post_text stringlengths 0 10k | post_title stringlengths 8 313 | chosen stringlengths 1 39.5k | rejected stringlengths 1 13.8k |
|---|---|---|---|
[WP] Warriors killed in battle don't go to Heaven or Hell, they stand guard in between. | "This is fuckin' stupid, Sargent." Ramirez said, spitting dip on the cloud floor. "We fuckin' die, and we get stuck here? This is bullshit. I enlisted on the idea that it was four years or one death, ya know? 'Six feet under or out the front gate, either way your out of the Corps', ya know? Well I'm dead, and I want out. Some kinda heavenly GI Bill or some shit, go to college."
"Ramirez, what the fuck would you go to college for?" Nyugen asked, sitting down in the VC seat of the humvee.
"Uh, fuckin' eighteen year olds and smokin' pot? Who gives a shit, I ain't paying for it." He answered, leaning on the hood and resting his SAW on his knees.
"Well, its right there in the hymn, bro. 'Streets of heaven'." Nyguen answered, lighting a cigarette with another.
"Moto bullshit, man. That wasn't in my fuckin' contract. And we ain't even guarding the streets of heaven, heaven probably has some sick clubs. We're stuck between the two, making sure no one gets out. Who the fuck tries to break out of fuckin' heaven, man? Even dead we got dumb ass officers fuckin' us over."
"Well, we wouldn't have this problem if DIPSHIT over there didn't roll the fucking truck into the Helmand. YEAH YOU MOTHER FUCKER." Nyugen yelled at Hartagan, who was about fifty yards away and looked up. "AND DON'T STOP DIGGING TILL YOU HIT EARTH, OR HELL, OR FUCKING SOMETHING, BOOT!"
"Yo, maybe this *is* hell." Ramirez reflected. "Like, two deployments of standing post you know, I thought, 'Man, fuck this. Spending eight hours in a cold wooden box by your self, tired n hungry n shit. Nothing to but beat off and stare at goats through NVGs. I fuckin' hate goats, man. This how motherfuckers go insane man, it's fuckin' torture.' And here we the fuck are, dead and still doing it."
"Ramirez, Hell is two klicks that way, you can see it on the BFT. I'm pretty sure this ain't hell."
"I wish we got Hell duty, man. I got a boy from boot camp over there. They get to shoot demons with fifties n shit. It's fuckin' metal as hell. Oh, and fridays, on fridays, dog, they get to unload Marks into this like, pool of boiling blood and sinners and shit. He says Satan's a cool as shit BC. It's fuckin' skate, man." Ramirez said, pacing.
"Oh, and where you think all the whores go, player? Not fuckin' heaven. You get cut for the day and there's all types of big titty succubuses just lined the fuck up for ya. That's the fuckin' life."
"You really want to fuck a demon?" Nyguen asked.
"Oh, and you don't? Some big titty demon bitch, been fuckin' since Moses? Brother, tell me you wouldn't. I fuckin' would, in a heart beat, bro. Just grab on to her horns, lift the tail up and stick in right in her ass, man. This is like, supernatural pussy we're talkin' about. I'll slay that shit like a fuckin' exorcist." Ramirez said, holding his SAW in front of his crotch and making thrusting motions.
"I'd let you go first and wait a few days to see what the fuck happens to your dick." Nyugen relented. There was a moment of silence.
"Fuck, man. I got my self all worked up." Ramirez said. "I'm gonna go beat off behind the truck."
"Alright. Don't do on the heaven side though."
"I'm fuckin' gonna!" Ramirez called over his shoulder. "Let the heavenly cock suckers watch, I don't give a fuck!"
| Willem charged with his brethren, his army, his men. His horse had been shot, right through the eye, and his left arm still hurt from the impact of falling off the limp animal mid trot. He wore his Houses green and pearl armour, the Shark that was his Houses symbol indented on his whole chest. He held a great, thick claymore with both his hands, the weight emphasising the sting in his left arm. He felt the huge bellows from the men behind him, and the ones at his side. The cry came from him instinctively, the smell of metal and sweat, here and there the stench of blood or some craven letting their bowels loose.
He smashed into the enemies ranks with great force, his claymore pointed forward, slamming into the small visor of a soldier brought to his knees by his rush. An arrow whipped past his own helmet, so close he took a step back. The claymore hadn't fit into the visor, rather pushed it's way inside, letting the broken metal clamp onto the blade. Willem then realised it could've been the man's skull, but he didn't have enough time to linger on the thought, as a man's blade slashed and stabbed at his throat, bashing the helm from Willems helm. He fell, his arse bashing into the muddy ground, splashing up onto the legs of the man behind him. "Help! Help!" He screamed at the man, one of his own. Help the man did, pushing the spear into Willems' attackers chest. Willem let his eyes shut, only to feel a sudden sharp sensation end him.
(I'll continue this if someone wants.) | |
[WP] Warriors killed in battle don't go to Heaven or Hell, they stand guard in between. | Max woke up gasping for air. He could not recognise the surroundings and his eyes were very blurry. "A lot of people, a lot of noise and commotion." - he thought to himself. He was lying on a strange, cold, stone-like table, next to others who also just woke up and also looked very confused. It looked like he was in the middle of a very big hall, and small islands of those stone-like tables appeared to be filling most of the floor space in this room. People appeared to be waking up and walking towards the entrance, some very slowly, looking confused, others much faster like they've done this routine many times before.
"Come on, get up warriors! Those who are here first time, find the marshall!" - shouted some really big guy walking past him. Max's eyes were getting better, but he could still not make out the details.
"What the hell is going on?! Where am I!?" - he asked someone who was walking past his stone-like table, grabbing his arm. He felt metal. Armor of some sort? Chainmail?
"Get off, ye worm!" - replied the man, punched Max in the face and walked off. It didn't hurt. He felt the pressure and force, but not pain.
"Hey bro! Are you here first time? Let me guess... Iraq?" - Asked some guy with Californian accent.
"Please help me, where am I!? What's going on!?" - cried Max
"Yo, slow down man, at this point there is nothing to worry about no more, take it in slow, calm down.. My name is Greg, what's yours? What's the last thing you remember?"
"I'm Max... I... I was fighting insurgents in northern Al-Anbar, we got surrounded..."
Greg interrupted him - "Bro, you're dead. You died in combat, therefore, you respawned here just ready for the daily battle, this is our afterlife, most call it Valhalla as the whole existence of this place is a result of ancient Norse beliefs"
"What are you talking about? Is this some sort of elaborate joke?" - Max was very anxious at this point as Greg didn't look like he was joking. Max could easily spot liars, and this man was appearing to be telling the truth or at least believe that what he is saying is true
"I'll give you a quick briefing as we don't have much time, we need to get ready. It turned out that our beliefs on earth actually shape what happens after we die. Every single belief that humans have or had in the past is somehow implemented in this whole Afterlife Algorithm"
"Afterlife Algorithm?" - asked Max.
"Sorry bro, I served in communications in Afganistan, IT background, it is easier to visualise it this way. The stronger the belief was on earth, the more people believed in a particular spiritual or religious idea, the stronger impact this belief will have on shaping the Afterlife. Then it all mixes up. It's like all religions are or were correct. Whatever you believe in, will shape this place is some way. This particular place exists because of the Vikings. They strongly believed that after death they get to do what they love the most in their life, forever."
"Which is?" - asked Max still not sure if he is actually awake
"Killing, fucking and feasting, bro. But there is more. As you can see, it also affects warriors from other cultures. You and me are here, you can see a lot of Slavic warriors, medieval knights in full plate armor, Roman chariots, there is even Neanderthal division which is normally fighting side by side with Berserkers."
Max looked around. His sight came back to normal by now and he started believing Greg's words. He saw warriors from all the eras of human history. All getting ready to fight, picking up weapons, checking their armors.
"Hey bud, you're lucky you were not devoted Christian as you would get fucked by the demons for eternity in hell. You see, pretty much all hardcore Christians go to hell. No man is without sin they say, and sinners go to hell. They fucked it up for themselves, royally. We don't have it that bad, thanks to Islam, we all get 70 girls after the battle, each. They were wrong about the virgin thing though. Suicide bombers are also fucked - Christian belief about suicide was stronger, straight to Hell. What religion are you by the way?"
"I'm an atheist" - replied Max
"Ohhh man!, you get to choose then! Lucky man!" - said Greg very excited
"Choose what?"
"No time for that now, bro. Demons and Angels are on the both sides of the Great Border, you gotta grab your stuff, now. We battle whole day, we fuck and eat and dance and sing all night, that's the routine. If you get killed in battle, you respawn here, over and over until the battle is done. We don't feel the pain in here which makes it pretty fun. Now, pick up that gun and get ready for the rest of eternity!"
"I guess I will have to ask more questions later" - said Max, grabbed his rifle and followed Greg towards the entrance.
**EDIT: Wow, I'm humbled by your comments, I have never tried this before, never been confident enough in my English skills (second language). Thanks so much, another part in comments, as requested.** | We all were killed in battle. Some were wars, some were small skirmishes. There are warriors from every continent, every race, religion. Vikings, Spartans, Maori, Legionaires, hell even Maximus was here.
The one thing we have in common is we never got into the salvation promised to us in life. No Heaven, Hell, Valhalla, or Elysium. None of these were given to us after our fall into the afterlife. We could see our respective afterlives, but are not able to venture out to them. They are forever out of our reach. Unattainable to us fallen warriors.
Instead, we guard in the fields of purgatory against the malevolent forces of the creatures of the night. Vampires, Werewolves, Ghouls you name, we fight it.
For eternity we fight against these abominations of creation. These..these..these.. things are far more grotesque than you can ever imagine. All they want is to make wanton destruction in the promised lands of so many.
All that stand in their way is us. The fallen warriors of man's wars. They can not win. For we cannot die again. No matter how many times they strike us down, we rise again.
They are few.
We are many.
We are Legion.
EDIT: Formatting | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | Their ships landed around the planet, sleek metallic structures bristling with jagged edges and crackling with energy. The moments the doors opened it was like something out of a nightmare; they were demons. Worse than demons. A pile of tentacles and claws and maws and horns and scales. They were three meters tall, thin, but fast as lightening. Each of our welcome wagons, across the world, were torn to ribbons within seconds of starting their greetings, the remote cameras shocking us all at the blood, the bone, the screams.
They established bases of operation, abandoning the advantage of space, which was odd, but we assumed it meant they were here to stay. We should have paid closer attention, maybe we could have prevented some losses, Chicago, London, Sri Lanka.
They spread out, their patrols annihilating all the fauna, leaving the flora. Again, we should have paid attention... Moscow, Los Angeles, Tokyo.
All efforts to communicate failed. They didn't respond to radio, indeed, didn't seem to use it, and every musicologist or audiologist communique sent them into a fury. We tried leaving offerings of wealth, gold, platinum, and other metals. They scanned them with strange devices, took them, and nothing changed. We left organics, wheat, apples, raw steaks. Same routine, scanned, taken, no change.
They were too fast. Too strong. Bullets stopped them, but it was like fighting shadows. Our tanks and planes did damage, but weren't enough. Some were literally torn apart by the creatures, others were blown apart by their weaponry. Some kind of magnetic rifle, miniature nuclear warheads. Their weapons were almost superfluous when the creatures themselves could tear a tank in half, leap a hundred yards to intercept low flying aircraft or missiles or bombs or out dive a submarine.
We started to put it all together. It wasn't too late, but we lost so many. Our greatest successes were with supersonic weapons or vessels. They dropped in pools of black ichor and flailing screeches to long range sniper fire, though the snipers only got one shot had to immediately change positions. Our ground fleet was shelved, ineffective and too risky, while our airforce used rapid hit and runs. It was painful, long, and dangerous, but we began to win. They died in droves, our snipers worked in unison, and we fought dirty, laying traps of mines and hiding. We used their technology in the end, and it was when we finally reconstructed their powered armor that we really got it.
They were blind. | Looking back, our "advantage" over the aliens was so simple as to be laughable.
We were totally surprised by the attack; the first wave had consolidated the interior of Australia before anyone could mount a counterattack, and by that time, the only answer would have been WMDs, used on an unimaginable scale. And it would have required the world's nukes; the Russians, Chinese, British, French, and Israelis cannot be persuaded to whistle Dixie, let alone fire their nukes.
The aliens' early victories were clearly due to the element of surprise. Yet they could only move about in huge machines, flying, sailing or rolling over the land; they could not deploy in small numbers or as individuals. And they seemed to be incapable of combined tactics; every unit fought alone.
That was their downfall.
Humans are so used to the basic mobility that we enjoy-- automobiles, aircraft, even just going out for a stroll-- that we never could have imagined that it was the key to our victory. We are an individualistic race, even those of us who live in the tightest totalitarian regimes. The aliens were terrifically limited, and even their largest spacecraft only contained a dozen or so individuals. The others, the 'tanks,' were 'crewed'-- if that can be the word for a living craft-- by single aliens.
We eventually learned to swarm them. Millions of courageous humans attacked, were beaten back, regrouped and attacked again, selfless tens of thousands of us dying in the process. Our attacks resembled angry ants attacking an increasingly crippled rat. Eventually, the rats lost.
It was the FPEDs (Fusion Powered Exoskeletal Devices) that proved the biggest advantage. The aircraft certainly did their share-- most nothing could survive a massed attack by a squadron of our modern fighters-- but "boots on the ground" decided the action. Imagine driving a two-legged VW with the capabilities of an M1 Abrams!
And we were able to crew these strange wonders, because of the wonderful mobility and individuality of the human being... because we all had an inborn ability to move freely, to ride a bike, to drive a car: we could be taught to use the FPEDs, and to fight with them!
| |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | Our silence should have warned them, as their voices warned us. We heard them coming years in advance. The most sensitive listeners were thought to be schizophrenic, until we realized they were all hearing the same things. We knew everything about their technology, psychology, capabilities, and strategy long before they arrived, and they knew nothing of us. We exterminated their battle fleet in a day. They never knew what hit them, how could they? They never developed radio communications. Alone in the universe, Humans did not telepathically transmit their thoughts. | Looking back, our "advantage" over the aliens was so simple as to be laughable.
We were totally surprised by the attack; the first wave had consolidated the interior of Australia before anyone could mount a counterattack, and by that time, the only answer would have been WMDs, used on an unimaginable scale. And it would have required the world's nukes; the Russians, Chinese, British, French, and Israelis cannot be persuaded to whistle Dixie, let alone fire their nukes.
The aliens' early victories were clearly due to the element of surprise. Yet they could only move about in huge machines, flying, sailing or rolling over the land; they could not deploy in small numbers or as individuals. And they seemed to be incapable of combined tactics; every unit fought alone.
That was their downfall.
Humans are so used to the basic mobility that we enjoy-- automobiles, aircraft, even just going out for a stroll-- that we never could have imagined that it was the key to our victory. We are an individualistic race, even those of us who live in the tightest totalitarian regimes. The aliens were terrifically limited, and even their largest spacecraft only contained a dozen or so individuals. The others, the 'tanks,' were 'crewed'-- if that can be the word for a living craft-- by single aliens.
We eventually learned to swarm them. Millions of courageous humans attacked, were beaten back, regrouped and attacked again, selfless tens of thousands of us dying in the process. Our attacks resembled angry ants attacking an increasingly crippled rat. Eventually, the rats lost.
It was the FPEDs (Fusion Powered Exoskeletal Devices) that proved the biggest advantage. The aircraft certainly did their share-- most nothing could survive a massed attack by a squadron of our modern fighters-- but "boots on the ground" decided the action. Imagine driving a two-legged VW with the capabilities of an M1 Abrams!
And we were able to crew these strange wonders, because of the wonderful mobility and individuality of the human being... because we all had an inborn ability to move freely, to ride a bike, to drive a car: we could be taught to use the FPEDs, and to fight with them!
| |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | I looked at the bi-pedal hominids. They were surprisingly similar to humans, only they were exact copies of each other. They had no hair, but their facial features were about the same as ours. I then looked down at Dave and Karen, their bodies lying on the ground in awkward poses, like dolls strewn about by an angry child. Their life snatched away cleanly by the aliens weapons leaving behind bodies that looked as if they were only sleeping. I had yet to feel the sting of losing my two best friends. All I felt was a searing rage.
I tapped my .45 twice against the temple of the alien I held hostage to make sure the gesture was clear enough. While they had shot at my friends, I had rushed them and managed to grab one of them. They had either not expected any resistance at all and used no shielding of any sort, or it was just simply meant for more advanced stuff than my dads old colt. Whichever it was, I had managed to get close enough to grab him and here I was. Trapped in a mexican standoff with three aliens.
I grit my teeth long and hard before I spoke.
"I don't know if you lanky-ass grey fucks can understand me, but know that I will not hesitate to blow his head off."
Then I heard it. It was as if every voice I had ever heard spoke the same distorted message in my head, calmly but stuttering and lagging behind each other in a disturbing cacophony.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it *look* like I'm doing? I'm holding your asshole friend hostage."
It took them a little while to answer again.
"You will release him. You have no hope of survival if you do not. Drop your crude weapon and we promise that no harm will come to you."
"No."
"Our message is quite clear. We will end you, as we did your 'friends' if you do not comply."
"You don't get it, do you? I don't *care*." The aliens tensed up.
"You will drop your weapons or I swear, *by god*, I will take as many of you with me as I can."
The aliens looked at each other and I could feel the one I held started sweating. Then miraculously they placed their weapons at the ground. Fighting dirty was apparently not their forte. Being a human I was well-versed in such.
"Turn around" I barked, and they complied.
"Now relea-"
Before the one 'speaking' could finish his sentence I had shot him. He fell to the ground, and before the others managed to turn around I had shot them all but the one I was holding, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction as they dropped.
"You said you would release me if we complied." he protested with in the calm tone of everyone I know.
"I lied." I said as I pushed him away from me.
"Tell your overlord or whatever that we do not fight honourably. We will bite down and we will bite down hard come the day of your invasion. Every man of this planet would rather blow himself and as many of your kind to pieces rather than succumb."
Terrified he ran for his ship, and I was left standing feeling a bitter taste in my mouth.
EDIT: Grammar. I have terrible grammar when I'm eating, apparently. | Looking back, our "advantage" over the aliens was so simple as to be laughable.
We were totally surprised by the attack; the first wave had consolidated the interior of Australia before anyone could mount a counterattack, and by that time, the only answer would have been WMDs, used on an unimaginable scale. And it would have required the world's nukes; the Russians, Chinese, British, French, and Israelis cannot be persuaded to whistle Dixie, let alone fire their nukes.
The aliens' early victories were clearly due to the element of surprise. Yet they could only move about in huge machines, flying, sailing or rolling over the land; they could not deploy in small numbers or as individuals. And they seemed to be incapable of combined tactics; every unit fought alone.
That was their downfall.
Humans are so used to the basic mobility that we enjoy-- automobiles, aircraft, even just going out for a stroll-- that we never could have imagined that it was the key to our victory. We are an individualistic race, even those of us who live in the tightest totalitarian regimes. The aliens were terrifically limited, and even their largest spacecraft only contained a dozen or so individuals. The others, the 'tanks,' were 'crewed'-- if that can be the word for a living craft-- by single aliens.
We eventually learned to swarm them. Millions of courageous humans attacked, were beaten back, regrouped and attacked again, selfless tens of thousands of us dying in the process. Our attacks resembled angry ants attacking an increasingly crippled rat. Eventually, the rats lost.
It was the FPEDs (Fusion Powered Exoskeletal Devices) that proved the biggest advantage. The aircraft certainly did their share-- most nothing could survive a massed attack by a squadron of our modern fighters-- but "boots on the ground" decided the action. Imagine driving a two-legged VW with the capabilities of an M1 Abrams!
And we were able to crew these strange wonders, because of the wonderful mobility and individuality of the human being... because we all had an inborn ability to move freely, to ride a bike, to drive a car: we could be taught to use the FPEDs, and to fight with them!
| |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | We came as refugees, fleeing our dying star. It happened so quickly, few of us survived in the frenzy to leave home. The flickering was so faint at first you could almost convince yourself you'd only blinked, but the solar collectors didn't lie - the sun had *flickered*. Within hours the light had started to fade, not into the horizon as we'd seen so many times before, but the slow dimming of the star's final goodbye. One ship was launched in the darkness of the following day - an experimental vessel, designed to finally send our kind beyond the solar system. Of the billions on our world, less than a thousand found refuge on the ship. The memory of that day is seared into my mind even now, so long after finding this new land which we can call home.
The early days were hard. Neither of our species had encountered alien life before, and communication came slowly. Eager to live outside the confines of our ship, we negotiated with the people of this world, exchanging many of our technologies for a place on this world. It wasn't until later that we learned how hard this 'Earth' can be. These people, the 'Humans', are cruel, not to us, but surprisingly to each other! They manipulate and wage war amongst themselves; analysis of their history confirms it - the conflict here has lasted here for millenia. How can such a society exist? These people seem to live without consequence, free of the weight of their actions. It took us much time to understand how the humans could behave this way until finally, it became clear - the humans can *forget*.
| Looking back, our "advantage" over the aliens was so simple as to be laughable.
We were totally surprised by the attack; the first wave had consolidated the interior of Australia before anyone could mount a counterattack, and by that time, the only answer would have been WMDs, used on an unimaginable scale. And it would have required the world's nukes; the Russians, Chinese, British, French, and Israelis cannot be persuaded to whistle Dixie, let alone fire their nukes.
The aliens' early victories were clearly due to the element of surprise. Yet they could only move about in huge machines, flying, sailing or rolling over the land; they could not deploy in small numbers or as individuals. And they seemed to be incapable of combined tactics; every unit fought alone.
That was their downfall.
Humans are so used to the basic mobility that we enjoy-- automobiles, aircraft, even just going out for a stroll-- that we never could have imagined that it was the key to our victory. We are an individualistic race, even those of us who live in the tightest totalitarian regimes. The aliens were terrifically limited, and even their largest spacecraft only contained a dozen or so individuals. The others, the 'tanks,' were 'crewed'-- if that can be the word for a living craft-- by single aliens.
We eventually learned to swarm them. Millions of courageous humans attacked, were beaten back, regrouped and attacked again, selfless tens of thousands of us dying in the process. Our attacks resembled angry ants attacking an increasingly crippled rat. Eventually, the rats lost.
It was the FPEDs (Fusion Powered Exoskeletal Devices) that proved the biggest advantage. The aircraft certainly did their share-- most nothing could survive a massed attack by a squadron of our modern fighters-- but "boots on the ground" decided the action. Imagine driving a two-legged VW with the capabilities of an M1 Abrams!
And we were able to crew these strange wonders, because of the wonderful mobility and individuality of the human being... because we all had an inborn ability to move freely, to ride a bike, to drive a car: we could be taught to use the FPEDs, and to fight with them!
| |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | We're pessimists. All these years, wondering if we're alone in the universe, and fearing that we weren't... all those books and movies and shows about mysterious aliens coming down from god-knows-where and just blasting the ever-loving shit out of us poor Earth-bound humans.
Not so much.
I remember the day they came. They didn't land, their ships moved incredibly slow. They just kindof hovered in some empty fields and waited for us to come to them.
I guess the closest thing you could compare them to are rodents. They were middling on their food chain, so they understood fear, and territory, as well as hunting and war. They came like they did to assure us that they meant no harm... slowly, like you'd approach a orphaned faun. I think we'd have been offended, if we weren't so shit scared they'd blast us if we moved wrong.
Our psychology was pretty similar. Their food tasted pretty good, they enjoyed ours. Family units were bigger for them, but they only had a breeding season that lasted about six months in every two years, so that's to be expected. They found it interesting that we could breed pretty much any time we wanted.
We had the Olympics the year after they landed. There was a whole political mess over whether or not they should be allowed to compete. It was thought that friendly competition would either strengthen our friendship, or end in outright war. Neither happened, thankfully. They had the sense to decline any invitation, and see what it was all about before jumping into anything.
I'd ended up making friends with a few of them by the time the games came on. Even still, I can't tell males from females. Something about scents and subtle color differences. They can't really tell our males and females apart either, go figure. Anyway, Glaf and Leese were over with their new litter, sitting in our living room. The little ones barely had fur yet, and were just wrinkly little pink squriming things, almost like newborn puppies. Glaf and Leese said so long as they were warm, they were fine, and just left them in the corner for our cat to sniff and leer at. The couple parked in front of the TV with the rest of us, occasionally asking questions about this or that. Gymnastics amazed them, as their bodies didn't really bend certain ways that ours did, but were wholly unimpressed with our boxing.
Then, as we were watching the first guy climb up to the diving board... and they absolutely lost their shit. Like, totally bananas. Glaf was trying to convince me to call somebody and cancel the whole Olympic games, while Leese was scolding me about sacrificing lives for some games, when the guy launched himself off the board.
Have you ever heard a rodent scream? It's like nails on a fucking chalkboard. Then silence, as the diver broke the water's surface. Perfect dive, not even a ripple. Leese was just turning back to lecture me some more, when the diver surfaced, and Glaf literally grabbed Leese's head and pulled it back toward the screen.
Silence. More silence. I had no idea what the hell was going on with them. I didn't know if they were mad or offended or what the hell to do, so I just froze there. Beer halfway to my mouth, hoping they didn't notice that my fucking cat was chewing on one of their pup's ears, and wondering if I was going to get to the next day alive.
Glaf just kindof slowly turned around and stared at me for a second. I sipped my beer and set it down on the table, trying to figure out if I could get to the broom in the kitchen before I got my face chewed off, when he finally stuttered out a question:
"Wha- The human just- How did it not drown?"
"Um. What? Drown?"
"Yes. Humans cannot breathe water, no? Suffocation if the lungs fill with liquid?"
"Well yeah. He just, you know, held his breath."
Blank stare. I swear to god, not even a whisker twitched. At this point, the pup was starting to protest about it's treatment from the cat, and still no reaction.
"He stopped breathing, for a little while. Got some air in his lungs before going under the water and held it til he came up again."
The pup squealed, and Glaf went over and shooed the cat away, and sucked on the pup's bleeding ear. Saliva helps their blood clot or somesuch.
Leese, not having a mouthful of baby, entered in the conversation. "You can just not breathe?"
"Well yeah, for a little while. Longer if we take a deep breath before." Then I took a deep breath, and held it. Glaf dropped the pup, Leese's eyes damn near popped out of it's fuzzy head.
Conscious breath control. Not a thing for them, apparently. | Looking back, our "advantage" over the aliens was so simple as to be laughable.
We were totally surprised by the attack; the first wave had consolidated the interior of Australia before anyone could mount a counterattack, and by that time, the only answer would have been WMDs, used on an unimaginable scale. And it would have required the world's nukes; the Russians, Chinese, British, French, and Israelis cannot be persuaded to whistle Dixie, let alone fire their nukes.
The aliens' early victories were clearly due to the element of surprise. Yet they could only move about in huge machines, flying, sailing or rolling over the land; they could not deploy in small numbers or as individuals. And they seemed to be incapable of combined tactics; every unit fought alone.
That was their downfall.
Humans are so used to the basic mobility that we enjoy-- automobiles, aircraft, even just going out for a stroll-- that we never could have imagined that it was the key to our victory. We are an individualistic race, even those of us who live in the tightest totalitarian regimes. The aliens were terrifically limited, and even their largest spacecraft only contained a dozen or so individuals. The others, the 'tanks,' were 'crewed'-- if that can be the word for a living craft-- by single aliens.
We eventually learned to swarm them. Millions of courageous humans attacked, were beaten back, regrouped and attacked again, selfless tens of thousands of us dying in the process. Our attacks resembled angry ants attacking an increasingly crippled rat. Eventually, the rats lost.
It was the FPEDs (Fusion Powered Exoskeletal Devices) that proved the biggest advantage. The aircraft certainly did their share-- most nothing could survive a massed attack by a squadron of our modern fighters-- but "boots on the ground" decided the action. Imagine driving a two-legged VW with the capabilities of an M1 Abrams!
And we were able to crew these strange wonders, because of the wonderful mobility and individuality of the human being... because we all had an inborn ability to move freely, to ride a bike, to drive a car: we could be taught to use the FPEDs, and to fight with them!
| |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | First (WP) Attempt
It was a pleasant day for May, light cloud cover, gentle breeze, birds could be heard from the nearby treeline. I could feel the warmth of the sun through the back of my T-shirt. The kind of day that makes you wish you could lie down on a grassy hill somewhere and just breathe for an hour or two. As I glanced down to my gun - Archie I called it - hanging at my waist I let out a small sigh and thought to myself "Why does it all have to go to hell on a beautiful day like this." I looked back up to the spot in the sky where the source of my irritation hung. A smooth circle I'm guessing three hundred feet in diameter sat suspended in the air, glossy black all over without a visible propulsion source. I didn't like the look of it and I didn't like that me and my boys were first on the scene, but I also didn't have much of a choice. Higher ups said they would be arriving by jet in a little under an hour, we are just to sit tight and hope that they will be fast enough.
"why here cap?" I hear Dan pipe up for the fourth time "I mean y'know no disrespect an' all but this ain't really New York or anythin, why come here?" I don't have any good answer for that, seeing as I was asking the world that question too. "I dunno Dan, maybe they just like the landscape, maybe they wan- HOLD! No body move! Guns at your side and don't make a sound! No threatening actions!" Damn it all the alien ship had started to move, descending slowly. I could see now that it was about fifty feet tall as it settled on the field over which it had lay. From seamless black a hatched appeared, angling downwards the inside of the hatch seemed to have been shaped to form stairs. I hold my breath as a figure calmly steps into the light on the top step.
The first thing I notice is the Alien's garb, resembling a runners track suit the figure was colored in a swirl of alluring blues so exotic i had to stop myself from letting out a whistle. black combat boots stand in stark contrast to the uniform the Alien wears, reminding me of the possibilities this encounter holds. Physically it resembles a human, standing at 4' 5" two legs, two arms, one head, light red skin similar to a sunburned Caucasian. no facial hair to speak of - it could just be bald though - no nose but a mouth and two eyes. At it's waist three fingers and a thumb hold nothing in it's unadorned hands. The last thing that catches my eye is a silver collar around the being's neck as it settles on the last step. It's mouth moves.
"I am Kurt, representative of this ship" a loud, decidedly male voice crosses the distance. "We wish to begin diplomacy, please send forward your representative" I let out a low sigh of relief, even if they are lying at least there isn't a language barrier. I signal to my men to stand down and I slowly approach Kurt, Archie at my back, hands open at my waist. I stop about five feet from the base of the stairs and speak in the most level voice I can manage given the circumstance, "My name is Jack, I am not a representative of the people of this planet but I can speak for those who are present" Kurt nods, "That will do for now." I am about to ask what Kurt means to talk about as a strong wind picks up and to my surprise the small figure pitch's and topples like a pole! I crouch down and reach out my arms as would a father who's toddler just fell over, "Oh my god are you ok?" From the ground Kurt just stares incredulously at me, "One who is named Jack, how do you not fall? what force keeps you standing?" Now I'm the one confused, "What do you mean? I'm just standing, you were too just a second ago?" Kurt shakes his head "No no no, the Nitrogen Oxygen increased in velocity, how did you resist it's force?" I pause to think, Nitrogen Oxygen is air right? So the wind picked up and Kurt couldn't resist the change in force. "Well I just used my toes to keep upright?" Kurt slowly mouths the word 'toes' out, "That word does not translate to our language, please explain what force this 'toes' is" well now I'm grinning like an idiot, I get to be the first person to impress an alien! I reach for my bootstraps, maybe today will be a pleasant day after all. | Looking back, our "advantage" over the aliens was so simple as to be laughable.
We were totally surprised by the attack; the first wave had consolidated the interior of Australia before anyone could mount a counterattack, and by that time, the only answer would have been WMDs, used on an unimaginable scale. And it would have required the world's nukes; the Russians, Chinese, British, French, and Israelis cannot be persuaded to whistle Dixie, let alone fire their nukes.
The aliens' early victories were clearly due to the element of surprise. Yet they could only move about in huge machines, flying, sailing or rolling over the land; they could not deploy in small numbers or as individuals. And they seemed to be incapable of combined tactics; every unit fought alone.
That was their downfall.
Humans are so used to the basic mobility that we enjoy-- automobiles, aircraft, even just going out for a stroll-- that we never could have imagined that it was the key to our victory. We are an individualistic race, even those of us who live in the tightest totalitarian regimes. The aliens were terrifically limited, and even their largest spacecraft only contained a dozen or so individuals. The others, the 'tanks,' were 'crewed'-- if that can be the word for a living craft-- by single aliens.
We eventually learned to swarm them. Millions of courageous humans attacked, were beaten back, regrouped and attacked again, selfless tens of thousands of us dying in the process. Our attacks resembled angry ants attacking an increasingly crippled rat. Eventually, the rats lost.
It was the FPEDs (Fusion Powered Exoskeletal Devices) that proved the biggest advantage. The aircraft certainly did their share-- most nothing could survive a massed attack by a squadron of our modern fighters-- but "boots on the ground" decided the action. Imagine driving a two-legged VW with the capabilities of an M1 Abrams!
And we were able to crew these strange wonders, because of the wonderful mobility and individuality of the human being... because we all had an inborn ability to move freely, to ride a bike, to drive a car: we could be taught to use the FPEDs, and to fight with them!
| |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | (My first WP)
This was a strange scenario which I found myself in, a battle of wits against an alien, from God-knows-where. The smartest alien, no less, in a belligerent and warmongering society with a penchant for embarrassing people in power.
"Mr. President, I present to you two glasses. One contains pure water; In the other, there is an odorless, tasteless poison. Use your puny human mind to decide which contains which."
They were a race of unfathomable power; they floated, and used telepathy to crush entire buildings, and to shoot ordinary objects as projectiles with terrifying precision.
I stared at the cups in front of me. He had put the poison in behind his back. Something told me there was a lingering trace of honor in their code; he wouldn't have poisoned both cups.
"Make up your mind, worm. I want to drink to your death."
"All right...I choose this one."
I picked up the cup in front of me, and I drank. The Emperor levitated the cup in front of him, and chuckled, drinking as well.
Their notion of competition was a situation straight out of Greek poetry. The leaders compete, and the losers had to withdraw.
None of the surrounding officials dared to speak a word. I put my empty cup down. He started to put his cup down, but suddenly began choking.
"How...?!" he gasped, his body rapidly draining of color. He was no longer levitating, and fell onto the floor.
I didn't respond, but looked at the lime green liquid he had poured into his cup. | Looking back, our "advantage" over the aliens was so simple as to be laughable.
We were totally surprised by the attack; the first wave had consolidated the interior of Australia before anyone could mount a counterattack, and by that time, the only answer would have been WMDs, used on an unimaginable scale. And it would have required the world's nukes; the Russians, Chinese, British, French, and Israelis cannot be persuaded to whistle Dixie, let alone fire their nukes.
The aliens' early victories were clearly due to the element of surprise. Yet they could only move about in huge machines, flying, sailing or rolling over the land; they could not deploy in small numbers or as individuals. And they seemed to be incapable of combined tactics; every unit fought alone.
That was their downfall.
Humans are so used to the basic mobility that we enjoy-- automobiles, aircraft, even just going out for a stroll-- that we never could have imagined that it was the key to our victory. We are an individualistic race, even those of us who live in the tightest totalitarian regimes. The aliens were terrifically limited, and even their largest spacecraft only contained a dozen or so individuals. The others, the 'tanks,' were 'crewed'-- if that can be the word for a living craft-- by single aliens.
We eventually learned to swarm them. Millions of courageous humans attacked, were beaten back, regrouped and attacked again, selfless tens of thousands of us dying in the process. Our attacks resembled angry ants attacking an increasingly crippled rat. Eventually, the rats lost.
It was the FPEDs (Fusion Powered Exoskeletal Devices) that proved the biggest advantage. The aircraft certainly did their share-- most nothing could survive a massed attack by a squadron of our modern fighters-- but "boots on the ground" decided the action. Imagine driving a two-legged VW with the capabilities of an M1 Abrams!
