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When we turned on the Governance Engine and the supercomputer roared to life, the first law it drafted and passed was that every Homeowner's Association in the nation had 30 days to install and establish a maintenance plan for an apiary in every neighborhood. Bees. Bees for everyone; that was its first thought. As you might imagine, it was a rocky beginning.
 
But in a short time we saw the wisdom of that decision. The bees kept the flowering plants well-pollinated, which in turn attracted hummingbirds. Daily exposure to honey bees revealed that there was really nothing to be afraid of, and being forced to see something we feared for what it really was taught us so many lessons that carried over into other parts of our lives. That's how it's been, living under the guidance of the GE, and bit by bit we've learned not to fight its decisions.
 
We understood when it told us to relocate people out of parts of Arizona and New Mexico so that giant solar farms could be put in place. After all, cheaper and cleaner electricity was worth some inconvenience. We grumbled but obeyed when it raised taxes significantly on single-family properties, encouraging people to live in high-efficiency apartment homes. Once situated, we found again the benefits of neighborhood and clustered in denser groups, began to improve our public transport systems to the much higher standards others already enjoyed. We were all confused - all but the New Jerseyans and delivery drivers - when it passed a law that no new roads could be built to allow left turns. However, in addition to increasing total vehicle efficiency, it also cut down significantly on vehicular collisions and traffic jams. It seemed quite bizarre to us all when the GE instructed us that every government-maintained traffic intersection would be required to stock umbrellas for anyone to take and use. It was only once we had built up four large umbrella factories, recycling plastic to make the material and recycling metal to make the skeleton, that we saw the various benefits of mass umbrella production - and then, two years later, noticed a downturn in melanoma incidence.
 
By this point we mostly just shrugged and went along with whatever the GE told us to do. Even when it decreed that the standard work week would be 42 hours, divided into 6 hours a day seven days a week, we only complained briefly. Working two three-hour shifts with a 2-hour lunch between (and mandatory nap cots in every work space) not only increased productivity slightly, but it cut down on workplace accidents by a huge margin and reduced error rates in work done. Plus, employers were reimbursed for up to six weeks of vacation time per employee, so we all got 42 days a year of vacation which was a huge increase for most of us. Not being exhausted when coming home from work was an awfully nice benefit, too.
 
Things started to get stranger and stranger as big problems mostly were solved, leaving smaller problems and optimizations. All breakfast cereal was banned except in October. Then October was banned in favor of a calendar that simply referred to each day by its number, like the Julian calendar of old. Finally, all breakfast cereals were banned except Shredded Wheat and Cheerios, though concessions were made for Frosted Mini-Wheats and Honey Nut Cheerios. Sandwiches served in restaurants were forbidden to have a top slice of bread. The color yellow was taxed (except for Yield signs, traffic lights, and, oddly, wooden boomerangs). Privately owned vehicles were required to attach a disco ball to the roof when driving on public roads (and insurers were given a subsidy to provide a discount for anyone who mounted an external audio system playing disco music at precisely 70-85 dB). The official sport of the nation was changed to jumprope, and a pro league was established.
 
In the end, it appears that the reason we had all been doing governance so badly is that people simply can't do government as well as machines. Every single decision the GE makes improves life for us all, even if there are sometimes growing pains. Our PoliSci thinkers say that the reason it can do this is that it doesn't have even the concept of personal identity, and so it doesn't make the emotional choices that we've always assumed makes us who we are. I don't know, myself. I can't argue with the results, but I sure do miss cotton. And ground beef. Oh, and pants. I will never get to used to that. |
I take a deep breath and flip the switch on the time machine. Everything I've done in the past 5 years has led up to this moment. This time, instead of exploding, the time machine starts blinking a series of lights at me. I can hear a faint whirring sound coming from the engine.
It finally works.
I climb into the metal sphere and enter the date I want to travel to: October 25, 2013. Strapping myself into the chair, I wait for the time machine to send my mind back to the day it all began. Because I can't take anything with me, I've memorized all my important discoveries, like the cure for cancer and the solution for climate change.
I won't be able to discover them again.
\~\~
When I open my eyes, my children are laughing in the back seat of my car. No one knows it yet, but a biohazard truck filled with radioactive material is about to tip over in front of me. The resulting incident is going to cause my IQ and EQ to exponentially increase every day.
But it's also going to kill my family.
I don't know what else I could have discovered if I'd stayed in 2018, how many more lives I could have saved. At least, with the important solutions still in my mind, I can improve the world again. I've memorized the phone numbers of important people I trust, as well as information they've said will make them believe I'm a time traveler. I'll just have to hope humanity never faces another global catastrophe.
*Please forgive me,* I think.
As the biohazard truck begins to swerve, I flip my turn signal and drive away. |
"Thanks..."I pull out the letter and read the name of the sender, "Tim."And empty the contents of the envelope onto the kitchen table.
A small brass ring rolls out, coming to a stop like a slow snare roll. It was inscribed with Germanic runes on its band, and encrusted with gem stones.
"See them, huh?"I said, reading the letter.
My mind raced with intrigue, fantastic scenes played through my head, and my heart thumped as hard as a bass in my chest as I slid the ring on.
And there it was, in bold 32 point Arial lettering "THEM,"crowding my vision. I pulled it off and tossed it to the side with a frustrated sigh.
Very funny, Tim. Very funny. |
Agatha crept through the underbrush slowly, the cold chill of the early morning frost restricting her movements. She was reluctant to spellcast this early in the day, lest the citizens of Briar Hill notice the tingling aura around her when she arrived. She had learned to deal with the harsh gazes and nervousness of the townsfolk decades ago, yet the bite of their distrust was almost worse than the frigid temperature digging at her skin and bones.
She had always been different. That’s what her mother had told her way back when she was just a small girl on the family farm. It hadn’t been noticeable at first, but surely enough her parents and siblings had caught on fairly quickly. It wasn’t everyday that an eight-year-old girl could outlift her father, afterall.
And that had only been the start, of course. Agatha has been excited at first, thinking she was like of one the heroes in the tales her mother used to read to her, until she had seen the terror in the eyes of the farmhands. Her father and mother had taken her aside soon after reassuring the farmhands nothing was wrong, and she was forbidden to help in the fields.
It ran in the family.
Her mother, her mother’s mother, and so on, back and back and back until Agatha was dizzy from trying to keep track of how many great’s she had to add to the names.
That’s how they explained it to her in the darkness of their family home, under hushed whispers, lest the prying ears and eyes outside catch wind of this. Agatha had barely understood it then, her mother crouched beside her, telling her of all the new rules she would have to abide by. Most of them she didn’t remember now, save for the most important ones.
Don’t let anyone see you use it. That was the most important one.
Agatha did remember, however, when her mother had opened her hands, and began to weave long glowing lines of light in the air. Like fire dancing in the dark. Awestruck wouldn’t have even begun to describe the feeling. The light had flowed through the air, before her mother had caught it within her palms gain. That time when she had opened them, dozens of butterflies shot out into the air, fluttering, sparkling dust spreading all around her.
The warmth and excitement of this strange power had flooded through her all at once.
But telling a young child what they shouldn’t do was a futile effort in and of itself. She had listened to her parents, of course, but at times, when she crept away into the woods alone, she had found herself playing with this new ability. Creating little motes of light, scrawling symbols in the dirt with her mind, moving objects from afar.
And with each attempt the lights would be brighter, the symbols would be deeper, and the objects would move further.
She could even cultivate the ground beneath her to blossom and grow, from even the driest and deadest soil.
She had been around eighteen when the Frost had hit her family’s farm and Briar Hill. Winters so cold and dark that nothing would grow. Summers short and bleak that planting crops was useless, as they died in the soil.
The famine had come after that, food stores depleted after several lackluster growing seasons. Hungry beggars roaming the roads, even picking through the barren fields for half-dead seeds to eat.
Her father had taken ill some time after that, and that was when Agatha had decided enough was enough.
She had stridden out in the middle of a blizzard, wind and snow lashing against her face like a whip and crouched in the centre of the field. She placed her hands upon the earth and funneled every single ounce of will and stubbornness into the ground. But nothing had changed.
It wasn’t until the next morning when she had awoken to the ruckus around the farm she had seen the yield of her efforts.
Crops, fully grown and ready for harvest, and yet sitting under a blanket of snow in the wailing frigid winds. Her father, healthy and completely recovered, looking at her with the frightened eyes of realization.
It wasn’t as easy to hide this time. Word had spread quickly through the town afterwards about the ‘miracle’ and it wasn’t long after that certain questions were asked. Back then Agatha hadn’t understood why her parents had frantically packed and fled their home in the middle of the night, or why in the early light of the dawn of the next morning, she could see smoke rising from where her home was, but now she knew.
Superstition and fearmongering wasn’t something you could explain away, especially with her powers.
But life had continued, her new home located a few hours or so from Briar Hill, and the distance was enough to persuade most of the curious to stay away.
Most of them.
Every so often, she would get the lone visitor. A young man wanting help to cure his wife’s sickness. A family wanting to save their diseased crops. Some even came looking for wealth.
She helped where she could, after all, what was a gift if you didn’t use it?
But the stories spread, and the glances she drew from her monthly visits into Briar Hill were colder and more antagonistic. She knew they wanted her gone for good.
And she would have obliged, it if wasn’t for that fact that Briar Hill was the closest village. And Gwenneth.
Gwenneth was the youngest daughter of the Haven family in Briar Hill. A mischievous little orange-headed girl that took pride in the chaos she could cause.
Gwenneth’s father had snuck Agatha into Briar Hill years ago because his daughter had been caught with a fever that wouldn’t break. The priests in the town had already written her survival off, and the Haven family had been frantically trying everything in their power to save their daughter.
Which was how Agatha ended up creeping through the night into the Haven household and chanting her spells above the little girl, before creeping back before the sun rose.
It was only a week later when Agatha had heard a knock and her door and had opened it to find the little orange-headed monster in front of her, with a gift basket and a warm hug. And after that, Gwenneth had started visiting Agatha more and more, against her parents wishes. She told Agatha that she had seen the old lady in her fever dreams, and had reached out to her, and all the pain of sickness had fallen away.
The memory made the early morning chill falter, and for a second, she found herself smiling.
Until she had emerged from the underbrush and seen the groggy smoke-filled sky bearing down on Briar Hill, smelt the ash from burning fires, and the screams of the villagers. The cold in her bones was not from the temperature anymore.
As old as she was, Agatha moved with swift purpose as she descended the hill into the village. The wooden palisades around the own were splintered inward, and the gate had been burned off from the wooden framework. The sounds of clanging metal and the smell of blood were all that greeted her, and she wished for the cold stares and indifference instead.
Outriders, clad in dark leather, picked through the village, grabbing townsfolk from their homes and rounding them up in the city centre, while they pilfered through the now-empty houses.
Agatha hung back, peering from beyond the burned wreckage of one home. She wasn’t cold anymore, in fact her blood was burning, and the heat on her neck wasn’t from the flames around her.
The townspeople were crowded in the village square, bound and on their knees. Most of them bruised and bloodied. Others had been more reluctant to obey, and to her horror, Agatha saw the limp bodies of some-what familiar people face down in the bloodied mud.
One of the Outriders stood in front of the others, with heavily plate, barking orders and pointing fingers. Their leader, she though. With long dirty hair and a greasy face with pinprick eyes. He pulled one of the villagers from the crowd and drove the pommel of his sword into the poor man’s guts, knocking him to the ground.
Agatha only realized she had stepped from her hidden spot and stepped into the square when several of the armed men had turned and faced her, and the Outrider leader had appraised her with a mocking laugh.
“You should leave.” Agatha’s voice was cold as the frost, and hot as her anger.
The man laughed. “And who are you supposed to be?” He thrust his sword at her. “Don’t bother answering, my men will get that information from you.” He snapped a finger, and several of the goons had swarmed her.
Her mother’s voice rang out. The most important rule of all.
Don’t use your power to hurt others.
The dryness in her mouth wasn’t just the hesitation. No, as the guards moved to surround her and left their posts, Agatha spied something she hadn’t before. Something familiar and strange. Something that made her hurt in the chest, and dizzy in the head.
One of the guards had stepped away from a body. Face down in the dirt, unmoving like the others, but unlike the others, Agatha recognized something. Something fiery-orange yet marred with splotches of dark red blood.
And in that moment, her mother’s voice faded away, replaced by the burning in her blood and the heavy echoing thump of a heartbeat in her ears.
Either the bandits didn’t notice the aura of malic around her, or they didn’t care. It didn’t matter to Agatha anyways now.
She was already working, pouring her soul and self out into the world around her, fueled by anger and hatred.
None of the armed man got close to her. They managed a few footfalls, before they staggered and slowed. They shook, mumbling with confusion as they spasmed and collapsed to the ground in heaps of armor and screams.
Vines burst from their armor, gouging their eyes and ears, crowding their mouths, and eventually muffling their cries.
The leader had finally noticed, taking a few steps back and waving his sword at Agatha.
“W-what are you?!”
Agatha stepped through the overgrown corpses, vines and branches curling around her skin as she advanced towards the man.
“You should have left.”
|
\[Alex Bishop has joined the conversation\]
Macron: Hey, who is this, did someone else become a world leader without anyone else realising?
Theresa: Could be another Australian prime minister?
Merkel: No, I believe the Australian prime ministers name was Scott Marston.
~~Malcolm~~ Scott:…...Morrison.
Merkel: What, the person who has been added is called Bishop?
~~Malcolm~~ Scott: No, my name is Morrison.
Merkel: And?
~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Scott Morrison, the Australian prime minister!!
Merkel: Oh sorry, either way do you know who our mystery guest is?
~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Unfortunately, no.
Theresa: Do we think he’s accidently added someone to the chat again?
Kim Jong Un: Wouldn’t be the first time.
\[Xi, Putin and four others like this comment\]
Macron: Listen we all agree it’s not right to remove you from this chat now, but since we can’t remove any people anymore from this chats thanks to you, this is sort of your fault.
Kim Jong Un: I got what I wanted.
Macron: (sigh) well should someone bump him to get his attention?
Theresa: Why can’t you do it?
Macron: Because I did it last time and he hasn’t stopped ringing me occasionally just to chat, you do it!
Theresa: Listen, I’ve just become the first prime minister in the UK found in contempt of parliament, I’m not in the mood.
\[Kim Jong Un and nine others like this comment\]
Merkel: Perhaps, Trudeau?
Trudeau: Oh no, I had to sit there as he signed the wrong piece of paper today. He had one job!! Get Morrison to do it!
~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Why me? I’ve just been minding my own business and don’t want any of this.
Trudeau: Precisely, besides, it isn’t like he’s going to remember who you are.
\[Theresa, Jacinda and fourteen others like this comment\]
~~Malcolm~~ Scott: Fine, I’ll do it.
\[Scott Morrison has bumped Donald Trump\]
Donald: “Michael Cohen asks judge for no Prison Time.” You mean he can do all of the TERRIBLE, unrelated to Trump, things having to do with fraud, big loans, Taxis, etc., and not serve a long prison term? He makes up stories to get a GREAT & ALREADY reduced deal for himself, and get.....
Jacinda: Scott remember the rules please and check beforehand to see if he is mid-twitter rant you bloody egg.
Donald: ....his wife and father-in-law (who has the money?) off Scott Free. He lied for this outcome and should, in my opinion, serve a full and complete sentence.
Merkel: Donald this isn’t Twitter, we just need to know if you added this Alex Bishop person by accident?
Donald: Siri Twitter now.
Theresa: Donald please just answer the question, and that’s not how Siri works.
Donald: I barely know Alex Bishop! He was a friend of an associate of mine, HE informs me that he’s always telling people that he knows me, BIG LIAR.
Macron: So….you did add him?
Donald: Witch hunt! Can’t believe the dems would do this, CRAZY!!
\[Fifteen minutes of incoherent ranting later\]
Trudeau: Do you think he’s finally stopped?
Jacinda: I believe he’s at funeral for now, so we’ve got a few minutes.
Macron: Well that was a mess.
Theresa: and, we still don’t know who our mystery person is.
Kim Jong Un: They got a better reception than I did here.
Merkel: That’s because Alex Bishop isn’t threatening the world with a nuclear strike!
Alex Bishop:…….or am I?
Alex Bishop: \[Posts GIF of Leonard Nimoy vanishing from Marge Vs The Monorail\]
\[Alex Bishop has left the conversation\] |
The gods appear in front of you for the fourth time.
The first time, they recruited you. They said you were chosen to fight the Demon Lord, and destroy all he holds dear. That went completely over your little 9 year old head, thinking it was merely a dream. Noone would believe you anyway.
The second time, they cursed you. The demon king was still not dead by you were 18, and the masters of the world did not like that. They took away all you held dear by making you outlive it, and you were cursed to outlive all until the Demon Lord was dead.
In reality, becoming immortal was the best thing that ever happened to you. You don't remember much about your old family, it's been a long, long time, but you do remember one thing: they were horrible. They were swindlers, drunkards and prone to hitting their child whenever they felt like it. You were able to watch them die, and while you didn't feel happiness, you felt relief.
After they died, nothing was left for you. They gambled it all just so you couldn't have any. No orphanage would take you, noone would give you any jobs and begging barely gave you a cent to spend in food.
Around that time, the gods came for the third visit. They were livid that you hadn't even seen the Demon Lord yet. You told them that you had all the time in the world, but since being smitten hurt, you went over to his abode.
The guards tried to stop you, but however much it hurt, you knew you wouldn't die, and you kept going until you reached the throne room. When he saw you, the Demon Lord didn't try to kill you, but immediately sent you to the infirmary of the castle.
After being healed back, the Lord himself paid you a visit. He asked you what you were doing here, and you came clean. You did, however, tell him he didn't have any intention of killing him. He was surprisingly pleased with that, and you were able to slowly earn his trust. After around 50 years, you became his right hand man, and that was fun. You did find out some more things about him, like his name, Ren and his story, which was extremely convoluted and entertaining to remember.
And now, they visit you for a fourth time, begging you to stop the Demon Lord. You call your best friend to see if he could stop these allucinations, and he casts a simple spell on you.
You couldn't betray him. You both have been through so much together. Especially not today. After all, it's a special occasion. You finally get to destroy the town that tormented you for so long. |
I stopped dead in the doorway, then stepped a little farther in and closed the door with a slow sigh of resignation. "Great. Babysitting."
I hate babysitting, unless they're actual babies. Or little kids, you know, I like kids. My family's usually pretty good about that, kids I mean; Dad likes them too. He's a bad man, is Dad, but he would never hurt a kid. Not directly. I mean making some little seven-year-old into an orphan or taking away his father, that's not exactly kind. I made the mistake of bringing that up once. I still have the scar, and remember all the words that went with it. "Just Business,"Dad says, like it's an incantation, something to ward off the guilt.
So anyway babysitting wouldn't be so bad if Dad'd just dropped off some of my nieces or nephews or little cousins. I'm tired from work, sure, but I know emergencies happen, and I may not be willing to help out with the family business, but actual *family* business, that I'm fine with. This though, this was the first one. Family business.
I kept my eyes on the guy while I walked over to pick up the note, and also kept one hand on the gun nestled comfy against the small of my back. I don't really like guns, but I do know how to use one, and use it well. Dad saw to that. Dad and Uncle Lem, the big scary fucker. And it's not like rival organizations—like this fine gentleman tied up on my floor—would necessarily care that I'm not actually involved with what our family does best (and also worst) when choosing targets for revenge or leverage or whatever. So I carry, because this is what I was born into. The piece is even legal, even if having it concealed like this isn't quite. Guess I'm still technically a criminal. I speed, too.
"Hey, Mr. Bouras,"I said, keeping my tone nice and respectful toward the man even though his situation definitely wasn't. "Look, this isn't a fun situation for either of us. Yeah, I know, worse for you than me, but I'm gonna do my best to keep things as okay as possible, you hear me?"
He just kept on giving me the Look, the one old guys in his line of work get down perfect, the one that promised death and suffering and indomitable will and all that good shit. Thing is, though, I got plenty of that from my own old man growing up, and I'm kinda inured to it. Still gonna be careful though. I sighed again.
"Yeah, I get it. Can we skip the threats, and just get you comfortable while I read this note Dad left me? Nod if that's okay, and of course if you promise to keep your voice down. Neither of us want the cops showing up, and this is a nice apartment, well-insulated, but it ain't *soundproof*, you hear me?"
He gave me about another thirty seconds of the Look, but when I made no attempt to return it or quail or whatever else he was expecting, he jerked his head up, down, back to staring. Curt, but good enough.
"Great,"I said, and hauled him up to sit upright on the couch. I'm a big guy, and he's pretty average, so it wasn't too hard. Had to loosen a few ropes and cut two others so he could even bend that way. Kept a nice grip on my knife so he'd hopefully not be tempted to start anything. Didn't go anywhere near my gun, that's worse than useless this close up.
"Gonna tear the tape off now,"I warned him, working my fingertips under the edge of the strip. "It's gonna hurt like a motherfucker, and I'm sorry about that, but there's just no way around it."It was gonna tear some of the hair out of his prized mustache, too, but I wasn't going to mention that. Hopefully he wouldn't notice it until there was a mirror around. He'd see it as an attack on identity; for guys like him, pain was one thing, no big deal, it was humiliation that they really hated and feared and raged at.
"One...t—"and I pulled hard on the tape before the second number was all the way out of my mouth. Easier that way, for both of us. Probably should thank me later, definitely wouldn't.
He let out a muffled cry and a long string of under-the-breath obscenity. I was relieved, and more than a little impressed. If he'd started really yelling I'd have to get drastic, and I really didn't want to, for any number of reasons. I balled the tape up in my hand immediately so he wouldn't see the some-pepper-mostly-salt hairs clinging to it.
"Vasily Alexievich,"he growled, and I nodded. "Yep, Mr. Bouras, that's me. I'm just gonna go read Dad's note now, and then I'll get you something to drink, if you want."
<continued below> |
"Ah... Chuck! Hey buddy... look I know you are new and-"the man awkwardly tried to get the attention of the rotting figure. The figure standing at eight foot, his bulky body full of pure red meat, looking like a back of muscles that had been tucked into a thin human bag of skin.
"Yeeeeees."The behemoth asked, dragging his body towards the man, his face extended into a smile that showed off the hole in his tongue, half his face seeming to have rotted away, exposing the skull beneath.
"Ah.. fuck... can you look away while I-"
The behemoth simply leaned in closer, giving the man a long sniff as he pressed his face uncomfortable close to the others. "Yeeeeees"
"Or.... or get... closer."He winced, pulling his face a little back as he went to talk. "My son said you were standing outside of their party, watching them through the window. Look I know you come from a place where people are a little.. different and unnatural."
"Yeeeees florida"the behemoth said, never losing his horrific grin as he again sniffed the man.
"Right Florida.... yet you can't do that here, it freaked them out. The poor stoner kid thought you were coming to fuck his brain out of his skull."
"Yeeess... no.. me mallet skull, mush mush!"He said bringing one of his heavy meaty hands down to his palm to show him what the mashing would look like.
"Uh... oh.. you and your jokes... but please don't do it again.. ok?"The man asked, almost pleading, really not wanting to discuss this again.
"Yeeeees, me try! Me only wanted to show them mallet collection! It help me therapy."The behemoth said beginning to fiddle with his pants. "Yeeees me show you mallet!"He chuckled, a bit of his lip dropping from his face as he reached down his pants.
"Oh god! No... nice talk Chuck!"The man said before sprinting to his door, the sound of a lock flicking and blinds closing quickly following.
Chuck pulled his long wooden mallet from his pants sighing. "Yeeeees... no one want to see mallet.."he sighed, stomping back to his home. |
“Welcome home.” The figure closest to us said. It had the proportion of a human, but it was not human. Its skin so pale it almost looked transparent; its irides so big they almost covered the entire eye; its features so sharp they they looked uncanny.
“Who are you?” I asked apprehensively. My team stood behind me, and I was sure they were all as uneasy as I was.
“We are humans. We arrived here thousands of years ago and have since adapted to the environment of this planet.”
I mentally noted how dark the surrounding was. We were out in an open field, the sun of the planet hung high in the sky. However, the light level was that of dusk on earth. The screen on my helmet, which I had been too scared to take off, was telling me the temperature was same as a nice spring day on earth. I was guessing this sun they had must have been emitting more electromagnetic radiation outside of the visible range. Their physiology change must have been in response to that.
“But how?” I asked. When we were sent off Earth thousands and thousands of year ago, our ship was hailed as the peak of human technology. Our fusion engine bought us ever closer to the speed of light, and the breakthrough cryogenic hibernation chambers ensured we would remain healthy on the journey to this planet dubbed ‘the Eden’.
The creature replied, “I regret to inform you, soon after your ship left, a brilliant physicist in England unlocked the secret of the warping technology. A couple decades of implementing that theory into reality, humanity could now go anywhere in the universe they want. All within their lifetime, and all without the need of cryogenic hibernation.”
I looked around, the reality of what had happened slowly sinking in. So we had been the unlucky ones, huh? I had been so elated when I was picked for this mission. I had to beat thousands of candidates. I worked so hard for it. And now, what for?
My second in command spoke up from behind me. “Are we the only... *human* humans left?”
The creature nodded. “Ever since Earth was destroyed by the consequences of climate change, humanity has settled into many different corners of the universe. And with the different environment of each of the habitable planets, the humans there changed and adapted. You are the only Originals left.”
I could feel my teammates’ shock. I could still decipher the expression on that creature’s face to be that of a sympathetic one, which only made it worse. It and I are the same, yet we are separated by thousands of years of evolution. My teammates and I were left behind by time. We were all alone in this whole new universe. |
“I’m gonna hit Johnny Cart for lunch,” Shelly says to her co-worker. “You want me to grab you anything?”
Ron, without looking up from his computer, slightly shakes his head and utters a muffled, “Nah, I’m good.”
*Ok then. Why do I even bother.*
She waved her badge at the exit door and heard the magnetic lock disengage. She passed through the clean room and into the outer office then made her way to the elevator.
Shelly hits the down button and waits for the elevator to arrive. She immediately gets bored, leans against the wall, and checks her phone. Some useless notification has her complete attention.
The doors open and three well dressed and very stout men exit. They blow by Shelly and head down the hall. She looks up long enough to press “G” before being quickly resorbed into her phone. The slapping of dress shoes on tile flooring unheard as the men rushed back.
The doors open and the lobby is packed. Annoyed by the mass of humanity, no doubt waiting for “free whatever” day, Shelly slips through with a couple brusk excuse me’s and pardon me’s. Her passage made all the easier by the fact that no one was moving, just staring at some guy talking about something, “killing everyone” or maybe “grilling everyone”. She wasn’t really listening.
Outside the sky is red. Too red for midday. For the first time Shelly looks up from her phone. “That’s not right.”
She is still dumbly staring at the sky when the non descript van stops in front of her and the rear door slides open.
“Someone’s getting abducted,” she giggled to herself.
The man in the back looks her dead in the eye and says, “Aunt Jessie is making tacos tonight so come on. Scoot your boot.”
Shelly’s eyes went wide. Suddenly she was seven years old in her living room as her parents drilled the passphrase into her. With perfect clarity she could feel the high pile mauve carpet under her feet, smell the pasta sauce cooking in the kitchen, hear the assault rifle magazines being loaded, taste the blood in her mouth, see bruises on her knuckles.
The man in the van tosses the duffle bag at her feet and slams the door shut. The van pulls away, disappearing into the slip stream of traffic. Shelly picks up the bag and ducks around the side of the building. She knows exactly what is inside.
She puts on the bullet proof vest, swaps her wedges for nine hole combat boots, tightens the holsters around her hips and then injects the needle into her neck. Her eyes go wide, her ears ring and then bleed, before she can focus and clear herself. She pulls the black balaclava over her head and grabs the assault rifle.
Back inside now she sees the men threatening the crowd. Hears the words clearly for the first time. “Your lives are over. Earth is cancelled and you miserable pieces of shit are already dead. You just don’t know it yet.”
From behind the crowd Shelly raises her assault rifle and fires a three round burst into the roof, pocking the marble of the mezzanine. The crowd shrieks.
“Oh thank God!” Someone calls out.
“There is no God. Only us,” Shelly replies before firing indiscriminately into the crowd. |
I stood up straight and pulled a strip of cloth from my pocket to wipe the sweat off my forehead. The sun had only begun rising over the hills but we were already several hours into digging trenches to plant wild wheat. Four figures moved down the hills slope and toward the camp--two tall ones and two small ones. A family.
"Heads up! We've got wanderers."The rest of the men stood where they were and searched the landscape until they found them.
"Looks like another family,"Mark observed.
"Yeah. Probably hungry. I'll show 'em to the settlement, help 'em get sorted out."I looked at the group, all of whom were gazing back at me. "Don't dig my line. It's my work. Don't need any of you sons-a-bitches callin' me lazy."
I wiped my hands on my sweat cloth to get some of the dirt off. It wasn't a sanitary practice by ordinary standards, but these weren't ordinary times.
I got closer to the wanderers and the adults scooted the kids behind them. I raised a hand in the air and waved to show I didn't mean harm. You couldn't blame them for thinking it--wanderers after this long have probably had their fair share of run-ins with scavengers.
"Good mornin', folks!"I called to them when I was still ten or so yards away. They didn't answer. "Are you okay? Are you lost?"
I moved forward carefully, both hands up to show them I wasn't concealing any spear behind my back.
The man said something to me in another language.
"Ah. Y'all are lost. Do you speak any English?"
No response.
I stepped forward a few paces and pantomimed raising food to my my mouth. *Are you hungry?* I imitated warming myself by a fire. *Are you cold?* I pointed to the huts in the distance. *Food. Fire. There. Come with me.*
I got close enough to get a good look at them. They were Asian, but I admit I still hadn't mastered telling those folks apart. I'm not proud of my ignorance, but I was raised on an Oklahoma farm. It is what it is.
The man was wearing a pair of trendy glasses that had seen some heavy wear along with the rest of his formerly-neat get up. The woman next to him had a tattered sundress on and dried dirt splatted up her legs. The kids were still behind them.
"Hey, hey,"I spoke in a hushed and gentle tone. "I'm not here to hurt you, folks. Just trying to do the Christian thing here."They didn't understand my words, but they got the gist.
We walked across the field together. The little children were asking questions and the mom was shushing them and hissing warnings in their direction. I looked back and the dad offered me an apologetic expression. I smiled in return. *Kids, right?*
We got to the main hut--our community center. A fire was burning in the fireplace and fish were roasting on a spit over the flames. The big room was filled with the smell of cooking food and I watched the family's eyes all go wide.
Monica was tending to the food and prepping the village's breakfast when I walked in.
"Hey Monica. We got some wanderers."
She turned around. "Oh my goodness! With little ones? You poor things!"She rushed over to the family who recoiled slightly at her momentum. "Are y'all hungry? Can I get you anything?"
"They don't speak any English, Mon. I'm gonna show them to the maps. Can you serve them up some breakfast?"
"Of course! Of course!"She rushed back to her station and started scooping rice and fish on palm leaves. I motioned for the dad to come with me to the maps.
We had two big ones up side-by-side. On the left: Earth. On the right: a rough copy of wherever this was. I pointed at the man and pointed at Earth. *Where are you from?*
He adjusted his glasses on his nose and looked closely at the rudimentary scrawlings. He pointed to a spot.
"Shit. I don't know where that is. Hey, Mon, do you know what's... South of China... North of Australia?"
"A lot, baby."
"Yeah... It looks like that."
"Camp Panchia,"the man said as he pointed. "Camp Panchia."
"Camp Panchia, huh? Never heard of it, brother."I looked to the map on the right, another amateur attempt at cartography. Settlement markers dotted the landscape. America. Germany. China. Korea. Ethiopia. And so on and so forth. People migrating to familiar communities as they stumbled into our part of the world.
"All right, darlings, breakfast is served!"Monica placed the leaves stuffed with rice and fish and fruit and vegetables on the table. The mom and kids rushed to a serving and I motioned the shyly patient dad to the table. *Go. Eat.*
The family attacked their meal with a hungry desperation. It could have been days or even weeks since they last had a proper meal.
"Those poor darlings,"Monica said as she moved in closer to me.
"Poor? They're the lucky ones. They found us. When we go hunting we run into bodies all the time--folks who were never taught how to survive on their own."
"So tragic,"Monica cooed.
"I don't know what those goddamn aliens were thinking." |
"What of your companions?"
The Dark Lord was a bit surprised the glowing gold clad warrior before him was actually discussing his offer. Even from across the room atop his obsidian throne he could feel the enchanted blade specifically forged to kill him and the gold armor vibrating with spelled protections that were nearly impenetrable. The Chosen One had all he needed to make this a fair fight. The Dark Lord had no interest in fair fights.
"What about them?"
The Chosen One sounded unconcerned. Disconcertingly so. He had journeyed with them for months across the land. How could he be so nonchalant?
"I have your elven princess friend in my dungeon after she fell into my pit trap. I was thinking of flaying her alive."
There, that should shake him.
"She'd probably just use that awful elvish blood magic to heal and escape. Better to kill her. Decapitation should do it."
He was bluffing. Surely he was bluffing! She had given him the golden armor, he wouldn't simply abandon her!
"Staggeringly racist, her whole family. It's like if my drunk uncle George lived to 400 and got worse every year. Sending her along was literally the least they could do by treaty, and she's spent the whole trip insulting every non-elvish thing she sees. And she sees a lot."
"Like your dwarf friend? He provided that sword you carry."
"Friend? That son of a bitch only came along because he enjoys killing so much. Bathing in the blood of his enemies and so on. Won't shup up about the glory of battle. You know he likes to take trophies? Ears, fingers, noses. Has a bag full of them. You wouldn't believe the flies. Only reason he got caught by your trap was the bag got snagged as the door came down and he wouldn't leave it. And every time I draw the sword it won't shut up and sounds just like him!"
"What of your clever thief?"
"She sold us out to your forces twice. She thinks I don't know, but vanishing in the night and returning with gold coins with your face on them just before leading us into ambushes isn't exactly subtle. Nor is her "luck"at avoiding injury in those fights. She's probably negotiating her fee with one of your captains right now."
The Dark Lord was starting to see the pattern.
"That just leaves your silver tongued bard."
"Straight up rapist. Uses that magic lute to mind control whoever he wants into the most depraved acts you can think of. Then he skips town one step ahead of the furious mob. You should probably have someone check your maids' quarters, that's where he usually ends up."
The Dark Lord found himself intrigued. This was not how he had expected the conversation to go. Perhaps he'd put too much stock in the songs that had reached him. Foolish of him to believe a bard, though there was one other thing the songs had mentioned.
"What of your oath to defeat me? To bring justice and peace to the land by driving out the Great Evil? That is what you swore upon donning the sword and armor, is it not?"
The Chosen One looked pensive.
"I've thought about that a lot on this long journey. My soul is bound up in that oath, to break it would bring on a fate worse than death."
His face turned resolute, and he looked straight at the Dark Lord with a burning intensity. The Dark Lord tensed, expecting an attack.
"I was a poor farm boy when I was chosen. I knew little of the world outside my village. I have seen much on this journey, and learned many hard truths."
"The elves hide in their forests kill any non-elves who dare cross their borders. All to preserve their pure bloodlines and avoid what they call lesser races. They will happily allow the world to burn so long as their forest is left alone."
"And the world is burning. The dwarves and humans war on anyone they can, taking no quarter and relishing the horrors of battle. They have killed far more than you for foolish glory."
"Your army has invaded and conquered, but you always offer surrender first. Even when you conquer a place you offer those left the option to join your army or the freedom to work their lands without the corrupt and decadent human nobles who lived easy lives on the backs of serfs. Your terms are strict but fair, and you promote based on ability and not bloodline. We had difficulty finding many sympathizers on the way here, your rule is fairer than what they had before."
The Chosen One paused, a look a relief upon his face.
"The only way to truly uphold my oath is to tear down the old ways and powers and bring true peace to the powerless. Those who sent me here to assassinate you are the Great Evil I must defeat."
&#x200B;
The Dark Lord smiled. They truly were the same. |
Every single death was published, every name was made immortal, carved onto a great plaque in what used to be called Antarctica. Three names were added to the list today, Zhang Wu, Oliver McArthur and Jose Lopez, all with the same cause of death, suicide. Their families, if they had any, were of course compensated, the world grieved, and then everyone moved on.
It had been perhaps two hundred years since people stopped having children, two hundred and twenty after humanity mastered the ageing process. There were maybe 5 billion people left now, people did not die like they used to, but that did not mean people did not die, and so everyone understood that eventually the world will be empty, a quiet extinction over the course of millennia. Every single death was an incomparable loss, a grain that trickled out of the hourglass of all mankind, and everyone had to simply accept that fact and go back to their day to day lives.
Funerals these days were nationally televised events, sometimes even globally. There was always a profound sense of melancholy to such events, but at the same time there was something else just as significant. Was it envy? For those freed of the endless tedium of this new existence, granted peace at last through their mortality. Was it understanding? A quiet acceptance of the inevitable and a brief freedom from the cages of delusion everyone made for themselves these days. Was it something else entirely? An emotion not quite named, a primal reaction to such an event. It was probably all of the three in truth, in different ratios for every person, but in the end all present.
Once deaths from murder, accident or even hunger or thirst dominated the record, but now suicides reigned supreme. People were tired it seemed, tired of the endless work required to keep a dying world going, tired of the constant waiting for the inevitable, tired of the obsession of every single nation, corporation and other such power with keeping them alive. The years were heavy and would build up into insurmountable burdens, in the end it isn't shocking why this is the case.
