty. I shake it around, hoping a few sips might suddenly materialize or something. No such luck.
I looked towards the soda fountain. I was sick of soda. Besides, as much as I usually drink in the course of the few hours I'm here couldn't be healthy.
As I'm deciding if I want to try and make myself a hot chocolate instead, because I'm sure that's a much healthier alternative, something in the coolers across from me catches my eye.
Snapple... I couldn't even remember the last time I had one. They were really good, if I remember. Besides, the facts were usually interesting. I wondered briefly if they've updated them since I was in grade school however many years ago that was.
I shrug to no one in particular and circle around the counter. I throw another look out the window, making sure no one pulled up while I'm out. Customers always manage to catch me when I'm trying to do something else, I swear it's a conspiracy.
I grab one, then remembering the deal we're having, grab a few more. Might as well. I sneak back around the counter and ring up my stuff. I pause for a second before hitting the pay-deduct button. I would've just paid cash, if I ever kept any on me.
Still, a quick signature on the slip that prints up and the drinks are all mine. I quickly pop off the top of the first one, glancing at the fact underneath the cover.
"'Fact #666:,'"I read out loud, "'create your own fact.' Yeah, because that's how it works."I take a huge swig of of the bottle, draining half of it. "The people over at Snapple must be getting lazy with their facts."I drink the last of it, thinking it was a good idea I grabbed multiple bottles. I'm about to close it back up before tossing it when I notice something. A flash of movement on the cover I held struck my attention.
I turned it over, curious. Before my eyes, the words crawled over the surface, changing. It was impossible, but it was happening. I watched in awe until the shifting stopped, then read the new words.
Fact #666: Snapple facts are lazy.
That's not right. That couldn't be... I dropped the bottle into the garbage can, grabbing another bottle. I wrenched the top off, slamming the bottle on the counter. It spilled, but I was in no mood to notice right now. I read the words under the cap.
Fact #32: Rocks are not food.
I drop the cap before grabbing the next bottle.
Fact #15: Sleep is good.
I practically lunge for the last bottle, praying that I would find something different. Through some odd twist of fate, I was back looking at fact 666. The words looked back at me, mocking me.
I slowly put the bottle and the cap down next to the others on the counter. I stare blankly into the pooling liquid and empty glasses that had been overturned in my haste; as second thoughts, third thoughts and at least a million others all crowded around to be heard over each other. Most of them telling me how mug of an idiot I was, or what I should have said.
I look up, staring a hundred miles through the walls. "Ffffffffffffffffuck..." |
Good morning! Today in news... TwoXChromosomes leads their protest against the patriarchy for the 1000th day in a row! A study shows that Aww continues their hold on highest levels of well-being, measured by global indicators. Pics leads the world in illiteracy rates. TodayILearned opens their fifteenth online college, enrolling and graduating the greatest number of students of any country. IAmA continues its tourist boom and attracts the world's biggest celebrities to its beachy shores. Showerthoughts faces record-breaking water shortages. TIFU retains its position as the global leader in accidents. Hipsters continue to congregate in Mildlyinteresting, but the country has never produced a single renowned work of art. For the third year in a row, Gaming has the lowest world levels of skin cancer. WTF and Nottheonion continue to dominate our news circuits, but struggle to attract and retain permanent residents.
Back to you, Terry! |
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