And we were able to crew these strange wonders, because of the wonderful mobility and individuality of the human being... because we all had an inborn ability to move freely, to ride a bike, to drive a car: we could be taught to use the FPEDs, and to fight with them!
| |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | We knew the orbital body, third from the stellar system core, was covered in great part by highly concentrated hydric acid solvent, and the atmosphere contained a remarkably high concentration of oxidizer in an highly toxic chemical soup of inert gases accompanied by solvent vapor and a surprisingly large percentage of valuable and usually quite rare chemical compounds. Rich resources to be sure, and extremely hazardous to extract and return to Hive, but we were confident we could devise a plan for extraction and exploitation. Equally surprisingly, the more common atmospheric elements such as found on almost every star satellite in the interstellar realms we've visited previously were shown by scan to be present in this unlikely place only in trace amounts. We cannot account for this anomalous planetary evolution. After all, the star is an unremarkable middle-life small stellar object, in the prime of its first reactive stage, and the other planets in its system are typical--either high-pressure gas like ours with similar biosystems, or bare rocky stellar ejecta like the vast majority of solid rocky/metallic orbital bodies in the explored universe. We saw nothing to contradict the theory that it's unusually large satellite helped it scavenge heavy stellar elements from the gas cloud from which this system grew, and the gravitational stresses caused by this tidally locked orbital pair has helped release elements usually forever locked beneath the surface of other worlds. These gravitational stresses also generate a powerful magnetic shield against stellar degradation and particle storm scouring. The surface of this atypical planet, despite being constantly exposed to oxidizer and solvent, endures by forming hydrated and oxidized compounds that can endure the constant destructive effects of exposure to these powerful destructive elements. A more forbidding environment can scarcely be imagined. Naturally, therefore, we expected this harsh world to be completely barren and desolate.
Imagine our astonishment when we stepped out of our vessel, relying on our pressure suits to give us a limited amount of protection against the extremely corrosive atmosphere, and immediately encountered life! Not life as we know it, of course, given the alien and hostile environment, but life nevertheless, uniquely adapted to the hostile conditions. Far from being immediately dissolved by the powerful solvents and oxidizers, the atmosphere and corrosive liquid has actually become part of a highly complex biochemistry system that manages somehow to survive--and even thrive--in these undeniably harsh conditions. These living entities are actually primarily composed of solvent- and oxidant-related chemical compounds and animated by highly reactive oxidation/reduction reactions. The fixed and drifting entities are powerful chemical factories, using stellar energy, oxidizer and solvent to react the heaviest stellar elements (normally quite rare but abundant on this orbital object) to synthesize even more rare compounds; and the mobile life forms are capable of very efficient energy utilization by ingesting and metabolizing or physically and chemically processing these minerals, elements, and compounds to create desired final objects, tools, and resources. Organic waste products have accumulated in the atmosphere and bodies of corrosive liquid over the ages, but life on this orb has adapted to use them as well in their physical and metabolic processes in surprisingly complex survival and competitive strategies, thereby achieving a rough equilibrium with their space and chemical resources that has proven remarkably resilient, as shown by the fossil record. A full report has been prepared for scientific analysis, and some very valuable and useful new chemical compound and physical object samples have been collected for further study.
The surface of the orbital body is nearly completely given over to a monofauna technology-based ecology. After studying them for some time, we have had to reconcile with another shocking conclusion: we've been forced to completely rethink the requirements for advanced life in the universe. These remarkable creatures are undeniably intelligent, in their own way. Despite the constant struggle just to remain in one piece in this hostile environment, and with no protection against instant corrosion but their remarkable chemical makeup, the apex lifeforms are apparently conscious, self-aware, and capable of advanced social interactions. In fact, some of us are convinced that they may have symbolic language, based on a preliminary analysis of the mobile creature's acoustic signatures and the immobile and drifting creatures' biochemical interplay. They are, however, remarkably destructive of their own kind, competing fiercely with each other for planetary and living resources that they use as food, for protective coverings, and as a source of chemicals and building materials. They've reached an equilibrium with their environmental resources, but only through constant struggle. Of course, considering the unlikely and deadly environment, that seems fitting.
We're not sure how much of this behavior is learned and how much is instinctual, but at great effort (and utilizing cooperative societies remarkably similar to Hive), they have created surprisingly durable structures and use complex tools and processes. For instance, they use reduction technology to create pure metals from oxidized compounds, and use those metals to construct sophisticated assemblies which they use in complex processes. They "farm" the immobile life forms and "herd" several species of the mobile creatures. They reclaim their own fossilized lifeforms, and using the wealth of reactive raw materials created by exposure to this unique environment they isolate or synthesize even more unusual and complex chemical compounds. These substances are used to create a technology that is quite effective--and equally bizarre. We expect that further study will help us comprehend and perhaps even exploit these discoveries in some as-yet inconceivable ways.
The land creatures have created habitations of surprising complexity and strength, and the protective and decorative surface coverings they manufacture serve to protect their bodies from hard objects, regulate heat transfer, and act as exoskeletons in their competitive struggles for resources and mates. Indeed, despite the forbidding conditions, the planet is teeming with life interacting in very complex ways.
We are marking this exoplanet as "protected" and recommend prudent management of its rich scientific and resource potential. While this planet offers highly valuable chemical and mineral resources, careful preservation of a representative sample of this biosystem for further research and study is to be a top priority as well.
I'll sign off this report by noting that we've reached out to the apex lifeform in greeting and begun preliminary communication attempts. For their part they have assembled a quite elaborate welcoming party featuring large metal mobile objects and ranks of highly decorated and elaborately equipped personnel. They've sent up some flares in response to our greeting plumes, and we | Looking back, our "advantage" over the aliens was so simple as to be laughable.
We were totally surprised by the attack; the first wave had consolidated the interior of Australia before anyone could mount a counterattack, and by that time, the only answer would have been WMDs, used on an unimaginable scale. And it would have required the world's nukes; the Russians, Chinese, British, French, and Israelis cannot be persuaded to whistle Dixie, let alone fire their nukes.
The aliens' early victories were clearly due to the element of surprise. Yet they could only move about in huge machines, flying, sailing or rolling over the land; they could not deploy in small numbers or as individuals. And they seemed to be incapable of combined tactics; every unit fought alone.
That was their downfall.
Humans are so used to the basic mobility that we enjoy-- automobiles, aircraft, even just going out for a stroll-- that we never could have imagined that it was the key to our victory. We are an individualistic race, even those of us who live in the tightest totalitarian regimes. The aliens were terrifically limited, and even their largest spacecraft only contained a dozen or so individuals. The others, the 'tanks,' were 'crewed'-- if that can be the word for a living craft-- by single aliens.
We eventually learned to swarm them. Millions of courageous humans attacked, were beaten back, regrouped and attacked again, selfless tens of thousands of us dying in the process. Our attacks resembled angry ants attacking an increasingly crippled rat. Eventually, the rats lost.
It was the FPEDs (Fusion Powered Exoskeletal Devices) that proved the biggest advantage. The aircraft certainly did their share-- most nothing could survive a massed attack by a squadron of our modern fighters-- but "boots on the ground" decided the action. Imagine driving a two-legged VW with the capabilities of an M1 Abrams!
And we were able to crew these strange wonders, because of the wonderful mobility and individuality of the human being... because we all had an inborn ability to move freely, to ride a bike, to drive a car: we could be taught to use the FPEDs, and to fight with them!
| |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | When they first landed, they bowed to our leaders. They treated us as gods, or more, the children of gods. No one really understood why at first, but in time it was revealed what was going on exactly.
Their senses were, as many had expected, different to our own. Different conditions for their evolution had led them to have a highly impaired sense of sight, an extremely strong sense of electroreception, which they used to locate organic material such as ourselves in conversation, but they could not hear.
Their sense of sound was limited purely to hearing the vibrations through the floor and in the air, which, when coupled with the electroreception, made them lethal fighters. They could predict your every move, and were impossible to predict. However, while we certainly couldn't beat them in a fight, they had no interest in fighting us. These deaf creatures wanted to listen to us.
Since the late 19th Century, humanity has been broadcasting radio waves across our atmosphere, and out into space. These waves were unaffected by the vacuum of space, so eventually some reached these people, and some even were reflected back to us, the first indicator of their impending arrival. The first thing, they said, they heard was "Non, je ne regrette rien", by Edith Piaf.
Edith Piaf is now worshipped by them.
They had never heard harmony, only the sounds of scraping and shuffling. For the first time in their recorded history, they had heard music. They had felt the vibrations intertwine and lock together, forming beauty through what is only shaking. They were stunned with what we had achieved through pieces of wood and air, some overcome with emotion from what they could feel now.
Concerts were held, musicians all over the globe compounded their greatest performers and the grandest pieces they could muster, to bless and update our new auditory companions on what they had missed out on. Allegri's "Miserere mei Deus", Chopin's Nocturne Op 9 No 5, Mozart's Symphony No 40, AC/DC's "Back in Black", Joplin's "The Entertainer", nothing was left out. No piece avoided, no performer ignored, right down to the Alphabet Song.
In return, they showed us what electromagnetism can really achieve. We gave them harmony, and they showed us the universe. | Looking back, our "advantage" over the aliens was so simple as to be laughable.
We were totally surprised by the attack; the first wave had consolidated the interior of Australia before anyone could mount a counterattack, and by that time, the only answer would have been WMDs, used on an unimaginable scale. And it would have required the world's nukes; the Russians, Chinese, British, French, and Israelis cannot be persuaded to whistle Dixie, let alone fire their nukes.
The aliens' early victories were clearly due to the element of surprise. Yet they could only move about in huge machines, flying, sailing or rolling over the land; they could not deploy in small numbers or as individuals. And they seemed to be incapable of combined tactics; every unit fought alone.
That was their downfall.
Humans are so used to the basic mobility that we enjoy-- automobiles, aircraft, even just going out for a stroll-- that we never could have imagined that it was the key to our victory. We are an individualistic race, even those of us who live in the tightest totalitarian regimes. The aliens were terrifically limited, and even their largest spacecraft only contained a dozen or so individuals. The others, the 'tanks,' were 'crewed'-- if that can be the word for a living craft-- by single aliens.
We eventually learned to swarm them. Millions of courageous humans attacked, were beaten back, regrouped and attacked again, selfless tens of thousands of us dying in the process. Our attacks resembled angry ants attacking an increasingly crippled rat. Eventually, the rats lost.
It was the FPEDs (Fusion Powered Exoskeletal Devices) that proved the biggest advantage. The aircraft certainly did their share-- most nothing could survive a massed attack by a squadron of our modern fighters-- but "boots on the ground" decided the action. Imagine driving a two-legged VW with the capabilities of an M1 Abrams!
And we were able to crew these strange wonders, because of the wonderful mobility and individuality of the human being... because we all had an inborn ability to move freely, to ride a bike, to drive a car: we could be taught to use the FPEDs, and to fight with them!
| |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | We're pessimists. All these years, wondering if we're alone in the universe, and fearing that we weren't... all those books and movies and shows about mysterious aliens coming down from god-knows-where and just blasting the ever-loving shit out of us poor Earth-bound humans.
Not so much.
I remember the day they came. They didn't land, their ships moved incredibly slow. They just kindof hovered in some empty fields and waited for us to come to them.
I guess the closest thing you could compare them to are rodents. They were middling on their food chain, so they understood fear, and territory, as well as hunting and war. They came like they did to assure us that they meant no harm... slowly, like you'd approach a orphaned faun. I think we'd have been offended, if we weren't so shit scared they'd blast us if we moved wrong.
Our psychology was pretty similar. Their food tasted pretty good, they enjoyed ours. Family units were bigger for them, but they only had a breeding season that lasted about six months in every two years, so that's to be expected. They found it interesting that we could breed pretty much any time we wanted.
We had the Olympics the year after they landed. There was a whole political mess over whether or not they should be allowed to compete. It was thought that friendly competition would either strengthen our friendship, or end in outright war. Neither happened, thankfully. They had the sense to decline any invitation, and see what it was all about before jumping into anything.
I'd ended up making friends with a few of them by the time the games came on. Even still, I can't tell males from females. Something about scents and subtle color differences. They can't really tell our males and females apart either, go figure. Anyway, Glaf and Leese were over with their new litter, sitting in our living room. The little ones barely had fur yet, and were just wrinkly little pink squriming things, almost like newborn puppies. Glaf and Leese said so long as they were warm, they were fine, and just left them in the corner for our cat to sniff and leer at. The couple parked in front of the TV with the rest of us, occasionally asking questions about this or that. Gymnastics amazed them, as their bodies didn't really bend certain ways that ours did, but were wholly unimpressed with our boxing.
Then, as we were watching the first guy climb up to the diving board... and they absolutely lost their shit. Like, totally bananas. Glaf was trying to convince me to call somebody and cancel the whole Olympic games, while Leese was scolding me about sacrificing lives for some games, when the guy launched himself off the board.
Have you ever heard a rodent scream? It's like nails on a fucking chalkboard. Then silence, as the diver broke the water's surface. Perfect dive, not even a ripple. Leese was just turning back to lecture me some more, when the diver surfaced, and Glaf literally grabbed Leese's head and pulled it back toward the screen.
Silence. More silence. I had no idea what the hell was going on with them. I didn't know if they were mad or offended or what the hell to do, so I just froze there. Beer halfway to my mouth, hoping they didn't notice that my fucking cat was chewing on one of their pup's ears, and wondering if I was going to get to the next day alive.
Glaf just kindof slowly turned around and stared at me for a second. I sipped my beer and set it down on the table, trying to figure out if I could get to the broom in the kitchen before I got my face chewed off, when he finally stuttered out a question:
"Wha- The human just- How did it not drown?"
"Um. What? Drown?"
"Yes. Humans cannot breathe water, no? Suffocation if the lungs fill with liquid?"
"Well yeah. He just, you know, held his breath."
Blank stare. I swear to god, not even a whisker twitched. At this point, the pup was starting to protest about it's treatment from the cat, and still no reaction.
"He stopped breathing, for a little while. Got some air in his lungs before going under the water and held it til he came up again."
The pup squealed, and Glaf went over and shooed the cat away, and sucked on the pup's bleeding ear. Saliva helps their blood clot or somesuch.
Leese, not having a mouthful of baby, entered in the conversation. "You can just not breathe?"
"Well yeah, for a little while. Longer if we take a deep breath before." Then I took a deep breath, and held it. Glaf dropped the pup, Leese's eyes damn near popped out of it's fuzzy head.
Conscious breath control. Not a thing for them, apparently. | The large Skrit adjusted the universal translator on his neck, a puzzled look on his face. The grumbling clicks that he naturally made were instantly muffled and replaced with a mechanical voice which did not match him at all. "What happened to Ambassador Douglas?".
"I am sorry," Ambassador Arnold replied. "I was told that you two hit it off quite well." He waited for the translator around his own neck to finish the distracting grunts and vibrations. He would never get used to the silly thing. "Ambassador Douglas had a heart attack last night. He unfortunately passed away this morning." The translator did its work, followed by a grating *beeeep* noise which indicates an error in translation.
"I'm sorry," grunted the Skrit. "Please repeat."
"Ambassador Douglas has died. I am his replacement," Arnold explained.
Again, the translator made a beeping sound, indicating that part of the translation had not registered. The Skrit looked confused. Arnold resisted the urge to repeat himself in a louder voice. He thought for a moment about how to rephrase himself. He couldn't wait for the updated version of the damned things to come out. "I am here instead of Ambassador Arnold. One of his major organs has failed. His life has, unfortunately, ended."
"Life . . . ended?" The Skrit, whose name was hopelessly difficult to pronounce, pondered this for an almost embarassingly long time.
"Yes. He was rather old for a human. 86. A very agreeable person, but it was simply his time." Ambassador Arnold was a very busy person. As important as this follow-up peace meeting was, he was having a difficult time keeping himself from being impatient.
"Life does not end for Skrit," stated the alien. "Ambassador Douglas is - no more?"
Arnold was dumbfounded at this obvious oversight. Things had not gone sour between the two species, so no deaths had been reported as a result of conflict. Could it really be that the Skrits were immortal? "You...don't die?"
A similar realization that there was an obvious difference between the two had passed over what's-his-name's face as well. "Skrit are born, then Skrit are. There are no times when Skrit are not." Arnold was glad he had a recording of the conversation. This was strange. The alien continued, "Most Skrit are millions of earth years old. We prepare mentally from young age for the time when one Skrit is eternally lost and separated from all other Skrit. Marriage unity for Skrit is when Skrit is shackled with chain to another Skrit." He clasped his four-fingered hands together. "No separation for long time. Delay loneliness."
The two leaned back in their respective chairs. Arnold, imagining all that could be accomplished with immortality. All the fears that could be alleviated. The alien, imagining the blessing of nothingness, never having to prepare for a time when he would be floating through space until time itself collapsed. Never having to worry about the day that would begin his eternity of solitude. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | Our silence should have warned them, as their voices warned us. We heard them coming years in advance. The most sensitive listeners were thought to be schizophrenic, until we realized they were all hearing the same things. We knew everything about their technology, psychology, capabilities, and strategy long before they arrived, and they knew nothing of us. We exterminated their battle fleet in a day. They never knew what hit them, how could they? They never developed radio communications. Alone in the universe, Humans did not telepathically transmit their thoughts. | Their ships landed around the planet, sleek metallic structures bristling with jagged edges and crackling with energy. The moments the doors opened it was like something out of a nightmare; they were demons. Worse than demons. A pile of tentacles and claws and maws and horns and scales. They were three meters tall, thin, but fast as lightening. Each of our welcome wagons, across the world, were torn to ribbons within seconds of starting their greetings, the remote cameras shocking us all at the blood, the bone, the screams.
They established bases of operation, abandoning the advantage of space, which was odd, but we assumed it meant they were here to stay. We should have paid closer attention, maybe we could have prevented some losses, Chicago, London, Sri Lanka.
They spread out, their patrols annihilating all the fauna, leaving the flora. Again, we should have paid attention... Moscow, Los Angeles, Tokyo.
All efforts to communicate failed. They didn't respond to radio, indeed, didn't seem to use it, and every musicologist or audiologist communique sent them into a fury. We tried leaving offerings of wealth, gold, platinum, and other metals. They scanned them with strange devices, took them, and nothing changed. We left organics, wheat, apples, raw steaks. Same routine, scanned, taken, no change.
They were too fast. Too strong. Bullets stopped them, but it was like fighting shadows. Our tanks and planes did damage, but weren't enough. Some were literally torn apart by the creatures, others were blown apart by their weaponry. Some kind of magnetic rifle, miniature nuclear warheads. Their weapons were almost superfluous when the creatures themselves could tear a tank in half, leap a hundred yards to intercept low flying aircraft or missiles or bombs or out dive a submarine.
We started to put it all together. It wasn't too late, but we lost so many. Our greatest successes were with supersonic weapons or vessels. They dropped in pools of black ichor and flailing screeches to long range sniper fire, though the snipers only got one shot had to immediately change positions. Our ground fleet was shelved, ineffective and too risky, while our airforce used rapid hit and runs. It was painful, long, and dangerous, but we began to win. They died in droves, our snipers worked in unison, and we fought dirty, laying traps of mines and hiding. We used their technology in the end, and it was when we finally reconstructed their powered armor that we really got it.
They were blind. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | I looked at the bi-pedal hominids. They were surprisingly similar to humans, only they were exact copies of each other. They had no hair, but their facial features were about the same as ours. I then looked down at Dave and Karen, their bodies lying on the ground in awkward poses, like dolls strewn about by an angry child. Their life snatched away cleanly by the aliens weapons leaving behind bodies that looked as if they were only sleeping. I had yet to feel the sting of losing my two best friends. All I felt was a searing rage.
I tapped my .45 twice against the temple of the alien I held hostage to make sure the gesture was clear enough. While they had shot at my friends, I had rushed them and managed to grab one of them. They had either not expected any resistance at all and used no shielding of any sort, or it was just simply meant for more advanced stuff than my dads old colt. Whichever it was, I had managed to get close enough to grab him and here I was. Trapped in a mexican standoff with three aliens.
I grit my teeth long and hard before I spoke.
"I don't know if you lanky-ass grey fucks can understand me, but know that I will not hesitate to blow his head off."
Then I heard it. It was as if every voice I had ever heard spoke the same distorted message in my head, calmly but stuttering and lagging behind each other in a disturbing cacophony.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it *look* like I'm doing? I'm holding your asshole friend hostage."
It took them a little while to answer again.
"You will release him. You have no hope of survival if you do not. Drop your crude weapon and we promise that no harm will come to you."
"No."
"Our message is quite clear. We will end you, as we did your 'friends' if you do not comply."
"You don't get it, do you? I don't *care*." The aliens tensed up.
"You will drop your weapons or I swear, *by god*, I will take as many of you with me as I can."
The aliens looked at each other and I could feel the one I held started sweating. Then miraculously they placed their weapons at the ground. Fighting dirty was apparently not their forte. Being a human I was well-versed in such.
"Turn around" I barked, and they complied.
"Now relea-"
Before the one 'speaking' could finish his sentence I had shot him. He fell to the ground, and before the others managed to turn around I had shot them all but the one I was holding, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction as they dropped.
"You said you would release me if we complied." he protested with in the calm tone of everyone I know.
"I lied." I said as I pushed him away from me.
"Tell your overlord or whatever that we do not fight honourably. We will bite down and we will bite down hard come the day of your invasion. Every man of this planet would rather blow himself and as many of your kind to pieces rather than succumb."
Terrified he ran for his ship, and I was left standing feeling a bitter taste in my mouth.
EDIT: Grammar. I have terrible grammar when I'm eating, apparently. | Their ships landed around the planet, sleek metallic structures bristling with jagged edges and crackling with energy. The moments the doors opened it was like something out of a nightmare; they were demons. Worse than demons. A pile of tentacles and claws and maws and horns and scales. They were three meters tall, thin, but fast as lightening. Each of our welcome wagons, across the world, were torn to ribbons within seconds of starting their greetings, the remote cameras shocking us all at the blood, the bone, the screams.
They established bases of operation, abandoning the advantage of space, which was odd, but we assumed it meant they were here to stay. We should have paid closer attention, maybe we could have prevented some losses, Chicago, London, Sri Lanka.
They spread out, their patrols annihilating all the fauna, leaving the flora. Again, we should have paid attention... Moscow, Los Angeles, Tokyo.
All efforts to communicate failed. They didn't respond to radio, indeed, didn't seem to use it, and every musicologist or audiologist communique sent them into a fury. We tried leaving offerings of wealth, gold, platinum, and other metals. They scanned them with strange devices, took them, and nothing changed. We left organics, wheat, apples, raw steaks. Same routine, scanned, taken, no change.
They were too fast. Too strong. Bullets stopped them, but it was like fighting shadows. Our tanks and planes did damage, but weren't enough. Some were literally torn apart by the creatures, others were blown apart by their weaponry. Some kind of magnetic rifle, miniature nuclear warheads. Their weapons were almost superfluous when the creatures themselves could tear a tank in half, leap a hundred yards to intercept low flying aircraft or missiles or bombs or out dive a submarine.
We started to put it all together. It wasn't too late, but we lost so many. Our greatest successes were with supersonic weapons or vessels. They dropped in pools of black ichor and flailing screeches to long range sniper fire, though the snipers only got one shot had to immediately change positions. Our ground fleet was shelved, ineffective and too risky, while our airforce used rapid hit and runs. It was painful, long, and dangerous, but we began to win. They died in droves, our snipers worked in unison, and we fought dirty, laying traps of mines and hiding. We used their technology in the end, and it was when we finally reconstructed their powered armor that we really got it.
They were blind. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | We're pessimists. All these years, wondering if we're alone in the universe, and fearing that we weren't... all those books and movies and shows about mysterious aliens coming down from god-knows-where and just blasting the ever-loving shit out of us poor Earth-bound humans.
Not so much.
I remember the day they came. They didn't land, their ships moved incredibly slow. They just kindof hovered in some empty fields and waited for us to come to them.
I guess the closest thing you could compare them to are rodents. They were middling on their food chain, so they understood fear, and territory, as well as hunting and war. They came like they did to assure us that they meant no harm... slowly, like you'd approach a orphaned faun. I think we'd have been offended, if we weren't so shit scared they'd blast us if we moved wrong.
Our psychology was pretty similar. Their food tasted pretty good, they enjoyed ours. Family units were bigger for them, but they only had a breeding season that lasted about six months in every two years, so that's to be expected. They found it interesting that we could breed pretty much any time we wanted.
We had the Olympics the year after they landed. There was a whole political mess over whether or not they should be allowed to compete. It was thought that friendly competition would either strengthen our friendship, or end in outright war. Neither happened, thankfully. They had the sense to decline any invitation, and see what it was all about before jumping into anything.
I'd ended up making friends with a few of them by the time the games came on. Even still, I can't tell males from females. Something about scents and subtle color differences. They can't really tell our males and females apart either, go figure. Anyway, Glaf and Leese were over with their new litter, sitting in our living room. The little ones barely had fur yet, and were just wrinkly little pink squriming things, almost like newborn puppies. Glaf and Leese said so long as they were warm, they were fine, and just left them in the corner for our cat to sniff and leer at. The couple parked in front of the TV with the rest of us, occasionally asking questions about this or that. Gymnastics amazed them, as their bodies didn't really bend certain ways that ours did, but were wholly unimpressed with our boxing.
Then, as we were watching the first guy climb up to the diving board... and they absolutely lost their shit. Like, totally bananas. Glaf was trying to convince me to call somebody and cancel the whole Olympic games, while Leese was scolding me about sacrificing lives for some games, when the guy launched himself off the board.
Have you ever heard a rodent scream? It's like nails on a fucking chalkboard. Then silence, as the diver broke the water's surface. Perfect dive, not even a ripple. Leese was just turning back to lecture me some more, when the diver surfaced, and Glaf literally grabbed Leese's head and pulled it back toward the screen.
Silence. More silence. I had no idea what the hell was going on with them. I didn't know if they were mad or offended or what the hell to do, so I just froze there. Beer halfway to my mouth, hoping they didn't notice that my fucking cat was chewing on one of their pup's ears, and wondering if I was going to get to the next day alive.
Glaf just kindof slowly turned around and stared at me for a second. I sipped my beer and set it down on the table, trying to figure out if I could get to the broom in the kitchen before I got my face chewed off, when he finally stuttered out a question:
"Wha- The human just- How did it not drown?"
"Um. What? Drown?"
"Yes. Humans cannot breathe water, no? Suffocation if the lungs fill with liquid?"
"Well yeah. He just, you know, held his breath."
Blank stare. I swear to god, not even a whisker twitched. At this point, the pup was starting to protest about it's treatment from the cat, and still no reaction.
"He stopped breathing, for a little while. Got some air in his lungs before going under the water and held it til he came up again."
The pup squealed, and Glaf went over and shooed the cat away, and sucked on the pup's bleeding ear. Saliva helps their blood clot or somesuch.
Leese, not having a mouthful of baby, entered in the conversation. "You can just not breathe?"
"Well yeah, for a little while. Longer if we take a deep breath before." Then I took a deep breath, and held it. Glaf dropped the pup, Leese's eyes damn near popped out of it's fuzzy head.
Conscious breath control. Not a thing for them, apparently. | Their ships landed around the planet, sleek metallic structures bristling with jagged edges and crackling with energy. The moments the doors opened it was like something out of a nightmare; they were demons. Worse than demons. A pile of tentacles and claws and maws and horns and scales. They were three meters tall, thin, but fast as lightening. Each of our welcome wagons, across the world, were torn to ribbons within seconds of starting their greetings, the remote cameras shocking us all at the blood, the bone, the screams.
They established bases of operation, abandoning the advantage of space, which was odd, but we assumed it meant they were here to stay. We should have paid closer attention, maybe we could have prevented some losses, Chicago, London, Sri Lanka.
They spread out, their patrols annihilating all the fauna, leaving the flora. Again, we should have paid attention... Moscow, Los Angeles, Tokyo.
All efforts to communicate failed. They didn't respond to radio, indeed, didn't seem to use it, and every musicologist or audiologist communique sent them into a fury. We tried leaving offerings of wealth, gold, platinum, and other metals. They scanned them with strange devices, took them, and nothing changed. We left organics, wheat, apples, raw steaks. Same routine, scanned, taken, no change.
They were too fast. Too strong. Bullets stopped them, but it was like fighting shadows. Our tanks and planes did damage, but weren't enough. Some were literally torn apart by the creatures, others were blown apart by their weaponry. Some kind of magnetic rifle, miniature nuclear warheads. Their weapons were almost superfluous when the creatures themselves could tear a tank in half, leap a hundred yards to intercept low flying aircraft or missiles or bombs or out dive a submarine.
We started to put it all together. It wasn't too late, but we lost so many. Our greatest successes were with supersonic weapons or vessels. They dropped in pools of black ichor and flailing screeches to long range sniper fire, though the snipers only got one shot had to immediately change positions. Our ground fleet was shelved, ineffective and too risky, while our airforce used rapid hit and runs. It was painful, long, and dangerous, but we began to win. They died in droves, our snipers worked in unison, and we fought dirty, laying traps of mines and hiding. We used their technology in the end, and it was when we finally reconstructed their powered armor that we really got it.
They were blind. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | First (WP) Attempt
It was a pleasant day for May, light cloud cover, gentle breeze, birds could be heard from the nearby treeline. I could feel the warmth of the sun through the back of my T-shirt. The kind of day that makes you wish you could lie down on a grassy hill somewhere and just breathe for an hour or two. As I glanced down to my gun - Archie I called it - hanging at my waist I let out a small sigh and thought to myself "Why does it all have to go to hell on a beautiful day like this." I looked back up to the spot in the sky where the source of my irritation hung. A smooth circle I'm guessing three hundred feet in diameter sat suspended in the air, glossy black all over without a visible propulsion source. I didn't like the look of it and I didn't like that me and my boys were first on the scene, but I also didn't have much of a choice. Higher ups said they would be arriving by jet in a little under an hour, we are just to sit tight and hope that they will be fast enough.
"why here cap?" I hear Dan pipe up for the fourth time "I mean y'know no disrespect an' all but this ain't really New York or anythin, why come here?" I don't have any good answer for that, seeing as I was asking the world that question too. "I dunno Dan, maybe they just like the landscape, maybe they wan- HOLD! No body move! Guns at your side and don't make a sound! No threatening actions!" Damn it all the alien ship had started to move, descending slowly. I could see now that it was about fifty feet tall as it settled on the field over which it had lay. From seamless black a hatched appeared, angling downwards the inside of the hatch seemed to have been shaped to form stairs. I hold my breath as a figure calmly steps into the light on the top step.
The first thing I notice is the Alien's garb, resembling a runners track suit the figure was colored in a swirl of alluring blues so exotic i had to stop myself from letting out a whistle. black combat boots stand in stark contrast to the uniform the Alien wears, reminding me of the possibilities this encounter holds. Physically it resembles a human, standing at 4' 5" two legs, two arms, one head, light red skin similar to a sunburned Caucasian. no facial hair to speak of - it could just be bald though - no nose but a mouth and two eyes. At it's waist three fingers and a thumb hold nothing in it's unadorned hands. The last thing that catches my eye is a silver collar around the being's neck as it settles on the last step. It's mouth moves.
"I am Kurt, representative of this ship" a loud, decidedly male voice crosses the distance. "We wish to begin diplomacy, please send forward your representative" I let out a low sigh of relief, even if they are lying at least there isn't a language barrier. I signal to my men to stand down and I slowly approach Kurt, Archie at my back, hands open at my waist. I stop about five feet from the base of the stairs and speak in the most level voice I can manage given the circumstance, "My name is Jack, I am not a representative of the people of this planet but I can speak for those who are present" Kurt nods, "That will do for now." I am about to ask what Kurt means to talk about as a strong wind picks up and to my surprise the small figure pitch's and topples like a pole! I crouch down and reach out my arms as would a father who's toddler just fell over, "Oh my god are you ok?" From the ground Kurt just stares incredulously at me, "One who is named Jack, how do you not fall? what force keeps you standing?" Now I'm the one confused, "What do you mean? I'm just standing, you were too just a second ago?" Kurt shakes his head "No no no, the Nitrogen Oxygen increased in velocity, how did you resist it's force?" I pause to think, Nitrogen Oxygen is air right? So the wind picked up and Kurt couldn't resist the change in force. "Well I just used my toes to keep upright?" Kurt slowly mouths the word 'toes' out, "That word does not translate to our language, please explain what force this 'toes' is" well now I'm grinning like an idiot, I get to be the first person to impress an alien! I reach for my bootstraps, maybe today will be a pleasant day after all. | Their ships landed around the planet, sleek metallic structures bristling with jagged edges and crackling with energy. The moments the doors opened it was like something out of a nightmare; they were demons. Worse than demons. A pile of tentacles and claws and maws and horns and scales. They were three meters tall, thin, but fast as lightening. Each of our welcome wagons, across the world, were torn to ribbons within seconds of starting their greetings, the remote cameras shocking us all at the blood, the bone, the screams.
They established bases of operation, abandoning the advantage of space, which was odd, but we assumed it meant they were here to stay. We should have paid closer attention, maybe we could have prevented some losses, Chicago, London, Sri Lanka.
They spread out, their patrols annihilating all the fauna, leaving the flora. Again, we should have paid attention... Moscow, Los Angeles, Tokyo.
All efforts to communicate failed. They didn't respond to radio, indeed, didn't seem to use it, and every musicologist or audiologist communique sent them into a fury. We tried leaving offerings of wealth, gold, platinum, and other metals. They scanned them with strange devices, took them, and nothing changed. We left organics, wheat, apples, raw steaks. Same routine, scanned, taken, no change.
They were too fast. Too strong. Bullets stopped them, but it was like fighting shadows. Our tanks and planes did damage, but weren't enough. Some were literally torn apart by the creatures, others were blown apart by their weaponry. Some kind of magnetic rifle, miniature nuclear warheads. Their weapons were almost superfluous when the creatures themselves could tear a tank in half, leap a hundred yards to intercept low flying aircraft or missiles or bombs or out dive a submarine.
We started to put it all together. It wasn't too late, but we lost so many. Our greatest successes were with supersonic weapons or vessels. They dropped in pools of black ichor and flailing screeches to long range sniper fire, though the snipers only got one shot had to immediately change positions. Our ground fleet was shelved, ineffective and too risky, while our airforce used rapid hit and runs. It was painful, long, and dangerous, but we began to win. They died in droves, our snipers worked in unison, and we fought dirty, laying traps of mines and hiding. We used their technology in the end, and it was when we finally reconstructed their powered armor that we really got it.
They were blind. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | We knew the orbital body, third from the stellar system core, was covered in great part by highly concentrated hydric acid solvent, and the atmosphere contained a remarkably high concentration of oxidizer in an highly toxic chemical soup of inert gases accompanied by solvent vapor and a surprisingly large percentage of valuable and usually quite rare chemical compounds. Rich resources to be sure, and extremely hazardous to extract and return to Hive, but we were confident we could devise a plan for extraction and exploitation. Equally surprisingly, the more common atmospheric elements such as found on almost every star satellite in the interstellar realms we've visited previously were shown by scan to be present in this unlikely place only in trace amounts. We cannot account for this anomalous planetary evolution. After all, the star is an unremarkable middle-life small stellar object, in the prime of its first reactive stage, and the other planets in its system are typical--either high-pressure gas like ours with similar biosystems, or bare rocky stellar ejecta like the vast majority of solid rocky/metallic orbital bodies in the explored universe. We saw nothing to contradict the theory that it's unusually large satellite helped it scavenge heavy stellar elements from the gas cloud from which this system grew, and the gravitational stresses caused by this tidally locked orbital pair has helped release elements usually forever locked beneath the surface of other worlds. These gravitational stresses also generate a powerful magnetic shield against stellar degradation and particle storm scouring. The surface of this atypical planet, despite being constantly exposed to oxidizer and solvent, endures by forming hydrated and oxidized compounds that can endure the constant destructive effects of exposure to these powerful destructive elements. A more forbidding environment can scarcely be imagined. Naturally, therefore, we expected this harsh world to be completely barren and desolate.