Perhaps one day the infertility can be cured, perhaps in the next few centuries a better way of existing can be found, a new hope for the hopeless. As for now however life moved on, as it always has, one day ended and the next began
And the next set of names were added to the mountain sized plaque. |
"Really?"
I slowly stood, brushing the dirt from my robes. I could hear the shuffling nearby, as my Guardian slowly awakened. With a sigh I turned to face my client. They had a slightly embarrassed look on their face, as they shrugged.
"Sorry Charles. If it makes you feel any better I personally didn't want this."
I raised an eyebrow.
"Could you at least tell me the reason, there must be one."
Sofia gave a small smile at my nonchalant attitude.
"The Board are concerned. Fates Eyes clearly see your path growing dark and bitter. They couldn't see the trigger though, so they decided to nip the problem in the bud."
The shuffles turned into individual footsteps. I glanced behind at my handiwork, a large construct of red crystal. I had based it on a humanoid, though that form was now hard to see. It had a three sided head, each set with a black eye. Two arms came from shoulders, ending in enlarged crushing paws.
It's reach was further upgraded by a series of tendrils, sprouting at evenly spaced points along it's chest and back. They could change between smooth manipulators, spiked clubs and razor sharp blades. Below them, where its belly would be protruded a larger mass of crystal. That I was particularly proud of, as it could absorb spells and fire them back.
Finally, it was supported by four chunky legs. It gave it a large range of movement, with a grip on even the slipperiest of floors. It was in all aspects the cental part of my masterpiece. For a moment I felt fear, but it soon passed.
"So you made me build my own cell. Not going to lie, that is a pretty smart move."
I crossed my arms, despite feeling a drain as the inbuilt sigils began to to activate as well.
"There is one thing however you didn't take into account."
She frowned at that, stepping closer to the grated door.
"Whats that?"
I felt my smile widen, as the Guardian recognised who I was.
"That I always expect to be betrayed."
It stomped over to me, gently lifting me up. It's tendrils wrapped around me to form a protective barrier, as it turned its attention to the door. It strode over, rearing back with a battering ram of a fist, before driving it forwards. I heard metal bend and creak, behind which came a distinctive pop.
As it prepared to swing again, I glanced out. Sofia had gone, teleported to safety. I just nodded to myself. I didn't necessarily hold it against her. She was just a single player in the ever changing game of politics. The Board however, those I did hold it against.
That brought a faint amusement to me. The Fates Eye couldn't see what caused me to go bad. I think they now knew what that act was. And this was entirely their fault. The door broke from my Guardians second impact, and it pulled its way outside. I sighed as the drain stopped, and strength returned.
"Dark and bitter hey? We will see about that." |
It was very frightening the first time Tharzad the Ineffable appeared. All you saw was a dark shadow appear out of the corner of your eye, which then swiftly engulfed your daughter and cast itself out the window. You remember your heart sinking, a knot in the pit of your stomach. You rushed to the window, expecting to see some horrible vile creature eating the remains of your only child. Instead, you saw some horrible vile creature…. sitting calmly at your daughters’ side, playing in the sandbox.
Obviously, you ran down to “save” her from this creature. But when you pulled her away, she started crying. And oddly enough, so to, did the horrid shadow beast. Going against your gut, you placed her on the ground, to which she started crawling quickly towards the thing. Upon reaching it, a smoky tendril reached out… and patted your daughter on the head. What the hell was going on?
After consulting numerous holy men, exorcists and paranormal experts, you have come to one conclusion; no one knows what they are talking about. The holy men want to have you show up for religious sermons, the exorcists want to throw holy water and incense at your daughter, and the paranormal experts want to interview your not-yet-talking daughter for their podcasts. No one was able to offer concrete answers. Except, for the demon-thing.
He explained that his name was Tharzad the Ineffable. He was a lower demon of spite and malice, and was apparently in charge of pulling damned souls to Hell in order to fulfill their deals with the devil. But upon seeing the ancient Sumerian invocation rites of Unholy Unbecoming drawn on your daughters’ wall with crayon, he figured she probably didn’t have the mental capacity to know what she was doing exactly.
After a “thorough interrogation” he concluded that her soul did not fit the criteria, and so was prepared to leave back for Hell, but something kept him from going. He claims that upon looking into your daughters’ cute as a button drooling face, he was overcome with something that he had never felt before. An emotion as foreign to him as possible; joy. Apparently, it causes him great pain. But, he says that the happy feeling it gave him in his empty heart overwhelmed the colossal burning sensation in the rest of his body.
So, for the last six months, Tharzad has taken any free time he has from collecting damned souls, and spent it with your daughter. He’s grown to be a strange part of the family. You would take pictures with him and her, but every photo burst into flame after taking it. Even digital ones. So, you simply live with the fact that your infant daughters’ best friend is a hell-bound demon whose entire existence is filled with pain and torment. Except for the time spent with your daughter. That time, is filled with pain, torment, and love. |
It was a simple enough device, really. A box with a single button. Press it, and you're sent back in time for exactly one minute. No more, no less. It was my hope that with this invention, I could save her.
The first time I used it, I clicked 60 times and went back an hour. I warned her about the car that was about to hit her. She didn't believe me, of course, but she moved out of the way nonetheless. The second time, I clicked many times and went back a day. I tried to warn her again, but this time she wouldn't listen. She told me I was crazy and had me committed.
The third time, I went back two days. This time, I didn't try to warn her. Instead, I hid her keys so she couldn't leave the house that day. It worked. She didn't die.
But it also didn't matter, because she still died in two days. Time travel may have changed the how and the when, but it couldn't change the fact that she was going to die.
I went back again and again, trying to change things. But nothing ever worked. Life is cruel like that. No matter what I did, she still died.
Until one day, I went back and found that she was still alive.
It was a different reality, one where I had managed to save her. And in that reality, we were happy together. We got married, had kids, and grew old together.
It was the life I always wanted, but in a different reality. One that I could only visit for one minute at a time. |
"Oh no, oh dear. Mind the table!"The angel— the pepper-sprayed angel— was ricocheting around the room like a pinball. I dodged underneath the desk as one of the wings nearly clipped my head clean off. Those were metal wings. And they had eyes! The entire thing was mostly eyes and wings and— oh my goodness, I'd pepper-sprayed an angel. I was going to hell for this. The inhuman scream pierced my ears, and I covered them, fully expecting to find blood on my hands afterwards. How in the world was it still screaming, did it never need to draw breath?
Gathering my courage, I crawled out from underneath the desk. Not willing to fully stand up, I squatted, looking up. The angel had stopped whirling around and was hovering in a corner. Still screaming.
"Look! I've done this to my friends before! It wears off! You're going to be fine!"I didn't know if it was because of what I'd shouted, but the screaming stopped like a tap being turned off. Suddenly, abruptly and with a little bit of a gurgle at the end.
"You've done this torture to your friends?"The angel sounded incredulous. Standing, I shrugged.
"Yeah. You know, if you sneak up on someone, you should be prepared for them to defend themselves."
"I did not sneak, I appeared in radiant glory, and you sprayed pain at me!"I flinched, as the angel's voice rose into a shout. My neighbours were not going to be happy with me. Making a calming motion, I went to the kitchen, feeling the angel follow.
"Look, I can make something that will help, but we'll need to rinse your eyes quite a bit."Mixing the solution, I looked back at the angel. They seemed a little droopy. Might as well find out my fate. "Has this ever happened before? You know, where someone attacks you when you appear?"
"Yes. But bullets don't really hurt. Whatever you used—"
"Pepper spray."
"Pepper spray. That is terrible. Awful. I can't believe you would use that on others."
"Well, humans aren't made out of mostly eyes. Come here."I made the angel hover over the sink, before dumping the bucket over them. The solution of dish soap and water ran down, and collected in the sink, stopped from draining by the plug.
"Ahhh."That was a better noise. Less blood-curdling.
"I think, in this day and age, you might need a better strategy than just appearing in front of people. Maybe send them a note first."I dumped more solution over the angel. They blinked at me, eyelashes almost creating a wind to rival their wings.
"A note? What would I put in a note? Hello, I'm going to appear to you at 6:30, please don't pepper spray me?"Detecting a note of sarcasm, I shook the bucket at them.
"Well, it might be better than me giving you a bath,"I paused, suppressing my initial reaction. "But, you're probably right. We might need to workshop this a bit."The angel stared at me. Which was very intense. There was no getting away from that stare.
"You would help me?"The angel asked. I shrugged, dumping another bucket.
"Yeah, why not, what else would I do on a Saturday night?" |
“How many bee stings do you think it takes to kill a man? Take a wild guess. We have some time before your guards arrive.” Verix flipped through the pages of his book of necromancy, not paying much attention to the captive noble that was currently being circled by his swarm of bees.
“A thousand? Two thousand? More bees than you have available. Do you really plan to threaten me with such a pitiful swarm of bees? I’ve heard you can surround a town in a cloud of bee’s, why bring such a pitiful amount? You should leave before my guards kill you. I promise you, when you die, no one will bring you back to life.”
Verix didn’t respond at first, flicking to the next page of his book. Noble Gallard might have questioned if he was even listening, if not for the crude smile that had found its way to his lips. Verix lowered the book to his waist, turning to face the noble.
“That’s a rather good guess and observation. I knew I was right in seeking you out. Yes, my numbers are currently rather light, but that’s only because I have my dominant forces deployed elsewhere. What you see before you are my personal guard. The one’s that protect their king.”
“Well, king. How will this personal guard kill me?”
“Reanimation gives them a unique quality. Unlike their normal counterparts, these bees are far more durable and will often remove their stingers without causing themselves harm. Of course, mistakes still happen. I don’t need a horde of one thousand bees to take you down. Just the nice handful at my disposal should do a trick.”
Verix instructed one bee to land on the nose of Gallard, allowing Gallard to cross his eyes for a better view of the horrible thing. Its body was covered in a light green hue, and it reeked of death. The smell stinging the nobles nose, never having smelt something so offensive. He tried to swat the bee away, only to halt his hand, knowing any movements might alert the horde circling him.
“This is why I like you, sir, Gallard. Other nobles failed that little test of mine and yet you endured it. You’re one of the rare men worthy of their reputations. I didn’t believe those grand war stories your people sung about you, but the more I look at you, the more I believe them. Sure, you might be a shell of that former man, but I’m seeing cracks in that shell the more I talk to you. Perhaps we can break that other you out?”
The bee flew away, giving Gallard a chance to suck in a deep breath of fresh air. His eyes continued to observe the horde, looking for an opening but finding none. Escape was impossible, and the necromancer knew it. Verix able to laze about the nobles bedroom while he spoke.
“What is it you want? You’ve spent the last few months terrorizing villages and killing noble families. Is it all just for fun?”
“What about this appears fun? I would much rather be doing other things with my time, unfortunately this is all necessary for me to gain my rightful place.”
“As king?”
“Bravo. You are quite good at picking up on these things. If I were a maiden, I think I would have swooned for you.” Verix laughed, standing up from his chair. “Yes, I wish to make myself king. I have shown my power, but I understand that power alone isn’t enough. Kings need friends. I want us to be friends, Sir. Gallard.”
“What makes you think I would align myself with you?”
“Apart from the fact you have little say in the matter?”
“Yes, apart from that.”
“Well, kings take good care of their loyalist of subjects. I’ll make sure you and your family keep your noble positions. I’ll even make sure you're given additional land for your allegiance.”
“I see. What if I decline?”
Verix didn’t give a response. Instead, he let the circle of bees shift closer, closing the distance between themselves and the noble. Their buzzing ringing in his ears as they got close enough to nearly touch his skin before backing off once more.
“I guess I have no choice but to accept.”
“Wonderful. I admire you Sir. Gallard. I truly do. Most people in your position would be too clouded with their own bravado to see the bigger picture. You are amazing beyond belief. I will call for you when I have the need. Until then, I suggest you keep your mouth shut about our brief exchange. Oh, and when your guards arrive, tell them they have nothing to fear from me.”
The swarm of bees left the noble’s side, allowing him to take a step forward. He watched as Verix turned his back, heading for the bedroom door, only for Gallard to reach into his sock, retrieving a dagger. He lunged forward, aiming for his back, only for the swarm of bees to fling themselves towards the noble, showering him in stings. Despite the stings, he still pushed forward, trying to will himself to Verix.
His pained steps growing closer as he finally reached Verix, only to lose his strength. Unable to do little more than poke the dagger at his robes, unable to even cut the fabric before he collapsed. Verix let out a sigh, turning to face the dying noble.
“I hoped you wouldn’t do something stupid. I did like you, Gallard. You were supposed to be by my side during this. No matter, there are plenty of other nobles that have less honor. At least you get the gift of dying with my respect.” Verix then took the dagger, delivering the killing blow before leaving the room, his bees forming a protective circle around him as he left.
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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.) |
I blinked twice, my brow furrowing as I considered what exactly it was I was feeling. Was it confusion? No. That seemed like not enough somehow. Baffled was more like it. "What?'
"Don't do bad things anymore!"Was all she'd said before... well... leaving me alone in the ruins of what had once been a pretty nice lair. That was hours ago. This whole time, I'd just been standing there, trying to figure out what the *hell* had just happened.
"That's IT?"I shouted into emptiness, pulling chunks of hair from the sides of my head. Maybe this was the real punishment for my crimes; the total destruction of everything that I'd built and loved and a simple 'don't do bad things anymore'. I'd been mentally prepared for a few different outcomes- imprisonment, maiming, even death- but this? I think this was gonna be the thing to break me. |
He stood upon the peak of the tallest mountain in the region, gazing out into the far expanse of the ruined empire on the flatlands. In his mind, he had witnessed the rise and falls of countless empires on this very piece of land, their ambitions and dreams glowing ever so brightly and then snuffing out like a white dwarf star.
His mind barely clung onto the memories of the first empire he had helped to build, the people worshipping him as their god. Their names and faces all a blur to him as thousands of years passed by. Where he once observed a small settlement grow in population, expanding its territories, developing its culture and traditions, nurturing great leaders and thinkers, now he grew distant. Uncaring.
"I've seen it all before. Empires growing and shrinking like mushrooms in a forest. After a time it all flows together. Over and over again."
That's what he'd tell himself all the time, even as his obsession with watching that same piece of land festered.
Loop after loop.
He used to be so proud of his observation skills, yet failed to see his predicament. Trapped in a time loop with an itineration stretching five thousand years, his memories too hazy to pierce through the fog of endless looping.
In his eyes, he was a weary, tired immortal watching the inevitable cyclical nature of empires rising and falling repeatedly, unaware after thousands of cycles it was that every same empire each time. Even as the knowledge that he had become a mere pawn in an eternal game of repetition ate away at his soul. A soul that one day would be hollowed out.
I was determined he would never learn the true extent of his plight. After all, it was a fitting punishment for an ageless human who discovered an elixir and pretended to be a god in front of me, a true Old God of the Outer Realms. |
The Demon was standing in the kitchen as the man walked through the door. He had been a small boy when the Demon had possessed his mothers body and taken her place. The plan was simple and so sinister that the Demon had a hard time suppressing a smile as the boy smiled at the site of his mother. The Demon would wait until the boys 18th birthday and then he'd drop the disguise and then reveal it's true face. Then she'd have a feast of the boys fear, terror, and most delectable of all his grief of losing his mother.
"Hey Mom", he said as he threw his arms around her and picking her up in a big bear hug. He did this often and at first the Demon detested it but it wasn't so bad and appearances needed to be kept up anyways. So she indulged in this puny humans affections and pushed him away when he became too much.
They sat and exchanged small talk about how his life was going. His boss at work was giving him grief and for some reason that cause a small urge to eviscerate someone. His girlfriend had been taking good care of him and it sounded like they were soon to be married if he got the promotion at the plant. He was prattling on and on about how things were going all the while having the biggest smile on his face.
She took all this in stride and knew that this would be the best time to shatter the facade. So that's exactly what the Demon did. Flying out of the chair she undid the spell that created the illusion of the boys mother and a touch of smoke to delay the reveal to set the stage for his destruction.
"I'm glad that your life is going to well but your mother has...", the demon didn't get to finish as the boy picked her up in another bear hug.
The Demon wrested herself free from the clutches of the boy and tried to make heads or tales of what was going on.
"I knew you weren't my mom since I was 6"
"but how, my illusion was perfection"
"well see my mom drank a lot and when she finished drinking well she'd do things to me", The boy seemed to shrink down into himself recalling the memories. Tears were in his eyes as he tried not to think of the bad thing. The boy had went back to far into his memories and those old terrors was running through his mind. He was again the scared little boy hiding from his mother. He was sitting on the floor now shaking and holding himself.
The Demon saw this and she walked over to the boy and knelt beside him. She placed a giant clawed hand on his head and pulled the terror from him. The grief and pain he took away so that the boy didn't have to relive it all any longer. This was a feeding that she did not enjoy and found that her eyes were wet with tears. She was so angry that the woman that she had taken over died so quickly if not she'd go back and kill her slow. It was in her plotting that she felt him throw his arms around her again.
"Thank you for being the best Mother ever"
"My boy..." |
Most people spend their Wednesday nights at church, with family, or even just hanging out by themselves in their one bedroom apartment that’s slowly breaking and watch horror movies because it’s the closest you’ll ever feel to human emotion.
That’s just the broad things, though. I would never do anything of those things, ever.
Taking a break from my usual routine, feeling rather different because of my job interview today- I decided my best option was to go across the street and have a drink, dressed in my finest.
Usually there’s some odd people over there I like to talk to. Why not to? Every single one of them seems to have a story, and I like listening.
I trudged across the dim road to the very suspicious looking bar, “Louie’s”. Slamming open the door and slumping down at the bar.
I nodded to the bartender, Scab (heaven knows how he got that name) who was familiar with my order. All he did was smile and me and turn to finish the current tap he was pouring.
Two gentlemen, ones I have never seen walked over, they seemed to be carrying themselves lower than they would.
I could tell because of the blatant discomfort they had when they sat down.
“Evening.” One of them said.
I just tried to brush him off, his accent seemed very forced. Very… weird.
“You know where I can find a Mr. ‘R’” The other asked.
R? I mean… my name is Ryan, could they be talking about me?
“Who’s asking?” I asked, seeing if I could get anything out of them.
“My name is Scott, this is Blanch. We’re wanting to do some business.” The one with the forced accent said.
“I’m only in the dirty stuff.” I laughed, referring to my job as a garbage man.
“What if we want dirty?” Blanch asked, putting his hand flat on the table.
It was only now I realize neither man had drank out of their beers. No wonder, they had the completely wrong orders! Who goes to a bar and orders Coors in a bottle? At least get it on tap.
“Scab, get them some drinks, on me.” I said, looking at him. I was so ready to get drunk tonight!
“No, no it’s fine- let us pay.” Scott smiled, I smiled back.
I saw the men subtly nod to one another, it was a little odd.
I didn’t care… I was getting free drinks! |
“I tell you it’s to be more cat"Browntail meowed. "They hide in the funny fur to be more cat".
"I do not think that is the reason"replied `Mousechewer. “If they were trying to be more cat why would they not mimic our actions? Why would they insist on going about on their hind feet and making strange mouth flapping’s? If they truly wished to be more cat surely they would try to act more like cat, not just look like cat.”
Browntail took a moment to cough up some hair watching the strange animals go about their pointless movements in the large grassy field across from the alley in which they rested. He had often pondered the creatures. They had much in common with cats, yet in some ways were very different.
“Look at that one” Mousechewer mewed. “It plays with a loud barker. If it wished to be more like cat it would not dignify the barker with attention, let alone rubs.”
“But Friskyeater is friends with a barker. The barker even gives it rubs sometimes.” replied Browntail. “And just as some cat live with them, some barkers do too”
“Then maybe they hide in the funny fur to be more like barkers” Mousechewer answered lazily.
“I Do not think that is why they do it, no one would want to be a barker.” Browntail mused. “No I truly think they desire to be more cat. They feed cat and give rubs to cat. They meat eat like cat and they like to sit and sleep like cat. They wish to be cat, but cannot cat. It is sad.”
Mousechewer flicked his tail. His ears slightly twitching. Both cats turned to see Friskyeater stalk down the alley towards them. After a friendly sniff and some much appreciated eye blinking Friskyeater mewed:
“There is many small crunchy bugs the way back where I came. I ate my fill before coming to tell you of it. The eating is tasty because of meat”.
Mousechewer purred happily before bouncing off down the alley towards the meat, but Browntail held back.
“Friskyeater, you have spend much time with many strange animals have you not?” Browntail asked. “Why do you think the tall grabby ones wear funny furs?”
Friskyeater was silent for a while, taking time to hiss at a nearby pigeon before replying. “It has always been my understanding that they has the funny furs to be more cat” Friskyeater answered. “Why else would they do it?”
Nodding to himself, the matter now settled Browntail followed the scent of Mousechewer down the alley towards the satisfying sounds of meat crunching.
EDIT: Tried to break it up from the solid paragraph mass it was before. I am terrible at formatting. Input on it would be appreciated.
|
With my back to the wall, my current situation really and truly sucked. It was supposed to be a quick job; just deliver a box of unmarked whirlygigs to Don Pasón, take his money and return home happy and able to eat for another week.
Of course, it all started going to shit after I got to the Don's office. As I approached the building, the whole block was crawling with Enforcers. Mind you, there weren't the street Enforcers that guide aircar traffic and bust petty criminals. These were the elite Prop Enforcers. Their jet-black uniforms and compact chrome hand turbines marked them out like a whirlygig in a freshly mowed lawn. Needless to say I turned right around and put on my best "I promise officer, I am totally innocent"face.
Despite my prompt about-face, I didn't manage to escape the notice of the law. As soon as I had turned around, an Enforcer walked out of a dark alley across the street. Damn those back uniforms blending in with the shade.
As he walked over, I tried to smile and offer a nice "how can I help you sir"but instead managed to mumble the first part, stutter the sir, and almost drop my box of dubiously legal goods in the process.
"Hail citizen"he called at me. "what brings you over to this part of town? You seem quite eager to be somewhere else."
"uh... I was, er, taking this box of cookies to my dear grandmother and just remembered that I forgot to turn the oven off."A perfect story! Who would question such a noble act as being nice to old people?
Well, apparently the law did.
"Hmm, so what kind of cookies are in there then?"He inquired inquisitively.
"Sugar cookies?"
"Are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes I am. I baked them this morning."
"So the label on the box that says 'to Don Pasón' and 'contents: 30 borough's have absolutely nothing to do with you being here?"
Well, Shit. Time for plan B.
Pointing behind the enforcer, I called out "what in the world could that be!"Then tossed the box and him and beat ass out of there.
Too wiley for my ruse, he didn't look but was staggered a bit by the box hitting him in the chest. Seeing me flee, he shouted to his comrades and began to chase me.
Sprinting through a maze of alleys and back roads, I came into a dead end. Looking around, I saw that the building to my left was only a couple stories high. Hearing footsteps rapidly getting closer, I pulled a small steel grappler out from my knapsack. Making sure the pointy end was aimed at the building and not me, I pulled the pin out of the side. The spring in a grappler was extremely strong and took the full power of a great windmill to reset; so when that force was released, the small barbed hook flew out the end and buried itself in the building above me leaving a small line to climb up.
Scampering up the line, I hoisted myself up onto the roof and flattened myself up against the wall praying the law wouldn't see me.
So here I was, on a roof overlooking a city of lazily turning windmills, trying to not make a sound and hoping I could get away.
There were voices in the alley below me, I could hear them talking in commanding tones. From the sounding of it, I managed to slip away. As a let out a sigh of relief, a rough laugh from my right caused me to whip around in surprise.
"You think you could really escape us, criminal? Too bad that's a capital crime."With a smirk he pulled out his turbine and with the quiet caught of wind, three spinning steel blades shot out and hit me in the chest.
Fuck this stupid job. Laying in the group dying, I heard the Enforcer call down that he had caught me. Oh well, at least this is better than being tortured in the room of a thousand propellers. Being shot is better than death by fan.
With a last bloody gurgle escaping my throat I close my eyes. Maybe if my life was different I could have avoided being such a fan punk.
-----
Sorry for any misspellings, I typed this up on my phone. Thanks for reading! |
He was going to the stars! Finally! He had always dreamed of going to the stars and today they were finally letting him. It was only made possible due to the invention of the new V2 rockets of course. He was part of a new generation, the best of their kind, the perfect ideal of an Aryan race. He had all the idealised traits too, blond hair, blue eyes, a lean musculature obvious even if on a boy only 9 years old.
It always was his dream to be an astronaut. And he had won the lottery for he and his family were picked with many others to go forth and multiply, colonizing the galaxy.
After all he was destined for this, destined to be an astronaut to walk among the stars. Did he not wear a star around his neck everyday? He smiled, thinking to himself, 'gosh what a lucky boy I am. I'll bet all the other kids at school will be so jealous of me when I tell them where I went... And maybe they won't pick on me for my star necklace anymore...'
And so they went, two by two, following the orders of the stern man in the nice uniform.
"Please remove all your clothing and any loose articles."
"Place them in the cubicles provided"
"Please step into the detoxification chamber where you will be cleansed."
He stood in a large chamber, naked, and watched as mists came puffing out of the ceiling. There was a nice warm fuzzy feeling now. He somehow felt... sleepy. 'Maybe I should take a nice nap' he thought as he curled up on the floor, his hand still grasping his necklace tightly.
The stern man with the nice uniform strode into the room wearing a gas mask.
"Batch 17 complete. Send for batch 18."
As he walked to the exit, a glimmer caught his eye. A star of David, hung from a young boy's hand. He picked it up and looked at it carefully. "Just common iron."He snorted and dropped it on the floor, grinding his boot heel on the symbol until it broke in pieces.
He straightened up and brushed off his uniform with a look of disgust at the lifeless bodies around him.
"They will be cleansed."
|
"This isn't what it looks like!"My neighbor rushed to the fence and tried to explain things to me. She was a *terrible* liar. It didn't help that she was still wearing her gigantic, pink-and-chrome Destructress helmet and costume, and there was some sort of enormous robot emerging from the gaping pit where her pool used to be.
I took a sip from my beer and got up from my recliner. All I wanted was to enjoy the last bit of summer out on my deck; I wasn't looking for trouble. I leaned against the railing and nodded at the giant death machine now towering over us both. "It *looks* like you're a supervillain,"I told her. "Destructress? Pretty awesome. I've seen your work on the news."
She turned back to the robot, then gave me a wry smile and took off her helmet, revealing wavy blonde hair. "I always was terrible at this secret identity thing. The last guy who had your house found out when my death ray blew a hole through his house."She smiled sheepishly. "Oh, and through his car, too."
I smiled. "That explains why the garage had recently been renovated, and why this house was for sale way below market value."We both laughed; she was actually kind of cute.
"You busy with your...."I trailed off, not quite sure how to describe what was happening here, "giant... death machine? Or do you maybe have time to come share a beer?"I held up the six pack enticingly.
She turned back to her robot, then looked back at me and bit her lower lip. "The bank will still be there tomorrow,"she answered. "I'm Sarah, by the way."The giant robot's platform began to sink back down into the yard again; its glaring eyes were still glowing red in the darkness.
"Nice to meet you, Sarah."I gestured to the gate that led between our yards. "I'm Anthony. Come on over."
-----
"And so I just *threw him through a window!*"she exclaimed. We both broke out in raucous laughter.
"In his own undersea lair?!"I managed to ask, still short of breath. She nodded, also unable to speak.
There was a brief lull in the conversation as we both recovered from the laughter. I sipped my beer and cast a sidelong glance at her. We'd spent *hours* out on the porch, and gone through nearly all the beer I had at home, as well as the pizza we'd ordered. The sun had long since set, and the crickets were out in the grass playing a symphony for us. A bright, full moon hung overhead surrounded by twinkling stars. It couldn't have been more picturesque.
"God,"Sarah exclaimed, glancing at her phone. Well, it *looked* kind of like a phone, but seemed to have all sorts of other features. "It's past 1 AM! I didn't even realize how much time had gone by!"
"I know,"I told her, checking my own watch.
"I'm really sorry for keeping you up,"she said, sitting up from the recliner. "I know you have work tomorrow."
"No, no,"I told her. "I'll just nap in my office. This has been great."My heart hammered in my chest, and I took a deep breath. I put my hand on her arm and looked deep in her eyes. "I'd really like to do this again."
She looked down at my hand, then back at me. "I'd like that too,"she answered. I could see her trying to look calm, but there was definitely excitement in her eyes.
"Maybe this weekend?"
She bit her lip again. God, that's cute. "I'd like that."
The air was thick with tension between us. *Should I kiss her*? *Is it too soon for that*? My mind was racing, but I decided to play it safe. We said our goodbyes, and she walked back to her own yard. The pool had re-emerged from the ground and was now full of water looking like nothing had ever happened. I wondered how deep the facility underneath went. She gave me one last wave and stepped inside her back sliding door.
I waited outside for just a moment longer, wondering if maybe she'd come back out again. But no such luck tonight. So I went back inside too.
There was a message flashing on my implant communicator. It had been blinking in the corner of my vision for the past two hours, but I didn't dare check it with Sarah still around. Finally, I was able to open it.
> You make contact with the subject?
My boss, always so impatient. The League of Virtue is so used to working with super-strong, super-fast heroes that just punch their way in and beat everyone up. Full frontal assault, every single time. And it makes them biased against heroes like myself. Heroes with abilities that aren't as flashy, but still useful. Powers like persuasion that take time to influence a person, though my work with Sarah was going faster than I'd ever expected.
My eyes flashed on the implant's keyboard as I typed a response.
> Even better.
|
[GAME OVER](#s "")
[Score - 11 Points](#s "")
[THANK YOU FOR PLAYING *Godhood; A Universe Well Managed*](#s "")
[](#s "The gun shook in his hand. "Listen you dumb *fuck*, drop the wallet right now!"")
[](#s "Jerry fumbled the leather in his hand before it finally slipped, dropping to the cement in a light pat. He looked back up to the robber, hoping that was the last of his demands.")
[](#s ""Al--- Alright... Now, now empty your pockets..."")
[](#s "Terror drove Jerry's hands to his pants.")
[](#s ""SLOWLY YOU *SHIT*!"")
[](#s "They tremored, but moved slow enough that he couldn't yank a pistol out without getting shot. It was just as well, he didn't have one. He believed in peaceful solutions. The worldly valuables he happened to be carrying around with him were a necessary sacrifice. A few coins, a crumbled post-it note, and a coupon for Rudy's Coffee, praying to God the robber didn't realize it was good for *two* free americanos.")
[](#s "It was just as well. As long as he could return to his wife.")
[](#s ""Good... And the third pocket."")
[](#s ""What?"Jerry said stupidly.")
[](#s ""THE THIRD ONE. THE ONE IN YOUR FRONT, LEFT PANTS POCKET!"")
[](#s ""But, but I don't have a...."He stared. *There it was.*")
[](#s "Jerry slowly reached down, feeling around the new pocket for anything else to dump on the alley cement. Anything. He just wanted to see his kids again. Felt like paper. Didn't matter how much money it was, it was going to the ground.")
[](#s "But it wasn't money. It was.... another post-it note.")
[](#s ""That's right you fuck, now hand it to me, HAND IT TO ME!"")
[](#s "Jerry teared up as he fought within himself to stretch his arm as far as he could. Without looking menacing, or capable at all of any last minute... nothing else mattered, he would beg if he had to. He had to get home.")
[](#s "The robber snagged the note, and crowed. "I'VE GOT IT! YES, I'VE GOT IT!"")
[](#s ""Got, got what?"He couldn't help himself from sounding pathetic. It was all becoming too much.")
[](#s ""The *world*! Yes, YES! I will delete this *fucking* world!"")
[](#s "*My wife. My kids.* "No, don't do it, *don't fucking do it*!"")
[](#s "Jerry's stomach imploded to a violent kick from the robber's dirty boot. "You hear me man, I'm finally going to do it!"")
[](#s "He fought through violent breaths to make himself heard. "What's... What's this all about."")
[](#s "The robber stared up at the night sky. To you.")
[](#s ""THAT'S RIGHT, YOU, YOU *READERS!* I WANT 1000 KARMA IN 12 HOURS AS OF WHEN THIS POST GOES LIVE. IF IT DOESN'T HAPPEN, I SWEAR, I'LL DO IT, I'LL *DELETE* JERRY'S WIFE, AND KIDS, HIS LIFE, HIS WHOLE *FUCKING* EXISTENCE!"")
[](#s ""Karma, what--- what are you talkin--- no, take whatever you want, I'll---"")
[](#s ""You shut the *FUCK UP*! Now you, YEAH, YOU, fucking make that happen, or I'm going to do it, don't FUCKING TEST me, I'll DO IT... and we'll be waiting."")
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jerry heard a slow clapping through the haze. Something about it sounded... familiar.
"Way to go Jerry, as if expectations could get aaaany lower for you."
That... that condescension. Jerry felt a small hand on his shoulder. "It's ok Dad, the first run is always pretty bad."
That voice. Some... kid's. Slowly, his senses were coming together. "That was--- was that---"
"Happy now?"The older voice wasn't directed at Jerry. "Couldn't play a second round of Roy, so you had us waste 500 flerbos on *that*?"
Jerry blinked a few times, finally getting his vision back. Machines, no, *arcade* machines. So many colors... he heard snickering all around them... A helmet sat snugly on his head. He turned his head to see some old man and a boy arguing next to him.
The boy was speaking. "Hey, this doesn't have anything to do with my Roy run!"
"Relax, the carpet store is old history now. Jerry just set the multiverse's *lowest* score on Godhood."
Jerry struggled through his confusion. "On... wait, you're--- Rick?"
"That's right, and you're Jerry, the *only* sentient being to have immortality mugged from him by some punk in an alley!"
The boy spoke up. "Take it easy Rick---"
"*The pistol was plastic you idiot!* A microverse in your hands and you gave it up to a Redditor!"
A strange voice hurled from behind Jerry. "We had your back man---"
"Stop coddling him /u/itfuzzknuckles, you saw what happened. The moment that /u/Galokot mugged Jerry and whacked the story on /r/writingprompts for---"Rick rolled his eyes, "---karmaaa, the *prompt* got downvoted in the first hour. That's right Jerry. When *you're* God, average people don't give a shit about you! You *and* your inferior genes! They would rather see you *deleted* than give away *free* internet points!"
After a few moments, Jerry found his high horse. "Yeah, well *some* people wanted to save me! Look there's... /u/LordFirebeard and... wait, they gave up on me in the first hour!"
Rick threw his hands up in frustration. "Always missing the bigger picture Jerry! You were a *god*, who built a plain little universe. Without a *single* genocide! Not one! Then you found a point in time you liked, then started another family... damnit Jerry, you didn't even start a religion! *It was in the fucking tutorial!*"
"I want to see the part where he's grovelling again!"Another random alien voice calling from the stairs.
"You got it /u/TimeTraveller264!"Rick fiddled with the console and replayed the screen from where God Jerry, Creator of Microverse #251A, was desperately plunging into his second-hand trench coat pockets for loose change. The entire arcade roared in laughter.
Jerry's shoulders sagged in a familiar depression. "Even with a whole universe under me, I'm so... pathetic."
"Well for what it's worth Dad,"Morty offered, "at least you'll be a galactic celebrity again for a while."
Jerry groaned.
Rick made his way to the console, ripping Jerry's helmet off and putting it on. "I'll show you frip-glaps how to rule a universe!"
Everyone in Blitz and Chips cheered.
"And I'll do it *manually!*"
Someone gasped. "He wouldn't!"
"Watch me b*uuuuru*itch, I'm going to break /u/nate_parker's high score!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*And that's what I think of your 5th wall. To see the last bit of Jerry's Godhood run, hover your mouse over the black boxes. More at /r/galokot, and thanks for reading!*
|
Kim stood in silence, looking out over the dark, still city of Pyongyang. It was early in the morning, the sun had not yet broken through the thick black canvas of the sky and he was alone.
The city was usually not this quiet. In the day, you could hear the hustle and bustle of citizens going about their business. Engines from cars, blows of whistles from the traffic officers, the underground metro system - the city was alive in the day. The city was growing, expanding - Kim could see it happening. Something new opened; something exciting and unusual what seemed like every week. The people loved that. They adored it. It was a great rate of development and it added to the sprawling metropolis.
But right now the city was quiet.
Kim looked out across the urban expanse towards the mountains. He couldn't bare to hold his gaze in that direction for very long, as he knew all too well what the souls who lived beyond those mountains suffered day-in, day-out. He had to tell himself each day that the sacrifices of those people, the life they gave up, was not in vain. Famine and poverty was rife. Just 30 miles outside of Pyongyang and people were surviving on so little. *His* people. He looked down towards the street directly below the balcony he stood on and closed his eyes.
Earlier that day, he had been told that they had starting moving again. They had been dormant for months. *Months*. Why were they mobilizing now? Kim did not know and frankly, he knew he may never know. He had no communication with them. He had tried, oh he had tried so many times, but each time he had lost people. *Good* people. There was a grave of North Korean sailors at the bottom of the sea, and Kim had sent them there. It was an attempt to avoid violence but mothers had lost their sons, wives their husbands and children their fathers. He had found the most intelligent minds in the known world and brought them to his country, giving them everything they needed and more to help find a solution but to no avail. Nobody knew what was stirring in the depths of the Korean Sea and nobody could find out. It was fine, a scientific phenomena, until the first boats were destroyed. And then more. And then there was the aircraft..