Imagine our astonishment when we stepped out of our vessel, relying on our pressure suits to give us a limited amount of protection against the extremely corrosive atmosphere, and immediately encountered life! Not life as we know it, of course, given the alien and hostile environment, but life nevertheless, uniquely adapted to the hostile conditions. Far from being immediately dissolved by the powerful solvents and oxidizers, the atmosphere and corrosive liquid has actually become part of a highly complex biochemistry system that manages somehow to survive--and even thrive--in these undeniably harsh conditions. These living entities are actually primarily composed of solvent- and oxidant-related chemical compounds and animated by highly reactive oxidation/reduction reactions. The fixed and drifting entities are powerful chemical factories, using stellar energy, oxidizer and solvent to react the heaviest stellar elements (normally quite rare but abundant on this orbital object) to synthesize even more rare compounds; and the mobile life forms are capable of very efficient energy utilization by ingesting and metabolizing or physically and chemically processing these minerals, elements, and compounds to create desired final objects, tools, and resources. Organic waste products have accumulated in the atmosphere and bodies of corrosive liquid over the ages, but life on this orb has adapted to use them as well in their physical and metabolic processes in surprisingly complex survival and competitive strategies, thereby achieving a rough equilibrium with their space and chemical resources that has proven remarkably resilient, as shown by the fossil record. A full report has been prepared for scientific analysis, and some very valuable and useful new chemical compound and physical object samples have been collected for further study.
The surface of the orbital body is nearly completely given over to a monofauna technology-based ecology. After studying them for some time, we have had to reconcile with another shocking conclusion: we've been forced to completely rethink the requirements for advanced life in the universe. These remarkable creatures are undeniably intelligent, in their own way. Despite the constant struggle just to remain in one piece in this hostile environment, and with no protection against instant corrosion but their remarkable chemical makeup, the apex lifeforms are apparently conscious, self-aware, and capable of advanced social interactions. In fact, some of us are convinced that they may have symbolic language, based on a preliminary analysis of the mobile creature's acoustic signatures and the immobile and drifting creatures' biochemical interplay. They are, however, remarkably destructive of their own kind, competing fiercely with each other for planetary and living resources that they use as food, for protective coverings, and as a source of chemicals and building materials. They've reached an equilibrium with their environmental resources, but only through constant struggle. Of course, considering the unlikely and deadly environment, that seems fitting.
We're not sure how much of this behavior is learned and how much is instinctual, but at great effort (and utilizing cooperative societies remarkably similar to Hive), they have created surprisingly durable structures and use complex tools and processes. For instance, they use reduction technology to create pure metals from oxidized compounds, and use those metals to construct sophisticated assemblies which they use in complex processes. They "farm" the immobile life forms and "herd" several species of the mobile creatures. They reclaim their own fossilized lifeforms, and using the wealth of reactive raw materials created by exposure to this unique environment they isolate or synthesize even more unusual and complex chemical compounds. These substances are used to create a technology that is quite effective--and equally bizarre. We expect that further study will help us comprehend and perhaps even exploit these discoveries in some as-yet inconceivable ways.
The land creatures have created habitations of surprising complexity and strength, and the protective and decorative surface coverings they manufacture serve to protect their bodies from hard objects, regulate heat transfer, and act as exoskeletons in their competitive struggles for resources and mates. Indeed, despite the forbidding conditions, the planet is teeming with life interacting in very complex ways.
We are marking this exoplanet as "protected" and recommend prudent management of its rich scientific and resource potential. While this planet offers highly valuable chemical and mineral resources, careful preservation of a representative sample of this biosystem for further research and study is to be a top priority as well.
I'll sign off this report by noting that we've reached out to the apex lifeform in greeting and begun preliminary communication attempts. For their part they have assembled a quite elaborate welcoming party featuring large metal mobile objects and ranks of highly decorated and elaborately equipped personnel. They've sent up some flares in response to our greeting plumes, and we | Their ships landed around the planet, sleek metallic structures bristling with jagged edges and crackling with energy. The moments the doors opened it was like something out of a nightmare; they were demons. Worse than demons. A pile of tentacles and claws and maws and horns and scales. They were three meters tall, thin, but fast as lightening. Each of our welcome wagons, across the world, were torn to ribbons within seconds of starting their greetings, the remote cameras shocking us all at the blood, the bone, the screams.
They established bases of operation, abandoning the advantage of space, which was odd, but we assumed it meant they were here to stay. We should have paid closer attention, maybe we could have prevented some losses, Chicago, London, Sri Lanka.
They spread out, their patrols annihilating all the fauna, leaving the flora. Again, we should have paid attention... Moscow, Los Angeles, Tokyo.
All efforts to communicate failed. They didn't respond to radio, indeed, didn't seem to use it, and every musicologist or audiologist communique sent them into a fury. We tried leaving offerings of wealth, gold, platinum, and other metals. They scanned them with strange devices, took them, and nothing changed. We left organics, wheat, apples, raw steaks. Same routine, scanned, taken, no change.
They were too fast. Too strong. Bullets stopped them, but it was like fighting shadows. Our tanks and planes did damage, but weren't enough. Some were literally torn apart by the creatures, others were blown apart by their weaponry. Some kind of magnetic rifle, miniature nuclear warheads. Their weapons were almost superfluous when the creatures themselves could tear a tank in half, leap a hundred yards to intercept low flying aircraft or missiles or bombs or out dive a submarine.
We started to put it all together. It wasn't too late, but we lost so many. Our greatest successes were with supersonic weapons or vessels. They dropped in pools of black ichor and flailing screeches to long range sniper fire, though the snipers only got one shot had to immediately change positions. Our ground fleet was shelved, ineffective and too risky, while our airforce used rapid hit and runs. It was painful, long, and dangerous, but we began to win. They died in droves, our snipers worked in unison, and we fought dirty, laying traps of mines and hiding. We used their technology in the end, and it was when we finally reconstructed their powered armor that we really got it.
They were blind. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | We're pessimists. All these years, wondering if we're alone in the universe, and fearing that we weren't... all those books and movies and shows about mysterious aliens coming down from god-knows-where and just blasting the ever-loving shit out of us poor Earth-bound humans.
Not so much.
I remember the day they came. They didn't land, their ships moved incredibly slow. They just kindof hovered in some empty fields and waited for us to come to them.
I guess the closest thing you could compare them to are rodents. They were middling on their food chain, so they understood fear, and territory, as well as hunting and war. They came like they did to assure us that they meant no harm... slowly, like you'd approach a orphaned faun. I think we'd have been offended, if we weren't so shit scared they'd blast us if we moved wrong.
Our psychology was pretty similar. Their food tasted pretty good, they enjoyed ours. Family units were bigger for them, but they only had a breeding season that lasted about six months in every two years, so that's to be expected. They found it interesting that we could breed pretty much any time we wanted.
We had the Olympics the year after they landed. There was a whole political mess over whether or not they should be allowed to compete. It was thought that friendly competition would either strengthen our friendship, or end in outright war. Neither happened, thankfully. They had the sense to decline any invitation, and see what it was all about before jumping into anything.
I'd ended up making friends with a few of them by the time the games came on. Even still, I can't tell males from females. Something about scents and subtle color differences. They can't really tell our males and females apart either, go figure. Anyway, Glaf and Leese were over with their new litter, sitting in our living room. The little ones barely had fur yet, and were just wrinkly little pink squriming things, almost like newborn puppies. Glaf and Leese said so long as they were warm, they were fine, and just left them in the corner for our cat to sniff and leer at. The couple parked in front of the TV with the rest of us, occasionally asking questions about this or that. Gymnastics amazed them, as their bodies didn't really bend certain ways that ours did, but were wholly unimpressed with our boxing.
Then, as we were watching the first guy climb up to the diving board... and they absolutely lost their shit. Like, totally bananas. Glaf was trying to convince me to call somebody and cancel the whole Olympic games, while Leese was scolding me about sacrificing lives for some games, when the guy launched himself off the board.
Have you ever heard a rodent scream? It's like nails on a fucking chalkboard. Then silence, as the diver broke the water's surface. Perfect dive, not even a ripple. Leese was just turning back to lecture me some more, when the diver surfaced, and Glaf literally grabbed Leese's head and pulled it back toward the screen.
Silence. More silence. I had no idea what the hell was going on with them. I didn't know if they were mad or offended or what the hell to do, so I just froze there. Beer halfway to my mouth, hoping they didn't notice that my fucking cat was chewing on one of their pup's ears, and wondering if I was going to get to the next day alive.
Glaf just kindof slowly turned around and stared at me for a second. I sipped my beer and set it down on the table, trying to figure out if I could get to the broom in the kitchen before I got my face chewed off, when he finally stuttered out a question:
"Wha- The human just- How did it not drown?"
"Um. What? Drown?"
"Yes. Humans cannot breathe water, no? Suffocation if the lungs fill with liquid?"
"Well yeah. He just, you know, held his breath."
Blank stare. I swear to god, not even a whisker twitched. At this point, the pup was starting to protest about it's treatment from the cat, and still no reaction.
"He stopped breathing, for a little while. Got some air in his lungs before going under the water and held it til he came up again."
The pup squealed, and Glaf went over and shooed the cat away, and sucked on the pup's bleeding ear. Saliva helps their blood clot or somesuch.
Leese, not having a mouthful of baby, entered in the conversation. "You can just not breathe?"
"Well yeah, for a little while. Longer if we take a deep breath before." Then I took a deep breath, and held it. Glaf dropped the pup, Leese's eyes damn near popped out of it's fuzzy head.
Conscious breath control. Not a thing for them, apparently. | Our silence should have warned them, as their voices warned us. We heard them coming years in advance. The most sensitive listeners were thought to be schizophrenic, until we realized they were all hearing the same things. We knew everything about their technology, psychology, capabilities, and strategy long before they arrived, and they knew nothing of us. We exterminated their battle fleet in a day. They never knew what hit them, how could they? They never developed radio communications. Alone in the universe, Humans did not telepathically transmit their thoughts. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | We're pessimists. All these years, wondering if we're alone in the universe, and fearing that we weren't... all those books and movies and shows about mysterious aliens coming down from god-knows-where and just blasting the ever-loving shit out of us poor Earth-bound humans.
Not so much.
I remember the day they came. They didn't land, their ships moved incredibly slow. They just kindof hovered in some empty fields and waited for us to come to them.
I guess the closest thing you could compare them to are rodents. They were middling on their food chain, so they understood fear, and territory, as well as hunting and war. They came like they did to assure us that they meant no harm... slowly, like you'd approach a orphaned faun. I think we'd have been offended, if we weren't so shit scared they'd blast us if we moved wrong.
Our psychology was pretty similar. Their food tasted pretty good, they enjoyed ours. Family units were bigger for them, but they only had a breeding season that lasted about six months in every two years, so that's to be expected. They found it interesting that we could breed pretty much any time we wanted.
We had the Olympics the year after they landed. There was a whole political mess over whether or not they should be allowed to compete. It was thought that friendly competition would either strengthen our friendship, or end in outright war. Neither happened, thankfully. They had the sense to decline any invitation, and see what it was all about before jumping into anything.
I'd ended up making friends with a few of them by the time the games came on. Even still, I can't tell males from females. Something about scents and subtle color differences. They can't really tell our males and females apart either, go figure. Anyway, Glaf and Leese were over with their new litter, sitting in our living room. The little ones barely had fur yet, and were just wrinkly little pink squriming things, almost like newborn puppies. Glaf and Leese said so long as they were warm, they were fine, and just left them in the corner for our cat to sniff and leer at. The couple parked in front of the TV with the rest of us, occasionally asking questions about this or that. Gymnastics amazed them, as their bodies didn't really bend certain ways that ours did, but were wholly unimpressed with our boxing.
Then, as we were watching the first guy climb up to the diving board... and they absolutely lost their shit. Like, totally bananas. Glaf was trying to convince me to call somebody and cancel the whole Olympic games, while Leese was scolding me about sacrificing lives for some games, when the guy launched himself off the board.
Have you ever heard a rodent scream? It's like nails on a fucking chalkboard. Then silence, as the diver broke the water's surface. Perfect dive, not even a ripple. Leese was just turning back to lecture me some more, when the diver surfaced, and Glaf literally grabbed Leese's head and pulled it back toward the screen.
Silence. More silence. I had no idea what the hell was going on with them. I didn't know if they were mad or offended or what the hell to do, so I just froze there. Beer halfway to my mouth, hoping they didn't notice that my fucking cat was chewing on one of their pup's ears, and wondering if I was going to get to the next day alive.
Glaf just kindof slowly turned around and stared at me for a second. I sipped my beer and set it down on the table, trying to figure out if I could get to the broom in the kitchen before I got my face chewed off, when he finally stuttered out a question:
"Wha- The human just- How did it not drown?"
"Um. What? Drown?"
"Yes. Humans cannot breathe water, no? Suffocation if the lungs fill with liquid?"
"Well yeah. He just, you know, held his breath."
Blank stare. I swear to god, not even a whisker twitched. At this point, the pup was starting to protest about it's treatment from the cat, and still no reaction.
"He stopped breathing, for a little while. Got some air in his lungs before going under the water and held it til he came up again."
The pup squealed, and Glaf went over and shooed the cat away, and sucked on the pup's bleeding ear. Saliva helps their blood clot or somesuch.
Leese, not having a mouthful of baby, entered in the conversation. "You can just not breathe?"
"Well yeah, for a little while. Longer if we take a deep breath before." Then I took a deep breath, and held it. Glaf dropped the pup, Leese's eyes damn near popped out of it's fuzzy head.
Conscious breath control. Not a thing for them, apparently. | I looked at the bi-pedal hominids. They were surprisingly similar to humans, only they were exact copies of each other. They had no hair, but their facial features were about the same as ours. I then looked down at Dave and Karen, their bodies lying on the ground in awkward poses, like dolls strewn about by an angry child. Their life snatched away cleanly by the aliens weapons leaving behind bodies that looked as if they were only sleeping. I had yet to feel the sting of losing my two best friends. All I felt was a searing rage.
I tapped my .45 twice against the temple of the alien I held hostage to make sure the gesture was clear enough. While they had shot at my friends, I had rushed them and managed to grab one of them. They had either not expected any resistance at all and used no shielding of any sort, or it was just simply meant for more advanced stuff than my dads old colt. Whichever it was, I had managed to get close enough to grab him and here I was. Trapped in a mexican standoff with three aliens.
I grit my teeth long and hard before I spoke.
"I don't know if you lanky-ass grey fucks can understand me, but know that I will not hesitate to blow his head off."
Then I heard it. It was as if every voice I had ever heard spoke the same distorted message in my head, calmly but stuttering and lagging behind each other in a disturbing cacophony.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it *look* like I'm doing? I'm holding your asshole friend hostage."
It took them a little while to answer again.
"You will release him. You have no hope of survival if you do not. Drop your crude weapon and we promise that no harm will come to you."
"No."
"Our message is quite clear. We will end you, as we did your 'friends' if you do not comply."
"You don't get it, do you? I don't *care*." The aliens tensed up.
"You will drop your weapons or I swear, *by god*, I will take as many of you with me as I can."
The aliens looked at each other and I could feel the one I held started sweating. Then miraculously they placed their weapons at the ground. Fighting dirty was apparently not their forte. Being a human I was well-versed in such.
"Turn around" I barked, and they complied.
"Now relea-"
Before the one 'speaking' could finish his sentence I had shot him. He fell to the ground, and before the others managed to turn around I had shot them all but the one I was holding, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction as they dropped.
"You said you would release me if we complied." he protested with in the calm tone of everyone I know.
"I lied." I said as I pushed him away from me.
"Tell your overlord or whatever that we do not fight honourably. We will bite down and we will bite down hard come the day of your invasion. Every man of this planet would rather blow himself and as many of your kind to pieces rather than succumb."
Terrified he ran for his ship, and I was left standing feeling a bitter taste in my mouth.
EDIT: Grammar. I have terrible grammar when I'm eating, apparently. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | First (WP) Attempt
It was a pleasant day for May, light cloud cover, gentle breeze, birds could be heard from the nearby treeline. I could feel the warmth of the sun through the back of my T-shirt. The kind of day that makes you wish you could lie down on a grassy hill somewhere and just breathe for an hour or two. As I glanced down to my gun - Archie I called it - hanging at my waist I let out a small sigh and thought to myself "Why does it all have to go to hell on a beautiful day like this." I looked back up to the spot in the sky where the source of my irritation hung. A smooth circle I'm guessing three hundred feet in diameter sat suspended in the air, glossy black all over without a visible propulsion source. I didn't like the look of it and I didn't like that me and my boys were first on the scene, but I also didn't have much of a choice. Higher ups said they would be arriving by jet in a little under an hour, we are just to sit tight and hope that they will be fast enough.
"why here cap?" I hear Dan pipe up for the fourth time "I mean y'know no disrespect an' all but this ain't really New York or anythin, why come here?" I don't have any good answer for that, seeing as I was asking the world that question too. "I dunno Dan, maybe they just like the landscape, maybe they wan- HOLD! No body move! Guns at your side and don't make a sound! No threatening actions!" Damn it all the alien ship had started to move, descending slowly. I could see now that it was about fifty feet tall as it settled on the field over which it had lay. From seamless black a hatched appeared, angling downwards the inside of the hatch seemed to have been shaped to form stairs. I hold my breath as a figure calmly steps into the light on the top step.
The first thing I notice is the Alien's garb, resembling a runners track suit the figure was colored in a swirl of alluring blues so exotic i had to stop myself from letting out a whistle. black combat boots stand in stark contrast to the uniform the Alien wears, reminding me of the possibilities this encounter holds. Physically it resembles a human, standing at 4' 5" two legs, two arms, one head, light red skin similar to a sunburned Caucasian. no facial hair to speak of - it could just be bald though - no nose but a mouth and two eyes. At it's waist three fingers and a thumb hold nothing in it's unadorned hands. The last thing that catches my eye is a silver collar around the being's neck as it settles on the last step. It's mouth moves.
"I am Kurt, representative of this ship" a loud, decidedly male voice crosses the distance. "We wish to begin diplomacy, please send forward your representative" I let out a low sigh of relief, even if they are lying at least there isn't a language barrier. I signal to my men to stand down and I slowly approach Kurt, Archie at my back, hands open at my waist. I stop about five feet from the base of the stairs and speak in the most level voice I can manage given the circumstance, "My name is Jack, I am not a representative of the people of this planet but I can speak for those who are present" Kurt nods, "That will do for now." I am about to ask what Kurt means to talk about as a strong wind picks up and to my surprise the small figure pitch's and topples like a pole! I crouch down and reach out my arms as would a father who's toddler just fell over, "Oh my god are you ok?" From the ground Kurt just stares incredulously at me, "One who is named Jack, how do you not fall? what force keeps you standing?" Now I'm the one confused, "What do you mean? I'm just standing, you were too just a second ago?" Kurt shakes his head "No no no, the Nitrogen Oxygen increased in velocity, how did you resist it's force?" I pause to think, Nitrogen Oxygen is air right? So the wind picked up and Kurt couldn't resist the change in force. "Well I just used my toes to keep upright?" Kurt slowly mouths the word 'toes' out, "That word does not translate to our language, please explain what force this 'toes' is" well now I'm grinning like an idiot, I get to be the first person to impress an alien! I reach for my bootstraps, maybe today will be a pleasant day after all. | I looked at the bi-pedal hominids. They were surprisingly similar to humans, only they were exact copies of each other. They had no hair, but their facial features were about the same as ours. I then looked down at Dave and Karen, their bodies lying on the ground in awkward poses, like dolls strewn about by an angry child. Their life snatched away cleanly by the aliens weapons leaving behind bodies that looked as if they were only sleeping. I had yet to feel the sting of losing my two best friends. All I felt was a searing rage.
I tapped my .45 twice against the temple of the alien I held hostage to make sure the gesture was clear enough. While they had shot at my friends, I had rushed them and managed to grab one of them. They had either not expected any resistance at all and used no shielding of any sort, or it was just simply meant for more advanced stuff than my dads old colt. Whichever it was, I had managed to get close enough to grab him and here I was. Trapped in a mexican standoff with three aliens.
I grit my teeth long and hard before I spoke.
"I don't know if you lanky-ass grey fucks can understand me, but know that I will not hesitate to blow his head off."
Then I heard it. It was as if every voice I had ever heard spoke the same distorted message in my head, calmly but stuttering and lagging behind each other in a disturbing cacophony.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it *look* like I'm doing? I'm holding your asshole friend hostage."
It took them a little while to answer again.
"You will release him. You have no hope of survival if you do not. Drop your crude weapon and we promise that no harm will come to you."
"No."
"Our message is quite clear. We will end you, as we did your 'friends' if you do not comply."
"You don't get it, do you? I don't *care*." The aliens tensed up.
"You will drop your weapons or I swear, *by god*, I will take as many of you with me as I can."
The aliens looked at each other and I could feel the one I held started sweating. Then miraculously they placed their weapons at the ground. Fighting dirty was apparently not their forte. Being a human I was well-versed in such.
"Turn around" I barked, and they complied.
"Now relea-"
Before the one 'speaking' could finish his sentence I had shot him. He fell to the ground, and before the others managed to turn around I had shot them all but the one I was holding, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction as they dropped.
"You said you would release me if we complied." he protested with in the calm tone of everyone I know.
"I lied." I said as I pushed him away from me.
"Tell your overlord or whatever that we do not fight honourably. We will bite down and we will bite down hard come the day of your invasion. Every man of this planet would rather blow himself and as many of your kind to pieces rather than succumb."
Terrified he ran for his ship, and I was left standing feeling a bitter taste in my mouth.
EDIT: Grammar. I have terrible grammar when I'm eating, apparently. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | We knew the orbital body, third from the stellar system core, was covered in great part by highly concentrated hydric acid solvent, and the atmosphere contained a remarkably high concentration of oxidizer in an highly toxic chemical soup of inert gases accompanied by solvent vapor and a surprisingly large percentage of valuable and usually quite rare chemical compounds. Rich resources to be sure, and extremely hazardous to extract and return to Hive, but we were confident we could devise a plan for extraction and exploitation. Equally surprisingly, the more common atmospheric elements such as found on almost every star satellite in the interstellar realms we've visited previously were shown by scan to be present in this unlikely place only in trace amounts. We cannot account for this anomalous planetary evolution. After all, the star is an unremarkable middle-life small stellar object, in the prime of its first reactive stage, and the other planets in its system are typical--either high-pressure gas like ours with similar biosystems, or bare rocky stellar ejecta like the vast majority of solid rocky/metallic orbital bodies in the explored universe. We saw nothing to contradict the theory that it's unusually large satellite helped it scavenge heavy stellar elements from the gas cloud from which this system grew, and the gravitational stresses caused by this tidally locked orbital pair has helped release elements usually forever locked beneath the surface of other worlds. These gravitational stresses also generate a powerful magnetic shield against stellar degradation and particle storm scouring. The surface of this atypical planet, despite being constantly exposed to oxidizer and solvent, endures by forming hydrated and oxidized compounds that can endure the constant destructive effects of exposure to these powerful destructive elements. A more forbidding environment can scarcely be imagined. Naturally, therefore, we expected this harsh world to be completely barren and desolate.
Imagine our astonishment when we stepped out of our vessel, relying on our pressure suits to give us a limited amount of protection against the extremely corrosive atmosphere, and immediately encountered life! Not life as we know it, of course, given the alien and hostile environment, but life nevertheless, uniquely adapted to the hostile conditions. Far from being immediately dissolved by the powerful solvents and oxidizers, the atmosphere and corrosive liquid has actually become part of a highly complex biochemistry system that manages somehow to survive--and even thrive--in these undeniably harsh conditions. These living entities are actually primarily composed of solvent- and oxidant-related chemical compounds and animated by highly reactive oxidation/reduction reactions. The fixed and drifting entities are powerful chemical factories, using stellar energy, oxidizer and solvent to react the heaviest stellar elements (normally quite rare but abundant on this orbital object) to synthesize even more rare compounds; and the mobile life forms are capable of very efficient energy utilization by ingesting and metabolizing or physically and chemically processing these minerals, elements, and compounds to create desired final objects, tools, and resources. Organic waste products have accumulated in the atmosphere and bodies of corrosive liquid over the ages, but life on this orb has adapted to use them as well in their physical and metabolic processes in surprisingly complex survival and competitive strategies, thereby achieving a rough equilibrium with their space and chemical resources that has proven remarkably resilient, as shown by the fossil record. A full report has been prepared for scientific analysis, and some very valuable and useful new chemical compound and physical object samples have been collected for further study.
The surface of the orbital body is nearly completely given over to a monofauna technology-based ecology. After studying them for some time, we have had to reconcile with another shocking conclusion: we've been forced to completely rethink the requirements for advanced life in the universe. These remarkable creatures are undeniably intelligent, in their own way. Despite the constant struggle just to remain in one piece in this hostile environment, and with no protection against instant corrosion but their remarkable chemical makeup, the apex lifeforms are apparently conscious, self-aware, and capable of advanced social interactions. In fact, some of us are convinced that they may have symbolic language, based on a preliminary analysis of the mobile creature's acoustic signatures and the immobile and drifting creatures' biochemical interplay. They are, however, remarkably destructive of their own kind, competing fiercely with each other for planetary and living resources that they use as food, for protective coverings, and as a source of chemicals and building materials. They've reached an equilibrium with their environmental resources, but only through constant struggle. Of course, considering the unlikely and deadly environment, that seems fitting.
We're not sure how much of this behavior is learned and how much is instinctual, but at great effort (and utilizing cooperative societies remarkably similar to Hive), they have created surprisingly durable structures and use complex tools and processes. For instance, they use reduction technology to create pure metals from oxidized compounds, and use those metals to construct sophisticated assemblies which they use in complex processes. They "farm" the immobile life forms and "herd" several species of the mobile creatures. They reclaim their own fossilized lifeforms, and using the wealth of reactive raw materials created by exposure to this unique environment they isolate or synthesize even more unusual and complex chemical compounds. These substances are used to create a technology that is quite effective--and equally bizarre. We expect that further study will help us comprehend and perhaps even exploit these discoveries in some as-yet inconceivable ways.
The land creatures have created habitations of surprising complexity and strength, and the protective and decorative surface coverings they manufacture serve to protect their bodies from hard objects, regulate heat transfer, and act as exoskeletons in their competitive struggles for resources and mates. Indeed, despite the forbidding conditions, the planet is teeming with life interacting in very complex ways.
We are marking this exoplanet as "protected" and recommend prudent management of its rich scientific and resource potential. While this planet offers highly valuable chemical and mineral resources, careful preservation of a representative sample of this biosystem for further research and study is to be a top priority as well.
I'll sign off this report by noting that we've reached out to the apex lifeform in greeting and begun preliminary communication attempts. For their part they have assembled a quite elaborate welcoming party featuring large metal mobile objects and ranks of highly decorated and elaborately equipped personnel. They've sent up some flares in response to our greeting plumes, and we | I looked at the bi-pedal hominids. They were surprisingly similar to humans, only they were exact copies of each other. They had no hair, but their facial features were about the same as ours. I then looked down at Dave and Karen, their bodies lying on the ground in awkward poses, like dolls strewn about by an angry child. Their life snatched away cleanly by the aliens weapons leaving behind bodies that looked as if they were only sleeping. I had yet to feel the sting of losing my two best friends. All I felt was a searing rage.
I tapped my .45 twice against the temple of the alien I held hostage to make sure the gesture was clear enough. While they had shot at my friends, I had rushed them and managed to grab one of them. They had either not expected any resistance at all and used no shielding of any sort, or it was just simply meant for more advanced stuff than my dads old colt. Whichever it was, I had managed to get close enough to grab him and here I was. Trapped in a mexican standoff with three aliens.
I grit my teeth long and hard before I spoke.
"I don't know if you lanky-ass grey fucks can understand me, but know that I will not hesitate to blow his head off."
Then I heard it. It was as if every voice I had ever heard spoke the same distorted message in my head, calmly but stuttering and lagging behind each other in a disturbing cacophony.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it *look* like I'm doing? I'm holding your asshole friend hostage."
It took them a little while to answer again.
"You will release him. You have no hope of survival if you do not. Drop your crude weapon and we promise that no harm will come to you."
"No."
"Our message is quite clear. We will end you, as we did your 'friends' if you do not comply."
"You don't get it, do you? I don't *care*." The aliens tensed up.
"You will drop your weapons or I swear, *by god*, I will take as many of you with me as I can."
The aliens looked at each other and I could feel the one I held started sweating. Then miraculously they placed their weapons at the ground. Fighting dirty was apparently not their forte. Being a human I was well-versed in such.
"Turn around" I barked, and they complied.
"Now relea-"
Before the one 'speaking' could finish his sentence I had shot him. He fell to the ground, and before the others managed to turn around I had shot them all but the one I was holding, feeling a grim sense of satisfaction as they dropped.
"You said you would release me if we complied." he protested with in the calm tone of everyone I know.
"I lied." I said as I pushed him away from me.
"Tell your overlord or whatever that we do not fight honourably. We will bite down and we will bite down hard come the day of your invasion. Every man of this planet would rather blow himself and as many of your kind to pieces rather than succumb."
Terrified he ran for his ship, and I was left standing feeling a bitter taste in my mouth.
EDIT: Grammar. I have terrible grammar when I'm eating, apparently. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | First (WP) Attempt
It was a pleasant day for May, light cloud cover, gentle breeze, birds could be heard from the nearby treeline. I could feel the warmth of the sun through the back of my T-shirt. The kind of day that makes you wish you could lie down on a grassy hill somewhere and just breathe for an hour or two. As I glanced down to my gun - Archie I called it - hanging at my waist I let out a small sigh and thought to myself "Why does it all have to go to hell on a beautiful day like this." I looked back up to the spot in the sky where the source of my irritation hung. A smooth circle I'm guessing three hundred feet in diameter sat suspended in the air, glossy black all over without a visible propulsion source. I didn't like the look of it and I didn't like that me and my boys were first on the scene, but I also didn't have much of a choice. Higher ups said they would be arriving by jet in a little under an hour, we are just to sit tight and hope that they will be fast enough.
"why here cap?" I hear Dan pipe up for the fourth time "I mean y'know no disrespect an' all but this ain't really New York or anythin, why come here?" I don't have any good answer for that, seeing as I was asking the world that question too. "I dunno Dan, maybe they just like the landscape, maybe they wan- HOLD! No body move! Guns at your side and don't make a sound! No threatening actions!" Damn it all the alien ship had started to move, descending slowly. I could see now that it was about fifty feet tall as it settled on the field over which it had lay. From seamless black a hatched appeared, angling downwards the inside of the hatch seemed to have been shaped to form stairs. I hold my breath as a figure calmly steps into the light on the top step.
The first thing I notice is the Alien's garb, resembling a runners track suit the figure was colored in a swirl of alluring blues so exotic i had to stop myself from letting out a whistle. black combat boots stand in stark contrast to the uniform the Alien wears, reminding me of the possibilities this encounter holds. Physically it resembles a human, standing at 4' 5" two legs, two arms, one head, light red skin similar to a sunburned Caucasian. no facial hair to speak of - it could just be bald though - no nose but a mouth and two eyes. At it's waist three fingers and a thumb hold nothing in it's unadorned hands. The last thing that catches my eye is a silver collar around the being's neck as it settles on the last step. It's mouth moves.
"I am Kurt, representative of this ship" a loud, decidedly male voice crosses the distance. "We wish to begin diplomacy, please send forward your representative" I let out a low sigh of relief, even if they are lying at least there isn't a language barrier. I signal to my men to stand down and I slowly approach Kurt, Archie at my back, hands open at my waist. I stop about five feet from the base of the stairs and speak in the most level voice I can manage given the circumstance, "My name is Jack, I am not a representative of the people of this planet but I can speak for those who are present" Kurt nods, "That will do for now." I am about to ask what Kurt means to talk about as a strong wind picks up and to my surprise the small figure pitch's and topples like a pole! I crouch down and reach out my arms as would a father who's toddler just fell over, "Oh my god are you ok?" From the ground Kurt just stares incredulously at me, "One who is named Jack, how do you not fall? what force keeps you standing?" Now I'm the one confused, "What do you mean? I'm just standing, you were too just a second ago?" Kurt shakes his head "No no no, the Nitrogen Oxygen increased in velocity, how did you resist it's force?" I pause to think, Nitrogen Oxygen is air right? So the wind picked up and Kurt couldn't resist the change in force. "Well I just used my toes to keep upright?" Kurt slowly mouths the word 'toes' out, "That word does not translate to our language, please explain what force this 'toes' is" well now I'm grinning like an idiot, I get to be the first person to impress an alien! I reach for my bootstraps, maybe today will be a pleasant day after all. | We came as refugees, fleeing our dying star. It happened so quickly, few of us survived in the frenzy to leave home. The flickering was so faint at first you could almost convince yourself you'd only blinked, but the solar collectors didn't lie - the sun had *flickered*. Within hours the light had started to fade, not into the horizon as we'd seen so many times before, but the slow dimming of the star's final goodbye. One ship was launched in the darkness of the following day - an experimental vessel, designed to finally send our kind beyond the solar system. Of the billions on our world, less than a thousand found refuge on the ship. The memory of that day is seared into my mind even now, so long after finding this new land which we can call home.
The early days were hard. Neither of our species had encountered alien life before, and communication came slowly. Eager to live outside the confines of our ship, we negotiated with the people of this world, exchanging many of our technologies for a place on this world. It wasn't until later that we learned how hard this 'Earth' can be. These people, the 'Humans', are cruel, not to us, but surprisingly to each other! They manipulate and wage war amongst themselves; analysis of their history confirms it - the conflict here has lasted here for millenia. How can such a society exist? These people seem to live without consequence, free of the weight of their actions. It took us much time to understand how the humans could behave this way until finally, it became clear - the humans can *forget*.
| |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | We knew the orbital body, third from the stellar system core, was covered in great part by highly concentrated hydric acid solvent, and the atmosphere contained a remarkably high concentration of oxidizer in an highly toxic chemical soup of inert gases accompanied by solvent vapor and a surprisingly large percentage of valuable and usually quite rare chemical compounds. Rich resources to be sure, and extremely hazardous to extract and return to Hive, but we were confident we could devise a plan for extraction and exploitation. Equally surprisingly, the more common atmospheric elements such as found on almost every star satellite in the interstellar realms we've visited previously were shown by scan to be present in this unlikely place only in trace amounts. We cannot account for this anomalous planetary evolution. After all, the star is an unremarkable middle-life small stellar object, in the prime of its first reactive stage, and the other planets in its system are typical--either high-pressure gas like ours with similar biosystems, or bare rocky stellar ejecta like the vast majority of solid rocky/metallic orbital bodies in the explored universe. We saw nothing to contradict the theory that it's unusually large satellite helped it scavenge heavy stellar elements from the gas cloud from which this system grew, and the gravitational stresses caused by this tidally locked orbital pair has helped release elements usually forever locked beneath the surface of other worlds. These gravitational stresses also generate a powerful magnetic shield against stellar degradation and particle storm scouring. The surface of this atypical planet, despite being constantly exposed to oxidizer and solvent, endures by forming hydrated and oxidized compounds that can endure the constant destructive effects of exposure to these powerful destructive elements. A more forbidding environment can scarcely be imagined. Naturally, therefore, we expected this harsh world to be completely barren and desolate.
Imagine our astonishment when we stepped out of our vessel, relying on our pressure suits to give us a limited amount of protection against the extremely corrosive atmosphere, and immediately encountered life! Not life as we know it, of course, given the alien and hostile environment, but life nevertheless, uniquely adapted to the hostile conditions. Far from being immediately dissolved by the powerful solvents and oxidizers, the atmosphere and corrosive liquid has actually become part of a highly complex biochemistry system that manages somehow to survive--and even thrive--in these undeniably harsh conditions. These living entities are actually primarily composed of solvent- and oxidant-related chemical compounds and animated by highly reactive oxidation/reduction reactions. The fixed and drifting entities are powerful chemical factories, using stellar energy, oxidizer and solvent to react the heaviest stellar elements (normally quite rare but abundant on this orbital object) to synthesize even more rare compounds; and the mobile life forms are capable of very efficient energy utilization by ingesting and metabolizing or physically and chemically processing these minerals, elements, and compounds to create desired final objects, tools, and resources. Organic waste products have accumulated in the atmosphere and bodies of corrosive liquid over the ages, but life on this orb has adapted to use them as well in their physical and metabolic processes in surprisingly complex survival and competitive strategies, thereby achieving a rough equilibrium with their space and chemical resources that has proven remarkably resilient, as shown by the fossil record. A full report has been prepared for scientific analysis, and some very valuable and useful new chemical compound and physical object samples have been collected for further study.
The surface of the orbital body is nearly completely given over to a monofauna technology-based ecology. After studying them for some time, we have had to reconcile with another shocking conclusion: we've been forced to completely rethink the requirements for advanced life in the universe. These remarkable creatures are undeniably intelligent, in their own way. Despite the constant struggle just to remain in one piece in this hostile environment, and with no protection against instant corrosion but their remarkable chemical makeup, the apex lifeforms are apparently conscious, self-aware, and capable of advanced social interactions. In fact, some of us are convinced that they may have symbolic language, based on a preliminary analysis of the mobile creature's acoustic signatures and the immobile and drifting creatures' biochemical interplay. They are, however, remarkably destructive of their own kind, competing fiercely with each other for planetary and living resources that they use as food, for protective coverings, and as a source of chemicals and building materials. They've reached an equilibrium with their environmental resources, but only through constant struggle. Of course, considering the unlikely and deadly environment, that seems fitting.
We're not sure how much of this behavior is learned and how much is instinctual, but at great effort (and utilizing cooperative societies remarkably similar to Hive), they have created surprisingly durable structures and use complex tools and processes. For instance, they use reduction technology to create pure metals from oxidized compounds, and use those metals to construct sophisticated assemblies which they use in complex processes. They "farm" the immobile life forms and "herd" several species of the mobile creatures. They reclaim their own fossilized lifeforms, and using the wealth of reactive raw materials created by exposure to this unique environment they isolate or synthesize even more unusual and complex chemical compounds. These substances are used to create a technology that is quite effective--and equally bizarre. We expect that further study will help us comprehend and perhaps even exploit these discoveries in some as-yet inconceivable ways.
The land creatures have created habitations of surprising complexity and strength, and the protective and decorative surface coverings they manufacture serve to protect their bodies from hard objects, regulate heat transfer, and act as exoskeletons in their competitive struggles for resources and mates. Indeed, despite the forbidding conditions, the planet is teeming with life interacting in very complex ways.
We are marking this exoplanet as "protected" and recommend prudent management of its rich scientific and resource potential. While this planet offers highly valuable chemical and mineral resources, careful preservation of a representative sample of this biosystem for further research and study is to be a top priority as well.
I'll sign off this report by noting that we've reached out to the apex lifeform in greeting and begun preliminary communication attempts. For their part they have assembled a quite elaborate welcoming party featuring large metal mobile objects and ranks of highly decorated and elaborately equipped personnel. They've sent up some flares in response to our greeting plumes, and we | We came as refugees, fleeing our dying star. It happened so quickly, few of us survived in the frenzy to leave home. The flickering was so faint at first you could almost convince yourself you'd only blinked, but the solar collectors didn't lie - the sun had *flickered*. Within hours the light had started to fade, not into the horizon as we'd seen so many times before, but the slow dimming of the star's final goodbye. One ship was launched in the darkness of the following day - an experimental vessel, designed to finally send our kind beyond the solar system. Of the billions on our world, less than a thousand found refuge on the ship. The memory of that day is seared into my mind even now, so long after finding this new land which we can call home.
The early days were hard. Neither of our species had encountered alien life before, and communication came slowly. Eager to live outside the confines of our ship, we negotiated with the people of this world, exchanging many of our technologies for a place on this world. It wasn't until later that we learned how hard this 'Earth' can be. These people, the 'Humans', are cruel, not to us, but surprisingly to each other! They manipulate and wage war amongst themselves; analysis of their history confirms it - the conflict here has lasted here for millenia. How can such a society exist? These people seem to live without consequence, free of the weight of their actions. It took us much time to understand how the humans could behave this way until finally, it became clear - the humans can *forget*.
| |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | We knew the orbital body, third from the stellar system core, was covered in great part by highly concentrated hydric acid solvent, and the atmosphere contained a remarkably high concentration of oxidizer in an highly toxic chemical soup of inert gases accompanied by solvent vapor and a surprisingly large percentage of valuable and usually quite rare chemical compounds. Rich resources to be sure, and extremely hazardous to extract and return to Hive, but we were confident we could devise a plan for extraction and exploitation. Equally surprisingly, the more common atmospheric elements such as found on almost every star satellite in the interstellar realms we've visited previously were shown by scan to be present in this unlikely place only in trace amounts. We cannot account for this anomalous planetary evolution. After all, the star is an unremarkable middle-life small stellar object, in the prime of its first reactive stage, and the other planets in its system are typical--either high-pressure gas like ours with similar biosystems, or bare rocky stellar ejecta like the vast majority of solid rocky/metallic orbital bodies in the explored universe. We saw nothing to contradict the theory that it's unusually large satellite helped it scavenge heavy stellar elements from the gas cloud from which this system grew, and the gravitational stresses caused by this tidally locked orbital pair has helped release elements usually forever locked beneath the surface of other worlds. These gravitational stresses also generate a powerful magnetic shield against stellar degradation and particle storm scouring. The surface of this atypical planet, despite being constantly exposed to oxidizer and solvent, endures by forming hydrated and oxidized compounds that can endure the constant destructive effects of exposure to these powerful destructive elements. A more forbidding environment can scarcely be imagined. Naturally, therefore, we expected this harsh world to be completely barren and desolate.
Imagine our astonishment when we stepped out of our vessel, relying on our pressure suits to give us a limited amount of protection against the extremely corrosive atmosphere, and immediately encountered life! Not life as we know it, of course, given the alien and hostile environment, but life nevertheless, uniquely adapted to the hostile conditions. Far from being immediately dissolved by the powerful solvents and oxidizers, the atmosphere and corrosive liquid has actually become part of a highly complex biochemistry system that manages somehow to survive--and even thrive--in these undeniably harsh conditions. These living entities are actually primarily composed of solvent- and oxidant-related chemical compounds and animated by highly reactive oxidation/reduction reactions. The fixed and drifting entities are powerful chemical factories, using stellar energy, oxidizer and solvent to react the heaviest stellar elements (normally quite rare but abundant on this orbital object) to synthesize even more rare compounds; and the mobile life forms are capable of very efficient energy utilization by ingesting and metabolizing or physically and chemically processing these minerals, elements, and compounds to create desired final objects, tools, and resources. Organic waste products have accumulated in the atmosphere and bodies of corrosive liquid over the ages, but life on this orb has adapted to use them as well in their physical and metabolic processes in surprisingly complex survival and competitive strategies, thereby achieving a rough equilibrium with their space and chemical resources that has proven remarkably resilient, as shown by the fossil record. A full report has been prepared for scientific analysis, and some very valuable and useful new chemical compound and physical object samples have been collected for further study.
The surface of the orbital body is nearly completely given over to a monofauna technology-based ecology. After studying them for some time, we have had to reconcile with another shocking conclusion: we've been forced to completely rethink the requirements for advanced life in the universe. These remarkable creatures are undeniably intelligent, in their own way. Despite the constant struggle just to remain in one piece in this hostile environment, and with no protection against instant corrosion but their remarkable chemical makeup, the apex lifeforms are apparently conscious, self-aware, and capable of advanced social interactions. In fact, some of us are convinced that they may have symbolic language, based on a preliminary analysis of the mobile creature's acoustic signatures and the immobile and drifting creatures' biochemical interplay. They are, however, remarkably destructive of their own kind, competing fiercely with each other for planetary and living resources that they use as food, for protective coverings, and as a source of chemicals and building materials. They've reached an equilibrium with their environmental resources, but only through constant struggle. Of course, considering the unlikely and deadly environment, that seems fitting.
We're not sure how much of this behavior is learned and how much is instinctual, but at great effort (and utilizing cooperative societies remarkably similar to Hive), they have created surprisingly durable structures and use complex tools and processes. For instance, they use reduction technology to create pure metals from oxidized compounds, and use those metals to construct sophisticated assemblies which they use in complex processes. They "farm" the immobile life forms and "herd" several species of the mobile creatures. They reclaim their own fossilized lifeforms, and using the wealth of reactive raw materials created by exposure to this unique environment they isolate or synthesize even more unusual and complex chemical compounds. These substances are used to create a technology that is quite effective--and equally bizarre. We expect that further study will help us comprehend and perhaps even exploit these discoveries in some as-yet inconceivable ways.
The land creatures have created habitations of surprising complexity and strength, and the protective and decorative surface coverings they manufacture serve to protect their bodies from hard objects, regulate heat transfer, and act as exoskeletons in their competitive struggles for resources and mates. Indeed, despite the forbidding conditions, the planet is teeming with life interacting in very complex ways.
We are marking this exoplanet as "protected" and recommend prudent management of its rich scientific and resource potential. While this planet offers highly valuable chemical and mineral resources, careful preservation of a representative sample of this biosystem for further research and study is to be a top priority as well.
I'll sign off this report by noting that we've reached out to the apex lifeform in greeting and begun preliminary communication attempts. For their part they have assembled a quite elaborate welcoming party featuring large metal mobile objects and ranks of highly decorated and elaborately equipped personnel. They've sent up some flares in response to our greeting plumes, and we | First (WP) Attempt
It was a pleasant day for May, light cloud cover, gentle breeze, birds could be heard from the nearby treeline. I could feel the warmth of the sun through the back of my T-shirt. The kind of day that makes you wish you could lie down on a grassy hill somewhere and just breathe for an hour or two. As I glanced down to my gun - Archie I called it - hanging at my waist I let out a small sigh and thought to myself "Why does it all have to go to hell on a beautiful day like this." I looked back up to the spot in the sky where the source of my irritation hung. A smooth circle I'm guessing three hundred feet in diameter sat suspended in the air, glossy black all over without a visible propulsion source. I didn't like the look of it and I didn't like that me and my boys were first on the scene, but I also didn't have much of a choice. Higher ups said they would be arriving by jet in a little under an hour, we are just to sit tight and hope that they will be fast enough.
"why here cap?" I hear Dan pipe up for the fourth time "I mean y'know no disrespect an' all but this ain't really New York or anythin, why come here?" I don't have any good answer for that, seeing as I was asking the world that question too. "I dunno Dan, maybe they just like the landscape, maybe they wan- HOLD! No body move! Guns at your side and don't make a sound! No threatening actions!" Damn it all the alien ship had started to move, descending slowly. I could see now that it was about fifty feet tall as it settled on the field over which it had lay. From seamless black a hatched appeared, angling downwards the inside of the hatch seemed to have been shaped to form stairs. I hold my breath as a figure calmly steps into the light on the top step.
The first thing I notice is the Alien's garb, resembling a runners track suit the figure was colored in a swirl of alluring blues so exotic i had to stop myself from letting out a whistle. black combat boots stand in stark contrast to the uniform the Alien wears, reminding me of the possibilities this encounter holds. Physically it resembles a human, standing at 4' 5" two legs, two arms, one head, light red skin similar to a sunburned Caucasian. no facial hair to speak of - it could just be bald though - no nose but a mouth and two eyes. At it's waist three fingers and a thumb hold nothing in it's unadorned hands. The last thing that catches my eye is a silver collar around the being's neck as it settles on the last step. It's mouth moves.
"I am Kurt, representative of this ship" a loud, decidedly male voice crosses the distance. "We wish to begin diplomacy, please send forward your representative" I let out a low sigh of relief, even if they are lying at least there isn't a language barrier. I signal to my men to stand down and I slowly approach Kurt, Archie at my back, hands open at my waist. I stop about five feet from the base of the stairs and speak in the most level voice I can manage given the circumstance, "My name is Jack, I am not a representative of the people of this planet but I can speak for those who are present" Kurt nods, "That will do for now." I am about to ask what Kurt means to talk about as a strong wind picks up and to my surprise the small figure pitch's and topples like a pole! I crouch down and reach out my arms as would a father who's toddler just fell over, "Oh my god are you ok?" From the ground Kurt just stares incredulously at me, "One who is named Jack, how do you not fall? what force keeps you standing?" Now I'm the one confused, "What do you mean? I'm just standing, you were too just a second ago?" Kurt shakes his head "No no no, the Nitrogen Oxygen increased in velocity, how did you resist it's force?" I pause to think, Nitrogen Oxygen is air right? So the wind picked up and Kurt couldn't resist the change in force. "Well I just used my toes to keep upright?" Kurt slowly mouths the word 'toes' out, "That word does not translate to our language, please explain what force this 'toes' is" well now I'm grinning like an idiot, I get to be the first person to impress an alien! I reach for my bootstraps, maybe today will be a pleasant day after all. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | We knew the orbital body, third from the stellar system core, was covered in great part by highly concentrated hydric acid solvent, and the atmosphere contained a remarkably high concentration of oxidizer in an highly toxic chemical soup of inert gases accompanied by solvent vapor and a surprisingly large percentage of valuable and usually quite rare chemical compounds. Rich resources to be sure, and extremely hazardous to extract and return to Hive, but we were confident we could devise a plan for extraction and exploitation. Equally surprisingly, the more common atmospheric elements such as found on almost every star satellite in the interstellar realms we've visited previously were shown by scan to be present in this unlikely place only in trace amounts. We cannot account for this anomalous planetary evolution. After all, the star is an unremarkable middle-life small stellar object, in the prime of its first reactive stage, and the other planets in its system are typical--either high-pressure gas like ours with similar biosystems, or bare rocky stellar ejecta like the vast majority of solid rocky/metallic orbital bodies in the explored universe. We saw nothing to contradict the theory that it's unusually large satellite helped it scavenge heavy stellar elements from the gas cloud from which this system grew, and the gravitational stresses caused by this tidally locked orbital pair has helped release elements usually forever locked beneath the surface of other worlds. These gravitational stresses also generate a powerful magnetic shield against stellar degradation and particle storm scouring. The surface of this atypical planet, despite being constantly exposed to oxidizer and solvent, endures by forming hydrated and oxidized compounds that can endure the constant destructive effects of exposure to these powerful destructive elements. A more forbidding environment can scarcely be imagined. Naturally, therefore, we expected this harsh world to be completely barren and desolate.
Imagine our astonishment when we stepped out of our vessel, relying on our pressure suits to give us a limited amount of protection against the extremely corrosive atmosphere, and immediately encountered life! Not life as we know it, of course, given the alien and hostile environment, but life nevertheless, uniquely adapted to the hostile conditions. Far from being immediately dissolved by the powerful solvents and oxidizers, the atmosphere and corrosive liquid has actually become part of a highly complex biochemistry system that manages somehow to survive--and even thrive--in these undeniably harsh conditions. These living entities are actually primarily composed of solvent- and oxidant-related chemical compounds and animated by highly reactive oxidation/reduction reactions. The fixed and drifting entities are powerful chemical factories, using stellar energy, oxidizer and solvent to react the heaviest stellar elements (normally quite rare but abundant on this orbital object) to synthesize even more rare compounds; and the mobile life forms are capable of very efficient energy utilization by ingesting and metabolizing or physically and chemically processing these minerals, elements, and compounds to create desired final objects, tools, and resources. Organic waste products have accumulated in the atmosphere and bodies of corrosive liquid over the ages, but life on this orb has adapted to use them as well in their physical and metabolic processes in surprisingly complex survival and competitive strategies, thereby achieving a rough equilibrium with their space and chemical resources that has proven remarkably resilient, as shown by the fossil record. A full report has been prepared for scientific analysis, and some very valuable and useful new chemical compound and physical object samples have been collected for further study.
The surface of the orbital body is nearly completely given over to a monofauna technology-based ecology. After studying them for some time, we have had to reconcile with another shocking conclusion: we've been forced to completely rethink the requirements for advanced life in the universe. These remarkable creatures are undeniably intelligent, in their own way. Despite the constant struggle just to remain in one piece in this hostile environment, and with no protection against instant corrosion but their remarkable chemical makeup, the apex lifeforms are apparently conscious, self-aware, and capable of advanced social interactions. In fact, some of us are convinced that they may have symbolic language, based on a preliminary analysis of the mobile creature's acoustic signatures and the immobile and drifting creatures' biochemical interplay. They are, however, remarkably destructive of their own kind, competing fiercely with each other for planetary and living resources that they use as food, for protective coverings, and as a source of chemicals and building materials. They've reached an equilibrium with their environmental resources, but only through constant struggle. Of course, considering the unlikely and deadly environment, that seems fitting.
We're not sure how much of this behavior is learned and how much is instinctual, but at great effort (and utilizing cooperative societies remarkably similar to Hive), they have created surprisingly durable structures and use complex tools and processes. For instance, they use reduction technology to create pure metals from oxidized compounds, and use those metals to construct sophisticated assemblies which they use in complex processes. They "farm" the immobile life forms and "herd" several species of the mobile creatures. They reclaim their own fossilized lifeforms, and using the wealth of reactive raw materials created by exposure to this unique environment they isolate or synthesize even more unusual and complex chemical compounds. These substances are used to create a technology that is quite effective--and equally bizarre. We expect that further study will help us comprehend and perhaps even exploit these discoveries in some as-yet inconceivable ways.
The land creatures have created habitations of surprising complexity and strength, and the protective and decorative surface coverings they manufacture serve to protect their bodies from hard objects, regulate heat transfer, and act as exoskeletons in their competitive struggles for resources and mates. Indeed, despite the forbidding conditions, the planet is teeming with life interacting in very complex ways.
We are marking this exoplanet as "protected" and recommend prudent management of its rich scientific and resource potential. While this planet offers highly valuable chemical and mineral resources, careful preservation of a representative sample of this biosystem for further research and study is to be a top priority as well.
I'll sign off this report by noting that we've reached out to the apex lifeform in greeting and begun preliminary communication attempts. For their part they have assembled a quite elaborate welcoming party featuring large metal mobile objects and ranks of highly decorated and elaborately equipped personnel. They've sent up some flares in response to our greeting plumes, and we | (My first WP)
This was a strange scenario which I found myself in, a battle of wits against an alien, from God-knows-where. The smartest alien, no less, in a belligerent and warmongering society with a penchant for embarrassing people in power.
"Mr. President, I present to you two glasses. One contains pure water; In the other, there is an odorless, tasteless poison. Use your puny human mind to decide which contains which."
They were a race of unfathomable power; they floated, and used telepathy to crush entire buildings, and to shoot ordinary objects as projectiles with terrifying precision.
I stared at the cups in front of me. He had put the poison in behind his back. Something told me there was a lingering trace of honor in their code; he wouldn't have poisoned both cups.
"Make up your mind, worm. I want to drink to your death."
"All right...I choose this one."
I picked up the cup in front of me, and I drank. The Emperor levitated the cup in front of him, and chuckled, drinking as well.
Their notion of competition was a situation straight out of Greek poetry. The leaders compete, and the losers had to withdraw.
None of the surrounding officials dared to speak a word. I put my empty cup down. He started to put his cup down, but suddenly began choking.
"How...?!" he gasped, his body rapidly draining of color. He was no longer levitating, and fell onto the floor.
I didn't respond, but looked at the lime green liquid he had poured into his cup. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | When they first landed, they bowed to our leaders. They treated us as gods, or more, the children of gods. No one really understood why at first, but in time it was revealed what was going on exactly.
Their senses were, as many had expected, different to our own. Different conditions for their evolution had led them to have a highly impaired sense of sight, an extremely strong sense of electroreception, which they used to locate organic material such as ourselves in conversation, but they could not hear.
Their sense of sound was limited purely to hearing the vibrations through the floor and in the air, which, when coupled with the electroreception, made them lethal fighters. They could predict your every move, and were impossible to predict. However, while we certainly couldn't beat them in a fight, they had no interest in fighting us. These deaf creatures wanted to listen to us.
Since the late 19th Century, humanity has been broadcasting radio waves across our atmosphere, and out into space. These waves were unaffected by the vacuum of space, so eventually some reached these people, and some even were reflected back to us, the first indicator of their impending arrival. The first thing, they said, they heard was "Non, je ne regrette rien", by Edith Piaf.
Edith Piaf is now worshipped by them.
They had never heard harmony, only the sounds of scraping and shuffling. For the first time in their recorded history, they had heard music. They had felt the vibrations intertwine and lock together, forming beauty through what is only shaking. They were stunned with what we had achieved through pieces of wood and air, some overcome with emotion from what they could feel now.
Concerts were held, musicians all over the globe compounded their greatest performers and the grandest pieces they could muster, to bless and update our new auditory companions on what they had missed out on. Allegri's "Miserere mei Deus", Chopin's Nocturne Op 9 No 5, Mozart's Symphony No 40, AC/DC's "Back in Black", Joplin's "The Entertainer", nothing was left out. No piece avoided, no performer ignored, right down to the Alphabet Song.
In return, they showed us what electromagnetism can really achieve. We gave them harmony, and they showed us the universe. | (My first WP)
This was a strange scenario which I found myself in, a battle of wits against an alien, from God-knows-where. The smartest alien, no less, in a belligerent and warmongering society with a penchant for embarrassing people in power.
"Mr. President, I present to you two glasses. One contains pure water; In the other, there is an odorless, tasteless poison. Use your puny human mind to decide which contains which."
They were a race of unfathomable power; they floated, and used telepathy to crush entire buildings, and to shoot ordinary objects as projectiles with terrifying precision.
I stared at the cups in front of me. He had put the poison in behind his back. Something told me there was a lingering trace of honor in their code; he wouldn't have poisoned both cups.
"Make up your mind, worm. I want to drink to your death."
"All right...I choose this one."
I picked up the cup in front of me, and I drank. The Emperor levitated the cup in front of him, and chuckled, drinking as well.
Their notion of competition was a situation straight out of Greek poetry. The leaders compete, and the losers had to withdraw.
None of the surrounding officials dared to speak a word. I put my empty cup down. He started to put his cup down, but suddenly began choking.
"How...?!" he gasped, his body rapidly draining of color. He was no longer levitating, and fell onto the floor.
I didn't respond, but looked at the lime green liquid he had poured into his cup. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | Contact report species 8724.
Translators established prior to contact due to species' propensity for broadcast media. Use of written language allowed easy communication. Species has been literate for so long they seem to have lost the need for all but the most rudimentary sign language. Was very baffling trying to watch their recordings until we found the truth. Species 8724 is telepathic. They can communicate with each other in complete darkness, and even detect us behind cover or in their blind spots.
They have a very narrow field of vision, but have binocular vision and can quickly determine the range of an opponent. Ranged combat is not recommended as they have uncanny accuracy in even indirect attacks as simple as thrown explosives.
Those weird carrier waves we were not able to translate initially were their telepathic signals translated into a broadcastable code. It was meant to accompany the video feeds.
Edit: Missed a word | Glar oozed backwards, his adrenal sacks oscillating in surprise. The incredible beings flew towards him at a prodigious speed, propelled by some means Glar couldn't even see. They skittered around in a dance of colors, emitting high-pitched chirping sounds. With hast, he slid back through the bio-lock, down the corridor, and into the computer room for some much needed analysis.
By slowing down the video recordings, Glar was able to understand. These beings had evolved on a much smaller world, after all. On this planet, where night and day passed so quickly it made Glar nauseous, it was no wonder the creatures were so damn fast. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | When they first landed, they bowed to our leaders. They treated us as gods, or more, the children of gods. No one really understood why at first, but in time it was revealed what was going on exactly.
Their senses were, as many had expected, different to our own. Different conditions for their evolution had led them to have a highly impaired sense of sight, an extremely strong sense of electroreception, which they used to locate organic material such as ourselves in conversation, but they could not hear.
Their sense of sound was limited purely to hearing the vibrations through the floor and in the air, which, when coupled with the electroreception, made them lethal fighters. They could predict your every move, and were impossible to predict. However, while we certainly couldn't beat them in a fight, they had no interest in fighting us. These deaf creatures wanted to listen to us.
Since the late 19th Century, humanity has been broadcasting radio waves across our atmosphere, and out into space. These waves were unaffected by the vacuum of space, so eventually some reached these people, and some even were reflected back to us, the first indicator of their impending arrival. The first thing, they said, they heard was "Non, je ne regrette rien", by Edith Piaf.
Edith Piaf is now worshipped by them.
They had never heard harmony, only the sounds of scraping and shuffling. For the first time in their recorded history, they had heard music. They had felt the vibrations intertwine and lock together, forming beauty through what is only shaking. They were stunned with what we had achieved through pieces of wood and air, some overcome with emotion from what they could feel now.
Concerts were held, musicians all over the globe compounded their greatest performers and the grandest pieces they could muster, to bless and update our new auditory companions on what they had missed out on. Allegri's "Miserere mei Deus", Chopin's Nocturne Op 9 No 5, Mozart's Symphony No 40, AC/DC's "Back in Black", Joplin's "The Entertainer", nothing was left out. No piece avoided, no performer ignored, right down to the Alphabet Song.
In return, they showed us what electromagnetism can really achieve. We gave them harmony, and they showed us the universe. | Glar oozed backwards, his adrenal sacks oscillating in surprise. The incredible beings flew towards him at a prodigious speed, propelled by some means Glar couldn't even see. They skittered around in a dance of colors, emitting high-pitched chirping sounds. With hast, he slid back through the bio-lock, down the corridor, and into the computer room for some much needed analysis.
By slowing down the video recordings, Glar was able to understand. These beings had evolved on a much smaller world, after all. On this planet, where night and day passed so quickly it made Glar nauseous, it was no wonder the creatures were so damn fast. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | "The humans are barely a civilization, but they are none the less a civilization so, we have to follow galactic colonization law 39000, clause b, And that is?." said captain T'nahihk R'saa as he addressed his soldiers. "Any previous civilization must be eradicated sir." said a soldier near the front of the squad. "It should be easy by our accounts, they've only just discovered fire" The guttural laughing could be heard throughout the squad, how could anything that had just discovered fire be any threat to them.
R'saa's soldiers were a sight to behold, dressed in their power armor and with mighty heat blades. "Get some food before we land" With that the soldiers all walked from the briefing hall and towards the mess hall.
The ship landed on earth with a huge gust of wind. The first earthlings had already gathered around the craft unaware of their impending doom. The first troops lumbered out of the crafts and engaged the curious humans. In an instant there was only dust where the group of human stood a second ago.
R'saa stood and basked in the glow of the yellow sun. It was warm. He felt the air move between his plates. It was cool. And he enjoyed the silence.I was far too quiet. The cry came from a soldier. A large peice of wood protruded from his chest and he fell to the ground. R'saa turned to see that all around him, his troops were falling with similar pieces of wood sticking from vital areas. A projectile flew past him and struck his second in command in the head, killing him instantly. "Get me a visual!" R'saa commanded but pandemonium had broken out. The soldiers were running about trying to get to safety or to locate something to kill.
The first humans showed themselves running from the edge of the woods into the clearing. R'saa saw what he feared from the moment they started attacking at range. The earthlings had stereoscopic eyes. | Glar oozed backwards, his adrenal sacks oscillating in surprise. The incredible beings flew towards him at a prodigious speed, propelled by some means Glar couldn't even see. They skittered around in a dance of colors, emitting high-pitched chirping sounds. With hast, he slid back through the bio-lock, down the corridor, and into the computer room for some much needed analysis.
By slowing down the video recordings, Glar was able to understand. These beings had evolved on a much smaller world, after all. On this planet, where night and day passed so quickly it made Glar nauseous, it was no wonder the creatures were so damn fast. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | There is only one S-class Star Cruiser, and it's name is Pantheon. Built over a hundred years ago on our Moon when Earth's rotation began to slow down. Geomagnetic storms from solar flares used to create beautiful red and green lights. But in the decades before the evacuation, the lights became larger, and closer to Earth. We called it the Great Death, that was my childhood, 110 years before.
Pantheon *is* our last hope. This ship *is* our home. Fusion reactors produce energy, and interior greenhouses provide us with food and oxygen. It had been built in a last ditch effort to survive, and we'd been traveling to Gliese 832 c ever since, a 16 light year trip, and we'd just arrived.
I was nervous, only a few years of my life were lived on Earth, I hardly even remember it anymore, as I said, this ship is my home.
The plan was to live in Pantheon until we could build enclosed settlements on Gliese 832 c. Unfortunately upon entering the Gliese system, we were immediately aware of the other inhabitants, and the smaller, seemingly more advanced ships that were quickly advancing to our home. Pantheon is not equipped with weapons, and there are very few on board, so no one was above the panic that followed when they cut holes into Pantheon's hull.
Over half of the survivors died within 3 hours from hundreds of hull breaches. Afterwards some of the holes were used to board our ship. I equipped myself with a knife and tried to find a way to help.
This is my home. I didn't know where any guns were located on Pantheon, but I was going to do everything I could, I figured I would try and get a look at one of them.
What happened next was peculiar. 4 human-shaped creatures roughly the size of a small dog gracefully stepped into view almost simultaneously through a hole in the wall 4 layers from Pantheon's outer layer. Their movement reminded me of our reptiles, though there was no other resemblance. But when one part of their body moved, the whole body moved.
I hesitated, it took them a few seconds to look my way, their whole bodies had to adjust. They held what could have been a gun, or a cutting tool, I'm not sure, but it seemed mechanical and attached to their arms.
When their "faces" pointed at my eyes, I couldn't help but think "This is Humanity's first interaction with another intelligent species, better make it count."
So I rushed forward screaming, kicked it so hard it flew into the wall on the far end of the hall, my unused knife still in hand. It was surprisingly easy, the creature made no noise, and I froze, realizing the others hadn't reacted either. But then they shifted their bodies and all looked slowly at me. They had no mouth or nose or eyes like we do, but they had what could be considered a very surprised expression in their movements, they seemed terrified.
I was also scared, and I began to stomp on these little bastards that just killed billions of my people. It wasn't glorious, it wasn't great, but it was easy. That's when I realized it. These creatures were slow. *Slow* slow.
2 men with uniforms and rifles pulled me away from the dark purple pools of liquid blood and took me another 3 layers deeper into Pantheon. I tried to tell them what happened, they didn't listen to me, something told me they already knew everything I knew.
I think there is a lot to be said about our species. We can be peaceful and kind, and loving. But on that day, we were much less than that.
We sent hundreds of small ships down into the cities below each day. Each carrying thousands of men and women. Each to return after unloading our people. These were not soldiers, we don't have soldiers. We also didn't have enough guns for everyone. But within a weeks time, we had millions of people on Gliese 832 c.
What we did on their planet was slaughter. We slaughtered entire cities without the need for a single weapon. The reason they were so slow was that their brains worked 1/50th as quickly as ours. In other words, we could react 50 times faster than they could. Their people lived in gigantic buildings with rooms similar to jail cells in size and dimension.
According to the stories, the missions that were given to the people who invaded were to systematically kill every single inhabitant in each residential building.
It was, as people have strangely said, like shooting fish in a barrel. Though I don't know what that means.
As horrible as it all was. I did visit the planet once, visiting my father. It was beautiful, and the sky light up in bright red and green glows at night. He told me that was a sign from God that we were meant to live there.
Even if that were true, my home is on Pantheon.
| Glar oozed backwards, his adrenal sacks oscillating in surprise. The incredible beings flew towards him at a prodigious speed, propelled by some means Glar couldn't even see. They skittered around in a dance of colors, emitting high-pitched chirping sounds. With hast, he slid back through the bio-lock, down the corridor, and into the computer room for some much needed analysis.
By slowing down the video recordings, Glar was able to understand. These beings had evolved on a much smaller world, after all. On this planet, where night and day passed so quickly it made Glar nauseous, it was no wonder the creatures were so damn fast. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | Voice on communication screen: General Zuulhtraar, we await your progress report, there is word in the ranks that you have retreated.
General Zuulhtraar: Governor, I am composing it as we speak.
Governor: I will await the formal document, but provide me with your progress so far.
General Zuulhtraar: We breached the atmosphere and positioned our military at their densest population centers. Intel was correct: their miniscule planet lapped their dwarf star in this empty dodecant of the galaxy. The richest source of quwljaide in the system and these primates do not even know of its existence.
At first, we crumbled their cities. The natives constructed towers of stone, silica, and metal to protect themselves from the elements. No plasma shielding or orbital defense arrays. Simple elemental combustion propelling expendable armaments - it was reminiscent of our dark ages.
The metropolitan centers fell in a fraction of a cycle, and their military installations collapsed under a barrage of our photon weapons. The invasion was a near flawless victory, we only received on pilot vessel casualty due to a circuit error in the plasma shielding.
These primitives had managed to harness atomic fission technology and destroyed themselves in their own atmosphere. We estimate the population from the initial invasion to have fallen from 7.234 billion to just 23 thousand. We expect no resistance. Our engineers estimate one cycle for the isotopes to stabilize before harvesting quwhljaide. We are traveling to the Wwverstiladgp station to change our ordinance and gather more harvester vessels. By the time we return, the cycle will have passed and we will complete harvest 0.237 cycles quicker than estimated. The sooner we finish in this dodecant, the better.
Governor: Excellent, our colonies in Zaiir would be pleased.
Communications officer: Sir, we have a massive vessel approaching.
General Zuulhtraar: Hail them.
Communications office: Sir, we have silence from the Ardgo and Iilnsk. They are not showing on our scanners either.
Governor: What is going on General?
General Zuulhtraar: Defensive positions!
Governor: What is happening there General?
Communication officer: We just lost communication from Dirrsnakc.
General Zuulhtraar: Shields!
Communication officer: Negative, our defensive generators are being jammed.
General Zuulhtraar: Impossible!
Communication officer: By Fjorqw's might, there are billions of them.
General Zuulhtraar: What?!
Communication officer: On the deep space scanners, we see an armada of ships. We are flanked.
Governor: I demand a response.
Communication officer: We just lost the Grrea and Trenwnartt... We are being hailed.
General Zuulhtraar: On screen! Now! ...human?
Human: Greetings General Zuulhtraar. You don't know how long I've waited to meet you.
General Zuulhtraar: How? You speak our tongue.
Human: Allow me to introduce myself. I am First General Allan Lui Kazakov of the United Earth Alliance.
General Zuulhtraar: We obliterated your species.
General Kazakov: Oh, you did general. Our planet was ravaged but we rebuilt quick. Your invasion was a blessed sin and -
General Zuulhtraar: Impossible! You and what army? You do not even have enough in your species to even form a squadron!
General Kazakov: Funny thing actually, the difference between our species - we repopulate quickly. We have waited nearly five centuries to avenge our ancestors.
General Zuulhtraar: ...
General Kazakov: You see, we captured one of yours. Alive. Your homeworld orbits a massive star doesn't it? One of your years is almost a millenium for us. We learned your technology. We learned your tongue. We learned your weaknesses. We got busy.
General Zuulhtraar: Do not threaten us. We will crush you.
General Kazakov: This is better than I could have ever imagined. We have dispatched many squadrons in search of you. My /tiny/ fleet is just one of a thousand searching for you, all blood thirsty and seeking justice. I am just glad that I have the opportunity, along with my five million crew, to be the one to serve judge, jury, and executioner.
General Zuulhtraar: Your species is a pestilence! A blight to the galaxy!