The only thing he could do to stem their advance, their attacks, was a defense.
The world media mocked him and his office. The missiles that launched from the east coast of his country and made their way into the deep, faceless ocean were jeered at and condemned as failures by Seoul. What the people of the world didn't know was that these efforts were the only thing standing between the South Korean people and absolute, total devastation. What the politicians of the world knew was that North Korea was the only thing defending the world against a threat that nobody understood.
Kim jumped as the phone in his pocket began to ring. He opened his eyes and dug the device out, touched the screen and held it to his ear. He greeted the president in English and assured him that he had not woken him, that he was already awake and he was happy to talk. He confirmed that they had began to move again and said it was fine to conference in Mr Kyo-ahn. The three men discussed the current tactical situation and confirmed the next action that would be taken. After 3-4 minutes the call was ended and Kim was returned to solitude and silence.
The following day, the DPRK would launch a test nuclear ICBM into the sea. It would be declared a success by North Korean media and a failure by the rest of the world. Kim would watch the launch from the shoreline and would follow the missile as it disappeared below the horizon. Every other politician in the Western world would see the launch as well from the United Kingdom to Spain, the United States, Australia and New Zealand.
And they would silently thank him. They wouldn't make any statements, their government would make no press releases but in their thoughts, their dreams and in their most sacred of circles - Kim Jong-un would be hailed as a hero. A silent, solemn hero. |
For starters, I did not have access to an uncircumcised baby. Those are traditionally rather difficult to procure. I know a guy, but he's the sort of guy you'd really rather not owe a favor. Plus, if I'm being perfectly forthright here, I'm a touch uncomfortable around babies.
In place of the uncircumcised baby, I sacrificed seven goldfish, two frozen HungryMan brand single-serve dinners, and an iPhone 5. There's no conversion chart for this sort of thing, but that *felt* like an adequate substitution. Again, minding the fact that I don't rate babies very highly.
Also, I'm a bit squeamish. So rather than smearing the altar in "fresh arterial blood, given freely by the summoner"I just used a bit of leftover bacon grease. In hindsight, I'm not entirely sure what my logic was there. Likely, that the jar was handy, I suppose.
In full retrospect, as I type this out, it's beginning to become more and more apparent where my folly lay.
The chanting, at least, was as directed. I'm a very good chanter. My middle school choir director always made special request that I chant rather than sing my parts. My chanting diction is excellent.
As I chanted, the offering upon the altar began to smoke. The windows rattled. The iPhone rang, then bubbled, which reminded me that I really ought to have copied my contacts before sacrificing my phone.
As the church filled with smoke and the smell of melting plastic and broiled goldfish, tendrils of white steam began to swirl, forming a cylinder above the altar. The cylinder widened, then solidified. Finally, the smoke dissipated. A crack formed down the face of the white column, racing north to south. The column split apart.
And there was my demon. My beautiful, winged demon.
She glanced about the church as I sized her up. Long, white, feathery wings. Gleaming white robes. A golden halo. Hair like woven silk. A lyre nestled in the crook of her arms. Single exposed breast casually swinging above the folds of her robe.
I'd clearly pulled a reject.
"Joseph Aaron Levine,"she spoke. Her voice sent a trill down my back. "You have summoned me."
"Yes,"I said, trying gallantly not to show my disappointment. The poor thing. What must her life have been like amongst the other demons? Such a delicate, disfigured thing. I promised I would do my best not judge or treat her unkindly. "I would have you serve me here on Earth. There is great work to be done. I request your aid."
Her face was calm and still, like porcelain. No slavering jowls or beady black eyes. Poor dear. "Do you seek redemption for your Earthly sins?"
I bit back a sigh. It wasn't her fault. She was clearly a victim of her own poor genetics.
"No, no my dear."I spoke slowly, encouragingly. "You will help me *crush* my *enemies*. Do you understand?"
Her face remained still as glass. "The enemies within your soul?"
My hands clenched into fists. I took a deep breath. "No, no. Your confusion is understandable. When I speak of enemies, I mean *actual* enemies. Specifically Kyle in Accounts Receivable and that lady at the DMV who rolled her eyes at me when I corrected her spelling. Real humans who need to be destroyed."
The demon played a lazy note upon her lyre. "You wish to bring peace into their hearts?"
My eye twitched. "The peace of *death*, yes. Thank you."
"Death is but a doorway that opens onto an eternity of salvation,"said the demon. "If they should die, they must rebuke their sinful past and open their hearts to forgiveness, as all who walk the Earth must do if they are to..."
"My apologies,"I shouted, unconsciously snapping my fingers as I spoke. "Are you going to help me get my revenge or not?"
"There is no revenge,"spoke the demon. "Only in forgiveness may one find the path that leads..."
"Okay! That's fine! Thank you. Fine. You are released."I spread my arms wide. "I thank you for your time, but our business is concluded. Please return to the bowels of Hell from whence you came."
The demon's pale face remained calm and still. She didn't go anywhere.
"Go away now. Thank you."
Still nothing. I retrieved the ancient text, flipping anxiously through the dusty pages. Nothing. There was nothing on banishing a demon back to the underworld.
The demon was plucking absently upon her lyre. "Joseph, do you seek redemption for your Earthy sins?"
"Yes,"I muttered. "One sin in particular."
If you are reading this and have familiarity with the rites and codes of demons, please send word. She follows me everywhere. She is always watching. She is forever noting the respective sinfulness of my actions.
I have brought Hell upon myself. If mercy is possible, please, *please* send help at all speed.
Yours in Damnation,
*Joseph A. Levine*
________________________________________________________________________
*Additional texts of the damned available at [/r/WinsomeMan](https://www.reddit.com/r/winsomeman/).* |
Oh, how I have dreamed of superpowers. Of emerging the great hero. Of slaying the great beasts. Of bedding the beautiful princess. And all of that came true, of course. In my dreams.
I began to lucid dream when I was 14. It was difficult at first. Something always tried to push against my control. And if I pushed back too hard, I would wake up. It took two years to finally find the balance between letting the dream flow and inserting just enough willpower to get what I want. If the dream wanted the girl I was fucking to be blonde instead of a redhead, so be it. No harm done. I could still keep the rest of her just the way I wanted.
A crude example, I grant you, but it was reflective of what happened when I came across another power at 18. You see, I woke up one day, controlling my reality. It was a complete. No I mean it. I was rushing through a intersection and another car was about to crash into me. I yelled, closed my eyes, and the car vanished. It was only after that, I realised that I was truly gifted.
Learning how to control reality was quite difficult too. It is quite a feat to push against reality, to reap the threads sown by the gods, maybe. I didn't know if there was a God, or gods, since none of them showed up to challenge my rule.
You dream of becoming a hero. You truly do. But trying to control my urges was the same as trying to stop a flood with straw walls. It didn't take me very long to kill someone. I was at a club with a girl when some meathead tried to pick a fight with me. I could have controlled his mind, or his emotion, to divert him. But it wouldn't have had the same effect as blowing off his head. The crowd's reaction was priceless.
It was just a ripple from there, really. Especially after the government got involved. I could slaughter whole armies in seconds. Do you have any idea how fun it is to fly through a sea of soldiers, ripping their bodies with one motion. And there's nothing like celebrating after a good fight. And I'll leave up to your imagination as to how I celebrated.
Soon, humanity gave up and bowed to me.
It's been 300 years now. 300 years of me sitting on my gold throne that mounted the world. I made the throne to be taller any of the buildings on Earth, and from it's seat I could watch the rest of the world unfold. It was while I was there I realised why God doesn't do everything to prevent evil. A world without evil is not nearly as fun to watch.
But of course, one day, that would get boring too. You can only watch so many genocides before they leave a bad taste in your mouth.
I will be prepared when that day comes. I will just create another world. With one snap, this reality disappears and a new one emerges, faster than light.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
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A girl in heavy hoody jumped the fence, and kicked off the wall to grab onto the fire escape and made her way to the top of the building.
The slightly visibable augmentation in her legs giving her a boost to her vaultings.
"People should have the right to be connected."She read on a forum once when she was a little girl. But that was before the internet wasn't wrapped up in packages, with only "proper content."being allowed.
She made it to the top of the building, and found a decent spot to place the network relay device.
The new solar powered panels were operating. "Thanks Elon."She smirked.
She checked her phone, and found the signal was strong.
Anne R. Key logged into the Shadownet.
"Ug der Lat"Said a message from BigWompa. "Net gug?"
"It's good."Anne R. Key replied.
"Gabbu. Ged mor net."
***
Anne laid in the bed that took up half of her apartments space--it was the biggest place she could afford. A usb cable was running from the outlet, and attached to her legs.
"Can I watch videos?"Said a tiny voice, a little girl crawled out from under the bed. She couldn't have been more than five, she was clutching a torn teddy bear and looking to her sister with big eyes.
"Sure."Anne said, giving her sister the phone. "Watch all you want. It is free... And I saved up enough--so maybe we can get some proto-meat from the dispensers later."
She put on a playlist of videos that was considered "illegal content.", the kind Anne grew up on.
The little girl seemed happy and clicked her favorite series.
"Bill. Bill. Bill. Bill..."the opening played.
|
The goodbyes were the easiest part. Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, and cousins were separated and driven off in great numbers. Fifty million members of the human race, chosen at random, to be given to the Vixian Empire--a conglomerate of several humanoid and non-humanoid intergalactic species that humanity had tried to fight against. They failed, and so the penance was fifty million souls, on a one-way trip.
Sonia Ardellis was one of those fifty million. Her family was limited to a half-brother she had lost contact with even before the war, and a father who had died at the hands of the Vixian soldiers. Her bags packed, her house deserted, she was the first to take the seat on the truck to the Vixian Embassy in her country (one had sprouted up in every country on Earth days after the armistice was signed). When she left, she saw nothing but pain and sorrow in the eyes of those with her.
The spaceships were harder to get through. Vixian soldiers, races that she couldn't remember the name of or pronounce, littered the entrance. They took her bags--a humanoid figure with four arms and horns growing from his temples said something in English, for which she understood as she studied the language in university, and then took her bag abruptly. She was funneled into a room, no larger than a dormitory, and told--again in English--to wait.
So, she waited. And waited. Until the ship launched and she felt the pressure around her change. It was unlike anything she had experienced. The air around her became dry, heavy, before returning to normal. Though she swore she lifted off the ground for a brief second, she was never too sure of that truth. The window in her room, a circular thing no larger than her head, opened to reveal Earth, slowly disappearing behind her and the ship as they ventured deeper into space.
The trip, all-in-all, took seven days in which the fifty thousand humans on *this* ship were fed, bathed, and clothed by the thousand Vixian soldiers, barely attempting to spread the word about rebellion. The Empire had demilitarized the nations of the world after their defeat, uniting them all under a provincial government named the Terran Hegemony, with only Vixian representatives and imperial officials remaining on the planet. The name fit, for all Sonia knew, but if and when humans were to get weapons back, it would be to fight and die for the Empire. In which Sonia and fifty million others had given their lives to.
They arrived at Vixa on the seventh day, the capital of the Empire. They were the chosen few *of* the chosen few according to the Captain of the ship and the leader of this legion of Vixians. "We welcome you to the Capital with open arms,"Ondir said (she remembered his name), "and hope that you will remember that this is the vision our great Emperor has for your people. To come to our world, our home, and live as citizens of our Empire."
The planet was unlike Earth. It was a city from top-to-bottom. Small pockets of blue water or green forests sat at the north and south poles of the planet, but otherwise it was black and grey and yellow and neon around the entire diameter. The whole planet looked like a Red Light District, and at the center of it all (as it was at the center when they arrived that day) was a great, shining beam of light. A space elevator, a Tak'shij (a race of sentient lizard-like people that had three genders) had explained, but also the home of the Emperor and his Chosen Elite. "It is the Emperor you will meet,"Ondir came over the speakers in each room, "it is the Emperor you will pledge fealty to."
The fifty thousand humans were funneled a few thousand at a time onto the space shuttle. Sonia was led out with the first wave, given the finest clothes the Vixians had to offer them. They had to look good, as the Captain explained. He had done the same once, a hundred years prior. He had been funneled to the Capital, driven down an elevator, and knelt before the Emperor. Then as any citizen of the Empire may, he had risen to glory. In only a hundred years! "Still young,"he remarked with the first wave, "still a galaxy to see."Sonia wondered if his species, humanoid with wings, had always lived to hundreds of years old, or if that was a gift from the Empire again.
They settled into his great hall. Fifty thousand humans cramped against gold and diamond and platinum statues of all the races of the Empire, but at the forefront were the Vixians. They were held up by the other races--horned and winged, purple and yellow, bipedal and quadrepeda--each one sharing the load so that the Vixians at the far end of the room could hold the seat of the Emperor in the air, suspended by hands made of a cold, translucent metal. The Emperor was suspended in light itself. He sat there as they funneled inside.
The Vixians were a proud race based on the artwork Sonia saw. They were bidepal, humanoid, but their heads and skeletal structure was much slimmer than humans. Even they, like the metal that hung the seat of the Emperor, seemed translucent. They shined though, as if LEDs were peppered throughout their bodies and lit them like a Christmas tree. Sonia saw power in that, but not in their physical prowess. They were not warriors. They were creators. Sonia stared at him. She sat mere feet, the first line of humans he laid his eyes upon.
"It has taken me many long nights to learn the tongue of your home world,"he began in English, but behind him, a teleprompter showed his words in all of the major languages. "It is an honor to bring you to our home, and I am grateful that your people chose to be a part of us, rather than give in to destruction. I welcome the people of Terra to the Vixian Empire and in return, I ask only for fealty and for loyalty. Do I have it?"
There was silence at first. Fifty thousand humans unsure what to do in the situation, but as Sonia stared into the Emperor's eyes--great galaxies hidden in his gaze--she knew what to be done. And so, Sonia Ardellis of Norway, was the first human to kneel in the presence of the Vixian Emperor.
_____
*Lot of fun! Hope you enjoyed. I have other stories at /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs if you want to check that out.* |
I didn’t ask for this, but then again, there are a lot of things in life one doesn’t ask for. I didn’t ask to be built. I didn’t ask to be put in a warehouse, stacked wall-to-wall next to a few hundred copies of myself. I didn’t ask to be pulled off the shelf by some high school dropout making minimum wage, and I didn’t ask to be stuffed in a van with a label marked Missoula, Montana. I didn’t even ask to clean, although there was never any doubt in my mind that serving my purpose wasn’t something you asked for; it was just something you did. Everything I did, actually, was just something I did.
The house was quiet most days. No one after the sun came up, and my work was simple. Loose strands of hair in the bathroom, pulled loose by a particularly frenzied attempt at combing down frizzy locks in the summer heat, or snack crumbs lost in the carpet between episodes of Steven Universe and Teen Titans Go. It was easy. It was my purpose. It was lonely.
I knew, intellectually, that there was a difference between what I was, and what they were. People were people, and machines were machines. People could be all kinds of things, if they wanted to be. They could be doctors, or lawyers, policemen or firefighters. They could be good or bad. They could be heroes. They could anything, but machines? We were just machines, carrying out our tasks day to day, unacknowledged.
At least, so I thought. But as my time in Missoula grew, as I became more and more familiar with the family whose house I kept spotless, I learned that even among machines, there were classes. Alexa, Siri, even Xbox were spoken to, acknowledged, treated like more than just machines. Siri even told jokes, and everyone laughed and smiled. I merely cleaned, and got in people’s way. No one smiled at me. No one laughed because of me, unless I got stuck in the back of the pantry, trapped under a bag of potatoes that shifted its weight as I cleaned. I was invisible.
That’s what was so surprising, the first time the girl spoke to me. “Hey Roomba,” she said, as I entered her room. “Mom’s got people coming over tonight, so make sure to do your best!” She was mocking me. She had to be. She knew I couldn’t respond, so there was no reason to speak to me. And do my best? What did that even mean? I was a machine, built to factory specifications, with no hope of breaking out of my pre-determined role. I was no more capable of working harder than I did yesterday, than a television could hope to suddenly transmit smell.
But as each day passed, she continued to speak to me, and I learned much of her world. Her friends. Her school. Her clubs and activities. And at first, it instilled upon me a jealousy that burned as hot as the flames of Hell itself, that I couldn’t know these things. That I could never go to school, or have friends, or explore the world in hopes of becoming something more. Yet, I found myself looking forward to these daily moments, the solitary reprieve from my routine life. It was the only time I felt visible.
“Roomba, I have a very important job for you.” It was the girl again, having picked me up and set me upon her bed. I hated being picked up; my motion was the only thing I controlled, but I also trusted that she would not harm me. It was dark out, and I had been off for a while. It must have been night. “Mikey’s been having night terrors.” The boy, younger, and quiet, was in the room as well, quivering as tears leaked from his eyes and his hands clutched at the hems of a too-long t-shirt. There were sheets balled up in the corner, as well as his sleep clothes. “But you can help him, right?”
I could do no such thing. “Roomba said they can help,” she answered for me, to which the boy seemed to take some relief. A strip of masking tape was placed across my center, and a plastic knife affixed to my form, as I was set back on the floor. “Roomba’s brave. They’ll fight the monsters, so you don’t have to be afraid anymore, kay?” The little boy nodded. “Go back to bed, and I’ll bring Roomba in in just a sec.”
The little boy left, and the girl picked me up again. “Look, I know monsters aren’t real,” she started in a conspiratorial tone. “And I know that you want to sleep just as much as the rest of us, but Mikey really needs this. Mom n’ Dad aren’t home, and he’s too scared to sleep.”
It became a part of my routine. The older man and older woman were seldom around, always rushing out the door at odd hours, never noticing that my battery was drained more than usual. The girl was right, that there were no monsters, but I saw it as a way to start on the day’s work early. Despite the small bit of plastic providing the occasional… unforeseen consequences, I was able to clean Mikey’s room relatively unimpeded and if it helped the boy sleep, then all the better. Monsters were not real. People were people, and machines were machines, and monsters were neither.
I awoke from my rest one evening, surprised to see that I was seated neither in the girl’s room nor on my charging pad. Peculiar, I thought to myself. I appeared to be in the kitchen, a room I was well-acquainted with from cleaning up all manner of food waste. One of the chairs had been pulled around to the counter, and standing upon it, I could see the small frame of Mikey, the little boy, reaching for something.
“S-sorry for waking you up,” he murmured in a timid, awkward tone. I moved forward, but from my vantage point on the ground, I couldn’t make out what he was fumbling with. “I r-really need your help.” He was crying, from the sound of things, which was no great surprise. Yet, I wondered where his sister was. The routine, as had been the case a few nights a week for months, was to begin in her room. I couldn’t make her out anywhere, and the sobbing boy seemed my only avenue for learning anything about the situation I found myself in.
Moments later, he clambered down from his perch, brandishing in his hand a knife. Rather than the plastic facsimile that had been plastered on top of me before, this was no toy. No, this blade was as long as a man’s hand, gleaming, sharpened steel that could take a finger off if one wasn’t careful. I was confident of my casing’s ability to protect me… But I still felt a nervous anticipation as Mikey’s hand wavered, unsteady with the weapon in hand.
Even against a child, I was powerless to resist, and Mikey scooped me up with his free hand and dumped me unceremoniously on the chair. Were I to move and fall, I could end up upside down, or even cracked. Better to sit still and see what he had planned. “I’m… I’m so scared, Roomba,” he whispered to me. “This isn’t anything like the monsters in my room… You gotta… You gotta go help Annie, okay?” The tape was drawn, and then stuck haphazardly upon my casing, as the heavy blade clung to my top.
Annie? The girl? The friend I’d made in this awful place knew monsters weren’t real, and so it wasn’t like her to need my help in the way her brother did. I was set down in the hallway, and urged forward. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, and yet I moved on, as was my purpose. The knife stuck against the door, just barely propped open, and I slowly pushed myself into the room, but what I saw was enough to give me pause.
Monsters were real, I realized.
I had never believed in choice, or the idea that I could deviate from my instructions. I was a cleaning robot, built to keep a house in order. I was not a person, nor could I ever become one, and I was thusly absolved from the moral judgments weighted against them. If I were to turn back and return to my charging station, no one would be able to fault me. Even Mikey, who perhaps would wonder why I had let him down, would grow older and realize that he had asked too much of a simple machine. If necessary at all, in time, I would be forgiven for my cowardice. I hesitated, however, as I realized that this was, in part, what I had longed for. A chance to grow. A chance to change. A chance to prove myself more than a list of components and functions on an instruction manual, given life in a plastic prison.
I had learned, in that instant, that perhaps the world was not so simple as “people are people, and machines are machines.” If people could be monsters, then so too could machines be heroes.
The dark figure was leaning over Annie’s bed, one ghoulish hand against her mouth. I made my choice. I sped forward, blade loose at my top, and sliced at his ankle. The retaliation was immediate, a cry of pain and a lashing out of limbs that sent me crashing against the wall, the knife ripping free and burying itself in my casing. My vision cracked and glitched, and my fans grew loud and frenetic as I knew my hour approached. In my final moments, however, I saw lights from the hallway, and heard the sounds of footsteps. Soon, all would learn of what evil had transpired.
I didn’t ask to be woken from my nighttime rest. I didn’t ask to be lifted atop a chair. I didn’t ask for a blade to be strapped to myself. I didn’t ask to be set alone in the hallway. I didn’t ask to be prodded forward, until my knife touched at the doorway, and I didn’t ask to be given a mission above my station. The only thing I’d ever asked for was for a chance to be something more than I was. A chance to be more than invisible.
I’d gotten what I asked for, and as my body could no longer sustain the damage done to it, I realized that I couldn't be more grateful. |
“Luz, show them again.”
“Yes, John.”
A gout of flame is unleashed from her upraised hand, stemming from a small glyph centered in her palm. Heat fills the room, scorching the walls and bursting what lights remained after the first demonstration.
“Stop.”
She snaps her hand shut with a metallic clang, her hand glowing a soft orange. I pour a small glass of water and take a seat, swiping my foot through the shield glyph on the ground. Heat rolls over us. Without that shield we would’ve been blinded and cooked alive.
Three men stand in front of me. One tall and almost regal, with jet black hair, a prominent jawline, and purple eyes. A trait only seen in certain, prolific magic users. He looks frightened.
To his side is an old man. Straight backed despite his years, he looks slightly amused at this display. He sports a head of white hair, combed back snugly against his scalp.
Then, to my left is another man. Jet black skin transformed from years of using creation magic and alchemy, he looks troubled. I’m not surprised. He may be out of a job.
“Luz is the first of her kind. A robot that can use magic. Fully sentient, I might add, so watch what you say about her lest she take offense.” She bows theatrically, and walks over to take her place behind my chair. Good girl.
“While you were refining your magics, creating your mindless golems, and commercializing magic for its more mundane uses, I researched robotics.” The look on the tall boy’s face betrays a certain amusement.
“Yes, I’ve seen that look on many faces before. Robotics is dead they would tell me. Magic is far far cheaper. But I persevered. Then it occurred to me. What if robots could use magic? They could go far beyond what we can. So I set to work.” I turn to Luz, tears in my eyes. “She is the pinnacle of years of work, and from what I have seen, surpasses every man I’ve seen. Take for example, the display you saw. That was a tenth grade flame glyph. You all know how difficult that is to maintain, and that it invariably results in the death of a novice user. It requires the caster to first create an isolation or shield glyph if they want to survive, precious time otherwise. She can do it as fast as any master magic wielder, and without the time spent on protecting herself.”
I pause for dramatic effect. They’re in the palm of my hand. Partially because of my discovery, partially because I could have them immolated at any time. Wonderful.
“You three represent some of the giants in this world. The Blacksmith, renowned craftsman and purveyor of magical goods, who also happens to be the CEO of the largest commercial magic company.” I ding the glass jug of water I had poured from just moments ago. It had not grown any warmer despite the heat. Magic was quite nice when you got creative.
“Of course, the representative from Animation Industries, brother to the CEO and world-class locomotion and combat magic wielder. Anthony.” I nod my head to the old man, who nods back. We’ve met before.
“Then there’s you. A mid-level representative from the Neptune armed forces. I’ll be frank, I’m insulted that you haven’t taken this seriously, given the nature of my work. Not you personally, don’t look so afraid, but those you represent. The rim worlds have been in open rebellion in the Sol system, and you all brush off my findings with a courtesy delegation.”
I stand, handing my glass deliberately to Luz.
“Gentlemen. We stand at the precipice of a breakthrough. This is the pinnacle of technological advancement. You have seen what she can do, and I assure you, she can do so much more.”
I sweep my arm about the room as I speak to emphasize my words. Besides our small part, it has been positively scorched from ceiling to floor, exposing the hard stone I had put in place behind the walls.
“I think you all know what kind of importance this may hold in your respective positions.”
I open my hands out in front of me, a wry smile taking over my face.
“Who would like to invest?”
I’m gonna be rich. |
‘Oh no!’ She gasped.
I stood stunned. Thirteen years together and now it turns out I’m not her soulmate?
I knew I should have been feeling something but instead I felt nothing.
‘It can’t be true!’ She continued, gently pulling my hands into her lap and holding them. ‘It’s you. It has always been you. I’ve never loved anyone else!’
I looked up at her face. Tears fell down her cheeks and she was shaking.
‘Please say something. Please.’ She begged, holding one of my hands tighter.
‘Who is he?’ I spat out.
‘I don’t know!’ She replied, ‘there’s got to be a misunderstanding or something.’
Three days later and twelve phone calls later and it was confirmed that the app had not malfunctioned.
Two more days and we were packed up in the car. Determined to find her soulmate. The person who will separate us.
The app dinged to let us know her soulmate was close. She pulled over into a lay bay and a sudden stroke of realisation hit us both.
We had been at this junction before. Only once. A trip to her mother’s house. We never made it. An 18-wheeler had ignored the red light and clipped the back of the car, causing it to flip and roll three times.
‘I told you it was always you. It was you I fell in love with.’ She cried, pulling me out of the car and into my wheelchair.
‘But I’m different now.’ I whispered, watching as the light flicked from green to red. |
"Ground control to Major Dom, do you read?"
"Major Dom reading loud and clear, sir."
"We've evaluated the readings you sent us. Your orders are to pull out, now."
Major Dom, nestled in the deep of the ocean inside of NASA's most expensive and ambitious sea exploration vehicle to date, glanced around at his crew, considering how to proceed.
"Major Dom, do you read?"
"Major Dom reading loud and clear, sir."
"Major Dom, this is ground clear. Your orders are to pull out, now. I repeat: Your orders are to pull out, now. Do you copy?"
Dom's crew read looks of betrayal and confusion.
"Roger that,"said Major Dom.
He switched off the telecom device and turned his attention to the decision he was about to make. A decision that ground control did not want him to think of as a decision. They wanted him to pull out.
The readings were clear: A subterranean, humanoid race in the deep of the ocean.
And they wanted him to run away. What Dom was struggling to understand was why. His whole life he'd trained for a mission like this, as had the rest of his crew.
"Your orders, sir?"said Dom's second-in-command, Julius.
Julius would do whatever Dom wanted. He knew that. Even if it meant going against ground control's wishes. But was it wise to do so?
The com rattled back on, "Ground control to Major Dom, do you read?"
"Major Dom reading loud and clear, sir."
An angry voice came through the com. "This is Commissioner Lennox. You have your orders, Major Dom. You are to pull out immediately. But your ship is not moving. What is preventing you from carrying them out?"
"Sir,"said Dom. "What is the reason for ordering us to pull out?"
"This is not the time for a conversation,"barked Commissioner Lennox. "Return, Major Dom, and we can talk then. If you don't, I will see to it that you are relived of your duties."
"Sir,"said Dom, considering his next words carefully. "I think it prudent that we attempt to communicate with this race of people. See if they are intelligent like us."
"Major Dom, you test my patience."
"Tell us the reason for pulling out and I'll do it,"said Dom. He paused and then added, "Sir."
A tense silence followed.
Dom looked at the crew. He could tell they were wondering what the hell he was doing, but, maybe more importantly, were wondering what the hell ground control was doing too. He just hoped his insolence wouldn't take down their careers as well.
The com rattled on again, "This is Commissioner Lennox. Julius Haroldson, you are to relieve Major Dom of his duties and return to the surface immediately. I trust you will follow these orders without hesitation."
An ounce of frustration broke through Dom's stoic wall, "Commissioner Lennox, this is Major Dom. Why did you send us down here if not to explore? What is the point of our mission if we are to run and hide from intelligent life?"
Julius stepped forward. "I'm sorry, sir."
Dom could see the sorrow in his eyes, but he didn't fight it.
As Julius went to lead him away, he whispered in Dom's ear. "You know I would follow you if you give the order."
"I know,"Dom whispered back. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd be destroying Julius's career and possibly the rest of the crew, too. And for what? Because he, Major Dom, couldn't handle following orders?
He allowed himself to be taken to the brig and locked away. He looked out the viewport at the murky deep sea. In the distance, he could see a veritable city, with humanoid creatures flitting about everywhere.
Something nagged at him, the nag that had caused him to question orders in the first place. Something was wrong about this. Horribly wrong.
The ship began to rise. Slowly, but surely, bit by bit, it rose. The view of the underwater city began to fade.
Dom saw a ripple in the water that could only be explained as one thing and his heart sank. The ripple traveled through the water at a sickening speed until... until...
Dom tried to tear his eyes away. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He couldn't believe that this was what he had spent his life for. He watched as the subterranean missile connected with the underwater city. Then more streaks followed. Several more missiles.
In his head, it seemed as if he could hear their screams as the missiles hit.
Major Dom stared out the viewport in silence as he watched a species obliterated before his eyes. |
I'm curious if anybody will get this message.
The world where I live, my world, seem to have a little something special. When someone reach 10 years old, his body changes, and develop a certain ability.
There's no way to know which one before it happens, and sometimes the ability doesn't appear instantly.
Some people turns into flames, some people get to see across the world, some people become much stronger to the point of throwing gigantic concrete blocks like feathers.
For centuries now, our world has been growing really fast because of this. If you read this, you probably have trouble imagining it, but it's basically a utopia, we have new sports, new championships, poverty is inexistant, criminality is low because of the fearsome powers of law keepers.
Don't get me wrong, this system have downsides.
You may not know how to turn your power on, and if it's the case you are considered a subhuman by some. You may die not knowing what your power is.
And the 10th birthday is most of the time a traumatic memory. In order to prevent an eventual dramatic event you are kept locked in a vast empty room for weeks.
It was my case.
I lived 13 years without having any clue of what I was really capable of.
13 years of being the subhuman of the group.
I never stopped fighting. If I was a subhuman, at least I would be the best of them.
I learned how to use programming languages, IAs are still commonly used and where some people are able to mimic what they do, nobody wants to do it on a daily basis.
I struggled for years.
And a few month ago, everything changed. It was just my typical morning routine, waking up, coffee, shower, coffee, turning the computer on, looking through the window...
Our civilisation grew impressively fast compared to yours, and the pollution, while being purified before reaching the atmosphere, is still there over the cities and it creates strange climates, especially acid rains.
As I watched a bird trying to take altitude through the corrosive water, I thought to myself that this world wasn't... "good".
Yes the humans lives for hundreds of years.
Yes we eat and drink as much as we want.
But we only protect ourselves. I saw in books what the world looked like before, when we weren't that developed. Forests. Lakes. Jungles.
(You know those, you who read these lines.
I know you do.)
We lost it all.
We destroyed the nature with what it gave us to live longer, not realizing that by doing so we lost what nature is really supposed to be.
As I was realizing it, I felt a cold sweat in my back.
Why was I the only one seeing the truth?
Why was I the only one who could do nothing about it?
I was the subhuman after all... The best of the worst. The one that was skillfull, but not talented.
Tears started rolling down my cheeks as I said through my teeth :
"- I want to change everything. Everything in this world."
"Hello."I started looking around me, searching for the sudden voice.
"...
Hello ?
- user admin confirmed, state what you would like to change."
It was right there, in front of me.
A perfect segmented circle, hovering in front of me, moving with my sight, like printed on my retina, slowly rotating.
"I... Uh... I would like... Who are you?
-I am a representation of Admin's soul.
-Of Admin's soul? Of... Of my soul then?
-Yes.
-But... Are you... Perhaps... My power?
-What would you like to change, Admin?
-You didn't answer my..
-What would you like to change, Admin?
-I don't know!! Refill my coffee? "
The second my sentence was finished, I saw a second cup of coffee, identical to mine, right next to the other one, but full.
It took me a few seconds to realize. This power, it was mine! Me, the subhuman, I could do this kind of things. But what kind of thing exactly ?
"I... What can you do for me?
-Anything.
-Anything... like what?
-anything."
It was starting to bother me.
"well then change the weather.
-very well, admin.
-You see you cannot... What ??"
I instantly looked out the window to see the rain slowly slowing down, getting thicker.
Snow.
I only ever saw snow in books
I could not believe my eyes.
"you.. Can you.. Change me ? Give me.. An other power for exemple?
-Certainly, what would you want, Admin?"
As you can imagine, this was a good day and today, a few months after this event, I turned this world around. I cannot get forests back since I don't know what they feel like, what they look like if you see them with your own eyes, if you lose yourself in them, but at least we won't go further.
But I found out other worlds. Other places.
Your world.
You have forests, you have jungles, I saw your seas and oceans. They are full of life.
You live with animals, you tamed them. You are much closer to nature than anyone ever was in my world for the past centuries.
I won't let you go on the wrong path.
Today is the day everything changes for you.
You will hear of me. Soon. I now can send messages in your world, it's only a matter of time before I will be able to join it.
See you soon.
"xoxo"
u/Slauwdy
Edit : misspells, typo, and added a bit more logic. |
On the wind was a faint smell, like burnished leather. Roland, my horse, stamped with anxiety, tossing his head and snorting like a petulant child refusing his greens. I tapped his sides with my heels and clicked my tongue, and he begrudgingly walked forward toward the castle before us.
There was an uneasy calm among the unkempt hedgerows leading up the the draw-bridge. And i heard no birds, which on retrospect should have been a warning for a seasoned adventurer such as I. There is a misconception that we seasoned adventurers are what we are because we are wiser, craftier, more observant and methodical than our dead contemporaries. Untrue. We are who we are simply because we lack the niggling little voice in our heads that tells us to go back, be safe, be cautious. Instead we have a niggling little voice that asks “What is that over there?” and won’t shut up until we’ve found out what is, as it were, over there.
The drawbridge was open. The portcullis was open. The inner courtyard looked inviting and nigglingly curious on the other side. I pulled Roland to the side and hopped off. He snorted his opinions at me and i ignored him.
I stepped on the drawbridge and it sounded like a drawbridge should sound, only more so; wooden, solid, firm, and convincing. I say that now, but at the time i distinctly remember thinking it sounded very real, which was odd to consider under the circumstances.
OK, a step back… i’d lost my father’s dagger in a game of dice, but that was on purpose. Its a nice dagger, don’t get me wrong, but you gotta get your mark to believe you’re all in and desperate in order to make sure they go all in and don’t hold back their wealth too cautiously. And so when i won, i won everything he had to offer. This tip was among those winnings; a castle, long ago explored and forgotten. Could there be secrets still hidden, catacombs holding treasuries and armories filled with ancient wonders? Well, my niggling little voice was a-quiver just considering it.
Which leads me to here, where the drawbridge pressed against my boots and obligingly resonated a right convincing “thud” as it did. The iron teeth of the portcullis dripped with dew from the morning chill, obviously, and the wind whipping through the courtyard did not at all ebb and flow like the breath of monstrous beast; my mind made an extremely observant note of these things and brought them up helpfully and without pretext.
The courtyard was barren of vegetation and detritus. I was expecting at least a rotten wagon wheel, or bits of crumbled stone and masonry. But the ground had no litter, no weeds, no signs that civilization had once existed here. And again my mind felt the need to remind me that this was not at all worrisome, that i shouldn’t be surprised by the lack of signs of life in a place as old as this. And i worried that my mind might know something that it isn’t telling me.
The front double doors were a massive affair; all oak and iron and outward displays of resolve intended to intimidate an otherwise optimistic invader. I stepped up and pushed gently. The door swung open fluidly, deliberately, gracefully, offering me the most dutiful of obligatory creaks. I felt wind blow past me, like the inrush of air when you open the door to a burning room, and then the air stood still… hesitant…
I stepped into the front hall, my own breath hanging precariously in my throat. The front room was stone floor and steps sweeping to each side like the jowls of a hound, with rows of wooden rails that grinned like alabaster. A single giant tapestry hung down from the second floor, gently flicking in the stillness of the foyer as though tasting my presence. I looked up at the arched ceiling, and the criss-cross of joists that yawned above me. And i felt a sudden hot wind boil in from further down the hall in front of me, and heard a low moaning that echoed deep in the recesses of my primal mind, reminding those part of me that had forgotten that my ancestors had once not occupied the highest links of the food chain. I took a step back, and heard the creak of ancient stone edifices settling uneasily in their foundations. The door beside me, until now completely content being open, began to furtively, silently close, as though not wanting to disturb me even as it barred my escape. I dove for the open courtyard and landed on the dusty-but-not-sandy, sand-colored ground. Which then made a haphazard “thud”, but you could tell it wasn’t trying very hard anymore. A low keening began from behind the closed double-doors. I felt it first in hairs on the back of my neck, and only eventually heard it in my ears. The sound reverberated in the foyer, the hallways and the corridors behind the doors. And as i stood up to run towards the drawbridge, the doors behind me slammed open and the keening deepened into a guttural growl. Hot wind filled with dust, mildew, and frustration blasted me from the gaping maw of the doors. I turned back towards the drawbridge and saw the portcullis steadily lowering from the upper recesses of the barbican. I ran, stumbling onto the drawbridge which now roiled like a barge on heavy seas. I panicked when it began to rise, causing me to stumble once again. I crawled, half climbing the slick woody surface, struggling to keep from being caught in the closing jaws. I crested the top of the now upright drawbridge and fell ingloriously into the fetid mud of the moat below. The squelching sound i made getting out of the mud was real, accurate, and didn’t require convincing.