General Kazakov: ...Interesting last words. Commander, you have my permission to fire. | Glar oozed backwards, his adrenal sacks oscillating in surprise. The incredible beings flew towards him at a prodigious speed, propelled by some means Glar couldn't even see. They skittered around in a dance of colors, emitting high-pitched chirping sounds. With hast, he slid back through the bio-lock, down the corridor, and into the computer room for some much needed analysis.
By slowing down the video recordings, Glar was able to understand. These beings had evolved on a much smaller world, after all. On this planet, where night and day passed so quickly it made Glar nauseous, it was no wonder the creatures were so damn fast. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | Gather round children, and I will tell you the tale of how we become the single most powerful species in the galaxy. It all started November 9th, 2014. First contact.
We had known they were coming for months. Which in that day and age was incredibly rare. As the government enjoyed keeping information like that suppressed. It was a means of control. Of power. That all changed with one man though. When Edward Snowden released all of the secret things out into the world, it was shaken to it's very core. The single most important secret that he freed, was that we are not alone in the universe, and they were on their way here.
Over the months leading up to first contact we continually beam signals out toward our impending visitors. It was no use. The Greys, as most people affectionately called them, didn't seem inclined to respond. They stayed silent while their ships hurtled towards our pale blue dot.
They arrived in force. There was never any doubt in their intent. They wanted to erase the human species from the galaxy. Presumably they wanted our planet. We never discovered their motivation though.
The first battle was beyond bloody. The entity of Earth was the theater of combat. There were no conscientious objectors. How could their be? The Greys attacked without provocation or warning. Every man woman and child took up arms. More humans died that day than in all the previous wars combined. We just were not ready. Simply put, we were out numbered and out gunned. So, we did what we do best. We ran. We hid. We planned. We attacked. Just like that it was over. The planet was littered with bodies from both sides. We had won. Little did we know at the time, but we had just killed an entire species.
The victory left us all in shock. Somehow we had prevailed against an overwhelming force. No one knew why. The only thing left to do was to rebuild. At this point we were unified. Religion, race, class non of these things mattered anymore. Not after we found out just how dangerous the galaxy was. We needed a leader. President Snowden was elected, and things stayed quiet for a year or so. Then we foudn out how we won.
President Snowden announced that another species had made contact. The Zelfran. They wanted to send an ambassador to discuss the state of the galaxy. News of our victory had spread rather quickly.
We learned a lot from the Zelfran. We learned that the entire galaxy had been war torn for ages beyond counting. We learned that there were hundreds of thousands of other sentient species. Most importantly we learned that we possessed an ability none of the others did. The concept of retreat.
When we ran in the first contact war the Greys thought that they had won. So, when we launched our counter attack, we caught them with their pants down. Every other species had only developed fight, not flight.
Humans had become legend through out the galaxy. The species that rises from the dead. The only ones that can disappear in the middle of a conflict and reappear when you least expect them too. Within ten years we were given the keys to the kingdom. We were the rulers of the galaxy. Our ability and legend made sure no other species opposed us. The First contact war of 2014 was the last war the galaxy ever saw. Peace ensured for all.
| Glar oozed backwards, his adrenal sacks oscillating in surprise. The incredible beings flew towards him at a prodigious speed, propelled by some means Glar couldn't even see. They skittered around in a dance of colors, emitting high-pitched chirping sounds. With hast, he slid back through the bio-lock, down the corridor, and into the computer room for some much needed analysis.
By slowing down the video recordings, Glar was able to understand. These beings had evolved on a much smaller world, after all. On this planet, where night and day passed so quickly it made Glar nauseous, it was no wonder the creatures were so damn fast. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | Vlork was glad to have guests at his table, and though their cuisine was not particularly to his liking he ordered his chef-slave to cook a meal from this home planet of theirs.
"You must remain, weakling watersack guest-slaves," he addressed them with his hands all balled up in that universal gesture of friendship. His guests simply stared at him, wide-eyed. Vlork smacked his translator a few times. "Welcome, gentle human visitors," he tried again. *Damn thing never worked right.*
The guests huddled around their end of the table, making quiet sounds amongst themselves and pouring water from their eyes in what Vlork could only interpret as some sort of strange Earth-greeting and thanks. "Yes, you're all pleased to be here. I understand. I would be, too. Now, intruding watersack morons, you must sit and eat." Vlork smiled at his guest-slaves and flung a small piece of snot at each plate of Earthly animal products and cooked foliage, in the universal signal to begin eating.
After a time, the watersacks finally began. They ate slowly at first, one of them testing each plate of food before passing on to the others. "Do inform me if any are cooked improperly," he requested. "If they are, I shall have to have to censure my chef-slave." Vlork's guests did not respond, so he guessed his translator was not working and gave it another slap. "If any are cooked improperly, I will have my chef-slave fed to a ravenous borger where he will be slowly devoured over the course of many Earth weeks." This time, they all reacted in precisely the same way, by flushing the blood from their faces in that universal gesture of agreement. "Yes, yes. Good, then."
Vlork had a hard time eating the food himself, and he considered that he might have to censure his chef-slave for that alone. For now, he was content to eat with his new guests. This he did, graciously smiling at every opportunity and enduring the foul meal. When the mid-meal intermission finally arrived, Vlork was relieved, for this Earth cuisine was not sitting well with him. "Chef-slave!" he called out, "you must bring the gas-void needles! The large ones, and enough for all my guests!" The watersacks all reacted with the universal gesture of agreement.
Vlork stabbed himself in the belly with the gas-void needle, and sighed as it sucked all the gases and then stored them in a little reservoir at the end of the needle. He motioned to his guests to do the same. "Void your gases now, don't be timid."
They all reacted with the universal gesture of agreement, but then the strangest thing happened. One of the guests, instead of using the gas-void needle as he was instructed, instead emitted a low, loud sound from his mouth. Upon doing this, it appeared that a few other watersacks were scolding him, until some others did it as well. Soon enough all of Vlork's guests had made these strange noises. And the smell! The smell was... *Oh my word. They have internal gas-void needles!*
"Scientist-slave!" he shouted. "Quickly! These guests of ours, you must research them. You must research them very harshly. I desire this ability." | "Captain Trunkkarr here, Major Branchum. The advance craft have landed and the Earthlings will be overpowered shortly."
"Excellent," trilled Major Branchum, tenting his twigs menacingly, "see that you leave the Amazon untouched for the Ruling Party members and -"
He cut his sentence short. On the screen Trunkkarr was writhing in agony as his limbs disappeared in a flurry of movement too fast to be seen. Within a few short moments Trunkkarr's arms and head were horrifically destroyed, his torso toppled to the ground and was chopped in to sawdust in an instant. On the viewscreen entire regiments of soldiers fell as their limbs vanished in a sickening blur.
"Stop the invasion! We're leaving!" he barked, but even as he gave the command dozens of tiny darts shot up from the surface of the planet and intersected the invasion fleet. With incomprehensible speed he saw his ships eaten away as if by a virulent disease, and then with horror his own ship began being chipped apart around him. He held up his twigs and saw them disappear in a haze, then his branches, his trunk, his head, his thoughts...
There were celebratory bonfires across Earth for a long time. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | Gather round children, and I will tell you the tale of how we become the single most powerful species in the galaxy. It all started November 9th, 2014. First contact.
We had known they were coming for months. Which in that day and age was incredibly rare. As the government enjoyed keeping information like that suppressed. It was a means of control. Of power. That all changed with one man though. When Edward Snowden released all of the secret things out into the world, it was shaken to it's very core. The single most important secret that he freed, was that we are not alone in the universe, and they were on their way here.
Over the months leading up to first contact we continually beam signals out toward our impending visitors. It was no use. The Greys, as most people affectionately called them, didn't seem inclined to respond. They stayed silent while their ships hurtled towards our pale blue dot.
They arrived in force. There was never any doubt in their intent. They wanted to erase the human species from the galaxy. Presumably they wanted our planet. We never discovered their motivation though.
The first battle was beyond bloody. The entity of Earth was the theater of combat. There were no conscientious objectors. How could their be? The Greys attacked without provocation or warning. Every man woman and child took up arms. More humans died that day than in all the previous wars combined. We just were not ready. Simply put, we were out numbered and out gunned. So, we did what we do best. We ran. We hid. We planned. We attacked. Just like that it was over. The planet was littered with bodies from both sides. We had won. Little did we know at the time, but we had just killed an entire species.
The victory left us all in shock. Somehow we had prevailed against an overwhelming force. No one knew why. The only thing left to do was to rebuild. At this point we were unified. Religion, race, class non of these things mattered anymore. Not after we found out just how dangerous the galaxy was. We needed a leader. President Snowden was elected, and things stayed quiet for a year or so. Then we foudn out how we won.
President Snowden announced that another species had made contact. The Zelfran. They wanted to send an ambassador to discuss the state of the galaxy. News of our victory had spread rather quickly.
We learned a lot from the Zelfran. We learned that the entire galaxy had been war torn for ages beyond counting. We learned that there were hundreds of thousands of other sentient species. Most importantly we learned that we possessed an ability none of the others did. The concept of retreat.
When we ran in the first contact war the Greys thought that they had won. So, when we launched our counter attack, we caught them with their pants down. Every other species had only developed fight, not flight.
Humans had become legend through out the galaxy. The species that rises from the dead. The only ones that can disappear in the middle of a conflict and reappear when you least expect them too. Within ten years we were given the keys to the kingdom. We were the rulers of the galaxy. Our ability and legend made sure no other species opposed us. The First contact war of 2014 was the last war the galaxy ever saw. Peace ensured for all.
| "Captain Trunkkarr here, Major Branchum. The advance craft have landed and the Earthlings will be overpowered shortly."
"Excellent," trilled Major Branchum, tenting his twigs menacingly, "see that you leave the Amazon untouched for the Ruling Party members and -"
He cut his sentence short. On the screen Trunkkarr was writhing in agony as his limbs disappeared in a flurry of movement too fast to be seen. Within a few short moments Trunkkarr's arms and head were horrifically destroyed, his torso toppled to the ground and was chopped in to sawdust in an instant. On the viewscreen entire regiments of soldiers fell as their limbs vanished in a sickening blur.
"Stop the invasion! We're leaving!" he barked, but even as he gave the command dozens of tiny darts shot up from the surface of the planet and intersected the invasion fleet. With incomprehensible speed he saw his ships eaten away as if by a virulent disease, and then with horror his own ship began being chipped apart around him. He held up his twigs and saw them disappear in a haze, then his branches, his trunk, his head, his thoughts...
There were celebratory bonfires across Earth for a long time. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | The group was tense. Nobody knew what to do. Neither of the two humans moved, and neither of the "its" had either. Both
Q4T and 00B had taken a step back and entered a more defensive stance. Q4T turned to its counterpart and whispered,
"Is this an act of War?"
They had only been on this planet for less than 10 minutes and things were already souring. The first time these two species had ever met might turn out to be the last. The other being turned to his
frightful companion and uttered the words,
"Bless you."
00B stood up straight, to an impressive 3 foot 5 inches, and, in a most powerful voice demanded,
"What type of weapon did you just attempt to use on us?!"
The humans immediately looked befuddled, Q4T could see that they did not understand what was going on. Perhaps they were not planning on starting an onslaught against their kind.
"Are you worried about the sneeze?"
Both Q4T and 00B looked at each other in amazement, mouthing the word sneeze without making a sound. After several long seconds, the larger human began to speak.
"All humans sneeze. Its natural, we do it to prevent things from getting into our nose."
Q4T was stunned, the humans biology, without any technological intervention went out of its way to prevent things from entering its airways. 00B was equally amazed, this was simply incredible.
"Sneeze again human."
| "Captain Trunkkarr here, Major Branchum. The advance craft have landed and the Earthlings will be overpowered shortly."
"Excellent," trilled Major Branchum, tenting his twigs menacingly, "see that you leave the Amazon untouched for the Ruling Party members and -"
He cut his sentence short. On the screen Trunkkarr was writhing in agony as his limbs disappeared in a flurry of movement too fast to be seen. Within a few short moments Trunkkarr's arms and head were horrifically destroyed, his torso toppled to the ground and was chopped in to sawdust in an instant. On the viewscreen entire regiments of soldiers fell as their limbs vanished in a sickening blur.
"Stop the invasion! We're leaving!" he barked, but even as he gave the command dozens of tiny darts shot up from the surface of the planet and intersected the invasion fleet. With incomprehensible speed he saw his ships eaten away as if by a virulent disease, and then with horror his own ship began being chipped apart around him. He held up his twigs and saw them disappear in a haze, then his branches, his trunk, his head, his thoughts...
There were celebratory bonfires across Earth for a long time. | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | Gather round children, and I will tell you the tale of how we become the single most powerful species in the galaxy. It all started November 9th, 2014. First contact.
We had known they were coming for months. Which in that day and age was incredibly rare. As the government enjoyed keeping information like that suppressed. It was a means of control. Of power. That all changed with one man though. When Edward Snowden released all of the secret things out into the world, it was shaken to it's very core. The single most important secret that he freed, was that we are not alone in the universe, and they were on their way here.
Over the months leading up to first contact we continually beam signals out toward our impending visitors. It was no use. The Greys, as most people affectionately called them, didn't seem inclined to respond. They stayed silent while their ships hurtled towards our pale blue dot.
They arrived in force. There was never any doubt in their intent. They wanted to erase the human species from the galaxy. Presumably they wanted our planet. We never discovered their motivation though.
The first battle was beyond bloody. The entity of Earth was the theater of combat. There were no conscientious objectors. How could their be? The Greys attacked without provocation or warning. Every man woman and child took up arms. More humans died that day than in all the previous wars combined. We just were not ready. Simply put, we were out numbered and out gunned. So, we did what we do best. We ran. We hid. We planned. We attacked. Just like that it was over. The planet was littered with bodies from both sides. We had won. Little did we know at the time, but we had just killed an entire species.
The victory left us all in shock. Somehow we had prevailed against an overwhelming force. No one knew why. The only thing left to do was to rebuild. At this point we were unified. Religion, race, class non of these things mattered anymore. Not after we found out just how dangerous the galaxy was. We needed a leader. President Snowden was elected, and things stayed quiet for a year or so. Then we foudn out how we won.
President Snowden announced that another species had made contact. The Zelfran. They wanted to send an ambassador to discuss the state of the galaxy. News of our victory had spread rather quickly.
We learned a lot from the Zelfran. We learned that the entire galaxy had been war torn for ages beyond counting. We learned that there were hundreds of thousands of other sentient species. Most importantly we learned that we possessed an ability none of the others did. The concept of retreat.
When we ran in the first contact war the Greys thought that they had won. So, when we launched our counter attack, we caught them with their pants down. Every other species had only developed fight, not flight.
Humans had become legend through out the galaxy. The species that rises from the dead. The only ones that can disappear in the middle of a conflict and reappear when you least expect them too. Within ten years we were given the keys to the kingdom. We were the rulers of the galaxy. Our ability and legend made sure no other species opposed us. The First contact war of 2014 was the last war the galaxy ever saw. Peace ensured for all.
| Vlork was glad to have guests at his table, and though their cuisine was not particularly to his liking he ordered his chef-slave to cook a meal from this home planet of theirs.
"You must remain, weakling watersack guest-slaves," he addressed them with his hands all balled up in that universal gesture of friendship. His guests simply stared at him, wide-eyed. Vlork smacked his translator a few times. "Welcome, gentle human visitors," he tried again. *Damn thing never worked right.*
The guests huddled around their end of the table, making quiet sounds amongst themselves and pouring water from their eyes in what Vlork could only interpret as some sort of strange Earth-greeting and thanks. "Yes, you're all pleased to be here. I understand. I would be, too. Now, intruding watersack morons, you must sit and eat." Vlork smiled at his guest-slaves and flung a small piece of snot at each plate of Earthly animal products and cooked foliage, in the universal signal to begin eating.
After a time, the watersacks finally began. They ate slowly at first, one of them testing each plate of food before passing on to the others. "Do inform me if any are cooked improperly," he requested. "If they are, I shall have to have to censure my chef-slave." Vlork's guests did not respond, so he guessed his translator was not working and gave it another slap. "If any are cooked improperly, I will have my chef-slave fed to a ravenous borger where he will be slowly devoured over the course of many Earth weeks." This time, they all reacted in precisely the same way, by flushing the blood from their faces in that universal gesture of agreement. "Yes, yes. Good, then."
Vlork had a hard time eating the food himself, and he considered that he might have to censure his chef-slave for that alone. For now, he was content to eat with his new guests. This he did, graciously smiling at every opportunity and enduring the foul meal. When the mid-meal intermission finally arrived, Vlork was relieved, for this Earth cuisine was not sitting well with him. "Chef-slave!" he called out, "you must bring the gas-void needles! The large ones, and enough for all my guests!" The watersacks all reacted with the universal gesture of agreement.
Vlork stabbed himself in the belly with the gas-void needle, and sighed as it sucked all the gases and then stored them in a little reservoir at the end of the needle. He motioned to his guests to do the same. "Void your gases now, don't be timid."
They all reacted with the universal gesture of agreement, but then the strangest thing happened. One of the guests, instead of using the gas-void needle as he was instructed, instead emitted a low, loud sound from his mouth. Upon doing this, it appeared that a few other watersacks were scolding him, until some others did it as well. Soon enough all of Vlork's guests had made these strange noises. And the smell! The smell was... *Oh my word. They have internal gas-void needles!*
"Scientist-slave!" he shouted. "Quickly! These guests of ours, you must research them. You must research them very harshly. I desire this ability." | |
[WP] Aliens landed on earth, and they're surprised all humans possess what they think of as a superpower... an ability we always took for granted and consider normal. | They didn't arrive in a spaceship. Just a strange ball of light. We found no trace of it after the dust settled. The eggheads on the homefront tell me it was technology beyond our wildest dreams, or that they're our evolutionary superiors in every way. But I got a different theory. I seen 'em up close.
I noticed something, during the first open battle. For all their space age bravado, they didn't fire on our soldiers. Not once. They cut a good number of them down, sure, but not with any weapon I saw. Naw, they just had these *claws*.
Even then, they're some *mean* sons of bitches. It was a close fight, and neither side ended up sticking around afterwards. (Hell, they even transported their dead away in those balls of light.) Wherever they came from, it's molded them into killing machines. The media hyped them up as imperial conquerors. That we were simply next on their list. But honestly, I knew all along that was bull.
Three weeks in, the war was over. Engaging them directly was a mistake; they were just too powerful. To win this fight, we had to play dirty. Snipers. Drone strikes. We were even cleared for experimental bio warfare. They didn't see any of it coming. This surprised most of the more..."imaginative" folks back home. How did we win so easy?
It all went back to that first battle. We didn't manage to capture any of them, but I saw how they fought. And then, I saw *why* they fought. They weren't trying to exterminate us for conquest. They were trying to exterminate us out of desperation. They couldn't have ruled their homeworld. They probably just managed to leave. Their transportation wasn't some great feat of technology. It was a crude natural system that happened to outclass our rocket ships. And those claws...they didn't make the aliens better. They were a consolation prize from Mother Nature.
They weren't prepared for our level of warfare. It's why they landed in the middle of Nowhere, Greenland instead of our capital cities. It's why they went down so easy when we upped our weapons game. That's what won us the day: they were completely thrown by our technology. They had no concept of it. And seeing them up-close, I knew why, from the very beginning.
They didn't count on us having thumbs. | "Hello, Vl'kash. Jane Lehrer, here for an interview? We spoke on the phone?"
"Oh, yes, the human on the phone. I remember you. What would you like to talk about?"
She pulled out her notepad and pen. "I figured we'd start with the... dammit, ow!"
"What is it?"
"Paper cut." She held up her hand to show the small, bleeding cut on the webbing between two fingers.
"Oh gods!"
"What? It's not like I'm bleeding to death, just hurts, is all."
"Even so, it's problematic. You'll need to visit the Chiurgeon at some point."
He looked at his clawed, green hand, contemplating. "Also, your skin is so much thinner than our carapace. To think that you could be injured even by a writing instrument... Life on Earth must be rather hazardous."
She stared incredulously. "It's a *paper cut.* Look, it's already stopped bleeding."
"Your wounds... close on their own?"
"Yeah? Well, I wouldn't call this a 'wound', but yeah. Small cuts will clot up pretty quickly, and this one was really small."
"Incredible! And all humans possess this ability?"
"Er... yes? It's been a while since I took Bio, but our blood makes a protein that basically clogs up the wound. I mean, it won't help if you've, like, lost an arm, but it'll work for small stuff."
"Even so, this is amazing! Reconstructing a damaged carapace is a rather difficult task, one that requires a skilled Chiurgeon. For most of our history, anything that broke the carapace was a potential death sentence."
"Really? I mean, I guess it's a lot harder to break through it, but you won't heal *anything* on your own?"
"Let me put it this way: Your species' ability is *literally* a superpower. There is a popular vidreel on my home planet called "The Restorer," about a Kesari warrior blessed with a regenerating body. A warrior with an indomitable will, confident against any number of foes. No matter how many wounds he takes in battle, the next day will see him whole and unbroken."
"Oh, kind of like Wolverine! Sorry, we have a superhero like that in one of our comic books. He's got these cool claws, and he can regenerate from anything in seconds. Like, even if his head is chopped off."
The Kesari laughed. "Such a thing would never fly on my planet. A superhero who could seal his carapace after the day's fighting was done? Incredible, but it's at least within the realm of imagination. But a superhero who can regenerate in *seconds*? Preposterous!" | |
[WP] "Hatred hollows you out. Then it fills you up." | Iroh blinked, frozen, shocked by the unexpectedness of the embrace - but as soon as she had initiated it, she broke away.
"Are you certain you do not require any assistance in reforming the homeland?" She asked, as curt and abrasive as usual. Iroh could see through her tough exterior, though, and knew she asked out of care and concern for himself, although any other person would have never guessed she had an ounce of compassion in her - showing it was not an ability she had been born with, unfortunately.
"Thank you, Azula, but you are a leader and a soldier. You are most needed out there, capturing the rebels and finding Zhao. Strong, passionate people like yourself must be there to inspire others in restoring balance to the world. Leave the politics and governing duties to the old people, like myself," he joked.
"As you wish, Uncle." She stuck out a hand, which Iroh attempted to shake warmly, despite her stiffness. "I am proud to be your niece," she stated, referring to the changes Iroh was bringing to the Fire Nation and the hope he was restoring to the world. It was slow going, but Iroh could see that she was becoming more personable every time they met. "Expect a letter soon."
"I look forward to it," Iroh said, "your letters are a welcome distraction from the debating of the advisors."
She almost smiled, but caught herself. It was something she was still learning to be comfortable with.
"And hey," Iroh said, stopping her from turning to leave, "speaking of nieces, I wouldn't mind seeing some grandnieces or nephews someday."
Azula gave a hesitant nod, acknowledging the underlying sincerity below his joking tone. "We shall see," she said. "Ty-Lee has been attempting to instruct me in such matters - under your suggestion, no doubt."
"I may have mentioned it," said, Iroh, smiling.
Uncertain what else to say, she wished him luck and gave a quick farewell before turning to leave. Her two guardsmen followed a moment later, still frozen in shock at their witness to their leader's humanity.
The door closed, leaving Iroh alone with his thoughts. He quickly attempted to busy himself by collecting the tea cups and saucers, but the reality of the day set in nonetheless.
It was the anniversary of the tragedy that had left him and Azula as the only known remaining members of their family. Azula's visit helped to lessen the grief, but the sadness and remorse Iroh felt was beyond any comforting presence.
Years had spent hunting the Avatar, and as each season rose and fell, the hopelessness and rage built in Zuko. Iroh had done his best to console him, but after his brutal banishment and the growing feeling of futility of his journey, Zuko had closed himself off from people. Their crew became increasingly incompetent with every rotation, and their ship began to break down as the repairmen grew less and less willing to commit the resources to doing a thorough job.
After a while, they just sailed the cold, empty seas, with neither direction nor purpose. Contempt grew in Zuko, contempt for his father, for his home. The hatred hollowed him out, then filled him up, until Zuko finally commanded their crew to sail back to the capital. There, Zuko broke from the ship and made his way into Ozai's palace. His hatred fueled his fire into an uncontrollable inferno that claimed not only his father's life, those of the military heads and the royal servents, but his own as well.
Iroh would never again be able to muster up as much love for another person, as much as he tried for Azula's sake and for the people of the Fire Nation. He had had so much hope in Zuko. He'd loved him like he had his own son, and this second loss had broken something in his heart that he had held onto so very closely.
Iroh placed the dishes into the sink and used it to support himself as he sobbed and shook, alone in the silent room. Tears ran down his cheeks in little trails, collecting on his nose, where they fell in droplets and mixed in with the tea leaves. | *1939, November 19th*
*Warsaw, Poland*
"Siostra? I'm hungry..."
"Jan, not now."
The rain-filled clouds filled the cold morning skies. What I can remember of her was her flame-colored hair and emerald eyes as she hold tightly onto my small hands. We were hiding for weeks now, scurrying from hiding spot to hiding spot. Nowhere was safe, only safer. Nazi patrols were getting more frequent, and we heard tales of Jews herded onto trains going West. My sister got word that someone could get us out of the city. We were standing by the ruins of a bar for hours before daylight, it's patrons long dead or shipped away.
"Are you Magdelena?"
She turned around quickly. A rusted knife we found the day before in the bar in her hands.
"Relax, młoda dziewczyna. I mean you no harm."
"Are you Tomasz?"
"Tak. Now quickly we must go. The Szkops are getting..."
A giant spotlight shone unto the bar.
**"Aufhören ! Sie sind alle verhaftet!"**
"Kurwa! They've found us! Quickly now!"
My sister scooped me up and followed Tomasz through the back. Gunfire demolished the mahogany counter where old men used to drink. Sirens can be heard throughout the city. And more Nazis began pouring into it.
I can remember that it was the day I first heard my sister swear.
"Młoda dziewczyna! You're bleeding!"
"Ja pierdole!"
"Here, let me..."
"Nie, Tomasz. We have no time."
I looked up to her. My siostra. The only family I've had left. Her eyes brimmed with tears and determination.
"Siostra?"
"Jan, go with Wujek Tomasz. Your siostra needs to take a breath."
"No, I wanna stay with Siostra!"
"Jan, you must be a man now. A man cannot stand behind his sister. Go with Tomasz."
"Młoda dziewczyna! We have no time!"
She took out her bracelet. And gave it to my hands.
"Jan, hold onto this. It's my lucky charm. I will come back for it."
"Promise?"
"I never break a promise, Jan. I love you."
"**NOW!!**"
Tomasz threw me across his back and ran.
***"Siostra!!!"***
The last sight of my sister was the several men surrounding her. The leader, a cold smile with a golden watch, looms over her.
Then there was darkness.
*****
*Hours later.*
Tomasz walks up to me. The campfire does not give any warmth.
"Eat, chłopak. You must be hungry."
"Wujek?"
"Yes, Jan?"
"Teach me how to kill Szkops."
**TO BE CONTINUED** | |
[WP] Upon dying you find that you're allowed to choose which religion's afterlife you go to. | At first, there was only a blindingly white light, but Jeb's eyes soon adjusted, his mind reeling, wondering if he had made it or not. Only moments ago, he had passed his beer in its foam "coozy" into the care of his brother Jeremiah while he was about to show him up good; now, he stood in a place that seemed as though it were made entirely of light. "Watch this" his own voice echoed faintly in the distance of his mind.
A gentle voice, not quite next to him but almost within him, broke his thoughts: "Welcome home, Jebediah." Jeb saw before him an elderly man in flowing robes. "Wh'r--... wh'r' am I?" Jeb asked.
"The more important question is where will you be. You have passed on. This is where you get to decide."
"I-- I'm in Heaven?"
"In a manner of sorts," said the man in flowing robes.
"I ain't in Hell, am I?" a sudden fear washed over him.
"No," the old man said with a grandfatherly chuckle. "No, though I never grow tired of that one. You lot certainly are a cynical bunch. Have no fear: there is no such thing."
Jeb stood silent for a few moments in uncomfortable confusion. He finally replied, "then who'uz right?"
The old man responded with a bemused expression, "no one... and every one, to a degree. Let's go for a walk," he added, placing a comforting arm around Jeb's shoulders, leading him on a path that Jeb had not noticed - or had it not existed? - only moments before.
The two strolled along, coming to a sort of ethereal cul de sac. The old man led him past some gates with unfamiliar symbols on them, arriving at one that was simply a large pearl with what looked to be an X and a P inscribed on them. "You see, you have many options; this, for instance, may be the one with which you feel most comfortable."
"Oh, shee-oot!" Jeb exclaimed, recognition dawning. "So them's the Pearly Gates and you's St. Peter!"
"Yes and no. I am a reflection of what is in your mind. You've no need to choose until you've seen as many as you like, but let's see what awaits if this is your selection." And with that, the great pearl rolled to the side and the old man took Jeb through. They slowly rose above the streets paved in gold and the many mansions, eventually coming to the center with the throne of God and Jesus at his right hand.
Jeb turned to the old man and asked, "So th'r's Jesus an' God an' the angels an' servants, but where's all the people?"
"I'm afraid this option has not been very popular in recent centuries."
"But what about all the people who love Jesus? We didn' take the Lord's name in vain, we went to church, we fought ag'inst the abortionists an' the lib'rals... an' y'r tellin' me all them people went somewheres else?" The old man nodded in reply. "Well, where'd they all go?"
"Some join the universal fabric of Nirvana, others prefer the regal Tian, while others still prefer the ambrosial feasts of Asgard or the lush valleys of Elysium. Not many prefer the realm of Tlaloc either. But most of your people choose Jannah." Jeb stood in confused silence. "Let me show you."
The old man once again led Jeb with a calming arm around the shoulders, taking him to a gate with luscious flowers whose tendrils interwove the golden bars and released an intoxicating perfume. There were odd squiggling lines and dots across a golden, circular shield that registered as vaguely familiar to Jeb. The gate opened and as they crossed into Jannah, they were greeted by human-like creatures with many wings, saying, "Welcome to Jannah, peace be upon you!" The old man returned the greeting and continued to lead a silent Jeb forward. They rose into the air as the creatures sped off.
They were in a lush garden filled with all manner of plants bearing figs and dates and cool, clear rivers punctuated by cascading falls. There were people everywhere and each man was surrounded by scores of beautiful women, carrying fruit and wine. The air was fragrant and warm and, as they came to a rest, Jeb found the ground cool and comfortable.
Suddenly, a man who looked not unlike Jeb came rounding a hedgerow with his entourage of women. He grinned as he made his way toward Jeb, a man walking with a purpose. Jeb recognized him; "Uncle Aaron!" he shouted, running toward him. They embraced but Jeb's joy quickly turned to confusion. "But, Uncle Aaron, why're you here an' not with Jesus? Y're a Southern Baptist pastor, f'r goodness sake!"
"Jeb, son," Uncle Aaron paused, glowing. "Was a shock t' me too, maybe e'en more so 'an you, spendin' my life in His service. I thought the Mohammadans were Satan's own 'til I got here. But look aroun' me," he waved to his harem, each woman smiling coquettishly, and then to the garden surrounding them. "Ain't this Heaven?"
"Y're telling me they'uz right about the 72 virgins? F'r not even blowin' y'rself up?" Uncle Aaron nodded in response. "An' all y'all do all day is eat, drink, an'...." Uncle Aaron's eyes scrunched as he let out a belly laugh and nodded. "Well, I'll be," Jeb paused as the thought washed over him. He turned to the old man who was waiting with a bemused grin, "Sign me up!"
"You're quite sure?" the old man asked.
"Absolutely!"
"Very well then. Peace be upon you both."
"And upon you as well," Uncle Aaron replied for the both of them.
The angels returned, "Jebediah - the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon his name, wishes to welcome you with a feast and present you with your 72 *houri*. Come."
"Go on, now - I'll join you then. They'll g't you all set up," Uncle Aaron encouraged a smiling but unsure Jeb.
Jeb took off with the angels and Uncle Aaron returned to his own *houri* and the elderly man in the flowing robes returned to the bright light of Limbo, chuckling to himself, "my beloved Sons of the South, they always pick Jannah in the end." | The Entity -- what I had named it -- led me down a long hallway -- what I had chosen to call it. In truth, The Entity may not have been an entity at all, rather some intangible aura or subtle manifestation of a collective subconcious, or an omnipresent sensation of bonhomie. Are such things 'entities'? And where I wandered was not a hallway, not really; some six-dimensional rough analogue, which if you squinted, might make serviceable the comparison.
My feet did not move. My arms did not move. My eyes did not swivel in their sockets. But I walked, and I saw. What I saw was this:
Cherubs plucking harps. Men and women in togas and stolae, cavorting in amber fields. Men in repose on ottomans, each surrounded by six dozen young women. I saw whole families sitting together at long galley tables, saying grace and singing praises, and they really liked cream of mushroom soup. I saw ceremonial dances and generations of ancestors performing rites to protect those who had not yet arrived. Each scene in its own room -- or rather, bubble -- or rather, pocket -- these ramshackle descriptions must suffice until you see it too.
The Entity had the annoying habit of always seeming to be just outside my peripheral vision. Each time I tried to inter-dimensionally cast my view about and catch glimpse of it, it slipped away, like smoke through a grasping hand. It was innately upsetting to some small piece of my hindbrain, which sang out and demanded that I look at the thing speaking to me, though I could not. Itch that cannot be scratched.
"I may choose?" I said again.
"You may choose." It said.
Though to say 'I said' and 'it said' would be another poor analogy. The laws of physics are not so entrenched at all points of space, as it happens.
"What are you? God?"
"You have no word for me."
"Can you make one up?"
"This way, please."
I saw burly warriors at burled tables sloshing what must have been mead. I saw satyrs despoiling virgins, I saw the unity of all things in a frankly kind of spooky half-intangible sphere of light. I saw a clearinghouse, souls rolling in on a great conveyor like cattle in cartoons of abbatoirs, although the end result was not ground chuck -- just a gentle sigh and a sudden dissipation. These were the ones who chose to have another go, I gathered.
I saw a floating being made from pasta. I saw things for which I would have names if I had been better educated in the esoteric beliefs of old. I saw infinitely many more places filled with beings definitely not human, partaking of holy pleasures I did not fully understand for reasons of simple biology. And I saw Jesus. Yes, I saw Jesus. He looked like a nice man.
These visions had one commonality. They were eternal.
To live for an eternity. Dream of all sentient creatures.
"May I choose nothing?" I asked.
The Entity thought.
"Some have chosen thus."
"Very many?"
"Infinity may not be divided into itself. I work on an individual basis."
"I want nothing, then. Nothing, nothing."
The visions ceased. I felt myself surrounded by gentle pressure, like plunging into a bath of warm milk. And then: beatific oblivion. | |
[WP] Upon dying you find that you're allowed to choose which religion's afterlife you go to. | Of course there would be a line. Isn't there always? I tapped my foot impatiently as the elderly woman in front of me had the receptionist explain, for the second time, that she wasn't going to be able to go to her Tuesday bingo session at the rec center because she had died a few hours ago. I get that the poor thing was confused, but we were all a bit miffed so maybe she could just help the line move along.
Finally the receptionist called someone and had special permission for her late husband to be sent up to help with the transition. I stepped forward and waited, tapping my finger quickly on the counter. The woman behind the desk just clicked away on her keyboard. Without looking up she spoke in a bored voice, “Welcome to AfterLyfe, your one stop shop for all your eternal needs. Do you have valid registration?”
“Yes, dammit.” I said sharply, “This is my third time through the line. I have my registration and a copy of my proof of death. Can I please just move along?”
The receptionist took a deep breath, and turned her gaze to me, showing just a moment of fiery hate and madness. It was gone so quickly I may have just imagined it and was replaced by a plastic smile and the same monotone voice saying, “We do apologize for the wait, our service representative will now be able to see you, please go to the third door on the left, and head right on in.” She turned back to her computer ignoring me. I grabbed my papers and walked down the hall.
I knocked on the door and heard a cheery voice say, “Come right on in buddy, the door should be unlocked.” I reached out and pressed the handle down, taking a breath before I stepped inside. I was expecting something different but I shouldn't have been to surprised. It was a small room with a desk in the middle and two chairs in front of the desk. On the walls were various posters of families and couples, laying in grassy fields or jumping through the air as they were part of some cheesy motivational powerpoint.
Sitting behind the desk was a man that perfectly resembled my mental image of a typical car salesman. Slicked back hair, slightly awkward looking suit, and a huge smile that looked almost painful as if his cheeks were forcibly being lifted up. On his chest was a name plate saying “Charon.”
“Please take a seat here...” his eyes flicked to the screen on his desk, “Mr. Richardson. I'm sorry for the wait, you know how it is.” He gave a chuckle as if we were old friends. “It gets like this around Holiday season.”
“Look, I just want to hurry this along,” I said with a sigh as I took a seat in the overstuffed chair.
“I totally feel you buddy, we just need to pull up your info here and see what we can do. Do you have any idea what package you may be interested in? If I may make a suggestion the Golden Plus Bundle is on sale this week, courtesy of our sponsor the Coca-Cola Company. You can even use your Coke Rewards points.”
“I'm not really interested in that sort of thing, I can't afford most of this anyway.”
“We have several payment plans and offers. If money is an issue, previous Comcast customers get the Deluxe Hell package and you will pay the same monthly fee for eternity without any raises in your bill. Exclusions apply.”
“I'll pass, okay? I guess reincarnation would suit me better.”
His smile faded half an inch as a juicy sale slipped through his fingers. I knew for a fact that my mother-in-law would be in Heaven, I could hardly spend five minutes with the woman let alone eternity having all my life choices judged. He typed on his computer for a second before saying, “Well if you are looking for reincarnation we have several options, but if price is the main concern you can sign up for a BuddhaNet account and you get a free spin from the reincarnation wheel, courtesy of our sponsor Wheel-Of-Fortune.
“Sure that works,” I said quickly.
“Alright, we just need you to provide an email address for your account or you can log-in if you have previously made a Atman account before.”
“I'll make an account.”
He turned his screen around and slid the keyboard to me. I typed out my address and personal information. It took three tries but I finally got the CAPTCHA right and the page refreshed. Suddenly there was a pop-up on the screen. “I'm sorry, this e-mail address does not meet with our account creation requirements.” The man looked at the screen for a moment before looking back at me. His smile widened the slightest bit.
“Would you like to create an account using your Facebook?” | The Entity -- what I had named it -- led me down a long hallway -- what I had chosen to call it. In truth, The Entity may not have been an entity at all, rather some intangible aura or subtle manifestation of a collective subconcious, or an omnipresent sensation of bonhomie. Are such things 'entities'? And where I wandered was not a hallway, not really; some six-dimensional rough analogue, which if you squinted, might make serviceable the comparison.
My feet did not move. My arms did not move. My eyes did not swivel in their sockets. But I walked, and I saw. What I saw was this:
Cherubs plucking harps. Men and women in togas and stolae, cavorting in amber fields. Men in repose on ottomans, each surrounded by six dozen young women. I saw whole families sitting together at long galley tables, saying grace and singing praises, and they really liked cream of mushroom soup. I saw ceremonial dances and generations of ancestors performing rites to protect those who had not yet arrived. Each scene in its own room -- or rather, bubble -- or rather, pocket -- these ramshackle descriptions must suffice until you see it too.
The Entity had the annoying habit of always seeming to be just outside my peripheral vision. Each time I tried to inter-dimensionally cast my view about and catch glimpse of it, it slipped away, like smoke through a grasping hand. It was innately upsetting to some small piece of my hindbrain, which sang out and demanded that I look at the thing speaking to me, though I could not. Itch that cannot be scratched.
"I may choose?" I said again.
"You may choose." It said.
Though to say 'I said' and 'it said' would be another poor analogy. The laws of physics are not so entrenched at all points of space, as it happens.
"What are you? God?"
"You have no word for me."
"Can you make one up?"
"This way, please."
I saw burly warriors at burled tables sloshing what must have been mead. I saw satyrs despoiling virgins, I saw the unity of all things in a frankly kind of spooky half-intangible sphere of light. I saw a clearinghouse, souls rolling in on a great conveyor like cattle in cartoons of abbatoirs, although the end result was not ground chuck -- just a gentle sigh and a sudden dissipation. These were the ones who chose to have another go, I gathered.
I saw a floating being made from pasta. I saw things for which I would have names if I had been better educated in the esoteric beliefs of old. I saw infinitely many more places filled with beings definitely not human, partaking of holy pleasures I did not fully understand for reasons of simple biology. And I saw Jesus. Yes, I saw Jesus. He looked like a nice man.
These visions had one commonality. They were eternal.
To live for an eternity. Dream of all sentient creatures.
"May I choose nothing?" I asked.
The Entity thought.
"Some have chosen thus."
"Very many?"
"Infinity may not be divided into itself. I work on an individual basis."
"I want nothing, then. Nothing, nothing."
The visions ceased. I felt myself surrounded by gentle pressure, like plunging into a bath of warm milk. And then: beatific oblivion. | |
[WP] Upon dying you find that you're allowed to choose which religion's afterlife you go to. | Of course there would be a line. Isn't there always? I tapped my foot impatiently as the elderly woman in front of me had the receptionist explain, for the second time, that she wasn't going to be able to go to her Tuesday bingo session at the rec center because she had died a few hours ago. I get that the poor thing was confused, but we were all a bit miffed so maybe she could just help the line move along.
Finally the receptionist called someone and had special permission for her late husband to be sent up to help with the transition. I stepped forward and waited, tapping my finger quickly on the counter. The woman behind the desk just clicked away on her keyboard. Without looking up she spoke in a bored voice, “Welcome to AfterLyfe, your one stop shop for all your eternal needs. Do you have valid registration?”
“Yes, dammit.” I said sharply, “This is my third time through the line. I have my registration and a copy of my proof of death. Can I please just move along?”
The receptionist took a deep breath, and turned her gaze to me, showing just a moment of fiery hate and madness. It was gone so quickly I may have just imagined it and was replaced by a plastic smile and the same monotone voice saying, “We do apologize for the wait, our service representative will now be able to see you, please go to the third door on the left, and head right on in.” She turned back to her computer ignoring me. I grabbed my papers and walked down the hall.
I knocked on the door and heard a cheery voice say, “Come right on in buddy, the door should be unlocked.” I reached out and pressed the handle down, taking a breath before I stepped inside. I was expecting something different but I shouldn't have been to surprised. It was a small room with a desk in the middle and two chairs in front of the desk. On the walls were various posters of families and couples, laying in grassy fields or jumping through the air as they were part of some cheesy motivational powerpoint.
Sitting behind the desk was a man that perfectly resembled my mental image of a typical car salesman. Slicked back hair, slightly awkward looking suit, and a huge smile that looked almost painful as if his cheeks were forcibly being lifted up. On his chest was a name plate saying “Charon.”
“Please take a seat here...” his eyes flicked to the screen on his desk, “Mr. Richardson. I'm sorry for the wait, you know how it is.” He gave a chuckle as if we were old friends. “It gets like this around Holiday season.”
“Look, I just want to hurry this along,” I said with a sigh as I took a seat in the overstuffed chair.
“I totally feel you buddy, we just need to pull up your info here and see what we can do. Do you have any idea what package you may be interested in? If I may make a suggestion the Golden Plus Bundle is on sale this week, courtesy of our sponsor the Coca-Cola Company. You can even use your Coke Rewards points.”
“I'm not really interested in that sort of thing, I can't afford most of this anyway.”
“We have several payment plans and offers. If money is an issue, previous Comcast customers get the Deluxe Hell package and you will pay the same monthly fee for eternity without any raises in your bill. Exclusions apply.”
“I'll pass, okay? I guess reincarnation would suit me better.”
His smile faded half an inch as a juicy sale slipped through his fingers. I knew for a fact that my mother-in-law would be in Heaven, I could hardly spend five minutes with the woman let alone eternity having all my life choices judged. He typed on his computer for a second before saying, “Well if you are looking for reincarnation we have several options, but if price is the main concern you can sign up for a BuddhaNet account and you get a free spin from the reincarnation wheel, courtesy of our sponsor Wheel-Of-Fortune.
“Sure that works,” I said quickly.
“Alright, we just need you to provide an email address for your account or you can log-in if you have previously made a Atman account before.”
“I'll make an account.”
He turned his screen around and slid the keyboard to me. I typed out my address and personal information. It took three tries but I finally got the CAPTCHA right and the page refreshed. Suddenly there was a pop-up on the screen. “I'm sorry, this e-mail address does not meet with our account creation requirements.” The man looked at the screen for a moment before looking back at me. His smile widened the slightest bit.
“Would you like to create an account using your Facebook?” | At first, there was only a blindingly white light, but Jeb's eyes soon adjusted, his mind reeling, wondering if he had made it or not. Only moments ago, he had passed his beer in its foam "coozy" into the care of his brother Jeremiah while he was about to show him up good; now, he stood in a place that seemed as though it were made entirely of light. "Watch this" his own voice echoed faintly in the distance of his mind.
A gentle voice, not quite next to him but almost within him, broke his thoughts: "Welcome home, Jebediah." Jeb saw before him an elderly man in flowing robes. "Wh'r--... wh'r' am I?" Jeb asked.
"The more important question is where will you be. You have passed on. This is where you get to decide."
"I-- I'm in Heaven?"
"In a manner of sorts," said the man in flowing robes.
"I ain't in Hell, am I?" a sudden fear washed over him.
"No," the old man said with a grandfatherly chuckle. "No, though I never grow tired of that one. You lot certainly are a cynical bunch. Have no fear: there is no such thing."
Jeb stood silent for a few moments in uncomfortable confusion. He finally replied, "then who'uz right?"
The old man responded with a bemused expression, "no one... and every one, to a degree. Let's go for a walk," he added, placing a comforting arm around Jeb's shoulders, leading him on a path that Jeb had not noticed - or had it not existed? - only moments before.
The two strolled along, coming to a sort of ethereal cul de sac. The old man led him past some gates with unfamiliar symbols on them, arriving at one that was simply a large pearl with what looked to be an X and a P inscribed on them. "You see, you have many options; this, for instance, may be the one with which you feel most comfortable."
"Oh, shee-oot!" Jeb exclaimed, recognition dawning. "So them's the Pearly Gates and you's St. Peter!"
"Yes and no. I am a reflection of what is in your mind. You've no need to choose until you've seen as many as you like, but let's see what awaits if this is your selection." And with that, the great pearl rolled to the side and the old man took Jeb through. They slowly rose above the streets paved in gold and the many mansions, eventually coming to the center with the throne of God and Jesus at his right hand.
Jeb turned to the old man and asked, "So th'r's Jesus an' God an' the angels an' servants, but where's all the people?"
"I'm afraid this option has not been very popular in recent centuries."
"But what about all the people who love Jesus? We didn' take the Lord's name in vain, we went to church, we fought ag'inst the abortionists an' the lib'rals... an' y'r tellin' me all them people went somewheres else?" The old man nodded in reply. "Well, where'd they all go?"
"Some join the universal fabric of Nirvana, others prefer the regal Tian, while others still prefer the ambrosial feasts of Asgard or the lush valleys of Elysium. Not many prefer the realm of Tlaloc either. But most of your people choose Jannah." Jeb stood in confused silence. "Let me show you."
The old man once again led Jeb with a calming arm around the shoulders, taking him to a gate with luscious flowers whose tendrils interwove the golden bars and released an intoxicating perfume. There were odd squiggling lines and dots across a golden, circular shield that registered as vaguely familiar to Jeb. The gate opened and as they crossed into Jannah, they were greeted by human-like creatures with many wings, saying, "Welcome to Jannah, peace be upon you!" The old man returned the greeting and continued to lead a silent Jeb forward. They rose into the air as the creatures sped off.
They were in a lush garden filled with all manner of plants bearing figs and dates and cool, clear rivers punctuated by cascading falls. There were people everywhere and each man was surrounded by scores of beautiful women, carrying fruit and wine. The air was fragrant and warm and, as they came to a rest, Jeb found the ground cool and comfortable.
Suddenly, a man who looked not unlike Jeb came rounding a hedgerow with his entourage of women. He grinned as he made his way toward Jeb, a man walking with a purpose. Jeb recognized him; "Uncle Aaron!" he shouted, running toward him. They embraced but Jeb's joy quickly turned to confusion. "But, Uncle Aaron, why're you here an' not with Jesus? Y're a Southern Baptist pastor, f'r goodness sake!"
"Jeb, son," Uncle Aaron paused, glowing. "Was a shock t' me too, maybe e'en more so 'an you, spendin' my life in His service. I thought the Mohammadans were Satan's own 'til I got here. But look aroun' me," he waved to his harem, each woman smiling coquettishly, and then to the garden surrounding them. "Ain't this Heaven?"
"Y're telling me they'uz right about the 72 virgins? F'r not even blowin' y'rself up?" Uncle Aaron nodded in response. "An' all y'all do all day is eat, drink, an'...." Uncle Aaron's eyes scrunched as he let out a belly laugh and nodded. "Well, I'll be," Jeb paused as the thought washed over him. He turned to the old man who was waiting with a bemused grin, "Sign me up!"
"You're quite sure?" the old man asked.
"Absolutely!"
"Very well then. Peace be upon you both."
"And upon you as well," Uncle Aaron replied for the both of them.
The angels returned, "Jebediah - the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon his name, wishes to welcome you with a feast and present you with your 72 *houri*. Come."
"Go on, now - I'll join you then. They'll g't you all set up," Uncle Aaron encouraged a smiling but unsure Jeb.
Jeb took off with the angels and Uncle Aaron returned to his own *houri* and the elderly man in the flowing robes returned to the bright light of Limbo, chuckling to himself, "my beloved Sons of the South, they always pick Jannah in the end." | |
[WP] Upon dying you find that you're allowed to choose which religion's afterlife you go to. | Brendan stuffed his fingers in his ears not to drown out the screaming plane engines that were clearly past critical failure but to shut out the shattering shrieks and blubbering prayers of the rather large woman who had been hogging his armrest the whole flight.
There was a burst of white light and feeling of lightness. Sweet relief.
The world was white. There was no ceiling or floor. Just a man behind a desk with a brochure rack leaning his chair back on two legs.
“Dude! Come on over. We’ve got some great deals goin’ on today. I’m Chad, and I’ll be your advisor.”
Brendan introduced himself and couldn’t help but notice the multiple friendship bracelets around Chad’s wrist. He wore cargo shorts and a flowery Hawaiian-style shirt. He put his feet on the desk and Brendan saw that Chad wore flip flops.
“Do you like hot weather?” asked Chad.
“Not too hot,” Brendan said.
Chad chucked the brochure in his hand over his shoulder. “Then we won’t do Hell. That’s a little extreme for most people. Those adventurous types always want to take on fire and brimstone for eternity, but I’m with you on that one, bud.”
“Anything with a younger crowd?” Brendan asked.
“Cool, cool. I like where you’re going with this,” Chad said. “Want something with a little party going on?” He pulled up a pamphlet and examined it.
“Did you die in martyrdom?” Chad asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Uh, no. Plane crash,” Brendan said.
Chad chucked the pamphlet. “They say lots of virgins in this one, but I don’t think you qualify. Sorry, bro.”
“It’s all right,” said Brendan.
“There’s always rebirth, dude. Nothing wrong with that. It might not hurt to take a look at your options there?”
“Is there a washroom around here?” asked Brendan.
“Sorry dude. I can’t let you use the bathroom until you’ve picked a package. It sucks, I know but that’s just the policy,” said Chad. He examined a chart on a brochure.
“They make these things so confusing,” said Chad. “You probably don’t want to be reborn into third-world squalor. The G7 countries always fill up so fast with reborn souls. Everyone wants to get on the waiting list, you know?”
Brendan squeezed his legs together. “Anything?”
“Well, there is one,” said Chad.
“I’m open. I’ve really got to pee,” said Brendan.
“Bro, what are your thoughts on Finland?” Chad asked. | The crash, the roll, the explosion. It all led to this. I was everywhere; bits of me, anyway.
It was a painful process, the wreck. It was intense, but the pain slowly, steadily ceased. I quickly realized the reason: I was dead. With an injury like being shred to pieces, it would be hard not to die. This was it: the end. I closed my eyes and patiently waited for my mind to go elsewhere, to disappear into history.
As I lie there, I began to come to the realization that my mind wasn't going anywhere. I scratched my head, my eyes remaining closed. *I scratched my head.* Last I remember, my hand was across the street, jammed in the steering wheel that had flown out of my car. I opened my eyes.
"Welcome, sir." A woman stood before me. "What is your destination?"
I stood up quickly, clumsily falling back down before finally getting to my feet. I stared at her, then at our surroundings. We were nowhere. All was white -- well, it wasn't white -- it was nothing. I tried not to jump to conclusions.
"Excuse me, sir?" She asked again, looking at me confused. "Final destination? What religion do you belong to?"
Now I understood. I could go to Heaven, or even Valhalla. After a thought, and almost no hesitation, words finally stumbled out of my mouth. Damn, did I make a mistake.
"I'm an atheist," I said. | |
[WP] Upon dying you find that you're allowed to choose which religion's afterlife you go to. | 'So we really get to pick which one we want?'
'Yes'
'And everything that religion taught is there?'
'Yes'
'So, there will be 72 virgins waiting for me?'
'Yes!'
Saint Peter had clearly lost his patience. An hour of endless questions felt like an eternity in an eternity. A mini-hell. And every new person always asked the same questions again and again.
'Well, I'll pick Islam then.'
'You got it.'
Biggs entered the room. And there they were. 72 Redditors, and cat pictures. Cat pictures everywhere. | The crash, the roll, the explosion. It all led to this. I was everywhere; bits of me, anyway.
It was a painful process, the wreck. It was intense, but the pain slowly, steadily ceased. I quickly realized the reason: I was dead. With an injury like being shred to pieces, it would be hard not to die. This was it: the end. I closed my eyes and patiently waited for my mind to go elsewhere, to disappear into history.
As I lie there, I began to come to the realization that my mind wasn't going anywhere. I scratched my head, my eyes remaining closed. *I scratched my head.* Last I remember, my hand was across the street, jammed in the steering wheel that had flown out of my car. I opened my eyes.
"Welcome, sir." A woman stood before me. "What is your destination?"
I stood up quickly, clumsily falling back down before finally getting to my feet. I stared at her, then at our surroundings. We were nowhere. All was white -- well, it wasn't white -- it was nothing. I tried not to jump to conclusions.
"Excuse me, sir?" She asked again, looking at me confused. "Final destination? What religion do you belong to?"
Now I understood. I could go to Heaven, or even Valhalla. After a thought, and almost no hesitation, words finally stumbled out of my mouth. Damn, did I make a mistake.
"I'm an atheist," I said. | |
[WP] Upon dying you find that you're allowed to choose which religion's afterlife you go to. | "The choice is entirely up to you, of course, and you have all the time you like to decide. Literally. However, if you're looking for some guidance, you could do worse than Scalanariasm."
Jim looked up from the brochure (Page 3 of 15,583,290,456). "Scalanariasm? I'm not familiar with it?"
"Well, you wouldn't be, it never makes it to Earth. Created in the M-498 galaxy, don't you know, which is...let's see...ah, here it is, 8 million light years from Earth."
"Wait, so this is every religion...in the universe? Like, alien religions?"
"Of course! What, you thought you were the only ones so enlightened?"
"Well...yeah. I mean, I didn't even know there were aliens."
"What? Well that can't be, Earth is a member in good standing of the Galactic Council, after all. You did say you were from Earth, right?"
"That's right, Earth. Third planet from the Sun?"
"No, Earth is the second planet...hang on here, something has gone south....ah, here's the trouble. You are from Earth Beta."
"Earth Beta? What's that mean?"
"Well there are over 9 quadrillion planets in the universe that have supported intelligent life at one point or another, after all, there's bound to be a bit of duplication. You should see how many people just name their planet "Rock"...we have a whole separate department to sort those folks out. Now then, Earth Beta, let's see....Hmmm, you were a...how do you pronounce this...Mooslim, then?"
"Muslim. Well, actually you may be pronouncing it correctly, I'm not sure, but regardless, no, I was a Christian. I mean, I didn't really practice or anything, kind of gave it up when I moved out on my own, but..."
"Christianity, here it is! Well, monotheism, punishment and reward system, morals and....more morals....my it does go on doesn't it? Well, if that is your choice, we can certainly accommodate you. It does appear that there are a smattering of your brethren that have chosen...Heaven, it says here?"
"How many is a 'smattering'? Is my grandmother there?"
"Let's see, the number as of this morning was...8,345."
"That's it?! There were literally billions of Christians that lived throughout history!"
"Yes, but as we've already discussed, you have your choice of any religious afterlife you'd like. I am authorized to provide you with some limited information on what your existence in a potential afterlife would be."
"Really?"
"Well, replace the words 'am authorized' with 'sometimes just for fun'. It's not against the rules or anything, mind you, it's just that most Afterlife Consultants don't really care. I mean, you've saved one soul, you've saved 47 sextillion, after all. I can give you the Top 3 activities in any afterlife of your choosing."
"Uh...OK, sounds good. What are the Top 3 in Christianity."
"Being bathed in an everlasting perfect light, worshiping your deity, and talking with others about worshiping your deity."
"Huh....well that sounds...err..."
"Boring?"
"I mean, I don't want to sound...heathenish here or anything, but...you had a recommendation earlier...Scalabrineism?"
"Scalanariasm."
"That's the one. What's the Top 3 there?"
"Orgasmic jet skiing, rocket-powered blackjack, and ambrosia tasting. Oh, and you also get all the powers of Superman."
".....Huh."
"It's one of our more popular offerings."
"....Where did you say Grandma was again?"
"According to this, she....oh...it seems she picked a rather...sadomasochistic afterlife. I could give you the Top..."
"NO, no, that won't be necessary. Listen, I'm going to give this some more thought, maybe leaf through the brochure some more....this is a lot to take in."
"Of course it is, that's why you have all the time in the world. Scalanariasm though...right?"
"It's the leader in the clubhouse, I'll admit." | The crash, the roll, the explosion. It all led to this. I was everywhere; bits of me, anyway.
It was a painful process, the wreck. It was intense, but the pain slowly, steadily ceased. I quickly realized the reason: I was dead. With an injury like being shred to pieces, it would be hard not to die. This was it: the end. I closed my eyes and patiently waited for my mind to go elsewhere, to disappear into history.
As I lie there, I began to come to the realization that my mind wasn't going anywhere. I scratched my head, my eyes remaining closed. *I scratched my head.* Last I remember, my hand was across the street, jammed in the steering wheel that had flown out of my car. I opened my eyes.
"Welcome, sir." A woman stood before me. "What is your destination?"
I stood up quickly, clumsily falling back down before finally getting to my feet. I stared at her, then at our surroundings. We were nowhere. All was white -- well, it wasn't white -- it was nothing. I tried not to jump to conclusions.
"Excuse me, sir?" She asked again, looking at me confused. "Final destination? What religion do you belong to?"
Now I understood. I could go to Heaven, or even Valhalla. After a thought, and almost no hesitation, words finally stumbled out of my mouth. Damn, did I make a mistake.
"I'm an atheist," I said. | |
[WP] Upon dying you find that you're allowed to choose which religion's afterlife you go to. | 'So we really get to pick which one we want?'
'Yes'
'And everything that religion taught is there?'
'Yes'
'So, there will be 72 virgins waiting for me?'
'Yes!'
Saint Peter had clearly lost his patience. An hour of endless questions felt like an eternity in an eternity. A mini-hell. And every new person always asked the same questions again and again.
'Well, I'll pick Islam then.'
'You got it.'
Biggs entered the room. And there they were. 72 Redditors, and cat pictures. Cat pictures everywhere. | Brendan stuffed his fingers in his ears not to drown out the screaming plane engines that were clearly past critical failure but to shut out the shattering shrieks and blubbering prayers of the rather large woman who had been hogging his armrest the whole flight.
There was a burst of white light and feeling of lightness. Sweet relief.
The world was white. There was no ceiling or floor. Just a man behind a desk with a brochure rack leaning his chair back on two legs.
“Dude! Come on over. We’ve got some great deals goin’ on today. I’m Chad, and I’ll be your advisor.”
Brendan introduced himself and couldn’t help but notice the multiple friendship bracelets around Chad’s wrist. He wore cargo shorts and a flowery Hawaiian-style shirt. He put his feet on the desk and Brendan saw that Chad wore flip flops.
“Do you like hot weather?” asked Chad.
“Not too hot,” Brendan said.
Chad chucked the brochure in his hand over his shoulder. “Then we won’t do Hell. That’s a little extreme for most people. Those adventurous types always want to take on fire and brimstone for eternity, but I’m with you on that one, bud.”
“Anything with a younger crowd?” Brendan asked.
“Cool, cool. I like where you’re going with this,” Chad said. “Want something with a little party going on?” He pulled up a pamphlet and examined it.
“Did you die in martyrdom?” Chad asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Uh, no. Plane crash,” Brendan said.
Chad chucked the pamphlet. “They say lots of virgins in this one, but I don’t think you qualify. Sorry, bro.”
“It’s all right,” said Brendan.
“There’s always rebirth, dude. Nothing wrong with that. It might not hurt to take a look at your options there?”
“Is there a washroom around here?” asked Brendan.
“Sorry dude. I can’t let you use the bathroom until you’ve picked a package. It sucks, I know but that’s just the policy,” said Chad. He examined a chart on a brochure.
“They make these things so confusing,” said Chad. “You probably don’t want to be reborn into third-world squalor. The G7 countries always fill up so fast with reborn souls. Everyone wants to get on the waiting list, you know?”
Brendan squeezed his legs together. “Anything?”
“Well, there is one,” said Chad.
“I’m open. I’ve really got to pee,” said Brendan.
“Bro, what are your thoughts on Finland?” Chad asked. | |
[WP] Upon dying you find that you're allowed to choose which religion's afterlife you go to. | "The choice is entirely up to you, of course, and you have all the time you like to decide. Literally. However, if you're looking for some guidance, you could do worse than Scalanariasm."
Jim looked up from the brochure (Page 3 of 15,583,290,456). "Scalanariasm? I'm not familiar with it?"
"Well, you wouldn't be, it never makes it to Earth. Created in the M-498 galaxy, don't you know, which is...let's see...ah, here it is, 8 million light years from Earth."
"Wait, so this is every religion...in the universe? Like, alien religions?"
"Of course! What, you thought you were the only ones so enlightened?"
"Well...yeah. I mean, I didn't even know there were aliens."
"What? Well that can't be, Earth is a member in good standing of the Galactic Council, after all. You did say you were from Earth, right?"
"That's right, Earth. Third planet from the Sun?"
"No, Earth is the second planet...hang on here, something has gone south....ah, here's the trouble. You are from Earth Beta."
"Earth Beta? What's that mean?"
"Well there are over 9 quadrillion planets in the universe that have supported intelligent life at one point or another, after all, there's bound to be a bit of duplication. You should see how many people just name their planet "Rock"...we have a whole separate department to sort those folks out. Now then, Earth Beta, let's see....Hmmm, you were a...how do you pronounce this...Mooslim, then?"
"Muslim. Well, actually you may be pronouncing it correctly, I'm not sure, but regardless, no, I was a Christian. I mean, I didn't really practice or anything, kind of gave it up when I moved out on my own, but..."
"Christianity, here it is! Well, monotheism, punishment and reward system, morals and....more morals....my it does go on doesn't it? Well, if that is your choice, we can certainly accommodate you. It does appear that there are a smattering of your brethren that have chosen...Heaven, it says here?"
"How many is a 'smattering'? Is my grandmother there?"
"Let's see, the number as of this morning was...8,345."
"That's it?! There were literally billions of Christians that lived throughout history!"
"Yes, but as we've already discussed, you have your choice of any religious afterlife you'd like. I am authorized to provide you with some limited information on what your existence in a potential afterlife would be."
"Really?"
"Well, replace the words 'am authorized' with 'sometimes just for fun'. It's not against the rules or anything, mind you, it's just that most Afterlife Consultants don't really care. I mean, you've saved one soul, you've saved 47 sextillion, after all. I can give you the Top 3 activities in any afterlife of your choosing."
"Uh...OK, sounds good. What are the Top 3 in Christianity."
"Being bathed in an everlasting perfect light, worshiping your deity, and talking with others about worshiping your deity."
"Huh....well that sounds...err..."
"Boring?"
"I mean, I don't want to sound...heathenish here or anything, but...you had a recommendation earlier...Scalabrineism?"
"Scalanariasm."
"That's the one. What's the Top 3 there?"
"Orgasmic jet skiing, rocket-powered blackjack, and ambrosia tasting. Oh, and you also get all the powers of Superman."
".....Huh."
"It's one of our more popular offerings."
"....Where did you say Grandma was again?"
"According to this, she....oh...it seems she picked a rather...sadomasochistic afterlife. I could give you the Top..."
"NO, no, that won't be necessary. Listen, I'm going to give this some more thought, maybe leaf through the brochure some more....this is a lot to take in."
"Of course it is, that's why you have all the time in the world. Scalanariasm though...right?"
"It's the leader in the clubhouse, I'll admit." | Brendan stuffed his fingers in his ears not to drown out the screaming plane engines that were clearly past critical failure but to shut out the shattering shrieks and blubbering prayers of the rather large woman who had been hogging his armrest the whole flight.
There was a burst of white light and feeling of lightness. Sweet relief.
The world was white. There was no ceiling or floor. Just a man behind a desk with a brochure rack leaning his chair back on two legs.
“Dude! Come on over. We’ve got some great deals goin’ on today. I’m Chad, and I’ll be your advisor.”
Brendan introduced himself and couldn’t help but notice the multiple friendship bracelets around Chad’s wrist. He wore cargo shorts and a flowery Hawaiian-style shirt. He put his feet on the desk and Brendan saw that Chad wore flip flops.
“Do you like hot weather?” asked Chad.
“Not too hot,” Brendan said.
Chad chucked the brochure in his hand over his shoulder. “Then we won’t do Hell. That’s a little extreme for most people. Those adventurous types always want to take on fire and brimstone for eternity, but I’m with you on that one, bud.”
“Anything with a younger crowd?” Brendan asked.
“Cool, cool. I like where you’re going with this,” Chad said. “Want something with a little party going on?” He pulled up a pamphlet and examined it.
“Did you die in martyrdom?” Chad asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Uh, no. Plane crash,” Brendan said.
Chad chucked the pamphlet. “They say lots of virgins in this one, but I don’t think you qualify. Sorry, bro.”
“It’s all right,” said Brendan.
“There’s always rebirth, dude. Nothing wrong with that. It might not hurt to take a look at your options there?”
“Is there a washroom around here?” asked Brendan.
“Sorry dude. I can’t let you use the bathroom until you’ve picked a package. It sucks, I know but that’s just the policy,” said Chad. He examined a chart on a brochure.
“They make these things so confusing,” said Chad. “You probably don’t want to be reborn into third-world squalor. The G7 countries always fill up so fast with reborn souls. Everyone wants to get on the waiting list, you know?”
Brendan squeezed his legs together. “Anything?”
“Well, there is one,” said Chad.
“I’m open. I’ve really got to pee,” said Brendan.
“Bro, what are your thoughts on Finland?” Chad asked. | |
[WP] Upon dying you find that you're allowed to choose which religion's afterlife you go to. | "The choice is entirely up to you, of course, and you have all the time you like to decide. Literally. However, if you're looking for some guidance, you could do worse than Scalanariasm."
Jim looked up from the brochure (Page 3 of 15,583,290,456). "Scalanariasm? I'm not familiar with it?"
"Well, you wouldn't be, it never makes it to Earth. Created in the M-498 galaxy, don't you know, which is...let's see...ah, here it is, 8 million light years from Earth."
"Wait, so this is every religion...in the universe? Like, alien religions?"
"Of course! What, you thought you were the only ones so enlightened?"
"Well...yeah. I mean, I didn't even know there were aliens."
"What? Well that can't be, Earth is a member in good standing of the Galactic Council, after all. You did say you were from Earth, right?"
"That's right, Earth. Third planet from the Sun?"
"No, Earth is the second planet...hang on here, something has gone south....ah, here's the trouble. You are from Earth Beta."
"Earth Beta? What's that mean?"
"Well there are over 9 quadrillion planets in the universe that have supported intelligent life at one point or another, after all, there's bound to be a bit of duplication. You should see how many people just name their planet "Rock"...we have a whole separate department to sort those folks out. Now then, Earth Beta, let's see....Hmmm, you were a...how do you pronounce this...Mooslim, then?"
"Muslim. Well, actually you may be pronouncing it correctly, I'm not sure, but regardless, no, I was a Christian. I mean, I didn't really practice or anything, kind of gave it up when I moved out on my own, but..."
"Christianity, here it is! Well, monotheism, punishment and reward system, morals and....more morals....my it does go on doesn't it? Well, if that is your choice, we can certainly accommodate you. It does appear that there are a smattering of your brethren that have chosen...Heaven, it says here?"
"How many is a 'smattering'? Is my grandmother there?"
"Let's see, the number as of this morning was...8,345."
"That's it?! There were literally billions of Christians that lived throughout history!"
"Yes, but as we've already discussed, you have your choice of any religious afterlife you'd like. I am authorized to provide you with some limited information on what your existence in a potential afterlife would be."
"Really?"
"Well, replace the words 'am authorized' with 'sometimes just for fun'. It's not against the rules or anything, mind you, it's just that most Afterlife Consultants don't really care. I mean, you've saved one soul, you've saved 47 sextillion, after all. I can give you the Top 3 activities in any afterlife of your choosing."
"Uh...OK, sounds good. What are the Top 3 in Christianity."
"Being bathed in an everlasting perfect light, worshiping your deity, and talking with others about worshiping your deity."
"Huh....well that sounds...err..."
"Boring?"
"I mean, I don't want to sound...heathenish here or anything, but...you had a recommendation earlier...Scalabrineism?"
"Scalanariasm."
"That's the one. What's the Top 3 there?"
"Orgasmic jet skiing, rocket-powered blackjack, and ambrosia tasting. Oh, and you also get all the powers of Superman."
".....Huh."
"It's one of our more popular offerings."
"....Where did you say Grandma was again?"
"According to this, she....oh...it seems she picked a rather...sadomasochistic afterlife. I could give you the Top..."
"NO, no, that won't be necessary. Listen, I'm going to give this some more thought, maybe leaf through the brochure some more....this is a lot to take in."
"Of course it is, that's why you have all the time in the world. Scalanariasm though...right?"
"It's the leader in the clubhouse, I'll admit." | *What religion do you follow?* I blinked a few times, cocking my head slightly in confusion.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Oh, you know. Your primary point of worship. It will determine where you head on to after this." the Angel responded.
"Oh, well, I have been atheist for a long time."
The angel frowned, "Do you want to pick something, maybe Paganism or something with a cool afterlife?"
"Does it really matter? I don't really understand."
"Let me put it like this. The afterlife is based on how you lived, if you truly lived and believed in Atheism, then well there is no afterlife. After our meeting is done, you will consciously cease to exist. But subscribe to something while were talking, and I can put good word in and you could end up having a pretty fun eternity. I am giving you a second chance here." he smiled, then slyly said "I try to help out all the Atheists who come through here, I mean how could you have known?"
"Well, I am not really familiar with the afterlives. I guess I will just choose Christianity, I was born to a Christian family and it's really all I know." I said, after some thought.
"Very well! Let me just update your ledger, and... Oh dear. Well it seems you weren't a very good person, it looks like you are going to hell..."
| |
Also show me what s/he does to cope with the loss of whom s/he considered to be his/her one true friend. | [WP] Tell me a story where a character gets very depressed over the untimely death of his/her nemesis' because they had a bond better than best friends. | In the end beating superman was simple. It only required two principles. Even Superman couldn't be in two places at once. And superman would always choose another over his own life.