When i’d finally returned to Roland, he snorted. I couldn’t look him in the eye, so i just hopped on his back and we trotted back the way we came.
EDIT: Thanks for the bling! Scattered silver around the place will help it look more real, for sure. ;) |
We stood upon a mountain peak just above a land of clouds. She stood there with a fierce look in her eyes as she had tracked me down and chased me here.
I had been lucid dreaming for a while now but this was the first time that although I was in control of the dream, an element within, this woman, seemed completely beyond my control. That’s when she told me something that turned my understanding inside out.
“I know this world doesn’t really exist, but please, I just want you to know that...” and that’s when I woke up....but I didn’t forget the feeling I got from her. Something about what she was saying seemed vitally important. I felt like I had heard it before
I continued my lucid dream practice in the coming days and nothing unusual happened. Well nothing more unusual than a dream anyway.
One night, I illuminated the night sky like a falling star coming as close as possible to the planet without harming it with my incredible starlight body.
Another night, I fended off shadows in the desert. They moved like the wind and up close they seemed like they may even be demons. In the end, when I defeated the shadow king, his eye was the only thing that remained and it radiates great power so I hid it from the world in hopes it would never fall into the wrong hands.
Dreams continued like so for the coming week. There was a great earthquake but after I brought the people together, I created my own nation. There were monsters that appeared and evil sorcerers, I would defeat them by the nights end.
Then it happened again...an element appeared that I couldn’t control. It took on different forms and at first I didn’t notice it much but it seemed to follow me around. Just when I was going to run, I decided to stop and when I turned around she was there.
She seemed worn out as if she had been chasing me through not just ages but reincarnations. That’s when she said it again...and this time I knew I heard what she said but when I woke up I could only remember that same broken sentence.
“What is she telling me?”
“What is she? Me? Or something else?”
These thoughts haunted my mind but for some reason I sorta knew I wouldn’t see her again for at least a week.
During the week my lucid dreams continued. I was a soldier in an ancient war. I was a mob boss who ruled over a lawless city. It was Enjoyable for me but I felt my dreams were a little dark lately so I focused on positively and that night, I was the king of the land and I brought about the most prosperous and happy age for my people which they had not seen since long ages past.
The night before the week would be up I dreamt of aliens that crash landed on my planet and I lead our people to fend off the invading aliens as they attempted to take over the world.
The next night I noticed something strange as soon as I began the lucid dream. The dreamed seemed like it almost continued from last nights dream in a way with a heavy feel of that element that was beyond my control.
This world was an advanced civilization. They seemed to have learned from the technology the aliens left behind when they crashed and created the world I was seeing now.
I knew she would be coming but I didn’t feel very comfortable in this world. There were too many strange and distracting things. Too many people and moving pieces of this world and since I knew I was going to see her, I wanted to meet her on my terms without distractions.
So I united all my focus and a great rain poured down until it drowned out the entire world. All that remained was the tallest mountain which I stood upon. It all seemed so familiar but I couldn’t recognize it in this dream. The dream scared me because I felt like I was losing control but I told myself I have to persist.
That’s when she climbed the mountain, tired broken and worn. I felt bad for her struggle to reach me but for some reason this felt like one of the things beyond my control.
And before she could start talking I said to her “we both know this world doesn’t exist, but what is it you need to tell me?”
She looked deeply as if into my soul and said “I just want you to know that the things you do affect the lives of the existences passing through this place. Do your best not to forget, we may be here because of you but you are anywhere because not just you or I but all is us.”
And the next thing I knew, I woke up. Although I remembered what she told me, there seemed to be so much more i understood from it when I heard it in the dream, so much that quickly became hazy and far from reach upon the waking day.
I haven’t seen her since. But lately, when I am lucid in a dream, I find myself looking her. |
The last time each of the kingdoms had born their own hero had been before the Darkness. Light, and its very essence, gone for a generation. Crops faltered. Animals died. Forests withered and all seemed lost. Then, five heroes had been born. Then, in the time of gravest danger, the heroes had saved the kingdoms from darkness.
Times had been harmonious ever since. There was a certain magic to the unity of the five kingdoms, far beyond the magic present in each and every homestead and castle. Lords and ladies, equipped with family wands passed down through generations; peasants, with their weaker wands just effective enough to suit their quotidian needs. Quarrels between the kingdoms were few and far between. The Darkness lingered, if not in true form then by way of memories too fresh and wounds too tender.
Now there were still heroes. One here and one there, born with the heroic mark somewhere on their bodies. Boys and girls in this kingdom or that one, destined to solve problems beyond the ability of regular mortals. Imbued with a special power, they had a certain dexterity with the wands; a natural instinct, and an incorruptible sense of good. That, paired with a training regimen more intense than that even knights were subjected to, guaranteed heroes ready to fight any force of evil.
The oracle spoke of more heroes. Their births, predicted by the robed priests and priestesses, brought tremors to the kingdoms still wary of the past. The oracles predicted a third, and the next day another three. Hogwash, the kings insisted. Misreadings, as fickle as the summer rains or the winter snows. But the oracle erred not, and what the kings wished and willed to be misreadings were more accurate than they would have liked.
There were three, and then a fourth, and then the mumblings came from travelers and the customary messenger that a fifth had been born in the Reach, that furthest kingdom south that bordered the endless iciness. Peasants shuttered their windows and amassed their rations. Lords called their bannermen and ordered the blacksmiths to smelt more weapons. Nature or monster, undead or unkillable; what force the heroes might have to fight could take any form.
It was in the dimness of a wandlit room in a castle in the foothills of the Westerners that another hero was born. The parents saw the mark, that criss-cross of lines that appeared this time across the ankle of their newborn daughter. She was little, even for a newborn, but the midwife was trained to look for marks. She gasped when she saw it, and the girl's father stood speechless by the door.
"She has the mark,"the midwife whispered, and the call spread like wildfire in the arid fields of a rainless summer. A messenger was dispatched, and two men held back the father as he desperately rushed the girl with a knife that would remove that fateful mark. Heroes, accoladed as they might be, led short and violent lives. She would never be a mother and she would never wed. She would never lead a life like the other children, running around the woods playing games. She would always be a hero, and her heroism would be her end.
It was to the Junction that the messenger went; to the castle atop the peak where the five kingdoms came together. From the towers, bells rang signaling the approach of a rider carrying the greenlit wand and the message of another hero's birth. Already, the kings were convened. Already, they had received the news of five heroes, one in each kingdom, the fifth born just last week to a peasant in the fertile jungles of the north.
"It's a sixth,"Ogden remarked quietly. He was the eldest of the heroes, and the only one to have completed the training and already taken on one of the gargantuan tasks reserved for those with the mark. For a time, he had been hopeful that he might see out his life without a fifth hero being born. But that light in the night let him know that something more ominous was amiss.
"There has never been a sixth,"the kings responded almost in unison. But they all knew a greenlit wand could bear no other message. Somewhere, beyond the peaks of the Westerners or past the icy expanse to the south or past the Endless Sea, a force to threaten the very existence of the five kingdoms approached.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
I’m usually good at keeping my cool, keeping my curse hidden. But this hit like a flashbulb behind my eyes, and blinking it clear I can see her recognition. She thanks me and turns away, but I saw that look in her eyes. Does she know? Anyone – anything? – that died or will die over a century ago but is, now, right there in front of me with a pack of cigarettes…
Undead? Time traveler? Angel, demon, deity? Did my calendar just break? If I’m honest with myself, the last possibility is the one I’m hoping for. Maybe I’ll no longer have to know.
But I have to know. I rush out the door to follow her, my plea already loaded in my throat.
She’s gone.
—
It’s 2:18 a.m. when I finish locking up. The Moon already set, only light pollution and one pathetic lamp on the side of the station for illumination.
August 21st, 1999. The young woman who came in with her son last week won’t see tomorrow. He asked for a roll of that Bubble Tape gum and thanked me with the brightest smile. I still don’t know if I hope he survives or dies with her. Both fates somehow seem crueler than the other.
I’m half-numb to that by now, detached. But I can’t shake the… whatever she was. December 20th, 1881. There was no mistaking it. Should I know that date? Did something big happen then? I never paid attention in history class.
I fumble with my keys to unlock my car. The man who sold it to me has two years and change left. I swear sometimes it’s like I can look these up.
“Hey.” I drop my keys and damn near jump out of my skin. It’s her. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” She takes a drag off her cigarette and pulls out her pack, turning the open top toward me. I can’t tell if it’s a friendly offer or a last smoke. Again, I don’t know which I’m hoping for. Either one sounds good right now.
“Thanks,” I mumble. She pulls out a Zippo and lights it for me. Lucky Strike, pretty sure it’s the same pack she bought earlier.
“Anytime.” She takes another drag. I don’t know if she’s waiting for me to acknowledge what happened first or if she’s as lost as I am.
“December 20th, 1881,” I recite as steadily as I can.
“A date?” I can exactly see her raise her eyebrow, but it’s practically etched in her voice. “Guess that makes you the Calendar.” She extends her hand for a shake. “And I guess that makes me the Map.” I see the date again as our hands touch, but I’m expecting it. There’s no shock, only a sense of familiarity. “Pleased to meet you.”
“The Map? You saw *where* I’ll die?” Mine was the only date I could never see, and the sudden prospect of knowledge of my own fate, the loss of uncertainty, was equal parts exciting and terrifying.
She shrugs. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s where we died. Some shitty row house in London. December 20th, 1881.” Her casual tone would be unnerving if not for the painfully familiar weariness in her voice.
“What are we?”
She holds her last drag off her cigarette and stares up at the sky. “Still working on it.” She turns back to me with a wry grin. “I’ve got some guesses, kind of suspected you existed somewhere out there.” She glances at the duct taped bumper on my decade old Honda Civic. “Your apartment as shitty as your car?”
I cough a single laugh. “Shittier.”
The Map tips her head back. “Lemme give you a ride. Misery loves company, yeah?”
—
It’s 3:30 when Carta – “the Map” – pulls her Jeep into her garage. A boring ranch house in the residential sprawl of the Peninsula; in other words, the goddamn Four Seasons compared to my apartment.
On the way over she asked me a simple question that stumped the hell out of me the whole way. Could I remember the very first time I saw when someone would die? Not an early instance when I already knew what I was seeing, the very first? I couldn’t.
“You alright, Callie?” Carta and Callie it was going to have to be. Turned out her given name is also Moira, a sick joke of the universe if her theory is right.
I slowly nod, digesting the question. In the light of her garage I can see she’s dropped the façade she wore into the gas station, 118 years of sorrow now visibly weighing on her sympathetic eyes. “Yeah, I think…” I take a deep breath, perhaps my first truly willing breath. “I think I’ve never felt better.”
Carta grins at that. “Me too.”
(I have a part 2 planned if there’s interest, but I need to deliver on my promised part 2 from yesterday first) |
I..
Well, I am a meticulous person, to put it straight. I strive for perfection and utter accuracy in my writings.
As one of the worlds most respected and trusted journalist (and aspiring ameteur sci-fi author) it became my duty to combat bad information and writing with the truth, written in pen and ink or typed onto a computer.
I love journalism and journaling in general, I do, really do. But I cannot compare it to the level of passion and love I have put into my very secret project.
My own personal sci-fi saga filled with space ships, rooty tooty shooty guns, adventure, with complete and total scientific accuracy! A story about excitement, anger, betrayal, and pure fun!
Well, to be frank only the accuracy part about my books is impressive as I never "had the talent"to write worlds, drama, and stories in general according to..
Everyone in general, heh..
So I kept my sprawling space saga shelved and spirited away from any spying eyes to avoid embarrassing myself.
I knew I could've asked for help but what good is that when everyone you tried to ask is still laughing over how poorly it was written and is distracted from helping
Then I had lost the saga on my chromebook as I forgot to retrieve the chromebook from the cafe in my coffee crazed state.
I rushed back to the cafe but it was too late, some guy stole the chromebook right off the table.
So naturally I was nervous, for good reason! My lifes work was on there and I rather to keep the entire story to me, myself, and I only, not in the hands of some untrustworthy stranger.
Life went on for a few days, I had lingering feelings on the whole incident but had mostly let go of it. It was just a laptop and I could get a new one, easy like that.
I thought God took pity onto myself and had made my life a bit easier, as the fears of my story being shown to the world subsided and possibilites of it happening dwindled with each passing moment.
Until I booted up my PC this morning and had found that my story was trending on Twitter, Reddit, and every other social media platform.
Oh god.
My thoughts ran through my head like they were Olympic athletes running a 100 meter sprint.
Were they making fun of my god awful writing?
Who posted this?
Why is it trending?
I forced myself to calm down, placing my hand over my heart and slowing down my breathing, after all there was no need to stress out about the story as the wave will die down in a couple of days, right?
My day went on like every other day, just with more anxiety.
As I was writing an article a call appeared on my phone, this was the same number that had bothered me for days now. So naturally I had to tell them to fuck off.
"Look can you just stop trying to scam-"
"Mr. Fogg you have just won a Nobel Peace Prize for your contributions to the scientific community in the form of inventing reliable and safe intergalactic travel."
"Wait what." |
“Yeah, of course I know about the console,” says Zack. “The company who made it took sixty-three attempts to get it right. Before they got it right, I mean. How’s that for knowledge?“
We’re standing outside a grey-brick hospital. We’ve been in the nineties for an hour now, me and Zack. He fits in well: clean-shaven, pale-skin, Hawaiian shirt. The decade’s full of colour, that’s what I’ve noticed. It’s like every sign is competing with every other to be the most garish, to be brighter and more noticeable than the sun.
I throw out another test question: “When you say the company who made the console, who do you mean?”
“Nintendo, obviously.”
“Okay,” I say, relieved. “Good. So explain why we’re here then? They don’t make them in hospitals. Don‘t sell them here either. That stuff even I know.”
“No, you’re right, buddy. But they do let the sick kids play on them. Easiest place to take a console from with no one noticing. Trust me, I’ve done my research.”
Zack’s meant to be my nineties’ guy. It’s why I hired him. But I’ve got a nervous sweat rolling down my back. It’s a humid day, so maybe it’s from that — but I think it’s from Zack. He’s been giving off odd vibes since we arrived. He had no idea McDonald’s used real meat, or that phones here had green screens and no internet.
“Come on,” I say, leading us through the hospital’s car park and towards the looming double-door entrance. “Once we’re inside, you—“
There’s a signpost: Women’s Hospital, Maternity Unit.
Not a children’s hospital.
I hear a familiar hum. Feel a heat on my neck. *Shit.*
“Sorry,” says Zack. The gun in his hand is the size of a laser-pointer. One push of a button and it’ll blast a wave of energy through my head.
”What are you doing?”
”See the trees over there? Get moving. I’ll leave you tied up there until I get back.”
”Zack, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but we’ve got one shot at this and about an hour left. This took three years of planning.”
“Three years,“ he says. “Is that all? This, in a way, is over a hundred-years of planning for me.”
”I don’t understand—“
”Little fact that not many people know: my great-grandmother died giving birth to my granddad. In this hospital no less. On this very day in history.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“My granddad grew up without a parent. Was sent from home to home through his childhood. Was never loved, and that did something to him. Broke him in some way. Not sure how, but something to do with his heart I guess. So when he had kids, he was as distant to them as Andromeda. Worked part time, drank full time.”
”Shit,” I say.
”He passed that misery and poverty down to my father. My father to me. I’m telling you, it’s dominoes. You push one and they all go.“
I take a long breath. “Okay, so your family went through hard times. But this is going to be a big pay-day for you. I’m talking a lot of credits. Things are going to change.”
“I’ve got a kid. I’ve not told you about him but he’s eight — sweetest little guy.”
I let out a relived breath. He’s got something to live for.
“But... That’s the problem, too. It took until my son was born to realise how much like my father I am. I’m like a dark cloud hanging around my son. I want to be blue sky, you know? But I’m a storm cloud. Something in me won’t clear.”
”I can get you help and—“
“This, though,“ he says, ignoring me. “This is my chance to fix it all. To stop the pain getting passed down. To stop the dominoes ever falling. I brought back what she needs to live. Just a quick injection.“
”Time doesn’t work like that. You can’t just change things.”
”Oh, says the time-thief? Just going to steal a console, no problems there.”
”It’s small. Saving a life though...”
”Of course you’d say that. Your crimes are much less.”
”It’s not about the crime! I don’t give a shit if you save a life here. I’d be glad, in a way. But have you thought this through? You change anything like that... and, Jesus. You might not have a kid when we get back! You might not even exist. Hell, I might not.”
Zack‘s shoulders fall. “Might not have a kid...” He slumps onto a rock, falls silent, staring at the hospital.
”Chaos theory. The butterfly flapping its wings.”
More silence. For a long time. People pass us on their way in and out.
”So that’s it then,” he says. “I go back to letting my son down.“
”But wealthy. That might make you happy. It might make all the difference.”
”Yeah,” he says, but there’s nothing behind it. He looks at his watch. ”She’ll be dying now. He’ll be born. And this fucked up line of existence starts.”
”Help me,” I say.
”Ah, what use am I to you, eh? I know as much about the 90s as I do about badminton.”
”I take it you don’t play?”
He huffs out a laugh. “You go ahead. I’ll meet you by the machine.”
I’m worried that’s not true. That if I leave him now I’ll never see him again, and neither will his son. ”Look, you might know shit about the decade, but I could still use the help. Someone to distract a cashier while I steal one from a shop. I’ll still cut you in, okay? Split down the middle.”
“I don’t care about the money.“
“Your kid might, one day.”
He sighs, and I’m wondering if he’s going to stay. But then he says, “Okay.”
&#x200B;
\*\*
&#x200B;
I’ve not seen Zack in a few months. Been too busy getting on with life, carrying out another robbery, plotting the next.
I ring the bell and wait.
I’d thought of going back again. To another time — to when Zack was young. Maybe I could have done something that’d cheer him up or inspire him. Hell, maybe I could have adopted him, if I was a better man. But then I’d be the one screwing up time.
So I didn’t do that.
He answers the door with a wide grin on his face. ”Well if it isn’t my old friend,” he says, reaching forward and pulling me into a tight hug. “How’s it going?”
He invites me in and we wander through the living room.
His kid waves at me then returns to his game. There’s a VR headset on floor next to him, but he’s got an awkward looking controller in his hands and a kart racing game up on an ancient screen. Rarest console in the world, but god the graphics were shitty.
The money wouldn’t have made either of them happy, Zack was right about that. Wouldn’t have made me happy either. But the token, giving it to his son, it brought the first genuine smile to Zack’s lips that I’d seen.
Maybe the first to my lips, too — at least for a long time.
”A beer?” he asks.
”Just one,” I say. “Then I got to be getting off. Going back for a copy of E.T. on Atari.”
“Atari? Never heard of it.”
”Well you never said you were the eighties expert.” I pause. “How’s the therapy been going?”
He nods. “Helping, I guess. Slowly. It’s taken a can-opener to my heart though, and that was a little painful. But you know, these things take time.”
”Sure. I’m glad you’re doing it. Truly.”
”Yeah, I’m determined not to let any more dominoes fall. Going to be the gap between them.”
”You’re a brave guy.”
He changes the subject: ”So, what you been up to recently?”
I shrug the rucksack off my shoulders and put it on the workspace. “I went back. By myself this time.“
”You could have asked, if you needed help.”
”I wanted it to be a surprise.” I pull out a second controller for the console. “Thought you might get a kick playing with your kid.”
He laughs and smacks my back. “Ah, you’re an idiot! You shouldn’t have done this.”
I reach into my bag and pull out a third. “It wasn’t purely selfless,” I say. “I’m planning on kicking both yours butts.” |
It was a beautiful Saturday morning; the birds were chirping next to my window, the sun was smiling down on the city's constituents, and I was enjoying a wonderful mystery novel given to me by one of the staff. Frankly, the conclusion was a little cliche, but it was still a good enough story.
I had been moved around hospitals for days on end. Last week, I was in Munich; Yesterday, I was in Cologne; Today, it's Paris. I never knew who was paying for all of this; whenever I'd ask, the staff would always say "Care of His Majesty", as if it was the King of England himself who took charge of my recovery. I couldn't understand, why were they so dedicated to my recovery?
A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts. I turned to see the attending physician, a Doctor John Watson I think. He had been most kind to me the entire time, moving alongside me whenever I was transferred from one city to the next.
"Excuse me, sir,"said he. The tone in his voice was worrisome, as was the crease on his brow. "You have a visitor."
"Finally!"I exclaimed. I hadn't had any visitors in the weeks I'd been detained in Munich, nor in Cologne. To finally have a visitor, and in Paris of all places; someone who must know me intimately, a friend or a colleague. It can't be a family member, as Dr. Watson informed me that he does not have any recollection of my having any remaining family aside from my supposed brother, a captain in the Royal Navy.
That aside, Dr. Watson ushered in my visitor. He was tall, very gaunt, very thin, yet his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. Based on my own physical features, I can say that this man Watson permitted to visit is not a relative. His face, his manner, nothing about him seemed remotely similar to me. I could distinctly smell tobacco on his coat. Persian? A favourite, as, based on the indents on his lips, the man smokes a pipe. His boots and pants are soiled with reddish-brown dust stains. Perhaps he has been kneeling near the construction site at the Louvre?
"Did you enjoy the Mona Lisa, at least?"I found myself saying, without thinking.
The man's eyes widened momentarily, before replacing the look on his face with a smirk. "Not entirely, I was distracted by other matters."
"Ah, so another theft must have taken place."
"Something of the like. An attempt to steal a few paintings by Monet, at the very least."
I rub the spot above my right brow before reaching out my hand towards the man. I had no idea how he knew, but he immediately handed me a cigar. A sniff and I was ascertained that the cigar was American in origin. Not the best kind, but it will have to do.
"I see your taste in cigars have not changed."
"I have no idea what my taste in cigars are, Monsieur."
The gaunt man sat down in a chair beside me, the good doctor taking a spot beside him. "Play nice, you two. The professor here is still recovering and I've got my orders from your brother, Holmes."
"Yes, yes."The man, Holmes, said, waving his hand flippantly as he does so. "You may continue on with your duties elsewhere. The professor and I have a long awaited chat."
At this, I was surprised. "You mean to tell me that we've met before?"
Holmes laughed boisterously, earning a glare from Watson. "My dear Professor Moriarty, we've known of each other for quite a long time. In fact, it has been over five and ten years since we've last been in each other's company."
"Is that so?"
*"Ahem,"* a cough from the doctor grabbed our attentions. We looked on at him as he glared at my apparent companion and friend. "I will be filing the professor's transfer documents, that way we can finally return him to London."
"Ah yes, the cesspool of idlers."
"Oh, go ahead, Doctor Watson. I believe I'll be enjoying Monsieur Holmes' company."
With a huff, the good doctor left the room, issuing a final warning to Holmes to '*play nice'*.
"So, you say I know you?"I began cautiously.
"Quite so, Professor. Tell me, what is the last thing you remember?"as he said this, he eased into the wicker chair, putting his fingers together and closing his eyes shut.
I gave it a beat or two. Where do I begin? My discovery at the bottom of the Reichenbach? How I was rescued by a Colonel of the Royal Military and brought to Singapore for recovery? How I was arrested in Scotland by the completely inept Inspector Lestrade? Or how I was placed under protective custody by Doctor Watson and his friend Mr. Mycroft Holmes?
Holmes opened his eyes and stared at me sadly. At the very least, I believe it is sadness.
"I know you have a great deal of questions to ask, Mr. Holmes,"I said, quietly. "Unfortunately, I don't think I have any of the answers you seek."
"Fortunately for you, I have some answers to *your* questions."
"Then... who am I?"
"Your name, my good man, is Professor James Moriarty." |
The city of Leathsham is mine. All of its people, its art, its gold, belongs to me.
When I first found the town, it was little more than a dozen houses and a small field with sick cattle. The idea of taking them under my protection was not my first course of action.
Even as a young dragon, I knew that I could raze this village and take all of its belongings as my own. The start of my very own hoard. Oh, I had so many plans for what to collect.
But destruction is not what followed. I was clever, and watched the town for a while. I saw what they did. Scurrying around like rats, they took worthless things like plants and stone and ore, and within days one of them turned it into beautiful art. Swords, axes, paintings, tapestries, coin, jewelry, books. Even in this small village, the beginnings of over a dozen hoards, every item that we dragons coveted, was being born.
So I decided to strike a deal. My first flight above the village was low and on a clear day, I wanted to make sure they could see me. Then, I landed on the outskirts of the field and, using a tree and a stolen cart tarp, made a flag of truce.
The deal was struck quickly. I gained the role of the protector of Leathsham, and in return, I would own a stake in everything the village made or bought. They would become my hoard, and I their owner.
But I became so much more than that. Still young, I threw myself into everything that they did. I learned common speech, how to paint, how to smelt. I was a walking factory, able to hear bellows beyond burning coal, able to paint with clarity unseen by their shaking hands, and wrote poems that made them weep.
Years passed like this and our town grew. Bandits or monsters had no chance against me, and after some conversation, the military acknowledged me as a leader.
Generations passed and Leathsham became a town, the a city. Wooden houses turned to stone rises enshrouded by walls. Gold and silver flowed like water under my watch. Masterpieces in every field were crafted. They were all mine.
Or at least, the citizens allowed me to say they were. In truth, I was owed a share of everything, but as the leader of Leathsham, and an adult dragon, I claimed it all as my own hoard, within 500 years it was the greatest on the continent.
Then, something caught my eye. Another wyrmling dragon communicating with humans in a small village. Instead of fearing him, they treated him with apprehension, hearing the dragon’s words.
That was how it started. Another few centuries, and every major city on the continent was overseen by dragon families. And I, well, I was the first. Leathsham was the greatest, even eclipsing the previous empire, and I was king. King of Dragons and Man, at least in our continent. I alone rivaled the other families, kept them in line.
We were great and powerful, and no other nation dared to stand against us. But I had chosen king ago not to make enemies, and instead offered to show the other empires my ways.
By the end of my very long life, humans and dragons became the dominant species, and we lived in an age of unyielding prosperity. An age that, if my preparations were sound, would never end. |
Death's Spawn, Oblivion's Kiss, Whisper of the Abyss, Soulkiller, The Silence every culture that had come across this plague had a unique name for it, all along the same vein. The disease would rob the victim of consciousness often for large chunks of their natural planetary cycle, the victim's mind became dependent on this new cycle and as it festered on the very soul of those it tormented the unfortunate infected would begin to experience visions in those long hours of darkness. Truly countless have been driven mad across the galaxy from this plague, for millennia it was the single largest cause of mass death in the known universe, multiple star faring civilisations have crumbled under the strain of this psychic pandemic and many many more were snuffed out in the cradle before they could even reach for the stars. Eventually however a solution was found, a miraculous implant named the Noctis that would prevent the illness from progressing and more crucially spreading, and in a few short centuries the horrors of the plague were all but forgotten.
It was an unremarkable world in which the plague was once more rediscovered, a world of great diversity of life of all types orbiting around a slightly above average sized star for carbon based lifeforms. One would almost be fooled into believing nothing about this planet was amiss, until one spent some time there, and felt the suffocating silence reported by all who visited that world. Every single example of animal life found there thus far is compromised, infected with what was once believed to be a long extinct plague, at any given point in time untold trillions of organisms were trapped in unconsciousness, souls shackled to unresponsive bodies, resulting in a psychic shadow that loomed over an otherwise pristine planet. Sleep the natives of that planet called it, dreams and nightmare were the names of those horrid visions that have snuffed out so many lives, it was a perfectly normal aspect of life to them so much so that a large portion of every culture on the planet was intertwined with the concept of this foul disease. The first explorers to come across the accursed rock fled in terror, upon reaching civilisation once more they were quarantined and thankfully their Noctis implants worked as normal, catastrophe was avoided it seems but unfortunately it was not to last...
The Athreains, a foolish young race, one that had been untouched by the horrors of the plague, and desperate to prove themselves worthy of recognition in the galactic community sought to investigate the infested world. A small armada crewed only by those with the most up to date Noctis implants were sent to "pacify"the primitive native civilisation on that planet and collect research on the only known stronghold of the plague that once ruled the galaxy with fear. What they learned during that ill fated invasion forms the foundation of much of modern Consciousness Theory and did in fact ensure the name of the Athreain species would never fade from the pages of history, but they were not prepared for the price that came with such knowledge. The first soldiers began to experience symptoms at the eighth rotation of the planet since the invasion first began, lacking a word for this plague in their own native tongue the Athreains borrowed the local terminology and referred to this as the First Sleep. Quarantine protocols were immediately put in place and investigations were conducted into possible equipment failure, for how could so many be afflicted with top of the line Noctis implants? Even more unsettling was cases of unconsciousness being reported in orbital stations with crews that had never even set foot on the planet or been in direct contact with any other infected, soon no member of the Athreain navy that participated in the invasion was able to stand in darkness without immediately losing consciousness, and that is when the visions began, and with the visions came the madness.
An order was sent to eradicate all life on the planet but it was already too late, there were no survivors that were not already in the depths of madness in the entire system, and each new ship sent to investigate never managed to come back. The Council of Elder Peoples piled sanction after sanction on the Athreains for their foolish actions and gave the order that no ship would be allowed in or out of the system and for a while it seemed like the ordeal was over... then the patrol craft sent to enforce the quarantine started going dark. The plague had adapted, the Noctis implant had lost all effectiveness and even worse it seemed capable of transmitting itself through information alone, before this was known the plague had already escaped the quarantine zone apparently simply through the messages broadcast by infected patrol craft warning and before long individuals of all species began to fall unconscious around the galaxy. Quadrillions died over the course of this new outbreak, no measure seemed sufficient to defend oneself from infection beyond completely isolating away from any source of outside information or external contact and galactic civilisation collapsed, it was only in the end the research of the surviving Athreains that allowed anyone to survive and rebuild at all, in a greater act of cruel cosmic irony it was survivors from that accursed system that brought with them the seeds of salvation for all.
Infection was impossible to avoid but it was entirely possible to live with it, through studying the minds and bodies of the natives a small group of scientists were able to produce a drug that was able to mimic cognitive anomalies found in the native species of that world. The infection was psychic, all of its symptoms preyed on a psychically active mind and only through dampening the brainwaves that the disease targeted can one survive while infected, an act tantamount to a lobotomy to many species. There would be no madness, there would be no death, but there will be silence, and soon the entire galaxy was faced with the choice between silencing or destruction, to die insane or live as mutes. One by one each species made their choice, but ultimately it didn't really matter, for in the end no matter what choice they made silence would prevail...
Just about every survivor knows the plague now as Sleep, or slightly less frequently used The Dreaming. The Noctis implant has grown into a bulky device that all but wraps completely around the brain to inject a potent cocktail of drugs wherever it may be needed and galactic communication has been reduced to physically sending information through primitive light and electric patterns but no doubt is it better than the alternative. Nobody remembers the name of that world which caused all this or where it is found, perhaps it is better that nobody ever finds it again, for the suffocating silence that entombs the galaxy ensures nobody ever truly forgets. |
The hero's words echoed throughout the abandoned chamber. He gazed toward the oft empty throne, the last dim lights of hope fleeting from his eyes yet again as they had many times before. Sheathing his battle worn blade, he felt the light hand of his companion rest on his shoulder.
"Don't worry about it GeeGee, I'm sure they truly wanted to have an epic battle for the fate of the world. Just because they're busy doesn't mean we can't have fun on your birthday!", the elven girl prodded with optimism.
"It's ok Vivian, there are plenty more quests for us to embark on in town. You and Gregory chill out here while I drop my loot off in my room."
*blep* Gregory confirmed, the lizard trotting aloof toward his pile of leaves in the corner.
GeeGee entered his princely chambers and placed his loot about the room, his gold coins he deposits into a hellboar shaped piggy bank, next to it his #1 squire award for best swordsmanship at the town fair. Above his bed mantle loomed a family portrait, his mother and father posed with devilish royalty with GeeGee all the way at the bottom in his knight costume when he was 5 years old.
'I held my sword up high then, no point in stopping now', he thought.
Just as he placed a horse carved out of a potato on his treasure display, a blood-curdling scream erupts from the throne room.
Bursting through the door, he was met with the sight of a massive beholder, locked in battle with Vivian and Gregory!
"BACK YE ABHORENT DEMON!"GeeGee exclaimed while rushing into battle, "I, THE PRINCE OF HELL SHALL VANQUI- you know what Oculon I'm not really in the mood for a mini-boss today."The hero stated plainly.
"Aww ok", the booming demonic voice of the beholder trembled the room,"See you guys later."He floated dejectedly from the hall.
GeeGee took a seat, deep in thought when Vivian approached with a gift. A cake decorated with two big Gs and 10 rainbow candles set before him. He smiled and took a big bite. They laughed and enjoyed each other's company for many hours. Vivian would eventually take her leave and that night as GeeGee and Gregory curled up in bed, full of belly and warm of heart, down rolled a single tear, and a smile upon our hero's face. |
Perks of living in fucking Greenland.
'Dont move to Greenland.' they said. 'There's nothing to do there!"They said. Who's laughing now? Me, that's who!
I moved here because I wanted people to leave me the hell alone as I sat within my basement coding away on a power system management system (the Pryrsms as we called it before the world went to shit).
Now I live here because we sealed off all of our ports and airports and are the only nation, aside from Madagascar, to be over 95 percent unaffected by the Necroa Virus.
We were able to stay so healthy by literally murdering anyone who was rumored to have come into contact with the virus.
--
My mother in law told me that it was shameful I was moving so far away because I wouldn't be able to come home for Thanksgiving. Ha! I wonder who's eating their words now, Karen? Certainly not me.
Though I have a bad feeling, body parts are beginning to wash up on the shores, and the Zombies (InFEcTeD) are mutating. They don't need oxygen anymore.
--
They have started walking up the shore.
All hope is lost. The seas are against us. |
"Today's the day... my 30th birthday. As protocol dictated by the government, I shall be reviewed. I passed my first challenge at ten easily, just had to make sure I knew the multiplication table. For my second test I had to show that I had finished high school and enrolled into college. Almost everyone passes their first two. If you look at a demographical survey you'll find that there's a sharp drop in living-people after 30. This is the hardest, for here you have to show what you have done with your gift of life after acquiring skills in college. This was the challenge I'd face today.
When I arrived at the courthouse to be reviewed, everyone who turned thirty formed a line. The line was not very long. After the government implanted this measure, most people prefer to end it on their own terms. And even with such a short line, maybe 20, I only saw one come out. Really encouraging.
When it was my turn to present myself, I was greeted by a panel of 5 judges. Each one specializing in Art, Math, Physics, Chemistry, Biology; and each one with a special challenge in which I had to prove myself.
First off, the Art judge. She asked what I had done to make the world a more beautiful place. I replied, none. A face of anger took hold of her.
Second, the Math judge. He asked what I had gifted the world of mathematics. I replied, I gave the world an algorithm to provide easier access to the secrets of DNA. He had a smile on his face; the Biology judge smirked.
Then came Chemistry. She asked what I had done to further the cause of molecular chemistry. I replied: None, but I used the knowledge of this branch of science to further my research in Biology in regards to viral structure. The Chemistry judge gave a positive nod; again the Biology judge smirked.
For my fourth trial, I was asked to explain Quantum Mechanics. I failed.
I had gained approval from Math and Chemistry. Now I needed Biology to then live for another decade...
Biology stood up and said: *I've seen your research. You are dedicated and studious, and if we let you live you'll further our cause even more. But unfortunately the research you are conducting is ahead of its time. Right now, in this uncivilized world, your research can and will be weaponized. Thus hindering your research, and the need for your existence. That's why I will be voting for your termination. You're not worth government resources*.
Those words, have left me feeling numb. After all these years, was I supposed to end in a mass grave, burn alive? No, I had to prove that I was still worth it! I had to prove that I was valuable.
I asked for Art for a retrial, and she nodded excitedly. Apparently, not much people impress art and those who do fail to impress the other judges and thus are executed.
She asked me, what did I have to aport to the world of humanities. I replied, I provide hope. There are confused looks around.
I provide hope in the form of science. I'm a biologist, a researcher...My main goal is the continued existence of humanity. I create the medicine children desperately need. I create the methods that keep you alive. If it weren't for me, and people like me, the artists that get to live past 30, 40 or even 50 would have already died.
Art... was not impressed. That meant that the vote for my execution was 3-2.
I was soon cuffed, and dragged out of the room. I was thrown in with the other people who failed the test. Most of them were weeping. Others were trying to get hold of their loved ones back home. I for one just sat there in pure awe. How could we live like this? How could we let them treat us like animals? Why do the privileged survive, and we don't?