I didn't really believe the second one was true. He wasn't even human how could he be altruistic to an alien race, he was heroic for his own gain, surely. Who doesn't enjoy the admiration of the public, even I make sure my public image is positive. Maybe he would sacrifice himself for the planet, but for Jimmy? Hell if he was a utilitarian he would choose to save himself, because he could later save more lives. I think I just wanted to prove Superman wasn't the perfectly moral guy that he thought he was.
I invented a device that was powered by Superman himself. As long as Superman was alive it would gain energy. Combining it with some quantum coupling and teleportation, the device would gather energy no matter where Superman was and multiple devices could communicate instantly.
I created a miniature version of the device and had my men sneak them onto Louise, and Jimmy. It wasn't very difficult, even Superman can't keep track of everyone under my pay roll and everyone who walks near his friends. The device would slowly kill them. If removed the other would trigger and kill them instantly. The only way to stop them both safely was to power them off. When I told Superman this I was expecting him to panic, to be unable to make a decision or to fly over to Louise and choose her. There was no hesitation; he took his hands placed them around his head. One twist and snap later he was dead. The device powered down and both Louise and Jimmy were safe. They weren't even aware they were in danger nor why Superman was found dead in his artic home.
Last week my secretary Linda walked in to my office and asked me why I was refusing so many calls and sulking around extremely morose. "Because Superman is dead" "So what I thought you didn't like that guy" not liking him was such an inaccurate statement I simply yelled at her to get out. She didn't know I killed Superman. She wasn't even aware of all the plots I've tried against him over the years. No one was aware of all that I've done, maybe pieces but not its entirety. How could they without X-RAY vision and a personal interest in my behavior. In the end I wasn't even the one who killed him, he killed himself. I only now realize that wasn't the point. I never wanted to kill Superman. I just wanted to be better than him so that the universe would know the might of mankind. Now I'll never know if I am. Unless...
I went to one of my many hidden bunkers. In it was one of Superman's old uniforms. It was severely damaged, a souvenir to remind myself of one of the times I was so close. I took it out of its casing and took off my jacket. I took off my shirt, my pants, even my underwear. As I slipped my leg into the uniform and I couldn't help but smile. The outfit was a bit loose on me and the holes were quite awkward but the powerful boots, the textured gloves, the cape heavier than a peacock's tale, I started to understand why he wore such a ridiculous outfit. I walked over to the nearest mirror and looked at myself. I wasn't smiling anymore, instead I gazed with determined eye contact.
"Superman isn't dead."
| The MTs were carrying out Stukovs body, he had heard about it over the police band. 3 GSWs, defensive wounds, looked like a struggle. Blues will never find the guy, it was professional, made to look like a break in gone wrong.
“Goodbye, my old enemy.” – The thought itself was saddening.. he remembered the first day he had met Stukov, this young Ukrainian man. He was not handsome, you could not say that about him, rather.. he looked respectable. Someone that you could trust. A good thing in their line of work.
Standing outside Checkpoint Charlie, there he was, escorting Gerhard Weber.. one of their sources inside the Stasi. He’d be dead if they had not let it “slip” to the Stasi that they had caught two of theirs. He wasn’t happy about letting two of their prizes go, but Gerhard was valuable.
He looked at his coffee and went for a sip, it was cold. How long had he been outside Stukovs apartment? Everything looked different. This wasn’t his neighborhood. Where am I?
He checked the GPS, he was parked outside his house. Why hadn’t he gone inside? Why was he missing time?
Stukov stood about 15 paces from him, holding Gerhard by the arm. Gerhard’s face was blue and battered, he had obviously been beaten. Lucky, they could have executed him on the spot.
“Where is my package, American?”
He looked Stukov in the eyes, scanning the man. He could not get a read on him, it was like he was carved out of rock.
“Right here, russkie.” – He whistled towards the big M35 truck, out stepped two MPs, holding the Stasi men at their side.
“I am Ukrainian.” Stukov said.
“Red is red” – he retorted.
Stukov let go of Gerhard and motioned him forward. He gestured towards the MPs to do the same.
When Gerhard reached him, he whispered “I have something.” In his thick german accent.
“When we debrief you, Gerhard.” He said nonchalantly. “No, it must be now, it is about you.”
“Can we at least wait until we get to the car?” – Gerhard seemed to relent, they walked over to the small WV beetle he was driving, he liked to blend in and these cars were becoming popular.
“Alright, Gerhard. What about me?”
“The Ukrainian, he watches you.” Gerhards eyes were wild with fear, something was not right.
He stood infront of his door.. when did he get out of the car? He was holding his keys and service pistol.
I am home.
He opened the door and stepped inside the hallway, it’s so bright. “Jenny?” he called out. She should be home by now.
He took off his coat and hat, placing them neatly in their place. “Jenny?” no answer. He made his way towards the bedroom, the place was quiet.
“Jenny, where are you?”
The bedroom door was ajar, he now understood why he had his service pistol out.
He opened the door carefully it was dark, he fumbled for the light switch. Suddenly the room was flooded with light. It’s so bright.
“No no no.” she was lying on the bed, it was covered in blood. He could not think, the room was so bright, she was dead. Three gunshots, two in the heart, one in the head.
He threw up on the floor and slid the magazine out of his pistol and counted the rounds. 12.
12 rounds. The magazine took 15.
He stumbled into the bathroom, the light is so bright. He looked at himself in the mirror.
His face was warped, he could see Stukov’s face. The light was blinding.
“Stop! STOOOOOOP!” he screamed. The light intensified.
He could hear Stukov’s voice mingled with his own thoughts.
“You know how to make it stop.” His thoughts and the voice were as one.
“You know how to make it stop.” They insisted.
Yes, he knew how to make it stop. Reaching for his pistol, he looked at the reflection again. His face merging with Stukovs.
“Goodbye, my old enemy.” The light was all he saw.
He saw the flash in the window. He started the car and drove away.
Stopping at a payphone two blocks away, he dialed the number scribbled on the piece of paper.
“Hennesy Claims and Insurance, how may I help you?” the operator answered.
“Yes, I would like to have Paul from accounting call me back. His sister is in the hospital.”
“I will deliver the message for you, sir.” The phone clicked.
The message was delivered, assignment completed.
He thought of Alan Hammerschmidt as he walked towards the safe house. He had come to know every detail of this man’s life and now it was irrelevant.
Twenty years of study, analysis, interrogation.
The thought saddened him, it was as if he had lost a friend… his best friend.
No, he thought, not a friend. An enemy.
The street lamps shone into the darkness.
*The light was so bright.*
|
Also show me what s/he does to cope with the loss of whom s/he considered to be his/her one true friend. | [WP] Tell me a story where a character gets very depressed over the untimely death of his/her nemesis' because they had a bond better than best friends. | In the end beating superman was simple. It only required two principles. Even Superman couldn't be in two places at once. And superman would always choose another over his own life.
I didn't really believe the second one was true. He wasn't even human how could he be altruistic to an alien race, he was heroic for his own gain, surely. Who doesn't enjoy the admiration of the public, even I make sure my public image is positive. Maybe he would sacrifice himself for the planet, but for Jimmy? Hell if he was a utilitarian he would choose to save himself, because he could later save more lives. I think I just wanted to prove Superman wasn't the perfectly moral guy that he thought he was.
I invented a device that was powered by Superman himself. As long as Superman was alive it would gain energy. Combining it with some quantum coupling and teleportation, the device would gather energy no matter where Superman was and multiple devices could communicate instantly.
I created a miniature version of the device and had my men sneak them onto Louise, and Jimmy. It wasn't very difficult, even Superman can't keep track of everyone under my pay roll and everyone who walks near his friends. The device would slowly kill them. If removed the other would trigger and kill them instantly. The only way to stop them both safely was to power them off. When I told Superman this I was expecting him to panic, to be unable to make a decision or to fly over to Louise and choose her. There was no hesitation; he took his hands placed them around his head. One twist and snap later he was dead. The device powered down and both Louise and Jimmy were safe. They weren't even aware they were in danger nor why Superman was found dead in his artic home.
Last week my secretary Linda walked in to my office and asked me why I was refusing so many calls and sulking around extremely morose. "Because Superman is dead" "So what I thought you didn't like that guy" not liking him was such an inaccurate statement I simply yelled at her to get out. She didn't know I killed Superman. She wasn't even aware of all the plots I've tried against him over the years. No one was aware of all that I've done, maybe pieces but not its entirety. How could they without X-RAY vision and a personal interest in my behavior. In the end I wasn't even the one who killed him, he killed himself. I only now realize that wasn't the point. I never wanted to kill Superman. I just wanted to be better than him so that the universe would know the might of mankind. Now I'll never know if I am. Unless...
I went to one of my many hidden bunkers. In it was one of Superman's old uniforms. It was severely damaged, a souvenir to remind myself of one of the times I was so close. I took it out of its casing and took off my jacket. I took off my shirt, my pants, even my underwear. As I slipped my leg into the uniform and I couldn't help but smile. The outfit was a bit loose on me and the holes were quite awkward but the powerful boots, the textured gloves, the cape heavier than a peacock's tale, I started to understand why he wore such a ridiculous outfit. I walked over to the nearest mirror and looked at myself. I wasn't smiling anymore, instead I gazed with determined eye contact.
"Superman isn't dead."
| The clock ticked down from 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1, the door opened, but he never showed up. Where was he? our intrepid hero thought. We started this journey together making a choice, I chose and then he chose. His choice was the opposite of mine and designed to counteract everything I had. I was an outsider, he was the prodigal relative of the old scientist who sent us on our journey. After every step forward he seemed to be one step in front of me. When I finally conquered the Final four leaders and I awaited the door for the last challenge I expected him to be in front of me. However, when the door opened I was greeted with silence. "What happened to you? I miss you, I need this. I need to show you once and for all that I am the very best, that you are not like me." My outburst was greeted by silence. I left everything on the floor but my initial companion and I turned around and started to head back, away from the glory of being the champion. The victory felt hollow, and I knew that I needed to find him to talk to him one more time and then utterly destroy him. "Fart," I thought, "I will find you and I will destroy you." |
Also show me what s/he does to cope with the loss of whom s/he considered to be his/her one true friend. | [WP] Tell me a story where a character gets very depressed over the untimely death of his/her nemesis' because they had a bond better than best friends. | In the end beating superman was simple. It only required two principles. Even Superman couldn't be in two places at once. And superman would always choose another over his own life.
I didn't really believe the second one was true. He wasn't even human how could he be altruistic to an alien race, he was heroic for his own gain, surely. Who doesn't enjoy the admiration of the public, even I make sure my public image is positive. Maybe he would sacrifice himself for the planet, but for Jimmy? Hell if he was a utilitarian he would choose to save himself, because he could later save more lives. I think I just wanted to prove Superman wasn't the perfectly moral guy that he thought he was.
I invented a device that was powered by Superman himself. As long as Superman was alive it would gain energy. Combining it with some quantum coupling and teleportation, the device would gather energy no matter where Superman was and multiple devices could communicate instantly.
I created a miniature version of the device and had my men sneak them onto Louise, and Jimmy. It wasn't very difficult, even Superman can't keep track of everyone under my pay roll and everyone who walks near his friends. The device would slowly kill them. If removed the other would trigger and kill them instantly. The only way to stop them both safely was to power them off. When I told Superman this I was expecting him to panic, to be unable to make a decision or to fly over to Louise and choose her. There was no hesitation; he took his hands placed them around his head. One twist and snap later he was dead. The device powered down and both Louise and Jimmy were safe. They weren't even aware they were in danger nor why Superman was found dead in his artic home.
Last week my secretary Linda walked in to my office and asked me why I was refusing so many calls and sulking around extremely morose. "Because Superman is dead" "So what I thought you didn't like that guy" not liking him was such an inaccurate statement I simply yelled at her to get out. She didn't know I killed Superman. She wasn't even aware of all the plots I've tried against him over the years. No one was aware of all that I've done, maybe pieces but not its entirety. How could they without X-RAY vision and a personal interest in my behavior. In the end I wasn't even the one who killed him, he killed himself. I only now realize that wasn't the point. I never wanted to kill Superman. I just wanted to be better than him so that the universe would know the might of mankind. Now I'll never know if I am. Unless...
I went to one of my many hidden bunkers. In it was one of Superman's old uniforms. It was severely damaged, a souvenir to remind myself of one of the times I was so close. I took it out of its casing and took off my jacket. I took off my shirt, my pants, even my underwear. As I slipped my leg into the uniform and I couldn't help but smile. The outfit was a bit loose on me and the holes were quite awkward but the powerful boots, the textured gloves, the cape heavier than a peacock's tale, I started to understand why he wore such a ridiculous outfit. I walked over to the nearest mirror and looked at myself. I wasn't smiling anymore, instead I gazed with determined eye contact.
"Superman isn't dead."
| "Another, please."
Outside the bar, the city was practically up in flames. Riots, looting in the streets. The owner had boarded the place up. The man he was currently serving a drink had stayed anyway.
"What the hell are you doing here, anyway?" The bartender asked the strange man, who grinned without looking up.
"I guess I just don't see the point in doing my job anymore."
"Because you don't feel safe?" The bartender wondered.
"I suppose." The man took a deep breath, sighing it out. "Whenever I worked, I had the thought in the back of my head that he'd be there, you know? He'd fix everything. So why even do my job now?"
The bartender nodded. The television behind him was running the story 24/7, the fall of one of the city's greatest heroes. He thought it'd be best to leave his only customer to mourn. He reached for the power button in the middle of yet another interview. *"Well, mister Wayne was always incredibly--" click*
The bartender heard stifled laughter coming from his patron. "What's so funny?" he asked, noticing a pair of scars near his lips seemed to be much more pronounced when he smiled.
"Oh, nothing," he simply replied. "I was just thinking about how much of a joke this all is." |
[WP] Deadpool literally breaks through the fourth wall and comes into our world, however, no one believes it's him because he breaks the fourth wall into Comic-Con. | I think that you should classify this as EU, for established universe. Breaking the 4th wall certainly changes the circumstance of the universe, but you are asking for a story about a character that has an existing history and personality.
Just for the future, nothing to worry about right now clearly :) | Smell of gunpowder/brimstone, rotting flesh, Old Spice Swagger, and smegma. He has the voice of Demi Moore if she chainsmoked a carton of Reds a day, with rancid mucky banana on his breath. He looks with the cold dead stare of a seventeen year old labrador that went blind five years ago with the illumination of a little girl who happened to catch a glimpse of Fat Boy in action. For whatever reason he has the physique of Bradley Cooper and quite literally moves like Mick Jagger. All these traits are an immediate dead give away that he ain't right giving an uneasiness and certain belief he might be telling the truth. | |
[WP] Deadpool literally breaks through the fourth wall and comes into our world, however, no one believes it's him because he breaks the fourth wall into Comic-Con. | Mhmm. A chimichanga stand. Sweet. Churros! Yeah baby! Pizza by the slice! I'm almost there- Bacon! Reached it. 30 seconds in, and I've foodgasmed. Time to clean myself up.
*Man. Look at this crowd. Tons of people dressed up. Hey! There's me! but does that mean there's 6 of us?*
**shut up**
*no*
**You'd better**
*Make me!!*
Both of you!
*sorry. But about that crowd!*
I know! Neckbeard, Neckbeard, Deadpool, Superman, Neckbeard. Man, Reddit's really turning out in force for this one. Wait a sec!- KA POW!!.. Rogue is looking good today.And there's Batgirl. And Wonder woman. And Mystique.. But that Rogue..
**Um, Deadpool?**
What?
**We broke the fourth wall. Like completely. Can we just focus on getting back to our dimension?**
*um, No??*
Nope. there are hot chicks and chimichangas here, responsible me. Time to PARRRRTYYY. I see pizza, and I've got enough c4 in my bag to last us for at least three days. Time to go crazy. But first, I gotta say hi to that Rogue..
" Hey babe! Like the suit. Wanna suck on my power?"
"umm ok you're super in character... ehehehe. that's cute. Later"
*DID we just get rejected?*
**I guess some things stay the same in all the dimensions.**
Hmph.
I wonder if anyone else broke the 4th wall with us.
"Hey Bub"
(just for clarity, normal font is deadpool's speaking voice, **bold is his responsible voice** and *italics are his crazy voice.* Hope you all enjoyed! | Smell of gunpowder/brimstone, rotting flesh, Old Spice Swagger, and smegma. He has the voice of Demi Moore if she chainsmoked a carton of Reds a day, with rancid mucky banana on his breath. He looks with the cold dead stare of a seventeen year old labrador that went blind five years ago with the illumination of a little girl who happened to catch a glimpse of Fat Boy in action. For whatever reason he has the physique of Bradley Cooper and quite literally moves like Mick Jagger. All these traits are an immediate dead give away that he ain't right giving an uneasiness and certain belief he might be telling the truth. | |
[WP] Deadpool literally breaks through the fourth wall and comes into our world, however, no one believes it's him because he breaks the fourth wall into Comic-Con. | Mhmm. A chimichanga stand. Sweet. Churros! Yeah baby! Pizza by the slice! I'm almost there- Bacon! Reached it. 30 seconds in, and I've foodgasmed. Time to clean myself up.
*Man. Look at this crowd. Tons of people dressed up. Hey! There's me! but does that mean there's 6 of us?*
**shut up**
*no*
**You'd better**
*Make me!!*
Both of you!
*sorry. But about that crowd!*
I know! Neckbeard, Neckbeard, Deadpool, Superman, Neckbeard. Man, Reddit's really turning out in force for this one. Wait a sec!- KA POW!!.. Rogue is looking good today.And there's Batgirl. And Wonder woman. And Mystique.. But that Rogue..
**Um, Deadpool?**
What?
**We broke the fourth wall. Like completely. Can we just focus on getting back to our dimension?**
*um, No??*
Nope. there are hot chicks and chimichangas here, responsible me. Time to PARRRRTYYY. I see pizza, and I've got enough c4 in my bag to last us for at least three days. Time to go crazy. But first, I gotta say hi to that Rogue..
" Hey babe! Like the suit. Wanna suck on my power?"
"umm ok you're super in character... ehehehe. that's cute. Later"
*DID we just get rejected?*
**I guess some things stay the same in all the dimensions.**
Hmph.
I wonder if anyone else broke the 4th wall with us.
"Hey Bub"
(just for clarity, normal font is deadpool's speaking voice, **bold is his responsible voice** and *italics are his crazy voice.* Hope you all enjoyed! | I think that you should classify this as EU, for established universe. Breaking the 4th wall certainly changes the circumstance of the universe, but you are asking for a story about a character that has an existing history and personality.
Just for the future, nothing to worry about right now clearly :) | |
[WP] Deadpool literally breaks through the fourth wall and comes into our world, however, no one believes it's him because he breaks the fourth wall into Comic-Con. | Mhmm. A chimichanga stand. Sweet. Churros! Yeah baby! Pizza by the slice! I'm almost there- Bacon! Reached it. 30 seconds in, and I've foodgasmed. Time to clean myself up.
*Man. Look at this crowd. Tons of people dressed up. Hey! There's me! but does that mean there's 6 of us?*
**shut up**
*no*
**You'd better**
*Make me!!*
Both of you!
*sorry. But about that crowd!*
I know! Neckbeard, Neckbeard, Deadpool, Superman, Neckbeard. Man, Reddit's really turning out in force for this one. Wait a sec!- KA POW!!.. Rogue is looking good today.And there's Batgirl. And Wonder woman. And Mystique.. But that Rogue..
**Um, Deadpool?**
What?
**We broke the fourth wall. Like completely. Can we just focus on getting back to our dimension?**
*um, No??*
Nope. there are hot chicks and chimichangas here, responsible me. Time to PARRRRTYYY. I see pizza, and I've got enough c4 in my bag to last us for at least three days. Time to go crazy. But first, I gotta say hi to that Rogue..
" Hey babe! Like the suit. Wanna suck on my power?"
"umm ok you're super in character... ehehehe. that's cute. Later"
*DID we just get rejected?*
**I guess some things stay the same in all the dimensions.**
Hmph.
I wonder if anyone else broke the 4th wall with us.
"Hey Bub"
(just for clarity, normal font is deadpool's speaking voice, **bold is his responsible voice** and *italics are his crazy voice.* Hope you all enjoyed! | I wrote up a response on Google Doc. I couldn't copy paste it over because the formatting wouldn't go over. Please check it out and give me feedback thanks. [Deadpool Breaking the 4th Wall](https://docs.google.com/document/d/18mOZjlDSLt5mRFEDwtru_ojGwuom3IAYYvtWu7Oe6-o/edit?usp=sharing) | |
[WP] Deadpool literally breaks through the fourth wall and comes into our world, however, no one believes it's him because he breaks the fourth wall into Comic-Con. | "Nice Deadpool costume!", the man said. I thought he was a little overweight, but that might just be due to my...outstanding physique. He also, in a roundabout way, was dressed like me. Sure, he still had his glasses on, and his ponytail certainly didn't fit the Deadpool persona, but the red-and-black body paint in the guise of my suit was undoubtably like mine.
"It's not a costume," I replied. God, every person here seems to think that my costume is great. Don't they realize that *I'm* Deadpool?
"For *sure* it's not. Anyway, I hope you win!"
I followed the man into an elevator, and ran him through with my katanas. I couldn't deal with these people anymore. All of a sudden, red and blue flashing lights appeared all over the place, and men in uniforms materialized, seemingly out of thin air.
I didn't know what to do, and as I whipped around, trying to take in the entire scene, I saw a man in a black and grey suit with a black cape and mask. Startled, I stared at him.
"Follow me," he said. "I know all about this kind of situation. It happens every year."
"Who are you," I hurriedly asked.
"You don't know me?" He chuckled. "I'm the Batman." | I wrote up a response on Google Doc. I couldn't copy paste it over because the formatting wouldn't go over. Please check it out and give me feedback thanks. [Deadpool Breaking the 4th Wall](https://docs.google.com/document/d/18mOZjlDSLt5mRFEDwtru_ojGwuom3IAYYvtWu7Oe6-o/edit?usp=sharing) | |
[WP] Deadpool literally breaks through the fourth wall and comes into our world, however, no one believes it's him because he breaks the fourth wall into Comic-Con. | What is this?
Where am I?
Holy shit!
Is that me?!
Oh, hey! Another me!
A cheap spandex costume?
Of course!
I've found my way out.
In this world, my life is fiction.
Does that mean nobody I know is real?
Of course, but then that means....
I'M NOT REAL.
But I'm here.....
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat......
Am I real?
Who's to say if this is real?
But if I'm real now and this world is the real life, something isn't right.
*One of these things is not like the other*
Either I'm not possible or this world is impossible.
*scratches head*
Who's real? Me or this place?
I'm not real here, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I wasn't real before.
And if I wasn't real, am I real now?
One of those me ' s is coming toward me.
Oh shit.
Play it cool, Wade. You aren't supposed to be real.
You're just another nerd, another fan of the fiction.
"Sup.... uhhh, bro. ?" | I wrote up a response on Google Doc. I couldn't copy paste it over because the formatting wouldn't go over. Please check it out and give me feedback thanks. [Deadpool Breaking the 4th Wall](https://docs.google.com/document/d/18mOZjlDSLt5mRFEDwtru_ojGwuom3IAYYvtWu7Oe6-o/edit?usp=sharing) | |
[WP] Deadpool literally breaks through the fourth wall and comes into our world, however, no one believes it's him because he breaks the fourth wall into Comic-Con. | "Hey, nice Deadpool costume!"
"Thanks!" He'd been hearing the same thing since he walked into the San Diego Convention Center. Sure, his tights were freshly washed, but he really thought people liked his katanas. That, or the endless pouches that lined his belt.
The weirdest thing for him as he strolled through the crowd was the various other Deadpools that he passed. They all had different reactions to him: some pulled guns on him, some high-fived him. One even suggested they go out and get chimichangas together. But there seemed to be a kindred, a brotherhood, with the other Deadpools that roamed around.
It gave him the warm and fuzzies, and a weird tingling in his nethers.
As he passed a bathroom, a red-gloved hand reached out and pulled him in. "What gives?" As the hydraulics closed the door behind him, he turned to find yet another Deadpool staring at him.
"What gives? You're asking me what gives?" Deadpool gestured at him with his hand, waving at his outfit. "What gives with your outfit? Why are you dressed like that?"
He was confused. "Dude, it's Comic Con. There's a hundred people dressed like Deadpool here."
"I know!" Deadpool gripped the sides of his head. "It's tearing my mind apart! And do you realize what that does to a guy whose mind already has a tendency to turn against him? Sure, if there's a lot of explosives involved, then we tend to agree, but I have to take crap from those voices constantly! And they won't shut up about all this!"
"Calm down," he said. "It's cool that you're so in character, but jeez. You've got to relax and enjoy it."
"In character?" Deadpool went nose to nose with him. He could smell that Deadpool had been eating Taco Bell and drinking cheap beer. "I **am** character! This is who I am! This is the only way I can be! And there's all sorts of people like you, walking around, trying to steal either my soul or my glory. I don't know why anyone would want my soul, so I'm guessing it's my glory you're after. Well, you can't have it! It's **mine!**"
He pulled his mask off, to get a breath of fresh air. When he did, Deadpool drew back. The eyes on his mask took on an alarmed look, which made him wonder how Deadpool did it. Deadpool said, "You're covered in acne! You poor kid!"
"That's it," he said. "I didn't come to Comic Con to get pulled into a restroom and berated by someone else dressed like the best comic character ever created by Rob Liefeld! I came here to score with chicks dressed like Vampirella!" He looked around himself. "Are we in a women's room?"
Deadpool nodded. "You think you're the only one trying to pull tail? Best place to meet the ladies. Why do you think they call it the *ladies' room?*"
The kid pulled his mask back on. As he straightened it, he said, "You can sulk in here all you want. I'm going to go look for trim." He pulled the door open and walked out.
Deadpool gripped the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. "Wade, this wasn't the best idea you've ever had," he said.
A voice said, "When are your ideas *really* any good?"
Another voice said, "When there's explosives involved. And pizza."
The two voices and Deadpool said, in unison, "Mmmm, pizza!"
"Okay, guys, we're going to get out there, and we're going to figure out some way to prove that **I'm** the real Deadpool."
"You know," the second voice said, "we've got something none of those other guys in costume doesn't have?"
The first voice said, "A sense of joy from terrible mayhem?"
Deadpool pulled a revolver from his belt. "And the means to create it! Let's go, guys!" He pushed through the door. As the hydraulics wheezed the bathroom to a quiet stillness, the sounds of gunfire could be heard outside, along with the yell of, "Git along, li'l doggies!" | "I mean, I guess I knew there was a problem right *before* I fired the gun. I mean, Spidey usually starts dodging before the bullet starts moving, right?"
Deadpool says, barely controlling his laughter.
"Well, one dead nerd later and I realized the plan had worked!"
"What do you mean **what** plan, don't you read my comics!?"
"Ohhhh, that must be next months issue.." | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | “I do solemnly swear . . . " This was the hardest part. Could he, in fact, step forward, raise his hand, look the Chief Justice in the eye, and do this without bursting out in laughter, smirking, or allowing a spasm to cross his face?
The tireless work of thousands, a cost of billions of dollars, and untold lives altered by bribery, lies, threats, intimidation, blackmail, and murder had led to this very moment.
The fate of a planet hung in the balance.
". . . that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States,"
This had been rehearsed since the very beginning, practiced in undisclosed locations, using sophisticated computer simulations, live actors, volunteer audiences, endless replays, ruthless criticism, vehement arguments, and unflinching self-examination.
"and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
The third lie. He had no intention of protecting anyone. He had an economy to plunder, a people to subjugate, and a nation to destroy. Nothing was going to stop him.
"So help me God."
So help him he would see this through, or die.
The cameras were watching. Millions were glued to their screens. The slightest misstep, the tiniest facial tic, and it was all over.
He tried not to think about it too much.
There was a hand extended. He was supposed to shake it. That's all he head to do, shake the hand, smile, turn and wave.
And the world was his, to unmake, shatter, and remake in his own image.
He turned and, hand still extended, pictured the Earth as a glowing bauble, cradled gently in the palm of his hand, glowing an ethereal blue. A sound, a growing tide of voices, rose and filled his mind. It was the sound of a million squealing teenage girls, a hundred million, the mindless adulation of youth casting itself at his feet in abject worship. His fist closed to capture the bauble and squeeze it, until the money and the blood and the power leaked out and infused his soul with an overwhelming sense of purpose and drive.
Alexander? Caesar? Muhammed? Ghengis Khan? Napoleon? Hitler? Pffffft.
Justin Bieber strode forth to conquer the world.
| "Son. Son, nod if you can hear me." Darkness. Where am I? What happened? Why can't I see anything.
"He's still unresponsive Doc. Up the dose, lets see if we can get him talking." Warm. I can feel it spreading through me. A sliver of light, but nothing is clear.
"Kid. Can you hear me? We don't have much time! I need you to hear me damn it!" Pain. Like someone just punched me in the gut. "Ughh.." I moan. Why can't I move? My wrists, my ankles, are they tied town?
"Good. Now listen. I'm rebooting your visual processors. You'll be able to see again in a minute. Your voice synthesizer will boot up shortly after that. I want to you remain quiet and listen." A faint light grows into my consciousness. The room comes into focus and words flash across my vision *Booting.... Loading Cloud Data... Satellite 175993 locked.* A hud appears and I see the man above me. *Name: <Classified>. Age: 46 . Current Threat Level: 7. Kill or Evade.* That doesn't look good. I still can't move. Rope, carbon nanofibers. Even if I could control my limbs I'd have a hell of a time breaking those.
"Look kid, I can tell by that face you know I'm not to be messed with. I'm sorry about everything you've gone through, but there's something you need to know. Now I don't know how much you remember, but here's the short version. You're name is Jake Elwing. You were working for the United Space Agency on a top secret project, a virus. Well that virus got out. Your counterpart Marilee was able to create an antidote of sorts. But there was a side effect. No one noticed at first, the kids were the first to go. You see, it seams when someone lies, a chemical is released in the brain. It was undetectable until this god awful "cure" was dispersed. It reacts with the cure and has.. well.. you'll see soon enough I'm sure. Ignorance is bliss for now. Just know that if you lie to me, it won't be pretty." I took in what he was saying, a virus, a cure. Nothing was ringing any bells. I couldn't even remember what day it was.
"Unfortunately for you, the virus had already progressed fairly significantly by the time we found you. Both of our eyes, one of your ears.. It's a good thing we've made so many advances in recent years." Cybernetics. That must be what he was talking about. I remember history. World war II, the second and third space race. E-day. Earth that's where we came from. Before the Incineration.
"Sir, we don't have much time. His body is still recovering from the implants. They won't like the drugs that are keeping him awake." I lift my head enough to see the doctor on the far side of the room.
"Yeah, I know doc. I just don't want to lose him after we spent so many millions bringing him back from the dead. Jake, listen, I need you to tell me everything you know about the virus. There was a scout from one of the other nations. They didn't dock, but looking over your notes, one of the samples was showing promise as a truly superior specimen. It survived a vacuum for 7 days?" So much to take in. Did I help on a virus?
"I.. I don't remember. I'm sorry. I don't even.. My name is Jake?" I close my eyes for a second, saying my name aloud nudged something lose, like blowing the dust off a book that had been sitting for years. I could almost make out the title. I remember the virus. But the specifics are what he wants.
"That's quite unfortunate Jake. You see, we can give you drugs to help you remember." Why is he nodding? The doctor.. My arm!
"AHHHHH!" The pain was unimaginable. And at the same time, enlightening. I could see it clearly. The explosion, this man. His badge had said **Smith, John**. Clearly fake, but it passed the scanners. This man was the one who let out the virus. The pain subsided.
"I remember. There was a virus that could survive a vacuum. Although virus isn't the right word. It's the same damned thing we used to cleanse earth, with a few minor changes. If it got out.."
"Tell me where I can find it."
"I don't know." My heart. I had had it implanted in my heart. This man had already blew up my lab, no way was I giving him what he wanted. My HUD blinked as did one of the monitors. *Lie detected. Elevated chemical levels of Lincelone. Stage 1.*
"Now Jake, I'm sure your HUD is telling you the same thing the good doctor's monitors are telling me. You just lied to me."
"What do you want with it?"
"That's none of your concern Jake. Just trust that you won't want to lie to me again or I'll make sure your life ends very painfully. I won't beat a dead horse though, if you don't want to tell me where the nanites are, that's fine. Why don't we change the subject. Do you remember the station you were on? Dreadknot?"
Dreadknot. God would quake at the size of that thing. 150 years and unimaginable amounts of money went into building that thing. The first great space station. Nearly the size of Sol. Almost the entire Sol system drained of resources to build it. All that was left now was the scorched remains of Earth and a few asteroids.
"I remember."
"Good. And do you remember the self destruct sequence?" Oh god. He can't be serious? Activating that takes 20 people and perfect timing unless you knew the override. Hell, the only reason I knew the override is my family tree. We were the first family to be recruited to the Dreadknot project. Dread knot. When Sol became unstable, there had to be a few chosen to watch the great beast. The Knot that would be tied to humanities survival.
"I.. " If he destroys it, probes will launch to the other great stations. There may be 975 billion people now, but upwards of 950 billion of them are on 100 great stations. The override didn't override Dreadknot, it would override humanities right to survive. "You know I can't tell you that without jeopardizing humanities existence."
"Ah, I see you know better then to lie. You're still only at 1. But as I told you earlier, you might as well consider 2 lies fatal. Let me give you a taste. Doctor."
"His nanobots will resist." The doctor shook his head and pushed a button on one of the machines. My body went rigid. Pain. I couldn't focus on anything. How long did it last? 5 seconds? 10? 30? 20 minutes? I couldn't tell the difference.
"This is taking to long. Jake. I need to know one of those. Either the location of the nanites, or the override code." *Name: 'Smith, John'. Age: 46 . Current Threat Level: 9. Die.*
"You're killing me either way."
"Probably, yes."
"Then the code is Survive and the nanites have already been released into the wild." A warm feeling washed over me. Two lies at once. John Smith wouldn't get anything from me. I could feel it in my head first, the HUD shut down quickly. Everything faded back into the dark. | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | **Never participated in a WP thread before, probably a bad starting point given that the thread's already 12 hours old, but ah well, here goes!**
Chris looked in the mirror one last time, adjusted his collar, grabbed his coat, and left.
4 years of medical school had all come down to this, his first day as a doctor. Excited, and yet simultaneously terrified, he arrived at St. Steven's Hospital for his first day, not knowing at all what lay ahead, and found himself in the E.R. assisting a much more experienced doctor who'd been given the task of mentoring Chris and showing him the ropes, Dr. Symons.
He began the tour around the department, introducing Chris to the relevant staff: Janice and Laverne the receptionists; no sooner did they arrive at the nursing station than a patient was rushed by on a gurney and quickly stationed in a nearby treatment area as the nurses shouted for Dr. Symons. He sprang into action.
*Male, James Davies, mid-30's, traffic accident, broken neck, severe head trauma, lacerations to the upper torso, 2 broken legs*
The nurses began to quickly cut away his clothing as Dr. Symons got to work, shouting instructions to the nurses, demanding IVs and equipment, all the while the patient writhing in agony and gasping for air. Chris froze, fixated on the man's attire. He was dressed to the nines, a sharp black tuxedo now flung open either side of his body on the gurney, with a corsage protruding from behind the lapel. The patient's movement quickly faded, and he lay there, lifeless and still.
*He's stopped breathing, Chris get in here!*
Symons signalled and shouted for Chris to begin using the bag valve mask to help the man breathe, as he readied the defibrillator. They all stood back as Symons tried in vain. Everyone knew it was too late for this patient before they even began, even Chris, but Symons knew he had to teach Chris that it was never too late for anyone, everyone was worth trying for.