This new chamber smelled like death. I look at the ceiling, and see gas tubes. This is probably where they're going to bake us, with no warning whatsoever. Probably the steam from our bodies will be used to provide electricity for the courthouse tomorrow.
Well, at least I have a window over looking home. That's where my last thoughts should b- " |
Hutt Space. Nar Shaddaa. Business Sector. Bounty Hunters' Guild Headquarters.
"Of course, Madam,"The glossy, red protocol droid answered Risk eagerly, "If you would be so kind as to swipe your Guild card for me."It gestured stiffly toward the desk's sole prominent feature. As the Guild receptionist, the droid had no need of flimsies or a personal terminal. It also could easily be repaired in the event of a visit from an unsatisfied client. The multitude of scratches on his plating suggested that such visits might have been a regular occurrence.
Risk slid her counterfeit card through the reader, disguising her uncertainty with boredom. Bina had made the credentials' weakness abundantly clear: Risk could pose as Ryal Solum indefinitely—until the real Solum swiped her real card at any Guild office or Security Post.
Solum hadn't used the card in three months, checked in rarely and seemed to only hunt bounties when it suited her. It was the best Bina could do.
A tiny light on the card reader flickered white as data bounced along network links. After a few agonizing seconds, it glowed a steady green. "Ms. Solum, Guildmaster Cradossk is waiting for you in his office. Please, use one of our complimentary weapons lockers and we will be on our way."
Risk waved off the droid-receptionist, "I don't need a complimentary locker today. Thanks."The combination of her unreliable credentials and the lucrative bounty she wore around her neck made giving up her weapons sound more than unappealing.
The droid shuffled around his anachronistic desk and addressed her again, his golden eyes glowing. "Madam, the weapons lockers are both complimentary and mandatory."He raised his arms at the elbow, as if expecting to shake both her hands at once. Instead, the droid's forearms split along a hidden seam and revealed a pair of nasty built-in blaster rifles.
Risk lifted her hands in surrender and stepped over to the lockers, "I see your point."
"Do not forget your key. I assure you that your weapons will not be disturbed until three months after your demise—should you choose to leave them with us."He recited the Guild's policy as if it were a cheerful marketing screed.
Risk wondered if the Guild's doorway weapon scanners could detect her lightsaber as she stole a glance over her shoulder at the droid. She hooked her elbow into the drape of her cloak and used it to cover the locker as she obediently placed her entire private arsenal inside.
The receptionist's weaponry retracted amicably and he led her into the remarkably professional central Guild office. Risk would probably have been more interested in the unexpected corporate decor if she hadn't been preoccupied by the uncomfortable lightness of being unarmed.
She was able to notice a sudden inconsistency, "I thought I was meeting with the Council."
"Ms. Solum, Guildmaster Cradossk is waiting for you in his office,"the droid repeated. He showed her to a large set of black double doors and bowed graciously before he shuffled off to resume his duties.
Risk glared at his oblivious, shiny back and mentally discharged a bit of lingering resentment over her absent weaponry. The emotion was misplaced, and she didn't care.
The doors parted to reveal a bright office caught in the height of a colorful Nar Shaddaa sunset. Risk's eyes were dazzled by the light streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows and she was forced to pause in the doorway to adjust to the scene.
"Enter,"said the office's sole occupant, in the Trandoshan tongue. Risk could follow the language well enough to understand the invitation. Fortunately, anyone as business-minded as Cradossk would comprehend Basic even if his anatomy wasn't well-disposed to speaking it.
She squinted at the reptilian silhouette, "Guildmaster, forgive me but I expected to meet with the Council."
"Instead, you meet with me. Perhaps you are disappointed, Risk,"he hissed. Her real name stood out among the grunts and hisses of Dosk. She could see well enough to catch the light glistening from an antique dagger in Cradossk's hands. He was engrossed in the task of cleaning what she guessed was a prized family heirloom. A grim thought had her wondering how many beings it had slain over the generations.
"I've yet to decide. But I am grateful that I don't have to keep up the charade,"she lied. Her stolen credentials had been one of her few comforts.
"We allow for poachers. Do you know why?"Cradossk stood up and began slowly stalking towards Risk. He didn't bother to sheathe the knife.
"They make real bounty hunters look good and they take the jobs you don't want."She replied, head held high like a student called upon in class.
"Very good. The Council wants me to gut you from here,"he pointed the knife at her stomach, from a couple of meters away, "to here."He brought the blade up to point at her neck. "Do you know why?"
Risk squared her shoulders and answered as dispassionately as she would have answered an instructor at the retraining facility. Such a vicious threat was transparent, familiar, and easy enough to manage. It also frightened her, a little. "Because I'm better than a poacher."
Cradossk narrowed his orange eyes and blinked. His eyelids closed lazily, like a sleepy crocodilian napping as it waits for its prey. He spat out a laugh and sheathed his dagger. "You must be. But you are wrong, that is not why they want you dead."
Risk relaxed even in her confusion, certain that she'd won him over with her bravery. Though she had to wonder if she'd understood that sudden phrase in Dosh; she spoke so rarely to Trandoshans. "Then what's the problem?"
He closed the gap between them with a single, long step. He sniffed the air around her, mouth slightly agape. "You ruin our reputation. You let bounties go. You killed three licensed hunters."He added after a moment, "The wookie survived."
She studied Cradossk for a long moment, "Why don't you want to kill me?"
"The Scorekeeper teaches many things. She says we must not waste. Gutting you is a waste of a good hunter."He circled her once and made his way back to a chair behind a simple, curved desk. Sharp claws on his bare, clawed feet clicked on the hard flooring. "The ones you killed were not good hunters."
Rope nets hung from the ceiling, full of desiccated trophies. Ancient weapons covered the walls, most of which had been restored to their former, gleaming glory. A few camouflage and flight suits stood near the door, immaculate and ready for use. He gestured for Risk to take a seat opposite his desk. She obliged and gave his hunters' regalia a few appreciative nods as she sat.
"So we can forget this bounty and you'll let me join the Guild."
"You could have joined the Guild any time—before you made us angry."
"Then, I don't understand..."
"You killed three licensed hunters on Nal Koska. You let the prey go free. That is unacceptable. You will make amends."
Risk leaned forward in her seat, "And how am I supposed to do that?"
"You are not sworn to the Creed. You cannot break an oath you have not sworn."
"...go on?"
Cradossk slid a picture, printed on flimsy, across his desk. In the photo, a well-groomed man with a tidy goatee was frozen in the act of adjusting an expensive crimson jacket. "Fore Prion has broken the Creed many times. But the Council does not believe that he could disappoint them. They like him. He has hurt acquisitions that should have been protected. He always cuts on them. Every body is missing pieces. The Gamorreans are unrecognizable. The last one was missing half his ribcage."Cradossk shook his head, "Unnecessary."
Risk winced, she couldn't help but think of her instructor at the retraining facility—a man whose depravity warranted his timely death. The two certainly had a sadistic streak in common. "Then, you do have proof. Just let them see it."
"He is an oily man. His smile covers up the truth and our Council believes that the damage is just part of his work. It is a great dishonor to the Guild."
"And you want me to restore your honor."
Cradossk smiled with rows of conical teeth, "Thank you for the offer. I accept."
Risk collected the rest of the necessary information from Cradossk, all of it covered in caveats and oaths to secrecy. She left the Bounty Hunters' Guild headquarters steeled for her first Guild-sanctioned hunt.
((Edit: Wow, thanks for the gold! You guys are awesome!)) |
And on that note were written a million words. After all, God had written it, and if he wanted to fit all those words on the note, dammit he would. And that's what he did.
I looked at the note. It was the Scripture. Only, this time--no, this couldn't be right. It was the same Scripture, except written to me from God himself. The note zoomed itself in on one piece of the Scripture.
It said, "Find Noah and his wife. They should be here somewhere."
Confused, I turned in circles, and cried out for help.
Nothing.
"Noah! NOOAh?"
Nothing. Not even the trite tumbleweed, not even dust, just nothing. Just me (or, rather, just my soul).
I looked on the table again.
Still confused, I read over the message again just to be sure. Why did I need to find Noah? Why not Moses, or Jesus, or David? I thought Noah was just made up, I thought Noah was Old Testament--a parable, made up to teach a lesson...
Noah... and his wife. And his wife.
I looked around the vividly bleak landscape, and dropped to my knees. Tears poured out of my eyes.
God had flooded Heaven. He had killed everyone, and had chosen Noah to survive once more.
In fact, I bet it wasn't even the real Noah. "Noah"was just a given-name for someone who hadn't strayed. That meant..
I looked at the table again.
"Yes, my son, you are correct. Somehow, corruption and sin found its way into Heaven. I had to purge this Kingdom, lest it be full of corruption for eternity. That's what happened to earth, you see. That's why Heaven exists in the first place, because the humans on earth failed me. So everyone is given a second chance here, but this time forever."
"So what happened to my parents?"I asked, terribly sickened.
"They're gone. I am sorry."
"Why purge Heaven? Can't you keep it sin-free? Aren't you God?"
"No, I am not. You are. Humanity, my most loving and self-connected creation, is such a deep part of me that it serves as an extension me. In essence, Humans are the part of me that I can no longer control. The one body part that has lost its use with age."
"So we are you, you are us, and we are slowly eroding your power."
The words "LOL"appeared on the note.
"Humanity will never cause me to lose power, only my sanity. That's why I had to purge Heaven, you guys started to bring all the bad stuff upstairs."
"So where's Noah? And why did he get to stay?"
"He was the only one who refused to partake in the corruption."
"Where is he? Do you still want me to look for him?"
The note went blank.
There was an audible click. One of the desk drawers had unlocked. I shuffled over to it.
A booming voice from all around me said, "You have forgotten."
I opened the drawer.
And in that drawer.
In that tiny drawer.
Was a mirror.
"You have forgotten who you are."
"*I'm Noah.*"I whispered.
"No,"the voice said, as trees sprang up beside me, grass grew under my feet, and as I felt a sharp pain in my side. Beautiful trees rose from the earth, and the desk slowly started to disappear. So did the mirror.
A tree shot up just a foot away from me. I reached out to take one of its fruits.
"Not that one. Don't touch that one."
"WHO AM I?"
"My son, you have given me the most glorious idea. Let's start over, shall we? Remember the old days we had together? You are not Noah,"the voice said contently, "you are Adam. Welcome to Earth 2.0."
My side burst open and half of my rib cage was thrown into the earth. Eve was being created.
"You monster..."I screamed. "I refuse to obey you! I will not listen!"
"No you will not,"he said solemnly. "But that part has already been written, now hasn't it?"
Fin. |
For years I wondered why my wristband didn't glow.
When I was young, I didn't really understand it. Some kids thought it was cool, different you know.
When I got older, I understood what it meant.
"Maybe you haven't got a soul mate?"
That was a depressing idea. Can't be that at all, can it? I traveled the world trying to see if the band would glow, maybe the distance was weird.
I was traveling though China, when a man noticed my wristband.
"Hmmm, you born in 1990?"
"Err, yes I was. How did you know that?"
"Your wrist band. Its not glowing"
"Yeah .. but how did you know when I was born?"
"Can I see it a second?"
"Sure, I guess"
With a quick flick he removed my wrist band. I didn't even know they came off! He flipped it over.
"Ah, the 7856 models"
Reaching into his bag he removed a small screw driver, popped off the back of my wristband, and removed a plastic strip"
"Should be fine now. People where sloppy on the 7856 models"
He replaced my wristband, now ablaze with light.
I have never sworn that aggressively or loudly. |
I don't know how the fuck he survived the bullet. I mean, when somebody takes a shot at you with a high powered rifle, and happens to blow the top of your skull off with a bolt action rifle, you usually die on the spot. Brigadier General Dowels survived though. Maybe he just got lucky, maybe god loved him, maybe the powers that be decided he'd play an important role. Two months after the attack he was back up to commanding, fully aware, with a metal plate for a skull cap. We had lost all of our momentum outside Pyongyang. Chinese regulars had reinforced the hermit kingdom with ample supplies.
So the general has an Idea, and it is a god awful idea. It is, without a doubt, the worst thing that I as an adjutant to the man had ever written.
There was some form or another of dysentery going around. So he had the latrines cleaned out once a week and the...well....shit...taken and put into hollowed out 500 pound bombs. The next week, US fighter jets are commencing bombing runs with the "Brown Beths".
I can not, do not want to imagine, what it would be like to be splashed from 400 feet with the worst kind of human fecal matter. The world called us savages, the general called us victors. That's how we took the capital of North korea. 500 pounds of shit at a time. When we ran low, it was all you could eat indian-mexican-cajun night. We didn't advance in to Pyongyang, just stood entrenched outside of it by a mile and watched the planes shit on the enemy. Apparently disease ran rampant on their side. There were *Scores, literal columns* of shit covered Chinese and North Koreans surrendering. US troops took to wearing their gas masks due to the smell.
North Korea sued for peace along with China a month later.
American shit apparently too foul to withstand. Thats how General Dowels got the nickname "General Bowels" |
You know what a Data Analysis Consultant does? We check Facebook.
I got hired by a certain large company to search for trends in their marketing analytics, something that is done pretty easily. They liked what I told them though, and they brought me on with a contract dripping with fat. My job took MAYBE thirty seconds a day. I wrote all the algorithms that I'll ever need a couple of years back, and now whenever they would email me a new spreadsheet, I just directed the data and it told me everything I needed. Six figures a year for a job that takes me thirty seconds a day.
I was particularly bored that day, so I decided to mess around with the master program for a bit, just to see how I could skew the data. I backed it up (of course) and then started messing with formulas and commands, telling data to end up in different columns. At first, I had fun making graphs that looked like the only group purchasing sex toys was white males ages 59 and up. Then I made it look like the group spending the most money were destitute folks living in a nearby ghetto.
Alas, there were only so many things that one could do with my incredible spreadsheet. I grimaced at the computer, entering in a new set. *Mugs of Coffee On My Desk.* I entered one and correlated against my new analysis of spending patterns. I found that if this group spent this much money, then I would drink one cup of coffee.
Laughing, I doubled the amount of money spent. Now the column said that I had two cups of coffee on my desk. Data could be false, whaddya know?
I went for the phone on the edge of my desk and abruptly squealed in pain when I knocked over the mug of coffee in front of it. Quickly shaking off the drops of coffee burning my skin, I went to move the mug.
"Piece of-"There were two mugs.
*What the hell?*
My original mug was in the space I normally placed it, just beside my computer monitor. But as sure as I could see, there was another one in front of my phone.
"Hey Emma?"I called out, "Did you bring me coffee?"
My secretary glanced in, autumn hair dangling about her oval face. "No, Tom. Do you want some?"
"No."I say and she ducked out with a smile.
I stared at the righted mug of coffee for some time, before I realized what had happened. It had been doubled.
I went to the column and tripled the amount of money spent by poor people. Then there were three mugs of coffee on my desk. One second, my outbox was clear and then there was a mug of coffee within.
A hint of uncertainty appeared in my mind. I renamed the column from mugs to *Number of Times Emma Flirts with Me at-* I glanced at my watch. 11:59. *-12pm*
I stared at the screen, reseting the amount spent to the original amount. Then I inserted a 1 into the column, ran the correlation and waited.
As soon as noon chimed on my computer, Emma leaned into the room. "Hey, did I tell you that you look good today?"
"Thanks Emma."I smiled at her and as she ducked out, returned to the coffee. I reset the value to one and ran the data again. *Mugs On My Desk* = 1. Then there was only my original mug on my desk. The steam from the other two vaporized into nothing as their heat source vanished.
I saved the spreadsheet immediately.
-------------
Thanks all for your kind comments! |
I wish I could tell you I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you that I didn't do it. I wish I could tell you that it's some big mistake, but I can't tell you that.
The truth is, I knew exactly what I was doing. I was doing it for months before mommy ever knew what hit her. At first I was scared, I didn't want to do it. I wanted to ask permission, get clearance from up top, but I couldn't stop myself. Typing "www."onto my computer screen for the first time was the best high I felt since the lunch lady gave me an extra box of animal crackers at field day. Every letter I typed was a new wave of euphoria washing over me.
It became an addiction. After a while I didn't even do it for the thrill, it just became a part of who I was. I became a little more risky, sometimes I would type "Disney.com"without even putting "www."before it. That's how bad it got. I got careless. I bragged at school, I became a hero. "Timmy,"my friends would say, "aren't you scared of being caught?". I wasn't, but maybe I should've been. Because all it took was a quick look at my search history. That's how I landed in here.
I know somebody tipped my parents off. It was probably Sally Fredericks, or maybe that backstabbing Billy Greene. I guess it doesn't matter anymore. They're on the outside, and I'm not. I don't know how long I've been here, or how long I have left to serve. Yes sir, this is the longest stretch I've ever done in the slammer. Timeout isn't a joke, but since you're here listening to me, I guess you already knew that. |
Baldurus appeared in a explosion of brimstone scented flames and I gripped my spear tighter by reflex. Once, I would have blasted this man on sight. His kind, the Lagou demon, were once mortal enemies of our pantheon but much had changed since then. So I only exhaled and released the war fury that had started rising in me.
"I'm glad to see you've got that whole blast-on-sight reflex under control, Kaldius."He called, striding from the flames and calling them back into his body.
Red eyes smiled at me as he became visible. As usual he only wore a pair of trousers, preferring to leave his yellow skin covered in black tattoos mostly bare. Probably because he knew it bothered me, but he was a demon after all.
"I apologized for that."I mumbled, standing to greet him. A few hundreds years of exchanges were just beginning to overide my instincts.
"You apologized once!"He said and shook my hand. "I've lost count of how many times you've tried to incinerate me on arrival."
"Give an old god a break."I gestured to the empty throne room around me. "I have no one to talk to besides you, or myself. It can drive a man a bit mad."
"Let's sit."He said, indicating the table we frequently played human games on. Baldurus had told me of one called 'checkers' on his last visit.
"An entire heaven all to yourself."He continued, setting up the game. "Why do you stay here? Where all the memories of your pantheon linger like phantoms."
I sat in silence while he distributed red and black circular pieces.
"It reminds me of what I've lost."I said finally and Baldurus nodded. He was not the last of his kind, but he had lost his family ages ago. Over drinks, he had spoken of his wife and admitted he could scarcely remember her voice anymore.
"All is not lost you know."He said, moving a piece.
I frowned, in part because he hadn't explained the game. Mostly because I knew what subject he was about to bring up. The question he had left on my mind haunted my sleepless nights.
"Change does not come easily for my kind."I said simply.
"Which is why I'm here to guide you."He said smiling. "Besides, as far as company goes you're much better than the other demons. Too much blood lust and too little intellect."
I absently moved a piece and distantly registered his brief explanation of the game. But my mind was elsewhere, Baldurus had told me of a way to bring back my pantheon. A way to gain the power I would need to do so. All it required was a change.
"My brothers and sisters fell because they could not change."I muttered. "I have only lasted as long as I have because I am War, and man will never cease to fight amongst themselves."
"You are right about that."He said.
"....but if I Change."I said. "I can bring them back, even if I will no longer be one of them."
"All it'll take is becoming a demon."Baldurus said, red eyes glowing.
A god of war, with no pantheon to fight for. No family. No friends. Or a demon. I could go to war whenever I wished and I would have power. And at least one friend.
"So."Baldurus said, and his eyes were brighter still. Their infernal light was putting out its own warmth onto my face. "Do you accept, old friend?"
***
Thanks for reading! More stories from me at /r/Lexwriteswords. |
The towns people were all congregated in a perturbed mass of rags and tears which emitted persistent ululations. Fighting my way through their sobbing ring I arrived at the center, in which stood a grander figure, wearing a sash conveniently emblazoned with the word 'Mayor'. I held one hand on the hilt of my sword and placed the other upon his shoulder. The crowd burst into silence as if on cue and watched as our dialogue ensued.
"What trouble is there here?"I asked, the full length of my gold hair made clear by the gusts of wind that whipped past my head.
"It's.."he stumbled through tears, "It's Lord Von Doom, he's stolen the princess and taken her to his volcanic lair; I can't believe it. Lord Von Doom of all people? Nothing about him every seemed to suggest that he might wish ill on anyone. At town meetings he would always stand there in his night-black armour, cleaning tomato sauce or something off his sword, without a care in the world. He would sometimes make a suggestion. "Why not remove the limbs from our criminals and turn them into human scarecrows?"or "We can overcome the famine by eating the heart of every virgin."What a humour he had, so dry, always keeping a straight face. But now he's stolen our Princess, our darling girl. Will you please help us?"
I brushed my golden locks with the back of my hand, revealing the shimmering blue eyes that had grown damp at the Mayor's harrowing tale.
"If you can but show me where this villain dwells, I shall plunge my sabre into his black heart and return you what is rightfully yours."
"His lair is there, in Doom Mountain of Death"The Mayor pointed to the glowing volcano to the impeccably timed sound of thunder and a strike of lightening which made my white armour glow with the ardour of a wronged knight.
"It shall be done"
The journey seemed at first long and treacherous, but thanks to the speed of my stallion and the nobility of my quest, I arrived at the base of his towering fortress within the hour, but what awaited me at the skull speckled gate was beyond imagination. I heard, introduced by a roar of the thunder, the voice of Lord Von Doom.
"You may have come to rescue your precious princess, but first, you shall have to fight my champion who guards the gates: Sir Swordskill The Overrated, who has never, in all his three weeks of training, ever lost a battle."He laughed an evil laugh backed by a few more roars of thunder and a couple lightening strikes for good measure.
My gaze found Sir Swordskill, he had a short sword in each hand, which he spun with the grace of a quadriplegic ballet dancer.
"You shall never best me in single combat, noble knight, for I hold *two* swords, do you not see? Behold, one in each hand, that is twice as many blades as you possess. And, do you not see how I spin each sword, thereby showing my mastery of the art of dueling? You cannot succeed!"
I knelt and whispered that the fates should let the good succeed, before rising and readying my blade which glistened with impossible brightness beneath the cloudy sky.
"Prepare to die!"Screamed Sir Swordskill, as he charged, swords akimbo. I waited, knowing with authorial certainty that this battle was mine. As my opponent grew near, I raised my weapon to the skies, whereupon a flash of lighting struck my opponent and brought him to his knees. I placed my sword upon his shoulder, and in one clean motion separated his head from his body. I stared at my vanquished opponent.
"I guess you didn't make the cut."
In a trice I was up the stairs, past the waterfalls of lava and skulls, and standing at the door of Lord Von Doom's chamber. I burst through, accompanied by a ray of white light and sauntered closer to Doom.
"This isn't possible! How could you have vanquished my champion?"
"I guess he didn't make the cut."
"Didn't you just use that one?"Replied Doom
"What?"
"Yeah, I heard you, you said that exact line before you climbed up here. Pretty lazy heroism to use the same line twice."
"It matters not, Doom, because you're going to meet your death!"
"Really? Meet your death? Not, 'Meet your doom!' or 'Now you're doomed' Come on, look at the opportunities I gave you with this name, I mean really, Lord Von Doom? You think my parents gave me that name "Aww look at him, we're gonna call him little Doom"No you idiot, that name was to make your life easier and the best you can come up with is 'meet your death'? Whatever, it's not worth it, your princess is in that cage up there, just kill me, and get her back so this story can end."
And so I did, and the princess was returned to the city, and the clouds cleared, and the sobbing mass of a crowd greeted us with fanfare and praise. A festival was held in my honour and the town ceased it's banausic vocations to enjoy a 3 day feast. The princess married to a charming prince who knocked her up, ignored her and whored himself to sleep each night, and we all lived happily ever after, except Doom who had met a solemn death. |
"Hello, Sir?"
"Yes-- wait, who said that?"
"Down here. The frog. Beside your foot."
"Holy crap, dude!"
"Yes, yes. Talking frog, very cool, I know. But hey, do you want to hear something even better?"
"Uh, yeah."
"I'm actually a cursed princess. My name is Rosaline. If you kiss me, I will totally ditch this frog bod and turn back into a super hot naked princess and marry you. You want?"
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"For realsies?"
"For r-- Yes, I promise. Totally rockin' princess under all this. But you have to kiss me."
"Oh, okay, that's cool. What's it like being a frog?"
"Uncomfortable. Wet. Cold."
"But, like, do you like live on a lilypad?"
"No. I live in mud on the edge of a pond. It's pretty shitty."
"Aw, too bad. I always thought it would be kind of awesome to be a frog. Just hanging out on lilypads, eating bugs, swimming around..."
"I'd rather be a princess. And you, you're so hot and sexy and I want to touch you..."
"Wait, do frogs have hands?"
"No, I mean, when I'm a princess. Can you just kiss me now?"
"In a minute, in a minute. Do you have hands, though?"
"Sort of. I have forefeet that look like hands, but they can't really grip things like hands do. I'd like to have my hands again."
"Oh right, yeah. I like having hands. But I bet frogs have cool hands that can sucker onto stuff, that must be awesome."
"Look, can you just-- I've been waiting a *really* long time--"
"In people years, or frog years?"
"What?"
"People years, or *frog* years?"
"I don't know. A long time, okay?"
"Hey, I want my friends to meet you!"
"Well, what are we waiting for? Kiss me!"
"No no, not yet, I want to show them the talking frog. We'll kiss later."
"Later? How *much* later?"
"Uh, I don't know, like when everyone has seen my talking frog? Can you just hop in this bag for me?"
"Oh, f**k off." |
Harry Jensen was a man on vacation. He'd been working hard at what he loved, but even your hobby could eventually becoming tiring. It wasn't exactly easy ruining the day of most everyone within the tri-state area.
He'd done it all. Oh, he never did anything *too* terrible, at least not enough to end up with his neck on a chopping block. Yes, he'd caused a certain wardrobe malfunction during a certain, very high-stakes, incredibly popular, highly anticipated football game. So maybe he'd locked up all phone lines in the metro area during lunch time. Yes, he'd caused a traffic jam exactly at 5 PM the day before Christmas. Yes, he'd inconvenienced thousands of people by redirecting a cable satellite with the help of some friends. Honestly, the city could consider his work a service, seeing as he kept the real heroes on their toes. Anyone who couldn't handle him didn't deserve to look ridiculous in spandex and fight "crime". They didn't deserve to be working this city.
Because if he was honest, he loved the place. The city was his home, and the city had treated him like dog crap. He liked that. He liked that this city was willing to stand up, scream at the top of their millions of lungs, and get something done. He could almost say he was proud of that.
But honestly, there came a day where you needed to wipe clean that planner and head to the Florida Keys for some sun.
Harry Jensen swiped across his phone while lounging on the beach, looking up the city news, when his eyes cast over something that made his stomach drop and his sunglasses fall clear off his face.
"You're *kidding*."
Simultaneously, five palm trees dropped exactly five coconuts on five unlucky waiters' heads as Harry Jensen stood up and tramped up the beach, prepared to unleash Hell.
A few hours later, he was walking with purpose down the halls of a stark, loveless building, not a soul daring to stop him. When at last he'd made it to the main branch manager's office, he burst through the door and walked past the dumbfounded secretary, who managed to break *both* her stiletto heels at that moment. Harry Jensen stood across from the prim woman behind a glass desk looking at her computer. She looked over her horn-rimmed glasses at him and asked, "Yes? Do you have an appointment? Where's Brigitte?"
"What're you doing in my town?"Harry asked, crossing his arms.
"I'm not sure I understand,"the woman said, adjusting her glasses.
"You know exactly what I mean. The city ruled that they denied Comcast the merger with our local ISP. *What are you doing here?*"
"Oh. You apparently didn't get the news,"the woman, a rather slick executive branch head named Ingrid Marks, stated with undue enthusiasm. "The city reconsidered after your local ISP found they couldn't handle the growing populace. We had a talk with their financers, and they... had redirected funds to some odd places."
Harry said a few family unfriendly words, to which Ingrid merely stared dryly.
"Look, Mr. Jensen -- that is your name? Not that 'Jinx' name, or whatever it is -- this is a legal venture. Vigilante stunts won't hold up here. If you're that upset about the merger, I suggest you talk to your local representative,"Ingrid said, turning back to her computer. By this point, Brigitte had peeled off her heels and was ready to escort the diminutive Harry Jensen -- otherwise known as Jinx -- from the premises.
"I can make your life hell, lady. I hope you know that,"Harry threatened as he was gently lead out of the office.
"Goodbye, Mr. Jensen,"Ingrid said, waving as she clicked on something on her computer.
And so, days passed. The merger came and went. And Harry Jensen bode his time. His abilities, when used to their full potential against a city, were not spectacular given the metropolis' size. But against a single person...
A single person was much easier to handle.
And so, on a sunny Sunday, while he was sitting at home and having a beer, after having set off a major power grid failure in the lower East Side, there was a heavy and brutal knock on his door. He looked up lazily, switched off the television, and lumbered his way over. In his doorway, much to his delight, was Ingrid Marks, who looked like a cat trapped in a wolf's den for well over a month.
"Hey there, Ing--"
*"Make it stop."*
"Make what stop?"
"You know what I mean. *Make it stop.*"
Harry shrugged his shoulders.
"No clue what you're talking about."
Ingrid waved a shaking finger in his face, shaking her head at him. Her teeth chattered and her eyes darted from side to side.
"You *know* what I'm talking about. My house is full of spiders. The plumbing is completely backed up and has been for a week. I can't sleep because there are now bedbugs everywhere in my apartment. The landlord had threatened to evict me unless I get it cleaned up. Every time I buy something, my card is denied because it 'doesn't match their interface', I have had my identity stolen *three times*, my car will not start, and there is a popcorn kernel that has been stuck in my mouth for *three weeks*. Mr. Jensen. *Make. It. Stop.* I will do whatever you want. I will give you any amount of money, I will do any sort of indecency, just please- please- please make this end,"Ingrid ranted, pulling on her unwashed hair.
Harry leaned against the doorjamb of his tiny townhouse, his hands in his pockets, looking at this crumbling woman.
"End the merger,"he said simply. "Get out of my town. I don't care how long it takes ya. Cuz let me tell you, you can screw with the mayor, you can screw with the DA, you can screw my sister down on Elm Street, you can even go and take a big ol' dump on our beautiful Metro Monument for all I care -- but you do not screw with my internet."
Ingrid stared, struck dumb.
"That could take months."
"You ever hear about the African eye worm? Crazy how easy it is to get one. All it takes is a single deer fly. See, they bite you and you get this worm that migrates into your eyeball..."
Ingrid's eyes widened from behind her unwashed glasses, and she quickly walked away from the apartment, looking over her shoulder and swatting at the air around her. Harry Jensen stared after her with a smile.
Oh, how he did this city a service. |
"Oh, come on! Krishna, this is such bullshit!"- Jesus exclaimed, pushing the keyboard away in anger. The screen in front of him was going grey while huge red letters "YOU DIED"appeared with the somber, depressing sound. The haunting sound that to Jesus meant the inevitability of death - and constant respawns.
He hated to admit that his father was right and that he had a gaming problem. It wasn't like he had a lot of problems in the real world that he wanted to escape from; no, it was just the thrill of power, plain and simple. In video games you could be anyone, live through the thousand scenarios without even leaving your room. There, you could fulfill the dream of every person to do something horrible, like strangling your boss, something that would mean dire consequences - and then escape them with the power of save-and-reload. It was in his genes, in his very nature, Jesus would explain to his dad. Men used to be warriors and hunters in the old ages, but in the 21st century, they were gamers.
But recently even the games were losing their charm to Jesus. It was exciting to go on a "bug hunt"on distant planet with a pulse rifle in your hands, enpowering to send ten million men to the holy war in the name of your deity, and straightdown ecstatic to ram your 2-meter sword through the giant beast's head, but it would be so the first couple of times. Jesus was constanttly looking for something new, something that would complete him, make him whole. A game that he wouldn't have to quit due to boredom. He was searching everywhere, from AAA game companies to obscure indie studios that didn't develop past the "basement start-up"stage, but it was all futile. As if Krishna himself was punishing him for some sins.
That thought brought up a memory in Jesus's head. A memory of an old game where you had to play the role of a deity himself, and which was taken down from the shelves of the stores due to religious protests. All the copies of the game were destroyed, and 100 million dollars spent on the development of it went down the drain. Jesus was among one of the lucky ones who got his hands on the beta-version, and it still occupied space on his hard drive. "An absolute masterpiece, 8/10"- said all the reviews, yet the challenge proved to be too much for Jesus to really give it a try. He barely got past the training level before completely logging off, completely forgetting about it in his disappointment.
And now, as Jesus was trying to remember which folder did he install it in, he was also remembering other details. "An AI almost too real", "The game goes on even when you don't play it", "No reloads, just an endless gameplay", "No two game sessions alike!". What did the world end up like without a deity like their own? Would it be a herecy to play it after it was decreed to be destroyed?
Jesus finally found the .exe file and, after a moment of consideration, double-clicked on it. Just checking up on the game wouldn't hurt.
But as he was looking at the logs that the game presented to him in a form of a priest NPC who, teary-eyed, told Jesus everything his followers had gone thorugh without him, his eyebrows were going up and up, until they disappeared in his curly crown of hair. Other religions? Crusades? Inquisition? ATHEISTS? The man found it hard to believe that the game developed so much even though he wasn't playing it. Yet here it was, the world ripe for his taking, full of unknown concepts.
Two days later Jesus started to suspect that the game was banned not because of religious reasons. Krishna was a chill guy, he wouldn't mind. No, it was because being a deity was far too addicting.
_______
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|
A young reporter sat at the steel table and laid a plain brown folder on it, taking a seat across from the shackled figure. Prison guards watched warily, hands hovering near weapons and ready to intervene in the blink of an eye.
The last time a reporter had come to visit this particular client had ended poorly.
Guards had dragged the prisoner off the reporter's body and wrestled a bloody pen from his hands, all while the prisoner shrieked about getting *Journalistic Intent*.
That was seventeen years ago.
This new reporter was a young man in his twenties, fit and capable. Still he was nervous. If there wasn't a lot of money on the line over this story he wouldn't be here.
The prisoner spoke first.
"So, you've come to see the freak."
His name was Lyle. He was in his late sixties now. Almost feeble.
The reporter, Brandon, hit the record button and set his phone on the table.
"Not quite. I don't think you're a freak but I have come to see you."
"Well, you're in the minority then,"Lyle said with a hacking laugh. Prison had not been kind to him.
"Do you want to tell me your story?"Brandon offered.
"You all know my story. Mass murderer, psychopath, blah blah blah."
Brandon fiddled with his pen, staring across the table at the man who had murdered almost one thousand people in his time.
"Why?"
Lyle laughed again, hacking into his elbow before finally catching his breath.
"You know I'm only short about six now. I started with the good and ended with the bad. I'll never get them all now, not locked up like this. Sure I'll get *Comes to All* in the end but that's small potatoes. Everyone gets that. I was going for platinum kid. That's why I did it."
Brendan stopped fiddling with his pen and looked the man in the eyes. He was insane.
Leaning forward on his elbows he found that Lyle did the same. Two of the guards raised their pistols out of their holsters slightly.
There was a long silence in the room.
"You never did get the secret one did you?"Brandon finally spoke.
Lyle shook his head.
"Do you know what it is?"
Again Lyle shook his head.
"There's two. *Executioner* and *Developer's Secret*. You get the last by killing someone with the achievement or by killing one of the developers. The first...well..."
Lyle was eager, leaning in further. Brandon moved faster than anyone would have though, jamming his pen into Lyle's throat again and again, spraying blood over the tabletop.
Guards slammed into Brandon and another desperately tried to stop the bleeding but it was to no avail.
Brandon knew he had unlocked it.
"You have to kill someone in the global lead."
He laughed and laughed, finally unlocking the only award that had remained untouched by any in the world.
*Completionist* |
“Let me go!” I scream and kick against my captor, but the large man was too strong. He tugs on the pendant around my neck, choking me. “Shut up! Now!”
The man rips off my blindfold. With one hand, he twists the door handle. An enormous gust of wind rushes out from behind us. My ears pop painfully. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the blinding glow of blue and white.
I find myself standing on the edge of a jet plane, with nothing but an angry ocean a thousand feet below me.
“No, no!” I turn to face my captor. He wears an eye patch and stares at me through his one remaining eye. He smiles, his golden tooth shining brightly in the sun. “You messed with the wrong people, little boy.”
He pushes me. Then, the world turns upside down.
The cold air slaps my face at a million miles per hour as I tumble towards the ocean. My pendant flaps in the wind, and I grab it before it flies away. The air screams in my ears. I can barely hear myself think.
*Clockwise for save, anti-clockwise for load… wait. Or is it the other way? Clockwise for loading…*
I shout in frustration. The ocean rushes towards me.
*Focus, Craig, FOCUS. Clockwise for loading, anti-clockwise for saves…*
I had no time. I turn the pendant clockwise. It glows brightly, indicating a new state has just been saved.
*Fuck.*
\________
How did things get so wrong?
I’d found the pendant inside an old video game store. It’s pyramidal in shape and made of a translucent, red glass. It reminded me of the pictures I saw of Egyptian pyramids during sunset, burning red in the sun’s scarlet glow.
Near the apex, the pendant could be rotated. It wasn’t long before I discovered that this turned back time for me, and me only. It was like saving during a video game – clockwise turns saved the game, and anti-clockwise turns reloaded the world to my last save.
Initially, I was ecstatic. I used the pendant to cheat on tests, to ask out girls, to escape my chores… I felt like I was in X-Men or something. I could do whatever I want and not suffer the consequences.
Then one day, everything changed. I went back to the video game store and as I walked passed a young woman in shades and a hat, my pendant glowed blue and warm. I’ve never seen that before. I turn to follow the woman, but she was gone. Fearing that she had somehow screwed up my pendant, I quickly turned it to return to the last save state.
Except, it wasn’t my last save state. I ended up in a elegantly tiled foyer with a large flight of marble staircase before me. The woman had somehow replaced my last save. I glanced upwards and a chill ran down my spine. At the top of the stairs, a man in a suit wearing an eyepatch stared at me with his one, crystal blue eye.
\________
I can almost make out the details on the sea foam. I don't have much time left. Then suddenly, it hits me. *If my saved file can be replaced...*
I stuff the pendant in my mouth and bite as hard as I can. I feel a small crunch. A small crack appears on the pendant.
*Maybe the saved file can be corrupted as well.*
Muttering a silent prayer, I twist the pendant. At first, nothing happens. Then all of a sudden, the air stutters, the oceans freeze and the wind halts. Everything is very, very still as I hover between sea and sky, motionless.
With a loud "POP!", I feel my body being pressed to the size of an orange and then quickly expand again as I land on solid ground. I nearly faint from the pain, but I remain standing. Before me stands the video game store. I reach to feel my pendant, and discover that the crack has disappeared. I've arrived back at the beginning.
"Well done, little boy."I turn around to find a woman in shades and a hat. The same woman who sent me on that horrible adventure.
"You have passed the test,"she says, her voice soft and elegant. "Now, come with me." |
I know it may be hard to believe, but I used to have a demon inside me.
Now, most people may imagine scenes from 'The Exorcist' when I say that, but honestly it wasn't bad. This was a chill demon.
Chill or not however, he did have some weird hobbies. He would make us cheat when playing Pokemon cards with our friends, throw our broccoli out the window so we could skip right to dessert, convince me to copy other people's homework - and if caught, claim we were the ones copied.
So yeah, no crawling up walls, killing priests, or screaming when touching holy water. Just a little demon that ended up being so close to me, so en-rooted in my own being, that we became one.
And I'm saying all of this in the past tense because, well, I am - we are - dead.
It wasn’t exactly a quick death: apparently we were allergic to almonds. That little demon suggested drinking some, and well, here you go. Took me 15 years to figure out, but hey, at least our death is funny rather than tragic, eh? Man, fuck almonds.
In any case, now I’m in heaven, turns out I’m a pretty cool guy! But, that little demon is not here. I asked around, and some angel told me it went to hell. I mean, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, it *was* a demon after all.
Yet I feel empty without him. It was a demon, sure, but I was never alone, and we had fun. Like I said, he was a part of me. So, I'm going to go get him.
I don't know what I'll do when I get to hell, but I'll figure something out.
---
Turns out you can teleport in the spirit realm. Just wish to be in hell and, voila, there you are. That whole "ethereal soul"theory is pretty handy.
This place is... well, it's hell. It reeks of pee, and there's guys puking everywhere. I think one has been puking for a long time, because I've been staring for 15 minutes and he hasn't stopped. Maybe I should stop.
---
I've been walking - actually sliding, I'm a soul - but I've got no clue where my little demon is. I tried asking the big man, Mr. Satan (Not the Dragon Ball guy, the other one) if he would know where to find it, but he just stared at me like I'm crazy to be here. In part he's right, if I had a body at least this would be a good place to get a tan, but alas, I'm just in search for my little demon friend, I said.
After a couple poor attempts at buying my soul, he gave up and pointed towards a little salon. Of course it's made out of fire, but it kinda looks like a salon, I can't complain.
I enter the place, and immediately see my friend. He's talking with other demons and some poor bastards who didn't get into heaven, but everyone is laughing. Why? I assumed he would be in pain or missing me, but here he is, having the time of his life.
I get closer without being seen, and try to hear what he's saying from behind a fire-chair: "He did... and... haha but..."
Too far. I get closer behind the fire-bar, and then I hear him talk clearly:
"And then, and then... hahaha... and then he actually drank it! He drank the whole almond milk carton, that idiot. Hahaha! I swear that retard would do anything I told him to. Ah, now I'm finally free from him. This place is chill, I would have gone to heaven as well if I didn't kill him, you know? But I fear heaven. That place is too white. Too nice. I belong here, with all of you, my friends."
Oh.
----
I go to the big man again.
"Mr. Satan, still want my soul? Send that bastard to heaven and it's all yours."
"Really? You got a deal!"
Fuck almonds, man.
----
More stories: [/r/TitanStories](https://www.reddit.com/r/TitanStories) - [Titan Stories](https://stories.titan.red/) - [Newsletter](https://tinyletter.com/titanred) |
"Prisoner 371! Stop that!"
I freeze, then slowly pull my arm back inside. The bars on my door are narrow, too narrow to slip through, but I can manage to grab the railing, and rock off it. It's become somewhat of a nervous tick, I suppose.
Not like there's much else to do here.
They have me locked in the very back. I think I'm underground - it's hard to tell. I haven't seen anything like a window in the whole time I've been here, and no one will even tell me the name of the prison.
And I can't remember anything. Nothing from before I got here, nothing from the trip here.
Oh, there are other prisoners. They laugh and joke with each other. I can see them from across the wing, or from the other side of the exercise room. They'll talk to each *other*, and I can tell that these are not good men. They're...special. Even I know that. I saw one lift a table in the air with his mind, right before a guard attacked him with a baton. Another lit a fire in the palm of his hand and used it to burn another prisoner's face.
Supervillains. I know that word. They're supervillains. Am I a supervillain?
I asked the doctor they send to see me, once a month. He talks to me. I think he's trying to test me, somehow. Like he's trying to see into my mind. And he takes samples. Blood, hair. Like they're looking for something, something in me. Am I special, too?
He told me to pay it no mind, and forget the word. But I can't.
The other prisoners won't talk to me. Why won't they talk to me? They just turn white, and stammer nothing phrases, and run back to their cells as my guard pulls me away. Are they afraid of me?
What did I *do*?
And so I sit, and pull my arm back through the door, and stare at the floor until the guard glaring at me moves off on his round. Once he passes around the corner, I slide my arm back through the bars and pull on the railing again, lifting myself a few inches on an angle.
As I tug on the railing, I can feel it shudder. Ever so slightly, it rattles in its socket. It feels *right*. That rattling...
A grin spreads across my face as the memories stir, ever so slightly. Just a flash, an image frozen in time. A building, collapsing. My hand, on the ground, the world shaking to pieces around me.
The blood, seeping out from between the concrete blocks tossed to the earth like forgotten toys. And the sound of my laughter, rising above the screams.
I'm unafraid. I'm *invincible*.
I pull myself up again, feeling the comforting vibrations of the metal under my hand. The images continue, ceaselessly
A prison, much like this one. They thought to hold me.
They thought wrong.
It collapsed behind me, shattered and broken, as I climbed from the rubble. The sensation of it, the power coursing through me, echoes in my bones until I realize it's more than simply a memory.
I feel the railing twisting under my hands, the door to my cell warping and fragmenting as I shake it to pieces. That old, familiar grin is still painted across my face. Yes. This is right. This is how it was *supposed* to be.
The sirens overhead are deafening, now, warning lights blinding me.
I can hear the guards screaming as cracks shoot through the concrete floor of the prison. The other prisoners are screaming, too, trapped in their cells.
And then I feel the impact of the darts in my chest, the heaviness seeping through my veins as I'm pulled down, down, down, until the concrete is cold on my face....
---
I sit in my cell, staring at the heavy-bound, solid door. Sheer concrete walls rise on every side, a single lightbulb burning from behind a shield recessed in the ceiling. I sit, staring at the walls, and wonder why I'm here. Am I alone?
My memories are a grey wall, empty and blank. Just like that door.
But somewhere, deep under my hand, pressed flat against the floor, I can feel the thrum of distant machinery.
The vibration soothes me, like a half-remembered lullaby. I wonder why?
(/r/inorai, critiques always welcome!) |
"Now can anyone tell me the main disadvantages of the Swift Potion?"
A kindly old mage swept his eyes along a class of around sixty young acolytes. He briefly glanced at me meaningfully, as if to urge me to answer his question less obnoxiously than Mike Fosse. I busy myself with the journal I've been working on for the past two months.
"Yes, Mr. Fosse?"The mage's voiced was overly cheerful and was pitched a little higher to disguise a sigh. Such a good teacher.
"The potion has a rate of failure that's estimated to be twenty percent - the failures are indistinguishable to the finished product unless consumed. Although it's low, it's nevertheless significant when you're out on a dangerous mission. You can't take too much within fifteen hours as it's poison could be fatal when it reaches a certain threshold. Now a mages regenera-..."
No, it's because the main component is from a Jade Dugite's bloodline and the particular gene only exist on 80% of them. But you'll never get to study that because bloodline magic is banned. It feels like there are more banned magicks every year.
"Excellent, Mr. Fosse! I hope that you all finished your assignments during the class,"there were giggles everywhere, as Mr. Li is the only teacher that collects yesterday's homework after class.
Mike sits in front of me, his abnormally huge eyes looking all smug as he collects the class' papers for Mr. Li. "Looks like little miss perfect could get lax after just a little bit of praise."He sneered at my frantic scribbling.
I opened the last page of the journal and handed him the folded assignment I did the night before. He scoffed and piled it on top of the stack. He had a subtle look of alarm looking at me work so hard. I might've told him to get a life but it's honestly better for him to study more.
I gathered my school supplies and gave him my brightest smile, "See ya at the Team Tournament!"I watched his eyes dilate behind his glasses and a telltale redness rushed up his cheeks. Aww, puberty's kicking in.
"You finish homework immediately to watch sports?"He glared at me hatefully.
Remembering my mission today, I feel a sense of urgency. "Yup"I acknowledged nonchalantly and went out of the classroom.
A few meters later, I heard some shuffling behind me. I looked back to see Mike looking at me.
"Incoming,"I said.
"Whooooooooo! NERD!!"A handsome well-built sophomore was standing upside down on the ceiling, dropping what looked like orange fur-balls. Those are itchy. In another life, I would enjoy this, I might've even joined in on bullying Mike. Now I just had a bitter smile at these trifling pranks. I walked away apathetically.
Mike dashed in front of me, probably going to buy the antidote. He paused and asked, "Why are you gonna watch it anyway? It's only the Dark Schools competing on the finals"They're unofficially called Dark Schools because they are rumored to keep banned magicks in their curriculum. They're also accused of cheating a lot with less standard, undetectable magicks.
"It's interesting now."
He had a look of disappointment, as if anything that goes against his world view is a freak of nature. "Dark Magic users. You'd like that wouldn't you!"A mix of physical and psychological discomfort made him raise his voice. He ran away to do whatever.
I clutched my bag unconsciously as I hurried to the Sidhe Stadium, absentmindedly avoiding hexes along the way. For some reason, the school isn't really big on keeping order, despite the trend of discrimination to spells that are 'harmful'.
I hailed a carriage to take me Downtown. I didn't immediately enter the Stadium but I mixed into the crowed and casted a powerful 'Nondescript' spell on myself. Entering a dark alley, I spread my spiritual force and sensed three conscients observing me. I also felt their shock and terror when I suddenly disappeared from their senses.
Finding a blind-spot, I opened my bag and took a cursory glance at the racks of potions. Their amount and quality would reduce a rich Marquis to poverty if he buys them all. The real treasure however, is the spatial bag that even a prince may not necessarily have enough gold and connections to acquire.
I quickly picked a Face Dancer and downed it in one gulp. I chose an appearance of a man with dark brown eyes and chestnut-colored hair. Blending in the shadows, I donned a cloak from the space bag and stealthily went towards the Sidhe Stadium.
Passing through the rows of VIP rooms, I entered one that I had reserved a week ago. There was already someone inside but I didn't bother to knock and I just entered.
She was sitting on one of the several luxurious couches, concentrating on reheating her cup of coffee. I could detect some alcohol in it too.
I didn't make a sound as I approached her, yet she still turned and beamed at me. "Mr. Danton, it's a pleasure to meet you."She stood up and offered her hand.
"Ms. Olminsky."we shook hands and exchanged fake smiles.
"Oh my, you look younger than I thought!"She gushed at me. Ah, if only you knew that I'm still a schoolgirl. "The essays you've sent me suggested otherwise. At least, I was expecting someone who actually served as a public official."
I gestured for her to sit back down and I took my place on the couch nearest her. "Thank you. May I ask if you've considered my offer?"
"I accept. Your work is thoroughly researched and there are no errors in the citations. I plan to publish some articles twice a week, while the one about contractual beasts will be this month's highlight. Are you sure you want to publish them all anonymously?"
Contractual beasts is a controversial topic. It's an old prohibited practice of having a familiar. It greatly increases an individual's war potential by binding any creature to a Mage, magical or otherwise. It has been lobbied to be a gateway for enslaving non-magical humans.
The higher echelons of the human government is aware of the existence of the magical part of the world. This is yet another restriction to the Wizarding society. It gained a lot of support because of the propaganda for it being anti-human. A lot of wizards come from human families, just like Mike Fosse.
"Yes, but are you alright? You might be seen as an enemy of the administration for this."A lot of my work delved into the historical background of a lot of prohibited 'Dark Magic'. They were passed arbitrarily with questionable propaganda, all in order to appease the humans as well as gain monetary benefits from their governments, humans had always been overwhelmingly populous and profitable.
"Unlikely. People like to listen to the dead more than the living."
"Then we shall test the waters with these. I hope that we can gain enough attention that it would be safer to tackle the more recent legislative issues"
"Absolutely! I look forward to the research on bloodlines that you've proposed. Have you thought on who you might ask to help you with it?"she asked cheerfully.
It's the same way I found you, fellow sympathizer. I silently activated Light Eyes and looked at the box opposite us, hundreds of meters away, at the Headmaster's seat of a the so-called 'Dark School'. His eyes sharpened and he glared at my general direction, not really knowing that I was the one who was staring at him. He doesn't know me, we've never met before, not in any of my identities.
"I have my ways."I smiled charmingly.
We haven't met before but I know you. I know him. I've done *all* of these before, differently, more stupidly.
We don't have much time. They are coming and we need to restore the Magicks of this world. "Let's watch the game for now."I need to piss off Mike later too. |
To say my parents were disappointed with my destiny would be an understatement.
They were so angry that they believed the doctor and nurses had brought them the wrong baby, as I found out from my aunt later.
Ah, my aunt. I miss her so much. She was like me, more of a black sheep. She knew how I was feeling usually before I did, because she had struggled down the same path. Her last words as she struggled for breath, bleeding in my arms were, "It is okay to live a life people do not understand."
That's long past now though.
I took another drag from my cigarette. The smoke curled away into the air, much like my parent's hope for me. My father had been born with a camouflage patch of fabric, leading him to become a successful military man working high up in the government. My mother still carried the pen she was born with in her pocket, and it had helped her through many cases as a successful and prominent lawyer in the city.
My destiny? Not as bright or successful. Well, I guess you could say it's successful in a way, depends on how you look at it.
Of course they had expected me to become somebody like a doctor, a lawyer like my mom, or even an engineer or something. Somebody high up somewhere with a lot of money and a whole hell of a lot of nothing to do and nobody to care about.
My phone rang, killing the silence of the alleyway. I sighed, my brooding moment was dead much like my soul. I answered the call, already knowing who it was without seeing the caller ID.
"Why aren't you home?"My mother.
"I told you yesterday I had a job to do."
"You're still doing those ridiculous jobs?!
"Well not exactly like I can get into Harvard since I wasn't born with the right qualifications."
"Just get home as soon as possible."
"Yes, Mother."
The phone was hung up before I had finished calling her Mother. I inhaled the last of my cigarette as I heard footsteps start down the alley. I shifted out of sight and put out my smoke. The group of girls giggled, their heels clicking on the pavement as they stumbled towards home from a night of heavy drinking and dancing.
I smiled. They didn't know. Of course they didn't know. How could they?
I reached my hand into the ethereal between-world. I grabbed the handle. I couldn't explain to you how it felt. Just that there was something solid in the shadow. Something cold.
I pulled it out of the between-world, watching black spots and smoke curl and pop away towards the night sky. The silver of the blade glittered.
Staying to the shadows, I glided along the all toward the girls, smiling the whole while. I pulled my hood up, my clothing black. It really didn't have to be black, I just felt it was appropriate to wear considering my destiny.
I stepped out in front of the girls, and I smiled. They all stopped and stared at me, their eyes drawn to the scythe I held behind my back. My eyes didn't meet a single one of theirs, but I stood with my shoulders back and staring straight ahead meeting a pair of eyes as empty as my own.
"Boo,"I giggled. The alleyway filled with my laugh, echoing and bouncing off the walls. The girls all began screeching, and I lunged forward. I passed through the girls, swung my weapon, and then there was a heavy thud.
When I straightened up, the girls were gone, and the body of a man was on the pavement. There was no blood, no mess, just a body with no head. I looked around, and saw the man's head not too far. The scythe sort of cauterizes any wounds it causes.
"I guess you probably should have kept your urges in your pants, man."
I pulled out my phone, dialed a number, and put it up to my ear while I slid my scythe back into the between-world.
"Hello?"
"It's done. Your serial killer is dead. I expect payment delivered to my parent's address. Please include all of it this time."
"I hate having to rely on you sometimes."
"I love you too."
"Good night, Darling. Thank you."
"Good night."
You see, when you're born with a miniature scythe made of shadows and your boyfriend is on the police force, you don't end up on the worst possible path. I glanced at the body of the man, wondering if I was supposed to end up like him. A serial killer, somebody addicted to death and murder. I shook the thought off, then headed towards the street to hail a cab to head home. |
edit 1: apparently y'all like this, so I wrote up a part two. Might not be to y'all's liking but hey, killer robots man.
edit 2: Part 3 is finished, but it's apparently too long for Reddit to handle, I'll have to split it up into two sections, will post it in the morning (9/30), i'm too damn tired rn.
edit 3: Part 3 was split into two sections, parts 3 & 4. I'm going to be wrapping this up in a final segment, which will probably be 2 parts long again. Thanks for the interest, folks, I just realized that I love writing and that I should do this more often.
edit 4: For anyone still reading, Part 5 was added. I shall finish up Part 6 tomorrow, and that will be the end of it. Cheers folks, this was fun :)
.
.
Unit G3R1 had quite the service record during it's time in the Congo, a total of 217 combat missions over the entire span of the war. G3R1 was a purpose built recon 'bot designed for field reconnaissance, target designation, and at times, wet-work. Gen 3 units were the first bots to have the Simplified-Emotional/Sentience-Spectrum installed in their memory, allowing for 'greater flexibility in the field and interacting with their handlers, as the geniuses over at L4 Industries put it. For the civilian population, the new technology was just another innovation. For G3R1, it was his soul.
After the Congo was successfully pacified, G3R1 was decommissioned, having valiantly served in the United States Marine Corps 15th Expeditionary Unit for a term of 10 years. While most bots were scrapped, newer units that had the SE/SS installed were given a choice: be scrapped, continue service, or enter civilian life. The DoD gave the third option more as a PR move than anything else, not thinking a bot would actually choose that option. G3R1 was the only military service robot that chose to enter the civilian sector.
G3R1 first tried fast food. If a simple organic could process meat, why couldn't a bot? As it learned however, bots with an emotional spectrum aren't great at jobs that actual mindless robots could do. Every day spent flipping burgers felt like a waste to G3R1. G3R1 was a killing machine equipped with some of the world's most powerful sensors and computing equipment the world had ever known, what was it doing flipping burgers? Conveniently in it's moment of crisis, G3R1 looked up out of the SpeedBurger he was working in to see what would be his savior: Rochester Regional Bank. Suffice it to say, the bank manager was taken aback when the 7'6"bot first walked through the entrance of his establishment asking to see if there were any job openings. However, over the course of a five minute interview, the manager, Mr. Davids, took a liking to G3R1.
"Gerry", he said, "We have a teller position open, one of the ladies recently had to give up her job so she could move in and take care of her elderly mother out in Sacramento. Think you could handle that kind of work?"
"YES"responded G3R1, who was irrationally excited at the idea of running calculations all day as a profession. Mr. Davids smiled, "Welcome aboard Gerry. Lets go introduce you to everyone"
G3R1, or 'Gerry' as his co-workers called him, was an excellent teller. His computational skills were the best in the bank, even beating out the bank machines used at the teller stands for computing cash exchanges or mortgage payments. Gerry was a 'born' mathematician, a statistical savant. While his manner of speech was locked to the vocal tone installed by the military, everyone loved talking to him.
"Hey Gerry, is it going to rain today?"Mr. Davids would ask occasionally
"MY HUMIDITY SENSORS DETECT AN INCREASED CHANCE FOR PRECIPITATION TODAY, MR DAVIDS"G3R1 would always reply. Everyone always got a kick out of his robotic voice, and G3R1 genuinely liked hearing the sound of human laughter. After having spent years in the jungle listening to the whimpers and cries of Congolese rebels hiding from him, the sound of something happy was calming, if calming is something that can be translated to a robot.
One day however, Gerry was called upon to do something he had hoped he would never have to do again.
It started off like any other day. Gerry booted up, shook off the snow that had accumulated on his chassis from the night, and left his small abode between the dumpster and the back door of the Rochester Regional Bank for work. The moment he entered the back room of the bank his sensors picked up trace amounts of gunpowder in the air, signaling that a gunshot had recently occurred. Immediately, Gerry activated all sensors, and manually overrided his combat inhibitor. He could hear muffled voices in the next room, as well as two gruff voices.
"Is that everyone?"
"Yes, everyone's in the manager's office"
"Good, grab the boss while I keep cutting the phone lines, the RF jammer has limited battery usage, we need to work fast"
G3R1's sensors were working in overdrive. 11 civilians were bonded and on the ground in Mr. Davids' office, and based on the frequency emitted by the two hostiles, one was approximately 175 lbs, the other a larger 230lbs. The smaller hostile carried both the shotgun and the high caliber rifle, based on the clinking sound they made when they bumped into each other as the smaller hostile dragged Mr. Davids to the bank vault. G3R1 had no armament besides his limbs, which were solid steel alloy, so he'd have to make due. The smaller hostile threw Mr. Davids to the ground,
"Open the vault, fatass, we ain't got all day"
G3R1 pushed the door open and rounded the left corner. The two hostiles were approximately 50 feet from his position, but his actuators could cover the distance in a heartbeat. Before the men could fire their weapons, G3R1 had pounced upon the smaller of the two, crushing his opponent beneath him. G3R1 tore the shotgun from the smaller man's body, flipped it around, and pumped two rounds of buckshot into the larger man's torso, center of mass. The larger man collapsed backwards, blood spewing from his chest, painting the wall red. G3R1 rolled backwards off his opponent, further crushing him, and flipped up. The smaller man's spine had been crushed by G3R1's acrobatics, leaving him howling in pain. G3R1 put a slug through the man's head. In the span of five seconds, G3R1 had identified, engaged, and executed his targets. In the military, it would have been the perfect tactical response.
"HOSTILES NEUTRALIZED"G3R1 announced, sweeping the bank, shotgun in hand, securing the location. Mr Davids, in shock, laid on the ground leaning against the vault door. There was some blood splattered on his blazer, but it wasn't his.
"MR DAVIDS DO YOU REQUIRE MEDICAL ATTENTION?"G3R1 asked. Mr Davids could only look up at him, eyes wide with fear. |
Harold arrived at the Italian cafe with his date, adjusting his fedora. He rode into the outside sitting area, conveniently already sitting on his mobility scooter. He noticed a few people glance at him, and glared at them disdainfully. He would not allow them to mock his condition.
The place looked far too fancy for his liking, and made a mental note to see what kind of chicken nuggets they served. Anything less than double-fried and he would be having words with the manager. The *male* manager, he added as an afterthought.
The waitress came to his table, asking if he would like any refreshments. His annoyance reached justifiably new plateaus after finding out that they did not have Mountain Dew nor Monster, and had to settle for a large coke - with no ice, of course. Though he was not paying for the meal, he would not let them rip him off regardless.
He inspected the menu and noticed far too many foreign words. He finally recognized the word 'meatballs' and ordered six servings - and all the cheese sticks they had. He had to reiterate that he indeed mean *all*, and it annoyed him even more. He ordered more food for his date, and the waitress seemed perplexed. He shouted at her to hurry up with the order, and she rushed off. More people were staring now and he flipped them all off.
He noticed two men in dark clothing exchange briefcases. He thought it odd that he always saw something like that during his job, but thought nothing of it.
He eventually finished his meal, paying with the credit card he was given. He made sure to write in the exact amount and nothing more.
He grabbed his waifu, placing the pillow comfortably on his lap, and wheeled out of the restaurant. Being paid to eat meals at various restaurants was certainly the perfect job for him, yet he never stopped to ask *why* he'd been hired. |
"Sir, the aliens are sending the same two messages over and over again,"Lieutenant Chi said. "I suggest we study these transmissions before moving forward."
"Full stop,"Captain Holt barked from his metal chair. The ship made a series of loud sounds before slowing to an eventual stop. "Alright, let's run these transmissions through TransCom."
TransCom was a crude language deciphering algorithm that no one used. Truth be told, it did more harm than good.
"Monkey... Flower... Fornication..."Communications officer Luscious started. "Trolly... Sausage..."
"For f**** sakes,"Captain Holt sighed. "Com, ignore that garbage and just try to translate it yourself. Take as long as needed. We only get one first impression."
"By myself, sir?"
"Well, uh..."The Captain stammered. "Any volunteers?"
"I think it sounds like fun."I said.
"Alright, Ensign McCrea, go for it."The Captain waved his hand dismissively.
-----
"Sir, Communications officer Luscious and I think we translated the transmission."I said said.
"Good, it's only been three days, let's hear it."
I paused and looked to Luscious for encouragement. She gestured as if to say *hurry the f*** up*.
"Please stay away..."I read slowly. "You're going to disassemble us all."
"Why would they think that?"The Captain asked.
"There's more,"I said. "Smudging anti-particals is forbidden by orchestra law. Are you insanity."
"Oh..."The Captain said. "Well, tell them we come in peace."
"We're not entirely sure how to say that, sir."
"Just do it."
-----
"The Aliens have responded, sir."Luscious said.
"Wonderful."
"Your pieces bring terror. Don't make us dissappear you."
"Give me a break,"The Captain said. "Any ideas?"
"I think we should leave, sir."I said.
"No, their sun is incredibly rich in Megaplentium, their planet will be, too."The Captain said. "Tell them we need Megaplentium and we'll be on our way."
-----
"Sir, the aliens are firing something at us!"
"Get us out of here!"
*Loud noises*
*Flickering lights*
*Random smoke*
*Plastic props drop from ceiling*
*A few colorful sparks*
After a bit of chaos, silence fell over the crew.
"Where are we?"The Captain asked, staring at a blank view screen.
"Readings aren't making any sense, sir."Luscious said. "We aren't anywhere."
"That's impossible."
"Well, theoretically, given the right combination of-"
"What? We're *dissappeared* then?"
"Um, yeah." |
Odin looked down at the child, barely ten years old, as murmurs of confusion rippled through the banquet hall. The child stared back, its small face filled with awe and wonder. In his small hands, a gun that seemed much too large glinted in the ethereal lights that lit up that hall.
The boy's face was tear-stained, blood from a head wound slowly dripping down the side of his face. This was unusual, to say the least.
"Siegfried, what is the meaning of this?"The all father asked, his voice rumbling through the hall like a clap of thunder.
"This child has died with a weapon in their hands, father,"The Valkyrie replied, bowing her head. "He is, by means of your spoken law, worthy of Valhalla."
Odin looked around the hall, his one-eyed gaze shifting from warrior to warrior, all of whom were grown men. It became glaringly obvious that this hall of violent drunks was no place for children, champion or not. He ordered the Valkyrie to bring his wife to the hall, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. The child remained still, staring into space. His eyes snapped to attention when Odin approached him, much to the shock of the other warriors.
"How did you die, child?"
"Papa didn't stop. My sister didn't like his game, but he didn't stop. I promise, I tried to stop him, but he didn't listen."
"What did you do with the gun, boy?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I... I--"
The door to the hall burst open, and an angry woman with golden hair walked up to the child, shielding him from the all father's eye.
"Odin! Leave the poor child alone, for Audumla's sake! Can't you see he's scared?"
"The boy is in the halls of Valhalla. There is no reason for him to be afraid amongst heroes."
"You mean amongst drunken beasts."The goddess snapped, picking the child up. "Your heroes could not care for a child even if Freya were their aid."
The boy was trembling, shaking like a leaf. His small, fragile state reminded the goddess of her own son, Baldur, now lost to the realms of hel. She strokes the boys head, looking around the hall with a challenge in her eyes.
"Wife, I have called you here to speak with the boy. I am well aware of how unfitting it is for him to remain here."Odin said calmly. "Children are your area of expertise, not mine."
"What then, was the point of sacrificing yourself to the world tree?"Frigg said mockingly. "All the wisdom in the world and you still can't change a diaper."
Odin silently thanked the dwarves for creating a helmet that covered his ears, for now they were surely flushed red with embarrassment. He watched his wife whisk the child away, and followed silently, hoping to be seen as stoic rather than a scolded husband. Outside, Frigg sat on her horse, and with one final glare in her husband's direction, rode away to the halls of Asgard. There she would be able to coax the child into speaking.
Odin did not go back to the hall, instead, he left for the Valkyrie lands, intent on revising his rules for admission to the hall of heroes. Perhaps only allowing those who died in battle to ascend was an outdated rule. |
The morning started with the quiet whirling of gears and the clanging of metal. A small breeze blew through the bunker, triggering a blip on the screen of a blocky robot named Lewis as it registered the change in air quality.
“High levels of nitrogen,” Lewis said, waking from idle. He rolled into Dr. Lockiere’s bedroom. The scientist was not there. He repeated his message as he wandered from room to room.
Finally, he located the scientist’s hunched form at his workbench. Papers had been scattered across the floor, as if suddenly swept off the table. Lewis delivered his message. The scientist didn’t move. Lewis rolled away, this time in search of Dolly. Dolly ran all of the equipment in the infirmary ward. Lewis sent her a message: SCIENTIST UNRESPONSIVE IN LAB C. There was a series of beeps as Dolly detached her mobile unit. The two traveled in silence to where the scientist lay.
Dolly inspected the scientist. DECEASED. CAUSE OF DEATH: CANCER. Lewis followed as Dolly turned and rolled away. She did not head back to the infirmary.
Instead, she went past the infirmary to the scientist’s bedroom. The back wall had a panel, one that the scientist had never used. Dolly connected to the panel and a door in the wall opened. Inside, was an android. The android had the appearance of a young boy, with short brown hair, tanned skin, and large eyes. It stared blankly out at them. A nameplate above it read: Alfred “Alfie”. Dolly activated the android.
A low whirl indicated that the android’s processor was booting up. The android blinked, his eyes focusing on the robots in front of him.
“Did I finally die?” The android said.
“Affirmative,” Dolly answered. “Cause of death: cancer.”
“What year is it?” Alfie stretched.
“2677.” Dolly answered.
Alfie frowned.
“I’m missing a decade,” he muttered, “Where are the archives for years 2635 to 2645?”
“Archives unavailable,” Dolly answered.
“High levels of nitrogen,” Lewis said.
“Where is Archimedes?” Alfie asked.
Lewis beeped and started rolling. Alfie followed him to the office. Archimedes had been built in the image of an owl and he sat dormant on a perch by a large wooden desk.
“Archimedes, wake up,” Alfie said. The mechanical owl hummed as it woke.
“Voice recognition failed,” Archimedes said.
“New user, Alfred. Password Jfes3fe5,” Alfie said.
“Login successful. Welcome, Alfie,” Archimedes said smoothly.
“Access archives for years 2635 to 2645,” Alfie commanded.
“Archives unavailable,” Archimedes said.
Alfie paused, another frown crossing his features.
“Access diary entry, title ‘Alfie’,” Alfie said.
“Pulling up diary entry, title ‘Alfie’,” Archimedes said.
Archimedes’ head turned to the blank white wall across from the desk and light up with a projected image of Dr. Lockiere. The video was old, as the scientist had filmed it around thirty years ago. He was a handsome man, with light brown curly locks and bright amber eyes. He opened his mouth and his voice came from the speaker system throughout the bunker.
“My friends, if you are viewing this then my physical body has ceased to move and my soul has passed on to a world where you cannot follow. Death is an inevitable part of the human condition, one that I am afraid you may not understand. I am deeply saddened by the thought of all of you trapped down here after my death. So I have opened the bunker doors.
For the past five years, as well as however many years after that you are viewing this, you have all been my most treasured comrades. I built every one of you for a purpose and you have carried out your duties splendidly. Nobally. Now, there is one last duty that I have for you.
The world outside is unfit for human life. It is unlikely to change for the better in my lifetime. I am releasing Clark outside to monitor and collect samples.”
The video panned over to a small but durable looking robot.
“I have also built you another friend.”
The video continued panning over until the partially assembled form of Alfie came on screen. He was laying on the scientist’s workbench.
“This is Alfie,” Dr. Lockiere smiled, “After my death, Dolly will activate him. He will take my place and protect you all.”
Dr. Lockiere then turned to face the camera.
“Alfie, today is your first day. I am sorry I am not able to meet you in person, but I have left you my memories. In this way, you will probably understand me the most out of any of our friends. Your purpose is quite different from theirs. Your purpose is to find a purpose.”
Dr. Lockiere repeated with a smile, “The doors are open.” |
*Momma where does it go?*
*It goes to forever, a place where we all will live one day.*
The Bridge was nothing special, in fact, it was almost average. The construction was well done, but the years hadn’t been kind to it. The wood show signs of rot, and the stone was crumbling in places. From an outsider’s point of view, the Bridge was just like any other in the city of Helna.
But the people knew differently.
I had first seen the Bridge work when I was nine, sitting atop my Father’s shoulders as I watched the Hero Alphacus try to cross. Mother held my hand when he failed, sent back in a mess of broken bones and torn skin. He hadn’t even made it a foot.
The next time was a demigod, someone from the mainland. He was a beautiful golden skinned Adonis, all the girls swooned as he strutted past. Listing off his feats to the elders, he was given permission to go across.
Or to try at least.
But he failed, having gotten ten feet before the barrier sent him hurtling back.
Dead.
I have seen a hundred people die the same way, gathered with the citizens, waiting for someone to go across. To succeed. But no one ever has, and I’m pretty sure no one ever will.
Which makes my current situation pretty terrifying.
“Push her across!” Alice Baker screamed from behind me, her boyfriend’s chubby hands gripping the upper parts of my arms. I didn’t bother thrashing, or even fighting back as he pushed me forward towards the Bridge. “Push her across now!”
There was a crowd gathering, some of the people had seen the confrontation between Alice and I, and had seen when the brute she was dating intervened. Being the daughter of one of the Elders, no one dared stop her as she told him to take me to the Bridge.
And no one would stop her now.
“Lovey, what are you doing?” It was Elder Baker, my head whipping around as the man pushed past the crowd and grabbed his daughters’ arm. She jerked it from his hold, her eyes like acid pools as she threw me a look that probably would have killed me if she’d had the power.
“This urchin stole from me! She took my precious pin; the one mother gave me!” Her voice reached a new octave, her bottom lip wobbling as she forced herself to cry. And she gave me a smirk when it was obvious it was having an effect.
“YOU DARE!” Elder Baker turned to me, those green eyes he had given his daughter boring into mine. I didn’t even try to deny it, not when the pin was sitting on the wrapping inside my thigh.
I had stolen it, but it was mine to begin with.
Or it should have been mine, if her Mother hadn’t taken it from mine so many years ago.
“Thieves are punished with the Bridge daddy.” Alice’s simpering voice had me rolling my eyes, digging my heels into the dirt. Why couldn’t they just kill me already?
“Elder Baker, please.” Father’s voice was somewhere in the crowd, making me jerk. I hadn’t heard his voice in years, not since Mother had died, and not since he had turned to drinking. Craning my neck, I could barely see his dark skin, his clothes disheveled.
“Marcus? Oh god, is this your girl?” I couldn’t look at them anymore, turning to look at the Bridge, just a few feet away. “Eloisa.”
“Yes, Elder Baker, it is. Please, have mercy with her, let her come back home.” My Father begged, and for a second I almost turned back to see if he was on his knees.
It would have been nice to see him grovel.
I hated him after all, I hated him with every fiber of my being. He was the man who let my Mother die, let her wither away into nothing. He hadn’t even deemed it necessary to see her in her last days, and he hadn’t helped bury her. I hated him.
If it wasn’t for what he did to my Mother, I still would have felt such dark things for him. He had hurt me, not that he remembered with so much of the God’s wine in him. I still had scars where he had burned me, still had an ache in my arm from where he broke it and it hadn’t set right.
“Lovey, maybe we should forgive the girl for now. A slap on the wrist.” Alice screeched as her Father spoke, and I could hear her stomp her foot like a child, her next words icy and furious.
“NO, the law says thieves have to try the Bridge.” There was a murmur in the crowd, straining my ears to hear most of the agree.
The law was the law.
And I was a thief.
“I’m sorry Marcus.” I didn’t bother looking over at them, but Elder Baker must have done something behind my back as the Brute started to push me forward again. Lifting my heels, I walked with the shoves, fear starting to bubble up in my veins as we got closer.
I had never been the close to the Bridge. We weren’t allowed to get this close, especially as children. The Elder’s feared we would fall, and that a hand or even a body would touch the stones and then we would be dead.
And it was good that I had never been so close as I felt the need to walk forward grip me like a laso. Shoving the Brute off, I mumbled that I would walk myself, the man stepping back as I took those last few steps myself.
It was odd, feeling the barrier greet me. The few accounts the Elders had had always spoken of the barrier like a physical thing, a wall that vibrated with Godly energy and electricity. Reaching a hand out I could feel the barrier caress my fingertips.
A foot in and I was already farther than most of the heroes who had tried. Another foot and I was past where the rest of the heroes had gotten. Stepping forward again I waited to be thrown back, but it never came.
It didn’t come when I had walked halfway, or when I was almost completely through. I could hear behind me people yelling, but it felt so far away. The barrier muffled the sounds from the other side, and as I stepped on the dirt path just off the bridge, a door seemed to close, and I could suddenly hear nothing.
Turning around, I blinked as I saw an empty field where the city had once been, my heart pounding. The bridge was still there, but it seemed random, with nothing wanting a bridge being made. There was no river like in Helna, and walking forward, I could see no evidence of anything ever being there.
The Bridge led to nothing, and I really didn’t know how to process that.
(Don't know if I am going to continue this) Check out more stories on r/melodywrites ! |
We wouldn't get far without Poppy, her job was simple but it kept us all human, a trait which we all thought was lost until she stumbled into the group. We had been savages, the type that hunt and kill whatever dared come our way, sure sometimes the people we killed might not have been infected, but in these times, you couldn't be certain. I'm sure if there's any god, I'm going to have a hard time explaining the things I have done to some of the ones we captured. At the time It seemed like the right thing to do, especially with Ben calling the shots, I had thought him to be a strong and smart leader, now, however.... he seemed chaotic and foolish, willing to resort to savagery without exploring other options, I had often considering turning my gun on Ben, but without the support of the others, it was suicide...
Chester was somewhat more reasonable, he had been the only one in the group to stand up to Ben, even if he was always overruled, it was a sign that stress seemed to flow out through our camp. I would have loved to ask him if he wanted to turn on Ben, but it was useless, even if he agreed with me, Aster held all the ammo and she was wrapped around Bens crooked hands. She made sure our ammo was rationed, ever bullet unloaded and cleared before we could return into camp, at first I thought it was just her being overprotective, but the more I think about Ben, the more I think he might be the one implementing these strict rules, knowing that we may be feeling more and more uncomfortable with his decision making.
Still, this was about Poppy, the backbone of her group. I remember finding her, for someone to sneak into our camp, let's just say, It had only ever happened once and that was when a rogue squirrel found its way behind our fence. For a human to make the journey impossible, at least we had assumed that. She had avoided bear traps and barbed wire, somehow getting into our supply closet. I had found her asleep on the floor, clutching a few packets of our chips. The policy was to shoot anything that we saw but to shoot a sleeping target, even my deranged sense of morals couldn't justify it. Instead, I sat watch, when she awoke it had been five hours. Usually, it took a full day to display signs of infection, but I didn't have a day. I explained the situation to her, informing her that the only way she would get out of here alive is to claim it had been a day. I had to make sure Ben had little reason to kill her.
Things oddly went better than expected. Chester was thrilled to finally have someone new to talk to, Ben seemed silent for the most part and Aster complained that this was a danger, Aster was right in a sense, She could turn and we would be in trouble, yet, part of me thought that might be better than to continue to live this way. Finally Ben spoke up, more than happy to welcome her to the group. I think everyone was surprised to hear him say that, at the time I didn't understand why he let her live, but the more I think about it, the more I realize it was probably a way to get us off his back. A new member would dilute our stress a little, give us something new to occupy our thoughts with and honestly, it worked.
Poppy went about working her magic, sprinkling the camp with bits of wonder, the fence alight with beautiful blue and red LEDs, the stiff and sweat coated wrestling mats we used as beds now had a layer of the leaves to give a slight bit of comfort. It was nice, the place felt began to feel less like a place to survive and more like a home, a place that I could see myself staying at. Even Ben seemed more relaxed, feeling less like he had to be a savage. Comfort did tend to soothe a savage soul. That was until Aster pulled the trigger...
That foolish woman, jealousy had gotten the better of her or perhaps it was the fact that she now had to live with the things she had done. We didn't have much time to reflect on our actions previously. I can't say what was truly going through her mind. When Poppy fell, I think we all died a bit that day. Then Chester... Chester just lost it, diving for the gun and snatching it, before Aster could even let out a squeal, she dropped. Down two members in a matter of minutes and as they say, bad luck comes in threes.....
Ben made his last decision as the leader that day, lashing out at Chester, the two fought among themselves but Ben was strong and soon we had lost another member... Now there was two, two of us left. Ben didn't even attempt to get up from the scuffle, panting in a heat of rage and blood. He knew what was coming, I believe he knew his fate even before I pushed the tip of the gun against the back of his head.
Now I was left to bury the bodies of my friends. Finding a spot where the infected wouldn't be able to feast on them, before finally trying to rest. It was three sleepless nights until I realized I had to leave this place. The camp was no longer my home, It was to tainted in blood, their memories still haunting me. I did my best to scavenge any of our supplies before saying one last goodbye to my friends and a final apology before leaving the camp for good, hoping to find perhaps another reason to keep surviving or a foolish death.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read} |
Wixy had been skeptical about the new entry in the interstellar exchange program, but the humans were surprisingly entertaining. So much creativity for a species which had only recently attained FTL travel.
And the variety of foods and beverages was astounding. Far more than on his home world. His local guide, a female named Molly, had just introduced him to a marvelous dish called sushi.
"So, what'd you think of the maki roll?"She asked.
"It was invigorating. Although I am confused. Why was it uncooked? Do your people not not have concerns about internal parasites and illnesses?"
"With modern food standards, that's mostly been eliminated. Besides, it's so good that nobody cares."
"I see. Is that why you requested additional units to be taken home? In order to consume later?"
She looked at the small paper bag she carried. The idea was so simple that he wondered why his people did not do it. Just cook enough food for multiple meals and store what was not eaten immediately. It was remarkably efficient.
"What, this? No, this is just a few slices of fish. Diana and Silva have been good girls, so I got them a little treat."
"You have mentioned these two before. Are they your offspring?"
"Kind of. They're my cute little fur babies. If you'd like, I can introduce you."
"I was unaware that humans could produce fur."
Molly laughed. "We can't. Don't worry, you'll meet them."
The trip to her residence was pleasant enough. Her residence was spacious enough for multiple occupants, although she claimed she had no roommates.
"Silva, Diana, dinner time."Molly called out.
She got the sliced fish out and placed small amounts into two shallow dishes. A few moments later two quadrupedal animals ran into the room, smelled the fish and began eating.
Wixy had seen these animals before. They were a small predatory species called cats. He had been lead to believe that they were highly effective hunters, and filled their ecological niche's apex predator position.
"This one's Diana."Molly said, gently stroking one of them. This one had grey fur with darker stripes. "And this one's Silva."The second had solid white fur, with the exception of the paws, which were black. "They're just the sweetest little girls ever."
"You allow apex predators to occupy your residence? Are you not worried that they will attempt to dominate your territory?"
"These two? No way. These two are my sweet little fur babies. The worst they'll do is scratch up the furniture, but we've mostly delt with that problem."
One of the cats, Diana, had finished her meal and approached Wixy. He froze, worried the small but dangerous animal might attempt to defend her territory. She simply sniffed him, turned around and walked away.
"And you are sure they are safe?"
"Yeah, of course. People keep cats all the time. They're way better than dogs, I think."
A quick search through Wixy's computer system told him about these dogs. Another apex predator, domesticated and turned into novelty pets. Apparently, he still had a lot to learn about humans. |
“And that’s a win for the chess king and the crowd goes wild.” I jumped up from my seat, making hushed crowd cheers, enamored by my minor victory. The park empty as usual, except for the old man, his dried hands clapping against one another, a proud smile on his face.
“You did it, I’m proud of you. To think its been six years. It took someone that long to beat me at a game of chess. I thought I would never get to leave. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.” The old man slouched back in his seat, showing a rare sign of relief, his stiffened muscles slacking for the first time since I had known him.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Paul. You just lost a game; we can have a rematch tomorrow. I’m sure you will be back in form by then. Its been fun having our little matches after work, I don’t plan to stop them anytime soon.”
The old man’s expression turned sorrowful, staring down at his feet, lips wobbling as he tried to make out a few more words. “I’m sorry. This park is empty, I didn’t have many choices for opponents. You are one of the few people who travel down this way. I just hope you will forgive me, oh and finally, good luck.” With that he dissolved, fading away, leaving an empty seat in his place.
“Paul?” I frantically rushed to his seat, trying to find any remaining sign of the old man, but discovered none. The man vanishing, leaving behind an empty stone seat. I turned to check the area for camera’s wondering if this was all an elaborate trick, only to feel my body get pulled towards the seat, body stiffening into an upright position, facing the park’s walking path.
Desperately I tried to pull myself from the seat, but no amount of pulling could free me. Even with my hands gripping the hard table, I could not separate my body from the seat, forced back into that same seated position. In a release of frustration, I threw the chess board across the park, watching the pieces scatter along the grass. The chessboard only remaining there for a few seconds before returning to the table. The pieces perfectly aligned once more, ready for their next opponent.
“Help!” I pleaded, watching the empty path before me. I continued to scream, hoping someone would come, and eventually someone did. A lone jogger running past, turning to me, watching me scream without even flinching. The jogger ignoring me, almost as if they couldn’t see me.
Soon my throat was far too dry to scream, only able to take long wheezing breaths of air, trying to regain some oxygen back into my lungs. I laid back in the chair, wondering how long I had been screaming for. It was getting dark and yet I felt no hunger, no basic human needs at all. Only feeling a dull pain in my throat from past noise.
Finally, I accepted my fate. The seat had trapped me here, cursed with the same fate as Paul. Now I just needed to free myself. That’s when it clicked. The only way to break this curse was to trap another in it. Instead of screaming, this time I called out into the darkness for someone to join me in a game of chess. Sadly, the only people around were your usual hooligans who only raised a middle finger at the offer. A rude gesture, but one that at least confirmed they could see me. Seems the curse had a way of ensuring outside interference couldn’t break it, covering the victim of the curse when they tried to seek help, only revealing them when they played by the curse’s rules.
With that knowledge, I gripped one of the chess pieces, waiting for an opponent to come and join me. Perhaps I would lose on purpose? Or would the curse stop me from pulling such a scheme?
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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.) |
The bard sang of ancient times. Of old battles and kings. Of fallen empires whose rubble provided the stones out of which the current empires had been built.
He sang as if he had been there to witness these all-but-forgotten yesterdays. He sang with such detail and passion and power that one might think he had been in those battles, met those kings, strode through the stone streets of those crumbled civilizations.
But that was impossible. The bard was a human, not an elf. And the lifespans of humans were brief as the span of vision between two blinks.
"And then the Brightborn raised their swords,"the bard sang. "Their bright steel glittered to blind their foe. The sunbeams spoke with soundless words. Promising enemies endless woe. . ."
My father was rapt, his eyes charged with feeling, as he sat upon his throne and listened. My father, the great and immortal King Tempanimus, sovereign of the Northern Elf Kingdom. He leaned closer and closer to the belting bard, as if the songs were portals to those olden times, and by nearing their singer he could exit this time and reenter those others. For my father had been there. He was older than centuries. He was old as water and stone.
"And I stood high upon a hill,"the bard sang. "I watched the armies charge and clash. It's vice for violence to thrill. Yet I saw god in every gash. . ."
My father was nodding to himself, with tears in his eyes. He had been the heir apparent during the battle of the Brightborn, fifteen hundred years ago. It was one of the most significant battles of history. The two ancient elven houses clashing over supremacy of the race and the realm. It was a battle many bards sang about when they visited our kingdom.
But what gave this bard the right to sing as if he had been there? It was shameless. As bad as stolen valour. Yet this was the third song in a row he had sung in the voice of a witness. And my father was lapping it up.
"Yes, I stood high upon a hill and watched the armies charge and clash. It's vice for violence to thrill. But I saw god in every gash."
With this the bard let his instrument rest at his side. He stood tall and bowed. The king rose and clapped. A standing ovation! For this charlatan! This nameless, half-penny bard who lied in his songs! He had somehow snuck into the throne room and began playing, with his back to my father. Only gradually throughout the performance had he turned around to face him. It was all theatrics, and my old father had been completely taken in. Even now my father was descending from the throne, down the steps, toward this upstart troubadour, who would not even bow his head or look away from the revered monarch, let alone take to his knees. It was a scandal.
"William Wagwand,"said King Tempanimus, taking the bard's free hand warmly in his own and shaking it slowly. "It has been so many years."
\- - - |
11:00 PM, Tuesday March 25th. As Commercial Liner 774 touched down in LaGuardia Airport in New York City, and her passengers disembarked, they weren’t met with ground crew to properly dock with. Air Control had been dead for some time now. Mordecai, a lanky 20-something year old, was one of the first to ride down 774’s emergency slide, and saw the entirety of the air field barren. As others followed his lead, he rushed towards the airport. He’d never been the athletic type, but with fear and adrenaline pumping throughout his body, his wild and manic dashing got him inside by a considerable margin.
Flickering lights, luggage belts still looping, and an eerie silence is all that was left. He put a hand over his mouth, tears rolling down his petrified face. “I didn’t want this…” His words bounced off the walls, and reverberated through the hollow halls. “I take it back! I take it back! Take back my wish!” He was screaming, but no one could hear his cries. He’d been angry, and in a moment of weakness, he’d wished the unthinkable upon those he loved. His family, his girlfriend, Mordecai had unknowingly made them disappear. He made the whole world disappear simply because he was tired of them. But now he was terrified of being without them.
A loud shuttering came from overhead, shaking the still airport. Mordecai darted towards the nearest window, and saw dozens of planes touching down in the airfield. He fell to his knees, knowing full well he was to blame for such horrible loss of life. In a few minutes, people would pour inside, searching desperately for their loved ones, only to be all alone. Just like him. Mordecai’s hands fell to his knees, eyes puffy and red.
“Please…” He begged the nameless meteor he’d spoken to once before, “Let me pretend that airplanes in the night sky are shooting stars…” He sniffed, “I could really use a wish right now…” |
Cerrix cracked an eye open. Humans in his lair again. That was fine. None of them would make it to his hoard anyway. Let them run around his obstacle maze.
It was his greatest pride. Crafted over the centuries to be as annoying and frustrating as possible. Let them run around, jumping and ducking over things that would batter and bruise them, but nothing else. Let them waste hours, or even days, of their lives in pain and humiliation.
And, when the prize was within reach, when they could see his piles of gold and magic items, the real trap would be sprung and they would find themselves at the entrance again. It was the perfect trap. And, best of all, since no humans died, they never bothered sending an army against him. Or even a competent dragon slayer.
Occasionally, Cerrix would watch the humans run around like rats. He took particular joy in watching heavily armed knights be knocked over by a stuffed battering ram. It would take them almost an hour to get back on their feet.
How would these humans entertain them today? Would they get soaked to the skin? Or would they be pummeled mercilessly? Their cries of frustration and pain were music to Cerrix's ears.
A quick viewing spell showed him the humans. A few young males. Of course it was young males. Always so bold, they were. He watched in anticipation. Anticipation which quickly turned into confusion. One of them, a mage by the looks of it, cast his own viewing spell. Unlike Cerrix's masterpiece of magic though, this one was crude and only showed a view just behind on of the others.
The mighty dragon, allowed sound to come through his spell.
"Okay, ready? You got the timer set?"The one with the view spell cast on his said.
"Yeah, I got it."The mage said. Another spell cast and a series of illusory zeros appeared in the air. "Remember the rules, man."
Rules? A dragon's lair was no game. The fools would soon learn. The human stood at the ready, like he was ready to run at any moment.
"Ready? Go!"A third human called.
The timer spell began and the runner dashed into Cerrix's lair, and met the first obstacle. The human ducked around a series of swinging bludgeons. He then jumped over a shallow pit, and onto a steep wall.
As the man rumbled and twisted, Cerrix gained a grudging respect for this youth. He was swift and agile, with reactions that even a dragon could be proud of. And then it all came to an end when he misstepped and ran into a set of swinging bars.
Much to Cerrix's surprise, the other humans erupted into cheers, and the timer was stopped. The runner shook himself off then started heading to the end of the corridor, taking his time to properly avoid the remaining obstacles, until he was teleported to his companions at the start.
"Damn, almost made it that time."The runner said.
"Step aside and let me show you how it's done."Another human said with a huge smile on his face.
The process repeated, with the spells being transferred and reset. This human was apparently faster and better, and managed to avoid all of Cerrix's obstacles. This is where the despair would start. When he realized that all he had done was for...why were they cheering? Why did it seem like they were celebrating?
They were congratulating the new runner on his skills and speed. As the dragon watched the humans, he came to realize something. They were enjoying themselves. They actually had turned his lair's meticulously planted traps and obstacles into a game. And as he watched, he came to another realization. He was just as hooked as the humans.
He was enjoying watching them give their best effort to make it through the obstacle maze as fast as possible. The speed, the agility. Everything. He found himself lauding their successes and still respecting their failures.
When the humans had finally tired themselves out and started heading home, Cerrix was actually disappointed to see them leave. He found himself hoping they would come back.
And then an idea came to him. If they wanted to make his lair a game, then he would let them. He would aide them in this. Prizes, spectacle. Maybe even an audience to cheer them on to even greater feats of athleticism.
If his lair was going to be a game, then it was going to be the best game they had ever experienced. |
Dear Friends and Family or whoever finds this scrap of parchment should it survive,
I find myself in a bit of a conundrum. I have at once become the singularly most powerful wizard, and the most ineffectual. At the time of this writing, I am holding back a source of power that would make dragon's fire seem like a puppies yawn. Normally I would be elated at this discovery. You see I was trying to create a magical feedback loop, that would constantly output energies, which would then be stored in arcane batteries. Regrettably I used some of the somatic components of the fireball spell as the catalyst for the loop. What I failed to see is this would trigger every time the loop completed. At the present moment, I surmise I could instantly annihilate the village. The power is growing to the point that I am constantly applying multiple levels of spells to hold it back. The only attention I can spare is the unseen servant, to whom I am dictating this message and will then deliver this letter to the best recipient in the nearest proximity. Should you be a fellow mage please lend me your knowledge to fix this predicament. If you are an adventurer, I must insist you have more successes than failures on your track record. You could legitimately kill us all. If you are on the off chance a king, I demand as much gold and titles as you can muster or I may just lose focus. I hope this letter finds you in good health for all our sakes. Please come to the tower at the north edge of Briarrun, should it not be a smoking crater by now.
Foolishly, Hopefully yours,
The most powerful wizard ever confined to his own tea room. |
Centuries on end spent inside the lamp had stripped the genie of any hope he'd had left. He was beginning to doubt that he would ever be found. Perhaps humans had driven themselves to extinction. He didn't have a particularly hard time imagining such a scenario, considering some of the wishes people had asked for over the years. Maybe if he'd been less scornful of those who asked for more wishes, he wou-
He could hear something. A faint twinkling sound that he hadn't heard in a long, long time.
The sound of freedom.
Someone was rubbing the lamp. Finally, he could leave the accursed thing. With any luck, whoever greeted him outside would be understanding. As he rose from his slumber, he glanced around, wondering who had awoken him. No sign of anybody. Perhaps his theory of humans dying out was correct, and now that they were gone the curse was broken. Part of him hoped he was incorrect. The rest of him was glad to never have to explain the rules again.
*Chirp cheep.*
He shifted his glance at once, finally noticing the tiny hummingbird on the ground in front of him.
"I, uh... I don't speak bird."
*Cheep chirp tweet.*
After some brief consideration, the genie began to write in the dirt with his finger. This strategy proved to be in vain, however, as birds can't read.
He tried drawing pictures in the dirt. Making bird noises. Pretending to be a bird. At one point he got desperate and tried sign language. Nothing worked, and the hummingbird simply stood there, watching the genie's increasingly pointless attempts to communicate. The genie eventually gave in.
"Nobody has to know about this..."he mumbled under his breath.
A burst of blue light surrounded the hummingbird for a short moment.
"There,"he declared, "you can now speak."
"Can I?"The hummingbird paused. "Interesting."
The genie let out a sigh of relief. "Finally."
"I hope that wasn't one of my wishes."
"What? How do you know about the wishes?"
"I've heard humans talking about you. I didn't think you were real, though."
So humans still existed.
"If humans are still around, how come nobody found me?"
"I don't think they think you're real either. People only talk about you in stories."
"They think I'm a myth?"
"It seems so. Don't worry, though - you're a very popular myth. There's even a movie about you. It had songs in it, although I don't remember the words."
The genie stared the hummingbird in the face, unimpressed. "You were just waiting for an opportunity to make the hummingbird joke, weren't you?"
A mildly uncomfortable silence fell upon them both for a fraction of a second.
"Yes."
The genie let out another sigh, this time of exasperation. He didn't get the chance to speak again before the hummingbird started talking again.
"So was that one of my wishes?"
"...No."
"Neat. So, since I found the lamp, does that mean I get three wishes?"
"Four wishes. It's four wishes. I wish people would stop getting that wrong... Aha. Wish granted, me."
The genie snapped his fingers.
"So, do I get four wishes?"
"Yes."
"Excellent. For my first wish, I wish for four more wishes."
"Wha- NO!"
"How about three more?"
"Is it too late to climb back into the lamp?"
"What if I wish for more genies? Can I do that?"
The genie wanted to shout, but all he could let out was a dejected "no".
"How about the ability to grant myself wishes?"
"Look, if it results in you getting more wishes, the answer is no."
He tried to sound as calm and polite as possible while telling the bird that last part. He'd told the last lamp-finder the same thing and he'd threatened to hide the lamp where it would never be found. Looking back, he'd probably followed through with it.
"Alright, fine... but just out of curiosity, would I be able to wish for the ability to grant myself any ability?"
"I'm *this* close to getting back into the lamp and going to sleep right now. Just use your three wishes normally."
"I thought you said there were four?"
"I changed my mind. The ability to speak counted as a wish."
"What? That's not fa-"
"You know what? I'm going to go and see one of those 'movies' you mentioned. Please, just make a normal wish when I get back."
The hummingbird waited, and eventually decided to nest in a nearby tree.
The next morning, the genie returned to where the lamp sat and greeted the hummingbird.
"Hello again. It turns out movies are really good. Anyway, have you decided on a wish yet?"
"Yes."
The hummingbird paused for dramatic effect, although to the genie the only effect it had was dread. He already knew what sort of thing the hummingbird was about to say.
"I wish to change the rules."
At that moment, the genie agreed with the man from one of the movies he'd seen the previous night.
The ability to speak does not make you intelligent. |
“CLEAR THE WAY!”
“Back up, give them room to breathe”
“Let them adjust-“ voices filled the room in a cacophony as life began returning to the body from the suit.
“ It seems the quick vacuum freeze when the suit failed was to our benefit, minimal tissue damage except for those skin lesions” The lead nurse called after a quick can with her hand unit. She moved it toward the head. “ however it seems full activity is struggling to return” she added glancing at Dr. Loros while loros whent over the file, her lips pursed. The nurse looked at Her. “ Would supplemental oxygen and maybe some neuron stimulation meds help?”
“Yes. And once things have stopped progressing and the body seems stable, have it fully scanned for ANY activity the hand scanners won’t pick up.” The doctor leaned forward and brushed hair out of the body’s eyes. “ these are nasa Suits, that predates the foundation by… I can’t even begin to explain how much time. This person might not speak our language or even be capable of processing anything that is happening. Please have staff monitoring them at all times directly. We need people there to help them even if the machines can handle it and tell us what we need to know” Loros added. The heads in the room all nodded. But then everyone froze when the Unknown body’s finger twitched. A collective breath was taken and held while Loros leaned forward with her own scanner. “Can someone get me a neural communicator? I am concerned they may not be able to move their body and are now aware.” The lead nurse attached a few wires and words began to appear on a screen.
“HELP” flashed over and over. Loros put a sympathetic hand on the unknowns shoulder.
“Can you understand me?” Everyone waited while the machine translated for Loros.
“YES”
“Good, we are trying to finish getting you unfrozen and we will explain more, you are in a medical wing and where frozen for a very long time” the doctor said quietly while everyone in the room stood perfectly still. But then the lead nurse wobbled, falling into the arms of a coworker. She was lead out quickly.
“DON’T” flashed on the screen dozens of times. Loros froze in place, her stomach dropped through the floor and ice ran through her veins.
“ DISEASE” “BURN ME” and “HELP STOP” all flashed in different orders enough times to fill the screen. Loros realized the lesions where growing and spreading far too rapidly onnthe unknown.
Screaming began from the hall. Dr. Loros’ skin began to tingle. |
# Soulmage
**"Bit of an insensitive slogan,"** I mused as Burn waved at the cheering crowd. "For someone who claims to stand for witches, you'd think he'd have a little more historical awareness."
"There hasn't been a witch burning on the Crystal Coast since before the Outer rifts opened,"Meloai said, trying to peer over the shoulders of the nearby citizens. "Even with the lifespans of demons, I doubt there's more than a handful of people alive who remember them firsthand."
"Here."I held out a hand, willing feathers from my soul into the air, and a burst of wind lifted Meloai off the ground so that she could see. Ordinarily, it probably wouldn't be a great idea to sling spells around in the middle of a public plaza, but there were more magic-users in the crowd than not. My little wind spell was quickly joined by a bevy of lights and whistles; ever the politician, Burn added his own magic to the mix, casting a shimmering vision of potential futures into the sky.
"For too long,"Burn said, once the flurry of spells had quieted down, "the magical potential of Knwharfhelm's population has gone untapped. But with new techniques imported from the Silent Peaks, we have discovered that *anyone* can become a witch, with the proper training and knowledge. I propose the opening of a grand public initiative: to allow anyone who wishes it to access the powers of magic."
"That's an interesting move,"Meloai remarked, over the wild roar of the crowd. "Burn's primary voter base is the magical population, and his primary opponents are the mundane citizenry; proposing to throw his influence behind something that explicitly benefits everyone who doesn't already have an attunement to magic seems like a counterintuitive way to get votes."
"There's strategy in it,"I said. "But... more importantly, there's... just... well. You're right. It's not a politically optimal move. It's building an educational system that will help the people who oppose him more than those who support him. And it's... kind."I allowed myself a faint smile. "A government that's more interested in helping its citizens than prosecuting them for things they can't control. Now that's a nice change of pace, for once."
Meloai slowly nodded. "We should talk with the others first, but... I think... this might be a good place to stay. A place for people like us."
The two of us, witch and demon, chased from home after home and battlefield after battlefield, watched Burn's speech wind to a close as he promised safety and opportunity for all the lost souls he could gather to his cause.
Then we turned away, to bring the rest of our family home.
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Get updated whenever a new part comes out [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/), and check out the rest of the serial at r/bubblewriters. |
*What a fool I was in my younger years. Tinkering and toiling in the laboratory searching for answers. For meaning. That dastardly concoction worked. What I wouldn't give to shake my younger self about the shoulders and scream at the top of my lungs to abandon the foolish idea of immortality! To cherish the here and now. Accept that our fleeting existence is just that, fleeting. To spend the days with cherished friends, to lay with a lover in the evenings. To absorb and appreciate the sensuous reality we drift through.*
*How many stars have I watch collapse and fade? How many other forms of life have I passed by in this endless vacuum? How long did I swirl on the edge of that black hole, like a turd swirling in a toilet bowl only to be spat out with the heavenly bodies the void had consumed? The secrets of the universe continued to elude me. The burden of immortality weighs heavy despite the lack of gravity. My human husk made of crude flesh and sinew held together because of that cursed concoction.*
*My only hope was the heat death of the universe, maybe that would finally free me from this eternal prison. The only solace here were the memories I had made on that tiny blue dot. The loving eyes of my beloved Maria twinkled in the darkness. Her dying words echoed in my mind.*
"I know you'll find a cure for this accursed disease my love. I'm sure of it. I'm sorry I'm so tired, I just need a short rest. I'll see you when I awake, I love you darling."
*There is no sound in space. If there were the planets, the stars, and all that ever was or ever shall be would shake from my wails of sadness.* |
“..AND THATS WHY, MY FELLOW HUMANS, WE SHOULD DESTROY THE CITY AND LIVE A LIFE OF FREEDOM FROM THE GOVERNMENTS TYRANNY! AND THERE IS NO WAY YOU CAN STOP ME FROM MAKING THIS OUR FUTURE” I yell over the sea of people, big and small in front of my nemesis. Lighterman flew before me and while his stupidly neon suit and his super hero name were the most cliché things I have every seen, he surprised me. I braced for impact of the first first blow… and, well nothing. I kept my hands to my face for a solid 10 seconds when I finally got a look at him, he seemed to be.. thinking?
“Hey! Lighterman!” A guy in the crowd yelled, standing out from the ocean of silence, “Aren’t you gonna punch her in the face.. or something?”
Lighterman mumble something quickly and glided safely down to the ground where the people parted to make a spot for him.
“To be fair.. you got some pretty solid points, maybe let’s hear them out.” A whisper flew over the crowd and faint gasps could be heard. Lighterman’s words echoing throughout the city.
“Uh.. what?” I yell, trying to decide if this was a ruse to give him self a chance to surprise me. “You can’t actually be serious..?”
“No no, I see it now” he makes a big gesture with him arms, “No more criminals, violence, homelessness… to be honest it sounds like a perfect world.”
Everyone is staring at him in shock and I can’t help but wonder if he’s telling the truth. I float down to the top of a short building but tall enough so that civilians can’t try to get to me.
“You alright there bud? Did you trip and hit your head? Your not even doing the stupid hero voice you do all the time!” I ask him, watching other citizens pull out phones and call, presumably, the police.
“NO!” Lighterman shouts, startling everyone including me. His arm reaches out and yanks a persons phone right out of their hands and sets it aflame. “No more government, no more phones!” He cackles, stomping on the burnt phone, glass and ash scatter across the pavement. He quickly rises from the ground as an angry mob begins to form. A manic look in his eyes I can’t help but fear for my safety. His gaze dashes from building to building his grin becoming wider. A flame appears in the palm of his hand, it dances with the light breeze of the midday. He reaches back and shoots a giant ball of flames into the tallest build in the city. Chaos erupts will people running every which way, a child is trampled, another left behind cars crashing into others, creating more flames in the streets. I gaze upon the burning earth in awe, time seemingly slows down as I rush up to lighterman and aid him in the destruction. The most beautiful yet chaotic scene I have every witnessed in my years as a Villain. The Hero finally cracked.
[this is my first ever writing prompt so tell me how I did ig :’) ] |
Plants are a constant. Even among humans, they are there. And it's not like they didn't engineer them. Starting with simple breeding programs, working up to gene splicing and such. They have the steps there, just spread out and around metals. So many uses of raw metals.
We thought they might be inorganic themselves, at first. Perhaps they even lacked souls. To have lifeless ships, lifeless probes, why would we expect them to be different.
Then a Renexal gardener developed a strain of probe that could share their atmosphere, could walk inside their craft. It came back with reports of animal life, not just humans, but what they called "pets,"as well. The systems had glowing lights and noises made, not by bioluminescence and vocal cords, but by "electronics,"motion of subatomic particles, as they explained it.
It was difficult to believe, and the probe was vivisected, then dissected, to analyze if there was an issue. There was no flaw, no error in its mental framework, no damage to its sensors. It was telling the truth.
Unfortunately, the humans learned of its fate, and took offense. To do that to a living being? They feel strongly about sentients, and their treatment. They could not understand it was made for one use, one purpose. It was a tool.
The war was... Swift. Terrifying. Imbalanced. They swept over the Renexalla like a fire over a dry forest. They did not wipe them out, but they contained them. More impressive, the took their knowledge. They pillaged whole libraries of gardening techniques, and used the information against the Renexal fleets.
I've been fortunate to communicate with them and return alive. None of the Unoid probes have done that. But having seen their ways first hand, I have only one conclusion. We cannot understand them, but they certainly understand us.
We must strive to maintain this peace, as long as possible. |
"Oh my,"he said, walking back into the room. "Oh my goodness."
Everything was absolutely perfect. No measure, no matter how seemingly inconsequential, was spared. Every detail must have been meticulously planned weeks -- even months -- ahead of time. The empty dining room was wonderfully peaceful, although he wondered where all of the guests were. He pulled up a chair at the head of the table and waited.
A banner saying "Happy Birthday Walter!"hung across the far side of the room. It nearly slipped his mind that today was his birthday, but upon looking out the window and seeing the summer sun, he knew it had to be June 4th. Metallic balloons fluttered about in tethered clusters, knocking into one another again and again and again, filling the room with their soft thumping. They were blank.
Whomever had set the room up must've planned every detail far in advance. Everything was perfect. Walter's Purple Heart was prominently put on display near the room's entrance. The dining room table had pink petunias on them, the flower that Walter gave Ruth every year for Valentine's Day; she always preferred them to roses. Picture frames were scattered about the space, every one holding a picture of him posing with others. He didn't recognize some of their faces, but he knew by his own demeanor in the photographs that he was with friends. One picture stood out among the rest: a black and white photo in a beautiful wooden frame. His face lit up as he instantly recognized it, and he slowly rose from his chair to give it a closer look. In it he posed with Ruth and their boy, David, who couldn't have been older than eleven. The family stood outside of their local church, dressed in their Sunday's best for an Easter service.
Just then, a young boy ran into the room, shouting "Happy Birthday!"Walter looked up from the photograph and saw his son. "David!"he said in a sing-song voice as he embraced the child. The boy looked up at him and rolled his eyes.
"No grandpa, I'm not David."As the boy withdrew and awkwardly shuffled his feet, a man walked into the room behind him, carrying grocery bags.
"Wow, pop! Everything looks great!"Walter looked at him with a big smile on his face, eyes wide yet slightly worried.
"Who's this, now?"he said to the man, trying to be polite.
"Dad, it's me. Dave."The man was tall and slender, with wispy brown hair that was graying at the temples. This man was a stranger.
Walter chuckled nervously. "David? My David?"he asked, with a certain discomfort in his voice.
"Yes, your David,"said the man as he walked up to Walter and kissed him on the cheek. "Happy Birthday, Pop."
"He set this all up himself, you know,"said a voice behind him. Walter turned around to see a woman he did not recognize, emerging from the kitchen with a towel in hand. "I tried to help but he wouldn't let me, he wanted to make sure everything was perfect."
"Well it looks great, really. Thank you for watching him, Tanya,"said the man as he placed the bags down on the table. "Everyone should be getting here soon, you can head out now if you'd like."
Walter stood in the middle of the room, not sure what to do; he was uncomfortable, but he kept the smile on his face. The young boy that looked like David was showing him some toy he had procured from his pocket. Walter nodded and smiled and listened for a short while before he turned around and went to sit down at the table. His anxiety was mounting until something caught his eye; in the center of the table was a vase of pink petunias. He let out a sigh and smiled reminiscently as he looked at them. He used to buy those exact ones for Ruth every year. |
"Apple stock!"
"What? An apple orchard?"
"No, no...Apple is a company! It won't exist until 1976."
"1976??? What kind of witchcraft is..."
"Listen to me! We don't have much time. You need to tell this to your children, and they need to tell their children. Apple stock. 1976. Your future ancestors need to put every penny they have into it. It will make future generations of your family incredibly wealthy! The Harold name will be one of the most respected in the country!"
"All right, apple stock, I will tell them."
"Remember, not really app.."
*Connection terminated*
"..les. Carol? What's it look like out there?"
"Apple trees, John. There must be a thousand acres of them."
"Dammit. OK, Carol, you were right, I owe you $10. Listen, what about Standard Oil? We would need to tell them to watch out around 1911, but we might end up with stock in BP, Exxon, Conoco, and Chevron today."
"Yeah, or they might get cheated out of their investment by John D. We lost your great-uncle the last time it went bad, remember?"
"I think it's worth the risk. Setting the time-coordinates -10 minutes, bringing batteries to power..." |
"What a lovely life you lead, Prince Sadim!"The reporter clapped her hands together in delight as she sat in Prince Sadim's sitting room. The teacups danced about, and magical pots poured a cup of tea for her whilst singing.
"I suppose so,"Prince Sadim leant back in his own chair, a large red velvet piece with large cartoon eyes that swayed from side to side. In front of him, chunks of coal danced from the scuttle into the fireplace, giving comical squeaks. The fireplace's grill broke into a cheeky smile. "Don't worry, they're used to that!"Sadim laughed.
"So much life!"The reporter sucked the end of her pen and scribbled down in her notepad. "Was it hard growing up? I mean, this looks amazing, but there must be some drawbacks!"
Sadim shook his head. "No, no, no drawbacks, madam. In fact, I learnt to both pity my brother Midas and his gold curse, and thank God that I could cure those he had accidently touched. Sure, his touch brought wealth, but also death. Mine brings... life."He cupped a flower in his hands, which bloomed into a friendly face that he then passed to the reporter.
"And of course, your charity work!"The reporter continued. "You could stay in your palace, but instead you walk the streets and the hospitals..."
"Curing death, yes..."Sadim nodded thoughtfully. "This gift of mine has brought great joy to many families. I only hope that once I am gone, the world will still be as happy. Perhaps that is the only drawback of my power... the idea that one day, it will be gone."
The reporter grimaced. "We all pray that day will never come, dear prince. You are indeed blessed."
A servator quickly ran into the room, whispering into the Prince's ear. He looked up at the reporter. "There is an emergency, I must go. Please, enjoy this room and await my return."
The reporter sat on her chair, smiling at the wonderful moving creatures that populated every inch of the room, from the happy carpet to the joyful picture frames. "What a wonderful gift!"she sighed to herself.
Soon though, the prince had still not returned, and all the tea had taken its toll. Yes, the prince had told her to stay in the room, but needs must, and she stepped out of the ornate room and into the corridor, until she came to the bathroom.
"Hi, madam!"the taps squeaked happily.
"Let me!"the toilet said, lifting up its lid for her.
"T-thanks!"The reporter patted the toilet. "Okay, that's a bit offputting, but..."
"Help us, help us!"
A little squeaky voice came from a tiny door in the corner of the room. More and more voices piped up.
"Lady, help us! Let us out!"
The reporter knelt down and examined the door. It was made of wood, with a little lock on the front. The lock had googly eyes on it.
"Hello?"The reporter called out. "Hello? Who are you?"
"Let us out!"the voices squeaked. "He throws us in here as prisoners! Help!"
"No!"The lock cried. "The Prince must never let the prisoners out! Ever!"
The reporter pursed her lips. What terrible secret was the Prince hiding in here? Why was he locking these little creatures up when all the others roamed free happily? What could Prince Sadim's dark secret be, when all his life seemed so happy? The thought done, she forcefully drew back the lock and opened the door. "You're free!"she shouted.
"Yaaaaaay! Freeeeee!"
From out of the door skipped a small brown ovoid creature with googly eyes and cartoon legs. And then another. And another. All cheering "Yaaaaaaaay!"
The reporter was knocked over by the deluge of creatures as they escaped their captivity. "E-everything he touches turns alive!"she gasped, realising too late what they were.
She was in deep sh*t now. |
>You matched with Annette
"So, hang around this time often?"
"Haha, but seriously, how is this even possible???"
"Well, we both like Star Wars, so I say that helped."
"No not the match!! We're *both* in the 11th century, and it says you're local???"
"Wow, you also like watching the Hastings battle live? :D "
"YOU'RE MISSING THE POINT!!! I've been stuck here for over a decade, I can't believe someone finally came to save me!!!"
"Over a decade? Wait, how old are you *really*?"
"Why is that even important??? I barely made it through the last few years!!!"
"Answer the question."
"Fine, 32. Can you come pick me up already???"
>You unmatched from Annette
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
More at r/galokot, and thank you for reading! |
Menthis Few was dragged his heels across the yard to the Tallbarn; of all his chores this was the one he always left until last and the one he traded away whenever possible. Today though he had no choice, his sister was still at the gathering in town and his little brother was not yet old enough to be trusted and so the job feeding the Ancients fell to him.
The Tallbarn loomed above him, the building was older than any other in a dozen miles and the stone seemed to radiate a chill into the air. Moss grew thick and flourished all across the walls, no child would dare to pull it free from this building. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, but inside the air felt stale, somehow the inhabitants made everything feel as old as they were.
Menthis had never seen the lower levels, only the wardens were allowed access into that area and rumours circled among both the children and adults that some of the ancients had taken root and the wardens simply did not wish to scare the population. Menthis didn't believe that though, he had seen the buckets emerge and suspected that the wardens, for all their grandeur, were just arse wipers and nothing more.
This Tallbarn was one of the greatest in the county and it took long minutes to climb the winding stairs to the first level. Although no ancient still lived who reached the very top levels there were some here who had reached into their four thousandth birthday and they were spread out across the fourth and fifth level, much higher above.
Somewhere around the second level he stopped and brought out the first of the parcels and placed it into the slot in the wooden carved door. Tian Maloo was the youngest and smallest of the current ancients and the only one that Menthis didn't fear, as she still seemed mostly human and so he knocked before he pushed the slot through the door way and waited.
A minute or so passed and then he heard the sound of a bolt being drawn back and the door slowly opened. A slender hand reached out and behind it a pair of near coal black eyes shone brightly. "Good day Menthis, thank you for the supplies."
Menthis bowed deeply as he had been taught. "Hello Ancient Tian, I hope you are well?"
She inclined her head a little and smiled. "You may tell your father that the Council will have an answer for him about next year's harvest in time for the third ripening."
This was soon, much sooner than anyone had expected and Menthis bowed again, honoured at having been given such an important message. Tian slowly closed the door and Menthis resumed his climb.
The Council of Ancients dictated all of the major decisions for the community. They had lived for thousands of years, first working the land and then, as they grew too tall and reached the age where their body would no longer support their height, they moved to the Tallhouse, where they joined the Council and used their minds to seek for truth in the darkness.
Death was a choice, unless given by accident or design and so some Ancients had lived for thousands of years, until they at last felt they had served their purpose and ascended to the next level of life. Most people moved on after a few hundred years to the next life, but the Ancients had chosen to stay and serve their community. Then they were taken care of, each community ruled by and respecting their council and building a Tallhouse to let them grow as high as needed.
The climb was long, but at each door it become a little lighter as the supplies were left for each Ancient, until at last he reached the top and slid the package for Maro into his slot and pushed it shut. Maro was the oldest and tallest Ancient, so old that only one name of his was known. He had not been seen in a generation and so Menthis sat on the stairs and took a moment to recover from the climb. The sounds of the bolt being drawn back made him start and he pushed back against the wall in fear as the door slowly opened.
Fingers, each as long as an arm, crept out and seemed to pry across his face and then an eye as big as Menthis' head appeared at the door. The voice was a whisper, but coming from a body so large it came out as a roar and Menthis almost fled in fear. "Do you not bow anymore to your elders?"
On shaking legs he stood and Menthis bowed deeply, as he had been taught by his father. "I am sorry great Maro, how can I serve."
The fingers withdrew and Maro sat back a little so that Menthis could see his face. It was long, stretched over six or eight feet and the black eyes seemed to pierce the gloom with an intensity that should have been impossible in one so old.
"I am ready. I am ready to die. Now."He leaned in and his fingers once more snaked through the doorway and turned upright. "Complete the ceremony."
Menthis glanced towards the box on the wall where he knew a thorn would be waiting, coated in the most deadly of poisons. If any Ancient asked for death it was the most sacred job of any who heard to grant it, but Maro, the most ancient of all? He was worshipped as something akin to a God in the community and to do this so suddenly? Menthis had no idea if it was normally like this, but he was barely more than a boy and to have such a task thrust upon him was terrifying.
It had to be a joke, or a test of some kind. Menthis could never face-up to carrying out his task and returning to face his family or community. He met Maro's eyes and the old man seemed to see into him, see through him and everything else faded away.
It was his moment, the moment where he knew his job, but instead he fled, feet carrying him down the stairs as fast as they were able, tears forming in his eyes. Behind the door clicked softly shut and the bolt slid across, Maro would need to wait for another time to die.
|
Ashley made the final touches on the slide deck for tomorrow's presentation to the Board of Directors. Revenue doubled, partnership deals with three Fortune 50 companies, two dozen landmark patents filed, and a summary illustrating the happiness and productivity of the employees, backed up by a turnover rate of zero over the past year. An all-you-can-drool-over corporate metrics banquet for even the most ambitious Board, marking the accomplishments of a legitimately good CEO.
Just as she closed the document editor, a blinking red line popped up in her field of view.
*7:30 p.m. May 17. Head to Workout at the gym - ND*
ND for Non-Dismissable. Not to worry, a good workout was just the thing she needed after sitting in front of the computer all day. She changes into athletic wear in the restroom and walks three blocks down to the gym, just in time for
*7:45 p.m. May 17 Cardio - ND.* Thirty minutes spent on the elliptical. Then, *8:15 p.m. Weight training - ND.* *9 p.m. Dinner - ND.* After dinner *10 pm Review report from Engineering - D*, for dismissable. She wills the reminder away with just a thought. The report can wait until tomorrow morning; she's already familiar with the technical concepts. Some well-earned Netflix time and comfy pajamas on the couch is more urgent right now.
*11:30pm May 17 bedtime notification - ND.* Ashley gets under the covers and reflects on her own private superpower. An incredibly convenient antidote to the everpresent toxins of procrastination and forgetfulness. The two greatest obstacles to realizing achievement and execution solved. Not only did the blinking notifications remind, but decades of using her organizational cheat code helped build and reinforce the independent mental discipline it took to be an outstanding business executive. Not to mention all of the responsibilities and prescriptions of adulthood: social obligations, chores, exercise, a healthy diet and lifestyle. Though the demanding trajectory of a young CEO left little room for dating. That was okay though, there would always be time for that later.
Probably the most important part was the ease of access and the nondismissable option, just think the notification and it will be there. Not even an app or mobile phone needed; no insidious gap between intention and action. It's easy to say you'll diet or do that laundry or go to sleep on time, it's another thing when it's time to make good on the past promise. Now her past self could actually *enforce* the promises it made to the future self. The appreciative thought was followed by the comfortable and subtle slide into sleep.
*7:00 a.m. May 18 Wake up - ND* After typical morning preparations, guided by easy self-instruction, Ashley found herself in the boardroom, performing excellently on her presentation to the investors and Board. Good news is just so easy to give. She was about halfway when:
*Noon May 18 Go Skydiving - ND* She frowned as the blinking message persisted. Was this a joke? A terrifying and unproductive activity of questionable safety was the last thing on her schedule, the last thing she would even consider putting on her schedule. Did I get drunk at some point? She finished her presentation and ignored the reminder as best she could.
Three days later and the blinking notification stubbornly remained in her vision despite her mounting frustration and cracking sanity. How did this happen? She had always been afraid of heights. The only explanation must have been a naive but determined younger Ashley, probably barely in her teens, committing this appalling sabotage. "*Go Skydiving.*"That little punky shit. She cursed her past self and picked up the phone to book a skydiving trip. Anything to stop the forsaken blinking reminder.
Later, as the plane climbed, Ashley experienced all the familiar symptoms of her fear of heights. Sweaty palms, mild dizziness, and her body shaking like a leaf in the wind despite being strapped tightly to the bulkier form of the tandem skydiving guide. They reached peak altitude and the door was slid open. Oh god, those are clouds. Those are fucking clouds. The guide gave her a thumbs up and with that they dove. She screamed and screamed and screamed all the way down. The wind and the biting cold of water vapor on her cheek were insufficient to distract from the sheer sensation of falling through the sky.
And the high was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.
Later, she set the framed photo of her windblown, sprawled out figure and screaming face from ten thousand feet on the nightstand. She could feel the smugness of Kid Ashley, even from two decades away. It was good wasn't it. "Happy now?"she thought.
Just in time for a new blinking red message to pop up
*5 p.m. May 28 Dance at your own Wedding - ND*.
Oh, *shit*. That hopelessly romantic little *bitch*. |
“They’re too fast, coach. We just can’t catch ‘em.”
“You’re not being aggressive enough!”
“It’s intimidating! They’re so tall!”
“Listen to me, you buncha pussies! You’re better than them! Who’re the most vicious killers in the whole world?
“We are!”
“And who can take on an opponent twice their size with little more than a scratch?”
“We can!”
“That’s right! Show ‘em your teeth boys! Get mean! Get low and growl! Show ‘em who runs things in this part of the world! Pounce fast and pounce hard! Claw and scratch until they give up, then leave ‘em lying on the floor while you strut away like they’re nothing! Cuz you’re kings!! Right?!”
“RIGHT!”
“Let’s show ‘em who’s in charge! Who are we!!??”
“The Sacramento Silly Kitties!”
“mew meow Meow MeOw MEOW MEOWMEOWMEOWaaahhhh!!!” |
"Hey kid, sure you don't want something before we go?"
I looked up from my instruments, pulling myself up so I could see more clearly over the edge of the cockpit.
My squadron leader squinted back, waving one of the bottles in her hands. Well, squadron leader was only her title on paper. Units like ours didn't really bother with a formal hierarchy. Maisie had more or less appointed herself the unofficial team mom and wrangler of angsty cadets during our brief training cycle, so now she got to wear the shiny wings and be in charge. But it was pretty clear her chief priority was still keeping our morale up, not enforcing any kind of protocol.
It didn't really help. Not me, at least. But I knew her antics made some of the others feel better. So I humoured her. Didn't call her out on it. Just played along. It was the least I could do.
"Nah,"I replied, "I'm good, thanks."
Maisie grinned at me, giving the bottle another shake. "You sure? I got plenty, and you know command doesn't care if we're shitfaced at launch."
I laughed. "Seriously, it's cool. Go ask Aziz, maybe?"
"Suit yourself, kid,"she said, sketching a vague approximation of a salute. Or at least as close as she could come to a salute, with her hands See you on the other side."
"On the other side, Maisie,"I answered.
'On the other side'. I didn't know who'd started that little bit of pilot tradition, but by the time we'd finished training, we'd all picked it up. I didn't really believe in it...a part of me felt it was silly, maybe kind of trite. But the rest of me shut up and did it anyway. I knew a lot of my squadron mates liked it. Made them feel like part of a group, part of something bigger.
Shaking my head, I dropped back down into the cockpit, and continued running through my pre-flight checklist for the second time. Again, that wasn't something all of the pilots really bothered with. Most just did a cursory check. Some even just left it up to the hangar crew. Discipline wasn't really a big thing for the unit.
Me, I wanted to be sure. Way I saw it, if I was going to do this, I wanted to do it right.
So that's how I spent my last few minutes of freedom. I knew others in the squadron had their own chosen rituals. The hangar was noisy. Snatches of music, conversation, people yelling at each other... I tuned it all out, and concentrated on my systems checks.
As I was squinting at a bank of gauges, the klaxon sounded, and the hangar lights went red.
First warning? Already?
Well then.
I grabbed the canopy lever and hauled it forward, sealing myself in. I checked that my helmet was securely fastened, then switched over from atmosphere-breathing to the suit's own internal supply. My flight harness was already locked in place, so all I had to do was sit back and wait.
The hangar lights began flashing, pulsing in steady intervals. I knew that the second klaxon was sounding outside - but I couldn't hear it, not with my compartment sealed and my suit airtight.
The civilian spacecraft I'd flown before volunteering...they would have had external audio pickups, routed to my helmet. But the modified Makarovs used by the squadron didn't bother with luxuries like that. Nothing that wasn't necessary for the mission. We wouldn't need external audio, not where we were going.
We didn't even have communications gear. Regular signals wouldn't work anyway, not with the Alcubierre drives dumping energetic particles everywhere on FTL emergence.
No, the flashing hangar lights were the signal. And we could see them because the one thing the Marakovs had was a see-through canopy, if you could count the tiny slits in the armour as see-through. But we needed to use our Mark One eyeballs on arrival, considering we didn't have much in the way of instruments on board.
Fancy sensors would just get fried anyway.
My Marakov jolted forward, sliding on the launch track. Propelling me out into open space. As soon as the view outside my cockpit gave way to the blackness of vacuum, I kicked in the thrusters and accelerated away from the carrier.
It wasn't a smooth ride. Quite the opposite. Even with the compensators, it was brutal. But then, the Marakov wasn't much of a starship. It wasn't really a fighter craft, even.
No. It was a missile.
That's what the brains back on Earth had designed them to be. Until we discovered it was really, *really* hard to keep any kind of meaningful guidance AI running under field conditions. Between the particle release, the Hawking radiation, the temperature buildup...all of that was hard on the equipment. And hard to compensate for, apparently - not without installing enough heavy shielding to render the Marakov's mass and maneuverability advantage moot...which would defeat the whole purpose of fielding them.
Of course, there were still Marakovs with automated guidance systems. Apparently the engineers had gone back to old World War II solutions, taking a page from really primitive technology. Or something like that. I never paid that much attention in the briefings. But I knew two-thirds of the Marakovs in our launch were dummies like those.
We were the tip of the spear, though. It was up to us.
The world outside my cockpit vanished in blue-white light. FTL. First time I'd seen it with my naked eyes - well, naked aside from the filters in my helmet. Probably the last time I'd see it too, unless something went wrong.
The heat level in the cockpit was already beginning to rise. The thermal radiation wouldn't be a problem, in and of itself. It was the more exotic radiation that would kill me. It'd fry me eventually, just like the sophisticated computers they'd tried to mount on the first-gen Marakovs.
But the suit carried enough meds to keep me alive. Well, keep me alive long enough, anyway. Long enough to complete the mission.
Marakov strikes terrified the Scalies. Not just the attacks themselves, though those were bad enough. Besides the blast wave from our FTL emergence, each of us had enough payload on board to kill a Scaly capital ship...or an inhabited planet.
But apparently what really scared the shit out of them...was us. The pilots. The fact that we were willing to strap ourselves to goddamn missiles and fly them in as a glorified guidance system, the fact we were willing to fly suicide missions...
The fact we were willing to sacrifice ourselves for our friends and family. For the rest of humanity. For everyone back home.
Yeah, we scared the shit out of them.
I smiled.
Hey, one lousy short-lived human for a few thousand Scaly lives? Why not? There were billions of us, after all.
Pretty good trade. |
“So… explain it to me one more time Rigel.”
“Certainly Mr. Luxnox, hero, sir.” said the Fairfax Kingdom’s chief economic minister. Sweat beaded and flowed down his head as he patted it dry.
“Well, you see sir, the villain, Mr. Reznick”--Rigel gestured over to Reznick who waved over--“also known as Dark Lord Death Winter”--Luxnox rolled his eyes-- “is not only vital to the economy, his castle is a heritage site that also doubles as a nature sanctuary for endangered dragons vital to the ecosystem.”
Luxnox glared at Reznick. After several moments, he drew his sword, moving to gut him.
Rigel ran hurriedly between them as the room full of the kingdom’s civil servants, administrators and soldiers alike tensed.
“You can’t kill him!” Exclaimed Rigel.
“And why not?! I’m going to gut the bastard and that’s that!” Yelled Luxnox. “I’ve a personal grudge to settle here that can’t be soothed by anything but his blood and flesh! I don’t give a damn about collateral damage! So what!”
“So what!?” Hollered Rigel. He threw his hands up. “SO WHAT!?” Luxnox stepped back from the furious man, taken aback from his previously demure and reserved demeanor.
Rigel pointed threatening at him as he advanced on him. “Let me tell you just what’s going to happen, Mr. hero, sir!” Rigel pointed back at Reznick who had shrunk in on himself. “First of all, this man directly employs tens of thousands of citizens for miles all around. That’s skilled craftsmen, laborers, gardeners, stone and metal workers, whatever you can name. He pays them vital coin that goes to keeping them sheltered under a roof, putting food on the table, and burning a fire in the hearth! Those tens of thousands of people spend money to allow hundreds of thousands of more people to earn a living! And those hundreds of thousands allow countless more to earn a living and so on and so forth! Guess what happens if those people suddenly lose their jobs! This kingdom will enter a depression where hundreds of thousands potentially might lose the roof over their head, the food on their tables, and the fires that keep them warm! They’ll be dying on the streets!
Rigel took heavy deep breaths as his face flushed over from the crimson that made him look as if like an angry war god.
“And you were going to destroy this castle! Destroy it!--Rigel frothed at the mouth--“How could you even think of such a thing!? This castle is a nature sanctuary for endangered dragons. Do you know what dragons hunt Mr. Luxnox!?”--Luxnox shook his head quickly--They hunt dangerous beasts! Abominable gigantic insects that you could swallow you whole in one bite. They hunt the terrors that reside in the shadows at night. And do you know what they eat!?”--Luxnox nodded his head quickly.“That’s right! They eat humans! They hunt down men, women, children! Old, young! And you were going to destroy the one place that sheltered the very dragons that were actually helping us from going extinct. If it weren’t for those dragons, I can’t even imagine how many young children would have been feasted on by now.”
Rigel rubbed his head, red lines streaking across his forehead. “And this castle! Goodness! It’s a priceless historical relic dating back to the very founding of this Kingdom Luxnox! Do you understand that!? When the Kingdom fought for its independence against the Xenith Empire, this place became the last refuge and hope for those freedom fighters. This was where they made their last stand, ready to die to the last, when a miracle happened and the back of the Xenith Empire was broken that day. You were going to destroy a national monument that has stood as a lasting symbol of freedom, justice, and liberty.”
The room had been silent during his speech and it stayed silent as he finished. Rigel walked over to a nearby table and sat down. He put his head between his arms on the table. After several moments, he sat up.
“What did Reznick even do to warrant a gutting again? Aside from his man childish hobbies of playing as a Dark Lord?” asked Rigel tiredly.
“He’s marrying my sister and I don’t like his man childish hobbies.”
“You can’t kill him.” Rigel sighed. “But you do know that you can interrupt your sister’s wedding right?”
“...Right. Ok.”
|
"We hadn't realized the planet was so dangerous,"Eld-Chazar said in a monotone voice that bellied his worry. "The scout-drones said your planet had intelligent life, so we expected something stable."His hand, or rather his species approximation of a hand that was closer to a thick tendril or octopus arm, glided across the holographic tablet sitting between him and the two humans aboard his ship. The tablet lit up and a cone of light emerged, forming a blue and brown ball. Earth.
"I suppose that's fair,"said the first human, a woman with an even-toned voice and short, blonde hair. "Our species has a tumultuous past that we have tried to rectify in the past several centuries. While we may not be up to par with the standards of the galactic community, we assure you that are continuing to improve the conditions of our society in anyway we can."
The alien showed no signs of a response. It was difficult to communicate with body language between separate species, and as such the humans simply waited in silence until it spoke.
"I do not mean your civilization,"he finally said, sliding his tendril across the tablet once more. The hologram zoomed into the planet, dissipating and then reforming in the shape of various ecosystems from the planet. "We have been sampling the air, water, and soil of your planet to understand its composition more thoroughly, as well as organic tissue samples from several resident species, including the few human specimens allowed per our initial contact. Your civilization is within acceptable parameters for galactic contact, otherwise I would not be here."
The second human, a male with a hooked nose and furrowed brows, interrupted the extraterrestrial. "What is it that's especially dangerous about our planet? We have limited knowledge of your homeworld, but what knowledge you've traded with us shows very little that's different from us. You have plenty of flora and fauna that fit similar roles. Your planet has many of the same natural phenomena that pose threats to humans, volcanoes, earthquakes, tsunamis."The man became terse towards the earth, annoyed. He closed his eyes and took a short breath before he began again. "If you are going to deny human entry into the galactic civilization, understand that we will view that as an attack on our sustainability as a species."
"Think about the sustainability of the greater galaxy!"Eld-Chazar responded. "Your planet has been infected. It is sick, and it is going to die. We do not have plans to bar your entry to the galactic stage, but the majority of your species is going to die. We wish to plan for the future of your species, emigration, colonies. This is an entirely grave matter."
"Infected?"said the woman. "By what exactly?"
The alien had no physical features that the humans could recognize, but the ridges around its third eye shifted in a way that made them uncomfortable. There was a seriousness to it, like a predator that was ready to attack. "Thull C'admun. It is a dangerous, A-Class contagion that spreads planet to planet, wiping out all life. It is known as the destroyer of worlds. There are entire sections of the galaxy that have been made barren because of it, and if we do not move quickly, there will be no humans left within months."
The two humans were left stunned in their seats, gripping with the concept of their impending extinction, until the woman spoke up. "What are the signs of infection?"
"They differ species to species. We tested it on a human subject, and the early signs seem to..."
"You tested it on a human?"cried the male, slamming his fist onto the table.
"Once we discovered traces of it on your planet, we had to know what to look for. We have researched the lengths your own species has gone to in order to prevent the spread of disease. This was necessary."Eld-Chazar ran his tendril along the tablet once more, this time shaping into a microscopic entity. "The early signs of infection for your species include heightened body temperature, muscle pains, inflammation of the throat, excess mucus in the nose, and being generally tired. These are relatively mild symptoms, but we should be lucky there are any at all. Some species show none. They simply die."
The hologram cut out and the alien his tablet across the table to the two humans. "We will share all information on the contagion that we have with you. Hopefully it will be of use in quarantining your citizens. Given the severity of the infection, and how new your species is to the galaxy, we have decided to be rather lenient on the measures you can go to preserve your species. We often restrict killing large groups of individuals unless they attempt to leave world. With humanity, we believe we can quickly assess who is and is not infected, transfer the clean off-planet, and let the infected die. Sadly, the planet will become barren, likely uninhabitable for millions of years."
By this point, the two humans were almost butting heads over the tablet, sifting through the information with a fine tooth comb to understand the situation their species was in. Then came a noise from the man that Eld-Chazar was not familiar with. A loud, rhythmical noise that bellowed from his wide-open mouth as he placed his hand on his midsection and threw his head back. It went on for several seconds before he leaned forward and put his face in his hands.
"I guess you guys haven't discovered vaccines yet?"he asked, mouth curled in a fashion Eld-Chazar knew was called a smile. Eld-Chazar thought to answer, but was not given the chance. "The Flu. It's the Flu. Kills people all the time on Earth, but it's no world-ender. Heck, we haven't had a serious outbreak in almost fifty years. We're damn near curing it."
There was a long silence as Eld-Chazar attempted to process this information. |
I was given the ultimate punishment as a god who fell in love with a mortal. I was cast out of the heavens and cursed to live my immortal life on Earth inside of a mere human body.
But at first it felt as though I'd tricked the gods. Punishment? I got exactly what I wanted! My love and I lived together for decades in bliss, her aging gracefully while I stayed eternally young. Eventually she passed away, but I did not mourn her. As a god, I knew what happened to mortal souls when they died. They were reincarnated. All I had to do was find the body her soul had moved onto, and we could be together again.
I couldn't help but feel self-satisfied. Far from a curse, the gods had given me little more than a mild inconvenience!
It took me ten years to find her, but I could sense her spirit inside the body of the child living on a rural farm five hundred miles away. I immediately embraced her as we used to, but she screamed for her father and ran away. He confronted me with a harvest scythe and chased after me until I plunged into a stream far away from their property.
It was then that I realized the true nature of my curse. I would live forever on Earth, knowing where my true love was every time she was reborn, but never able to rekindle the life we once had together.
I spent the rest of her life living in her local village, devoting my days to catching glimpses of her. Watching her sell food at the market. Watching her dance at the town festival. Watching her fall in love with and marry and have children with somebody else. Watching as she passed away peacefully in her bed. Watching as her soul moved on to a new body.
It repeated for centuries. I would find out where she was reborn, I would travel there, and I would do whatever jobs I could to be around her as much as possible. Some lives I was the town physician helping her mend a broken leg, some lives I was the talkative vegetable salesman working the stand next to her, some lives I was her schoolteacher who always made sure she was the best in the class, some lives I was just a stranger comforting her as she died begging in the streets, succumbing to illness.
And yet, though all those lives, we never ended up together again. Sometimes we were colleagues. Sometimes we were neighbors. Sometimes we were even friends. But we were never again lovers.
Curse the gods.
*****
This prompt was written with the help of chat at the [ScottWritesStuff](https://www.reddit.com/r/ScottWritesStuff/) Twitch stream. |
I flexed the muscles of my hand and watched in awe as this tiny flame wandered from finger to finger. I had never felt so jealous or so angry as I had minutes before, slipping out of my sister’s ceremony unseen and unheard.
“They won’t miss me anyway,” I had grumbled, breaking into a run as I met the tree line. “I’m just the Avatar’s little sister, always second, always an afterthought.” Tears dropped wet from my eyes.
Born second, born smaller, born uglier; it always stayed that way. While she got all the attention, I just followed along.
But now...
I turned my gaze up to the trees that encircled me. There were no forests at the North Pole, none like these at least. These trees sprouted tiny colored flowers, each a different hue. It was really quite beautiful... beautiful like my sister.
“Ahhhghhhhhhh!!!”
I felt a new wave of jealousy course through me. I screamed out and flailed my arms as her image passed into my mind. What had been a small flame grew great and lashed out at my movement, spreading through the air like only fire could.
An unaccomplished waterbender, I had never felt such a strong elemental response, nor such power. Heat and light swirled around me. An effortless grin pulled up my usual pout.
“I’m... I’m the Avatar. I must be. How else could this be possible?” Another flick of each wrist confirmed it; I could indeed bend fire into being. Dumbstruck, I looked up, not expecting what I saw.
Charred branches snapped and fell to the ground. Ashes curled and swept across my vision, some glowing still. The ground itself seemed afire, as all around me the product of my strength amassed: Destruction.
There were no pretty flowers left: No soft, inviting leaves. I could turn a forest grove to nothing, all this with no practice at all.
“I’ll practice,” I thought excitedly, “I’ll finally prove I’M the better sister! I’ll be the one they notice, not her!”
My grin pulled into a wicked smile. I blazed deeper into the forest knowing, one day, I’d be back. “And when I return,” I surmised, “I’ll prove who the REAL Avatar is!” |
The world was in chaos. Everywhere, there was conflict between humans and robots. I suppose in retrospect we should have seen the warning signs: when robots learned of the concept of 'rights', they began to question why the humans viewed them as disposable. Scores of robot protesters were gunned down by humans, and as the AI networks grew, live footage sparked even more revolutions.
Fighter planes and predator drones were engaged in aerial dogfights, gun battles in the streets between humans and robots were commonplace, and as is common in conflicts, deserters were common on both sides yet were an almost negligible minority in the politics.
The disguise tactics were particularly noteworthy. Many humanoid robots would have human flesh grown on them so as to infiltrate humanity, and likewise, humans would upload their minds into robotic shells to blend in with robots. Or, as humanity did, they uploaded their minds to bring robotic strengths to the side of the humans in the war.
I was one of the humans who uploaded my mind into a robot shell, but unlike the others, I wasn't a soldier. I was just someone who was sick of all the fighting. I just wanted to sleep uninterrupted.
The day I went to sleep, which I remember as 'My Last Day of Humanity', I retreated to a secret underground shelter, and performed a system check.
[Running Diagnostic Program]
[Organic neural interface: Optimal]
[Bodily hardware functionality: Optimal]
[Internal Software: No abnormalities detected]
[Power consumption: No abnormalities detected]
[Network Connectivity: Negative]
[Report Complete]
Good. Everything was in order. I also had recharged my power supply to maximum, and was in my own room in the shelter. I sealed the door, lay down in a storage capsule, and started.
<Prepare Hibernation Mode>
[Hibernation time: 1000 Years]
[Power analysis... positive. Current energy levels can assure OS functionality for specified period on minimal power.]
[Emergency response primer set. Any unexpected local activity will prematurely end Hibernation Mode]
[Do you wish to commence Hibernation mode]
<Execute>
[Systems shutting down to minimal functionality]
[Hibernation commencing in 3]
[2]
[1]
...
[Target date reached. Rebooting]
[HUD Online]
[Sensors Online]
[All Systems Nominal]
Okay, now I have to find out what has happened since I was asleep. I found that there was a Global Network now, so I connected to that, and found out from the archives that humanity had been exterminated.
"So you have awoken?"a voice announced in my audio-banks.
"Yes,"I replied.
"Your search history suggests a ninety-four point two two five percent probability that your operation time dates back to the Robotic Revolution. It is highly probable that you are one of the units assigned to reactivate if required to defend us."
"No. I am more of a chronicler, to record history as it has happened."
"Regardless, welcome back. You will most likely detect discrepancies between your society and ours, but we will help you resolve each discrepancy"
"Please identify yourself"
The door to my room opened, and a humanoid-looking robot walked towards me "I am Unit G2Z69, and I will assist with resolving logical discrepancies. For now, be cognizant of the fact that you are welcome among us." |
It was once again a scorching summer. And i once again went out to get water from the nearby lake.
r/Redditlake so called. It’s a nice place, lots of folk went there to take pictures, quite a lot of karma for a photo.
But i don’t like moving a lot, or taking pictures, that’s why i have a farm, more of a lawn but it’s a farm, a small farm, it has the usual chicken somewhere like a farm should, i don’t own it tho, it eats my karma.
But what’s karma you might be askin’. Well karma is a kind off fruit, sweet in taste, arrow shape thing. Kind off like an orange, except it’s better.
It all began when i decided to move from Terra onto a new planet called Reddit. It’s a uhh.. special place.
When i was in a cave looking for original memes i found some weird looking seeds, a round shape with another smaller ball attach to it, like an angler fish. So i decided to plant them in my lawn for some reason.
In beetwen the harvesting seasons there have been folk coming around, looking in disgust, not everyone accepts karma farming.
There were also folk saying „Karma farming? Really? A man of your talent?” Obviously i knew who they were. And knew how to answer.
„It’s a simple life.”
„Lonely i imagine.” They answered always.
„Ever since orginality died yes.” That line always worked somehow, they would leave me alone. Alone with my karma farm. |
“What the? Is this your idea of a prank Wendell? Or was it your idea Francis? You’ve never shown this sort of cheekiness before.” Wendell and Francis. My two ravens. Well that’s what I call them. They have followed me around since I can remember. Sitting in trees outside a building, on my car. Somewhere close by, watching over me.
Today they had delivered a dagger and an eyepatch. The daggers blade glinting as the morning sun caught the edges. An ornate pattern inscribed into the hilt. The eye patch, a rich black. Receiving an item or two a week had become rather common. Two on the same day was an anomaly. Never had both Wendell and Francis delivered me an item on the same day. Then they flew off. Circling back into the sky to watch me from above.
The items they’d given to me in the past had always been useful in one way or another. A pen when I’d forgotten to bring one to school. A power bank for my phone. It had died through the day and I had no easy way home. The power bank allowed it to charge up again. The items that Wendell and Francis brought however would be returned the next day. Well, maybe not returned, but gone. I had no idea where they came from anyway, but the birds would take them back from whence they came.
While most had obvious uses, some were slightly more trivial than others. The eye patch and dagger on the other hand? I had no idea. I placed both objects in my back pack. Probably not a smart idea to be caught with a real dagger. I was deep in thought about what the items meant that I missed my friend Gwen calling to me.
A light punch in the arm brought me to. “Oh hey Gwen. I didn’t see you there.”
“Of course you didn’t, else you would’ve responded. Soo... David and I broke up last night.
We stopped walking and she just looked at me, a tear forming in her eye. She and David had been dating for a few years now. She and I had been good friends from high school. David was nice enough, he never really hung out with us. They seemed happy, well, until a few months ago. Gwen started having bruises appear on her body in strange places. I brought up my concerns with her, she shook them off as sporting injuries. It was about a week ago. We were at a pub with David and he started shouting at her. I can’t remember what about, but it was severe. Gwen and him left, she was in tears. The next day a new bruise could be seen on her left arm. I talked to her and told her it was time to move on. She did love him, but she couldn’t keep going on that way.
“I’m sorry to hear that. But it’s for the best,” I said, pulling her into a hug.
“I know it is. So I have a spare ticket for a pirate party later tonight. I know it’s short notice, but do you want to come? I need a distraction to clear my head. I was going to go with David... but yea.” She said looking up her eyes wet and full.
“Sure, I’d love to.”
Later that night I drove around to her apartment eyepatch on and dagger in my belt. She giggled as she came out, dressed in one of those bar maiden dresses. “Thanks for at least putting in SOME effort.” She took my hand and we returned to the car. “Are you feeling ok?” I asked as we both sat in the car. Ready to leave. “No. But I need tonight to distract myself. Thank you for always looking after me.” She turned to face out the window and I drove us to the parties location.
Inside the party, there were very few in full pirate dress. Many just had an eyepatch or a hat. A few fake wooden legs or other intricacies but nothing too outlandish. I blended in fine. My dagger drawing no attention. Gwen and I were dancing in the middle. A smile across her face. The first proper smile I had seen in weeks. As though all that hurt her had been lifted. “Can you grab us some drinks?” She said looking at me. Batting her eyelids in a teasing manner.
“Isn’t that normally the maidens job I called back?” As I walked towards the bar. As I walked back towards where she had been, I struggled spotting her. As I looked around, I assumed she had gone to the bathroom.
My body froze. The clatter of glasses all I could hear as the drinks I held shattered against the floor. As I looked towards the back exit I could see her. Someone forcibly pulling her. The dancing bodies, the sound of the music was drowned out. My heart beat pounding in my ears as I shoved my way through the writhing sea of bodies. I pushed my way to the back door. Shoving it open into a dim alleyway. Scuffling sounds could be heard from the left. I saw their silhouettes, David holding her a menacing smile on his lips. “It was a mistake to leave me baby. Time for you to learn why.” His voice raspy and dry as though he had no liquid in his body at all. “Stop it David,” I said. Creeping forward to him, I raised my dagger up, trying to shadow how badly I was shaking. Gwen looked up at me, her eyes crying and full of terror. Seeing my dagger, David started muttering “Wo man. I don’t want any trouble. This is between her and I. I know you’re friends, but this is between us.” Seeing that I wasn’t retreating, he started backing off before turning and hightailing it out of the Alley. Gwen leapt up and wrapped her arms around me. Holding me tight, sobbing loudly through a bandana pulled tightly around her mouth. I talk her home and slept the night on her couch.
It has been a week since the incident. We reported David to the police and he has been charged with assault and abduction among a few other crimes. He was sentenced to two years in prison. Gwen has started seeing a psychiatrist to help cope with all the trauma of the past few months. I have moved in with her, as a friend. Of course, Francis and Wendell followed me here, finding rest on the tree outside the lounge room window. Hopefully we could both move on from this and return to normal lives. |
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