*Time of death 13:18.*
Symons head dropped, knowing he'd failed but hoping he'd taught a valuable lesson to the rookie. He looked up to see Chris frozen, tears in his eyes at the ordeal he'd just witnessed within an hour of becoming a doctor, and approached him to provide some comforting words about how they tried as hard as they could, how Chris should learn from this, and assuring him that he'd take the hard part and break the news to the family outside. At this point, Chris stopped him, took the clipboard from his hands, and took on the hard part himself.
He walked into the waiting area and shouted for a Miss Williams, noticing the surname didn't match with the name of the patient. A young woman shakily got to her feet and approached him in a pristine, white wedding dress, surrounded by family members; he took them to a separate room for some privacy, tearing the patient's notes from his clipboard as he went and dispatching it into a bin along the way.
*1. Miss Williams, we believe your fiancé suffered a pulmonary embolism at the wheel of his car this morning.*
*2. He passed almost instantly, and he likely wasn't even aware he was in a car accident.*
*3. He went peacefully, and felt little to no pain.*
*I'm sorry for your loss.*
With that, Chris gave a sympathetic look to the family in the room, lowered his head, and left, quietly closing the door behind him to contain the anguished wails of the ex-bride-to-be. He placed the clipboard on the nurses' desk, along with his badge, and left the hospital never to return, he couldn't face this career.
4 years of medical school had all come down to this, his last day as a doctor. | "Son. Son, nod if you can hear me." Darkness. Where am I? What happened? Why can't I see anything.
"He's still unresponsive Doc. Up the dose, lets see if we can get him talking." Warm. I can feel it spreading through me. A sliver of light, but nothing is clear.
"Kid. Can you hear me? We don't have much time! I need you to hear me damn it!" Pain. Like someone just punched me in the gut. "Ughh.." I moan. Why can't I move? My wrists, my ankles, are they tied town?
"Good. Now listen. I'm rebooting your visual processors. You'll be able to see again in a minute. Your voice synthesizer will boot up shortly after that. I want to you remain quiet and listen." A faint light grows into my consciousness. The room comes into focus and words flash across my vision *Booting.... Loading Cloud Data... Satellite 175993 locked.* A hud appears and I see the man above me. *Name: <Classified>. Age: 46 . Current Threat Level: 7. Kill or Evade.* That doesn't look good. I still can't move. Rope, carbon nanofibers. Even if I could control my limbs I'd have a hell of a time breaking those.
"Look kid, I can tell by that face you know I'm not to be messed with. I'm sorry about everything you've gone through, but there's something you need to know. Now I don't know how much you remember, but here's the short version. You're name is Jake Elwing. You were working for the United Space Agency on a top secret project, a virus. Well that virus got out. Your counterpart Marilee was able to create an antidote of sorts. But there was a side effect. No one noticed at first, the kids were the first to go. You see, it seams when someone lies, a chemical is released in the brain. It was undetectable until this god awful "cure" was dispersed. It reacts with the cure and has.. well.. you'll see soon enough I'm sure. Ignorance is bliss for now. Just know that if you lie to me, it won't be pretty." I took in what he was saying, a virus, a cure. Nothing was ringing any bells. I couldn't even remember what day it was.
"Unfortunately for you, the virus had already progressed fairly significantly by the time we found you. Both of our eyes, one of your ears.. It's a good thing we've made so many advances in recent years." Cybernetics. That must be what he was talking about. I remember history. World war II, the second and third space race. E-day. Earth that's where we came from. Before the Incineration.
"Sir, we don't have much time. His body is still recovering from the implants. They won't like the drugs that are keeping him awake." I lift my head enough to see the doctor on the far side of the room.
"Yeah, I know doc. I just don't want to lose him after we spent so many millions bringing him back from the dead. Jake, listen, I need you to tell me everything you know about the virus. There was a scout from one of the other nations. They didn't dock, but looking over your notes, one of the samples was showing promise as a truly superior specimen. It survived a vacuum for 7 days?" So much to take in. Did I help on a virus?
"I.. I don't remember. I'm sorry. I don't even.. My name is Jake?" I close my eyes for a second, saying my name aloud nudged something lose, like blowing the dust off a book that had been sitting for years. I could almost make out the title. I remember the virus. But the specifics are what he wants.
"That's quite unfortunate Jake. You see, we can give you drugs to help you remember." Why is he nodding? The doctor.. My arm!
"AHHHHH!" The pain was unimaginable. And at the same time, enlightening. I could see it clearly. The explosion, this man. His badge had said **Smith, John**. Clearly fake, but it passed the scanners. This man was the one who let out the virus. The pain subsided.
"I remember. There was a virus that could survive a vacuum. Although virus isn't the right word. It's the same damned thing we used to cleanse earth, with a few minor changes. If it got out.."
"Tell me where I can find it."
"I don't know." My heart. I had had it implanted in my heart. This man had already blew up my lab, no way was I giving him what he wanted. My HUD blinked as did one of the monitors. *Lie detected. Elevated chemical levels of Lincelone. Stage 1.*
"Now Jake, I'm sure your HUD is telling you the same thing the good doctor's monitors are telling me. You just lied to me."
"What do you want with it?"
"That's none of your concern Jake. Just trust that you won't want to lie to me again or I'll make sure your life ends very painfully. I won't beat a dead horse though, if you don't want to tell me where the nanites are, that's fine. Why don't we change the subject. Do you remember the station you were on? Dreadknot?"
Dreadknot. God would quake at the size of that thing. 150 years and unimaginable amounts of money went into building that thing. The first great space station. Nearly the size of Sol. Almost the entire Sol system drained of resources to build it. All that was left now was the scorched remains of Earth and a few asteroids.
"I remember."
"Good. And do you remember the self destruct sequence?" Oh god. He can't be serious? Activating that takes 20 people and perfect timing unless you knew the override. Hell, the only reason I knew the override is my family tree. We were the first family to be recruited to the Dreadknot project. Dread knot. When Sol became unstable, there had to be a few chosen to watch the great beast. The Knot that would be tied to humanities survival.
"I.. " If he destroys it, probes will launch to the other great stations. There may be 975 billion people now, but upwards of 950 billion of them are on 100 great stations. The override didn't override Dreadknot, it would override humanities right to survive. "You know I can't tell you that without jeopardizing humanities existence."
"Ah, I see you know better then to lie. You're still only at 1. But as I told you earlier, you might as well consider 2 lies fatal. Let me give you a taste. Doctor."
"His nanobots will resist." The doctor shook his head and pushed a button on one of the machines. My body went rigid. Pain. I couldn't focus on anything. How long did it last? 5 seconds? 10? 30? 20 minutes? I couldn't tell the difference.
"This is taking to long. Jake. I need to know one of those. Either the location of the nanites, or the override code." *Name: 'Smith, John'. Age: 46 . Current Threat Level: 9. Die.*
"You're killing me either way."
"Probably, yes."
"Then the code is Survive and the nanites have already been released into the wild." A warm feeling washed over me. Two lies at once. John Smith wouldn't get anything from me. I could feel it in my head first, the HUD shut down quickly. Everything faded back into the dark. | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | Mother liked to tell the story. They all had one.
Mom found me reaching for the cookie jar.
"What are you doing kiddo?"
"Nothing..."
"Were you trying to get a cookie and eat it?"
"No."
"What were you doing?"
"I was getting a cookie for you."
Most folks in the community called it good parenting. The practice is called Toddling. Parents make sure their kids will never lie to them. I am, and always will be resentful of that woman. Something clicked off in my mind as she questioned me, and realization, even in my toddler mind, saved what I could.
I did grab 2 cookies, and all I have left is a half-truth. | "Son. Son, nod if you can hear me." Darkness. Where am I? What happened? Why can't I see anything.
"He's still unresponsive Doc. Up the dose, lets see if we can get him talking." Warm. I can feel it spreading through me. A sliver of light, but nothing is clear.
"Kid. Can you hear me? We don't have much time! I need you to hear me damn it!" Pain. Like someone just punched me in the gut. "Ughh.." I moan. Why can't I move? My wrists, my ankles, are they tied town?
"Good. Now listen. I'm rebooting your visual processors. You'll be able to see again in a minute. Your voice synthesizer will boot up shortly after that. I want to you remain quiet and listen." A faint light grows into my consciousness. The room comes into focus and words flash across my vision *Booting.... Loading Cloud Data... Satellite 175993 locked.* A hud appears and I see the man above me. *Name: <Classified>. Age: 46 . Current Threat Level: 7. Kill or Evade.* That doesn't look good. I still can't move. Rope, carbon nanofibers. Even if I could control my limbs I'd have a hell of a time breaking those.
"Look kid, I can tell by that face you know I'm not to be messed with. I'm sorry about everything you've gone through, but there's something you need to know. Now I don't know how much you remember, but here's the short version. You're name is Jake Elwing. You were working for the United Space Agency on a top secret project, a virus. Well that virus got out. Your counterpart Marilee was able to create an antidote of sorts. But there was a side effect. No one noticed at first, the kids were the first to go. You see, it seams when someone lies, a chemical is released in the brain. It was undetectable until this god awful "cure" was dispersed. It reacts with the cure and has.. well.. you'll see soon enough I'm sure. Ignorance is bliss for now. Just know that if you lie to me, it won't be pretty." I took in what he was saying, a virus, a cure. Nothing was ringing any bells. I couldn't even remember what day it was.
"Unfortunately for you, the virus had already progressed fairly significantly by the time we found you. Both of our eyes, one of your ears.. It's a good thing we've made so many advances in recent years." Cybernetics. That must be what he was talking about. I remember history. World war II, the second and third space race. E-day. Earth that's where we came from. Before the Incineration.
"Sir, we don't have much time. His body is still recovering from the implants. They won't like the drugs that are keeping him awake." I lift my head enough to see the doctor on the far side of the room.
"Yeah, I know doc. I just don't want to lose him after we spent so many millions bringing him back from the dead. Jake, listen, I need you to tell me everything you know about the virus. There was a scout from one of the other nations. They didn't dock, but looking over your notes, one of the samples was showing promise as a truly superior specimen. It survived a vacuum for 7 days?" So much to take in. Did I help on a virus?
"I.. I don't remember. I'm sorry. I don't even.. My name is Jake?" I close my eyes for a second, saying my name aloud nudged something lose, like blowing the dust off a book that had been sitting for years. I could almost make out the title. I remember the virus. But the specifics are what he wants.
"That's quite unfortunate Jake. You see, we can give you drugs to help you remember." Why is he nodding? The doctor.. My arm!
"AHHHHH!" The pain was unimaginable. And at the same time, enlightening. I could see it clearly. The explosion, this man. His badge had said **Smith, John**. Clearly fake, but it passed the scanners. This man was the one who let out the virus. The pain subsided.
"I remember. There was a virus that could survive a vacuum. Although virus isn't the right word. It's the same damned thing we used to cleanse earth, with a few minor changes. If it got out.."
"Tell me where I can find it."
"I don't know." My heart. I had had it implanted in my heart. This man had already blew up my lab, no way was I giving him what he wanted. My HUD blinked as did one of the monitors. *Lie detected. Elevated chemical levels of Lincelone. Stage 1.*
"Now Jake, I'm sure your HUD is telling you the same thing the good doctor's monitors are telling me. You just lied to me."
"What do you want with it?"
"That's none of your concern Jake. Just trust that you won't want to lie to me again or I'll make sure your life ends very painfully. I won't beat a dead horse though, if you don't want to tell me where the nanites are, that's fine. Why don't we change the subject. Do you remember the station you were on? Dreadknot?"
Dreadknot. God would quake at the size of that thing. 150 years and unimaginable amounts of money went into building that thing. The first great space station. Nearly the size of Sol. Almost the entire Sol system drained of resources to build it. All that was left now was the scorched remains of Earth and a few asteroids.
"I remember."
"Good. And do you remember the self destruct sequence?" Oh god. He can't be serious? Activating that takes 20 people and perfect timing unless you knew the override. Hell, the only reason I knew the override is my family tree. We were the first family to be recruited to the Dreadknot project. Dread knot. When Sol became unstable, there had to be a few chosen to watch the great beast. The Knot that would be tied to humanities survival.
"I.. " If he destroys it, probes will launch to the other great stations. There may be 975 billion people now, but upwards of 950 billion of them are on 100 great stations. The override didn't override Dreadknot, it would override humanities right to survive. "You know I can't tell you that without jeopardizing humanities existence."
"Ah, I see you know better then to lie. You're still only at 1. But as I told you earlier, you might as well consider 2 lies fatal. Let me give you a taste. Doctor."
"His nanobots will resist." The doctor shook his head and pushed a button on one of the machines. My body went rigid. Pain. I couldn't focus on anything. How long did it last? 5 seconds? 10? 30? 20 minutes? I couldn't tell the difference.
"This is taking to long. Jake. I need to know one of those. Either the location of the nanites, or the override code." *Name: 'Smith, John'. Age: 46 . Current Threat Level: 9. Die.*
"You're killing me either way."
"Probably, yes."
"Then the code is Survive and the nanites have already been released into the wild." A warm feeling washed over me. Two lies at once. John Smith wouldn't get anything from me. I could feel it in my head first, the HUD shut down quickly. Everything faded back into the dark. | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | The 'age of truth' historians were dubbing it. In 2031 a new app was released and became the new big thing. Taking advantage of the constant data stream from Apple's neural implants and the shared cloud of data the new app was able to pick up on subconscious cues and could tell when someone was lying. Privacy laws protected teenagers and kids, but hundreds of politicians and oligarchs suddenly got shunted straight to jail for their backroom dealings and millions of sham relationships collapsed.
And that's where I come in. As a Senator and the husband of an executive of the company that developed the app I knew about the one weakness of the app - it takes three distinct lies to calibrate. I was able to survive the initial purge of politicians by making colleagues exploit this fact, but I had grander plans for my own lies. My plan took years to develop, but I had both the patience and resources. Three lies and my plan would be complete.
"My fellow Americans, today is an historic day. Today we bring truth into the oval office. The government are taking over the running of the Liedetector app. I know some of you are worried about liberty but let me make to you three promises. One, the process will be completely legal; two, nobody will ever be able to alter the results of the app, and finally I will work personally to ensure your freedoms are always maintained."
Three lies was all I needed to get total control. The age of truth was here and my word was law. From this point on my word was The truth. | "Son. Son, nod if you can hear me." Darkness. Where am I? What happened? Why can't I see anything.
"He's still unresponsive Doc. Up the dose, lets see if we can get him talking." Warm. I can feel it spreading through me. A sliver of light, but nothing is clear.
"Kid. Can you hear me? We don't have much time! I need you to hear me damn it!" Pain. Like someone just punched me in the gut. "Ughh.." I moan. Why can't I move? My wrists, my ankles, are they tied town?
"Good. Now listen. I'm rebooting your visual processors. You'll be able to see again in a minute. Your voice synthesizer will boot up shortly after that. I want to you remain quiet and listen." A faint light grows into my consciousness. The room comes into focus and words flash across my vision *Booting.... Loading Cloud Data... Satellite 175993 locked.* A hud appears and I see the man above me. *Name: <Classified>. Age: 46 . Current Threat Level: 7. Kill or Evade.* That doesn't look good. I still can't move. Rope, carbon nanofibers. Even if I could control my limbs I'd have a hell of a time breaking those.
"Look kid, I can tell by that face you know I'm not to be messed with. I'm sorry about everything you've gone through, but there's something you need to know. Now I don't know how much you remember, but here's the short version. You're name is Jake Elwing. You were working for the United Space Agency on a top secret project, a virus. Well that virus got out. Your counterpart Marilee was able to create an antidote of sorts. But there was a side effect. No one noticed at first, the kids were the first to go. You see, it seams when someone lies, a chemical is released in the brain. It was undetectable until this god awful "cure" was dispersed. It reacts with the cure and has.. well.. you'll see soon enough I'm sure. Ignorance is bliss for now. Just know that if you lie to me, it won't be pretty." I took in what he was saying, a virus, a cure. Nothing was ringing any bells. I couldn't even remember what day it was.
"Unfortunately for you, the virus had already progressed fairly significantly by the time we found you. Both of our eyes, one of your ears.. It's a good thing we've made so many advances in recent years." Cybernetics. That must be what he was talking about. I remember history. World war II, the second and third space race. E-day. Earth that's where we came from. Before the Incineration.
"Sir, we don't have much time. His body is still recovering from the implants. They won't like the drugs that are keeping him awake." I lift my head enough to see the doctor on the far side of the room.
"Yeah, I know doc. I just don't want to lose him after we spent so many millions bringing him back from the dead. Jake, listen, I need you to tell me everything you know about the virus. There was a scout from one of the other nations. They didn't dock, but looking over your notes, one of the samples was showing promise as a truly superior specimen. It survived a vacuum for 7 days?" So much to take in. Did I help on a virus?
"I.. I don't remember. I'm sorry. I don't even.. My name is Jake?" I close my eyes for a second, saying my name aloud nudged something lose, like blowing the dust off a book that had been sitting for years. I could almost make out the title. I remember the virus. But the specifics are what he wants.
"That's quite unfortunate Jake. You see, we can give you drugs to help you remember." Why is he nodding? The doctor.. My arm!
"AHHHHH!" The pain was unimaginable. And at the same time, enlightening. I could see it clearly. The explosion, this man. His badge had said **Smith, John**. Clearly fake, but it passed the scanners. This man was the one who let out the virus. The pain subsided.
"I remember. There was a virus that could survive a vacuum. Although virus isn't the right word. It's the same damned thing we used to cleanse earth, with a few minor changes. If it got out.."
"Tell me where I can find it."
"I don't know." My heart. I had had it implanted in my heart. This man had already blew up my lab, no way was I giving him what he wanted. My HUD blinked as did one of the monitors. *Lie detected. Elevated chemical levels of Lincelone. Stage 1.*
"Now Jake, I'm sure your HUD is telling you the same thing the good doctor's monitors are telling me. You just lied to me."
"What do you want with it?"
"That's none of your concern Jake. Just trust that you won't want to lie to me again or I'll make sure your life ends very painfully. I won't beat a dead horse though, if you don't want to tell me where the nanites are, that's fine. Why don't we change the subject. Do you remember the station you were on? Dreadknot?"
Dreadknot. God would quake at the size of that thing. 150 years and unimaginable amounts of money went into building that thing. The first great space station. Nearly the size of Sol. Almost the entire Sol system drained of resources to build it. All that was left now was the scorched remains of Earth and a few asteroids.
"I remember."
"Good. And do you remember the self destruct sequence?" Oh god. He can't be serious? Activating that takes 20 people and perfect timing unless you knew the override. Hell, the only reason I knew the override is my family tree. We were the first family to be recruited to the Dreadknot project. Dread knot. When Sol became unstable, there had to be a few chosen to watch the great beast. The Knot that would be tied to humanities survival.
"I.. " If he destroys it, probes will launch to the other great stations. There may be 975 billion people now, but upwards of 950 billion of them are on 100 great stations. The override didn't override Dreadknot, it would override humanities right to survive. "You know I can't tell you that without jeopardizing humanities existence."
"Ah, I see you know better then to lie. You're still only at 1. But as I told you earlier, you might as well consider 2 lies fatal. Let me give you a taste. Doctor."
"His nanobots will resist." The doctor shook his head and pushed a button on one of the machines. My body went rigid. Pain. I couldn't focus on anything. How long did it last? 5 seconds? 10? 30? 20 minutes? I couldn't tell the difference.
"This is taking to long. Jake. I need to know one of those. Either the location of the nanites, or the override code." *Name: 'Smith, John'. Age: 46 . Current Threat Level: 9. Die.*
"You're killing me either way."
"Probably, yes."
"Then the code is Survive and the nanites have already been released into the wild." A warm feeling washed over me. Two lies at once. John Smith wouldn't get anything from me. I could feel it in my head first, the HUD shut down quickly. Everything faded back into the dark. | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "So, what do you need a lie for?"
I sat behind my dirty desk, covered in take out boxes and cat fur. I sucked on my soggy cigarette noisily, daintily making notes on the back of an envelope.
The man in front of me nervously wrung his hands. He eyed me suspiciously, but I smelled the desperation. Well, most people were pretty desperate to come find my tiny office nestled behind a dumpster.
"I- shit - I need someone to confess to a murder."
I hesitated. Ah, this could get tricky. I snuffed on my cigarette contemplatively. Ricky? Naw, he wouldn't go to prison. There is Amy. But she only had one lie left. This situation will need more. Maybe Michelle? Eh, not clever enough. Then I remembered. Ernesto. 3 lies. Smart. A minority to boot. And he had a family that desperately needed money.
The man in front of me sweated like a pig in a slaughter house, as his round tummy smooshed against my desk. Little numbers popped into my head as I wondered how much his freedom was worth to the sticky little hog.
"Well, Mr. Noname," I drawled, "You do realize lies are a hot commodity. Hmmhmm? Very limited these days. What, with people only able to lie 3 times in their total lives. And humans being natural born liars! It's abysmal, I say. Hmmhmm. And in your situation, we will probably need - ohhhh- all 3 lies. Yes, definitely 3. This can be, hmmhmm, pricey. Hmmhmm."
"Price doesn't matter." The man burst out. I tried to keep my face impassive as I began heaving more money on my imaginary pile.
"Ahh, I see you are eager to have all this business behind you. Hmmhmm. Very good." I tapped my desk and gave him a sideways glance, "Sooooo, who didja kill?"
"What? What does that matter? I just need lies! Nothing more!"
I wagged a finger at him. "Oh, Mr. Noname. It's a very sensitive business this business is, hmmhmm. I need to figure out which one of my pretty little liars can succeed. I need to create a successful... story. So to say." A smile tugged at my lips. "Was it your wife? I betcha it was the wife. It's always the wife."
His face went white and he stood up abruptly. "This is outrageous! I don't have to stand for this!"
"Uh, you just did."
Immediately color began flushing back to his cheeks. "Why you little-" The man blustered for a second, and then with a flourish began stomping out of my alley.
"Oh Senator Calllleeeeeey!" I sang out. The rigidity that struck his back almost sent him squealing onto his face. He glanced back, whites wide.
"What? You got the wrong-" A coughing fit hit him, as he doubled over. Blood spattered on the sidewalk as his nose sprang a leak. Ah, well that answers that question. Not surprising, considering he is a politician. They used up their lies quickly.
I wrinkled my nose. "Seriously, Senator? How stupid do you think I am? How stupid are you trying to lie when you have no more lies? Hmmhmm. Come back here. I have some water. Drink your lie back down, hmmmhmmm."
He weaved back to my table, coughing still keeping him doubled over. I sloshed a half empty water bottle towards him. "It's fancy water. Just for you."
"It's - cough- it's- cough- half empty!"
"I prefer half full. Amazing what people throw out these days. Hmmhmm. Drink, before you choke on your lie."
With a torn grumble, tears and blood streaming down his piggy face, he grabbed the bottle and chugged the remaining water. I tapped my pen on the desk as I appraised the man in front of me.
"$20 million."
The senator spat out the last sip of water. "What?"
"$20 million. $5 mil for each lie. That makes $15, hmmhmm."
"And the last $5 million?" He sputtered.
"That's a bonus for my liar who will be going to prison for you." I glanced up contemplatively at the smog that cuddled amongst the buildings that rose above us. "Actually, hmmhmm, for scum like you, I should make it $10 million. I know who you are, and you are not a very nice man. No one was surprised when your wife was found dead, hmmhmm. So let's make it $25 million. And I need a favor. A favor only a senator could provide."
He glared at me stonily. I knew he wouldn't negotiate. He couldn't really. I was one of the few who could peddle a lie in this city, and - as I shuffled papers on my three legged desk propped up against the dumpster - very difficult to find. He must have pulled a lot of strings already to find me. I knew the moment he stepped curiously into my alleyway that he was a man out of options.
A humorless smile spread across my face. "So what do you say, Senator? Ready to buy a lie?" | "Son. Son, nod if you can hear me." Darkness. Where am I? What happened? Why can't I see anything.
"He's still unresponsive Doc. Up the dose, lets see if we can get him talking." Warm. I can feel it spreading through me. A sliver of light, but nothing is clear.
"Kid. Can you hear me? We don't have much time! I need you to hear me damn it!" Pain. Like someone just punched me in the gut. "Ughh.." I moan. Why can't I move? My wrists, my ankles, are they tied town?
"Good. Now listen. I'm rebooting your visual processors. You'll be able to see again in a minute. Your voice synthesizer will boot up shortly after that. I want to you remain quiet and listen." A faint light grows into my consciousness. The room comes into focus and words flash across my vision *Booting.... Loading Cloud Data... Satellite 175993 locked.* A hud appears and I see the man above me. *Name: <Classified>. Age: 46 . Current Threat Level: 7. Kill or Evade.* That doesn't look good. I still can't move. Rope, carbon nanofibers. Even if I could control my limbs I'd have a hell of a time breaking those.
"Look kid, I can tell by that face you know I'm not to be messed with. I'm sorry about everything you've gone through, but there's something you need to know. Now I don't know how much you remember, but here's the short version. You're name is Jake Elwing. You were working for the United Space Agency on a top secret project, a virus. Well that virus got out. Your counterpart Marilee was able to create an antidote of sorts. But there was a side effect. No one noticed at first, the kids were the first to go. You see, it seams when someone lies, a chemical is released in the brain. It was undetectable until this god awful "cure" was dispersed. It reacts with the cure and has.. well.. you'll see soon enough I'm sure. Ignorance is bliss for now. Just know that if you lie to me, it won't be pretty." I took in what he was saying, a virus, a cure. Nothing was ringing any bells. I couldn't even remember what day it was.
"Unfortunately for you, the virus had already progressed fairly significantly by the time we found you. Both of our eyes, one of your ears.. It's a good thing we've made so many advances in recent years." Cybernetics. That must be what he was talking about. I remember history. World war II, the second and third space race. E-day. Earth that's where we came from. Before the Incineration.
"Sir, we don't have much time. His body is still recovering from the implants. They won't like the drugs that are keeping him awake." I lift my head enough to see the doctor on the far side of the room.
"Yeah, I know doc. I just don't want to lose him after we spent so many millions bringing him back from the dead. Jake, listen, I need you to tell me everything you know about the virus. There was a scout from one of the other nations. They didn't dock, but looking over your notes, one of the samples was showing promise as a truly superior specimen. It survived a vacuum for 7 days?" So much to take in. Did I help on a virus?
"I.. I don't remember. I'm sorry. I don't even.. My name is Jake?" I close my eyes for a second, saying my name aloud nudged something lose, like blowing the dust off a book that had been sitting for years. I could almost make out the title. I remember the virus. But the specifics are what he wants.
"That's quite unfortunate Jake. You see, we can give you drugs to help you remember." Why is he nodding? The doctor.. My arm!
"AHHHHH!" The pain was unimaginable. And at the same time, enlightening. I could see it clearly. The explosion, this man. His badge had said **Smith, John**. Clearly fake, but it passed the scanners. This man was the one who let out the virus. The pain subsided.
"I remember. There was a virus that could survive a vacuum. Although virus isn't the right word. It's the same damned thing we used to cleanse earth, with a few minor changes. If it got out.."
"Tell me where I can find it."
"I don't know." My heart. I had had it implanted in my heart. This man had already blew up my lab, no way was I giving him what he wanted. My HUD blinked as did one of the monitors. *Lie detected. Elevated chemical levels of Lincelone. Stage 1.*
"Now Jake, I'm sure your HUD is telling you the same thing the good doctor's monitors are telling me. You just lied to me."
"What do you want with it?"
"That's none of your concern Jake. Just trust that you won't want to lie to me again or I'll make sure your life ends very painfully. I won't beat a dead horse though, if you don't want to tell me where the nanites are, that's fine. Why don't we change the subject. Do you remember the station you were on? Dreadknot?"
Dreadknot. God would quake at the size of that thing. 150 years and unimaginable amounts of money went into building that thing. The first great space station. Nearly the size of Sol. Almost the entire Sol system drained of resources to build it. All that was left now was the scorched remains of Earth and a few asteroids.
"I remember."
"Good. And do you remember the self destruct sequence?" Oh god. He can't be serious? Activating that takes 20 people and perfect timing unless you knew the override. Hell, the only reason I knew the override is my family tree. We were the first family to be recruited to the Dreadknot project. Dread knot. When Sol became unstable, there had to be a few chosen to watch the great beast. The Knot that would be tied to humanities survival.
"I.. " If he destroys it, probes will launch to the other great stations. There may be 975 billion people now, but upwards of 950 billion of them are on 100 great stations. The override didn't override Dreadknot, it would override humanities right to survive. "You know I can't tell you that without jeopardizing humanities existence."
"Ah, I see you know better then to lie. You're still only at 1. But as I told you earlier, you might as well consider 2 lies fatal. Let me give you a taste. Doctor."
"His nanobots will resist." The doctor shook his head and pushed a button on one of the machines. My body went rigid. Pain. I couldn't focus on anything. How long did it last? 5 seconds? 10? 30? 20 minutes? I couldn't tell the difference.
"This is taking to long. Jake. I need to know one of those. Either the location of the nanites, or the override code." *Name: 'Smith, John'. Age: 46 . Current Threat Level: 9. Die.*
"You're killing me either way."
"Probably, yes."
"Then the code is Survive and the nanites have already been released into the wild." A warm feeling washed over me. Two lies at once. John Smith wouldn't get anything from me. I could feel it in my head first, the HUD shut down quickly. Everything faded back into the dark. | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | The 'age of truth' historians were dubbing it. In 2031 a new app was released and became the new big thing. Taking advantage of the constant data stream from Apple's neural implants and the shared cloud of data the new app was able to pick up on subconscious cues and could tell when someone was lying. Privacy laws protected teenagers and kids, but hundreds of politicians and oligarchs suddenly got shunted straight to jail for their backroom dealings and millions of sham relationships collapsed.
And that's where I come in. As a Senator and the husband of an executive of the company that developed the app I knew about the one weakness of the app - it takes three distinct lies to calibrate. I was able to survive the initial purge of politicians by making colleagues exploit this fact, but I had grander plans for my own lies. My plan took years to develop, but I had both the patience and resources. Three lies and my plan would be complete.
"My fellow Americans, today is an historic day. Today we bring truth into the oval office. The government are taking over the running of the Liedetector app. I know some of you are worried about liberty but let me make to you three promises. One, the process will be completely legal; two, nobody will ever be able to alter the results of the app, and finally I will work personally to ensure your freedoms are always maintained."
Three lies was all I needed to get total control. The age of truth was here and my word was law. From this point on my word was The truth. | "This will now use up one of my 3 remaining lies" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | 15 year old daughter needs a blood transfusion. Father's not a match, so they test mom. Mom's not a match either....
>"She's yours! I swear."
>"How? How is that even possible?"
>"I didn't cheat on you."
>"Really? Then why doesn't *our* blood match *our* daughter's?"
>"I...I needed a donor."
>"So, you fucking cheated on me?"
>"No! I...I needed a female donor."
>"What? Why?"
>"I....I was born a man."
>"What?"
>"My birth name was John, not Juanita."
>"What?"
>"I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I didn't think you would understand."
| "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | “I do solemnly swear . . . " This was the hardest part. Could he, in fact, step forward, raise his hand, look the Chief Justice in the eye, and do this without bursting out in laughter, smirking, or allowing a spasm to cross his face?
The tireless work of thousands, a cost of billions of dollars, and untold lives altered by bribery, lies, threats, intimidation, blackmail, and murder had led to this very moment.
The fate of a planet hung in the balance.
". . . that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States,"
This had been rehearsed since the very beginning, practiced in undisclosed locations, using sophisticated computer simulations, live actors, volunteer audiences, endless replays, ruthless criticism, vehement arguments, and unflinching self-examination.
"and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
The third lie. He had no intention of protecting anyone. He had an economy to plunder, a people to subjugate, and a nation to destroy. Nothing was going to stop him.
"So help me God."
So help him he would see this through, or die.
The cameras were watching. Millions were glued to their screens. The slightest misstep, the tiniest facial tic, and it was all over.
He tried not to think about it too much.
There was a hand extended. He was supposed to shake it. That's all he head to do, shake the hand, smile, turn and wave.
And the world was his, to unmake, shatter, and remake in his own image.
He turned and, hand still extended, pictured the Earth as a glowing bauble, cradled gently in the palm of his hand, glowing an ethereal blue. A sound, a growing tide of voices, rose and filled his mind. It was the sound of a million squealing teenage girls, a hundred million, the mindless adulation of youth casting itself at his feet in abject worship. His fist closed to capture the bauble and squeeze it, until the money and the blood and the power leaked out and infused his soul with an overwhelming sense of purpose and drive.
Alexander? Caesar? Muhammed? Ghengis Khan? Napoleon? Hitler? Pffffft.
Justin Bieber strode forth to conquer the world.
| "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "I know, I'm late." Melissa said as she disgustedly brought her till to her supervisor's office.
"Well if you know you're late, why the hell are you?" Sherry barked back.
"Hey, customer at register 2 had an obnoxious little brat who kept screaming and getting into things. I told her to hustler her ass, and you know what she says to me?"
"I could not care less, sincerely."
"The damned ditz asks me whatever happened to 'the customer is always right?'"
"What?!"
"I know, right? I told her, lady, we sell clothing, not miracles."
"Yeah, well, you're here now. Let's get this counted."
"Oh, come on! It's all here. Why the hell do we have to do this every god damn night? All you gotta do is ask me if it's here. You always gotta count everything when you know all you have to do is ask us."
"And you will hedge, and say 'as far as I know' which makes me wanna hit you with the nearest blunt object."
"You are the worst damned bitch of a supervisor ever."
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, spill it and let's get this over with. Where are your receipts?"
"Right here. Gawd!" she threw them at Sherry, dropped into the nearest chair, and tried to look put upon.
Sherry did not give a damn. She hated everyone she worked with and didn't care who knew it. She had no lies to waste on making them feel good. Nobody did. They hadn't for years now. Even now, thirty years after the mysterious event that had left everyone stuck with a maximum of three lies for life, most people stupidly used them up early on, even the ones whose parents tried to drill into them that sincerity was the only policy these days.
But it turned out it meant more than just no deception in ethical matters: it meant no little white lies, either. It changed the entire dynamic of society in just a few decades. Society held together only because it had become so interdependent that a world full of newly honest people had no choice but to admit they couldn't make it without each other. That didn't mean they had to like it, though.
"This is all wrong," Sherry said, "The totals are screwed up and don't match the till."
"You're lying!" Melissa shouted, but then realized what she was saying, and backed down as she looked at Sherry's raised eyebrows. Right. How likely was that? "Look, I don't have time for this. I've got a date." Oh, how that rankled. Privacy considerations were right out the window these days. You couldn't make an excuse to save your soul, so you blurted out the truth whether you wanted to or not. No more sick aunts, or family emergencies. Melissa flushed just thinking what she might say if Sherry pressed her for details, but she needn't have worried.
"Fine. Go get laid, if that's more important to you than your job," Sherry told her, and Melissa had to choke down an urge to slap her. "I'll put this in the safe as is, and we'll go over it in the morning. BE EARLY," she said warningly, her tone making it perfectly clear that "early" did *not* imply overtime. Melissa didn't care. She couldn't believe she was getting off so easily and hurried out before Sherry changed her mind.
Sherry shook her head, tucked the till in her drawer and went over to Ron's office and knocked.
"Something wrong?" her manager asked her.
"My password isn't working again. Can I just borrow yours? It takes so long to get through to I.S. I haven't finished entering the final receipts for the day."
He gave it to her, of course. Why would he suspect anything, after all? In a world where hardly anyone had lies left, it was inconceivable someone her age would have any. She hurried back to her desk, logged in as Ron, and after hastily checking to ensure he wasn't looking in on her, closed out the accounting database and logged into banking, which was accessible only on this account. She made the transactions payable to her offshore account, in sufficient quantities to keep her in style for years. She closed out, signed off, and told Ron she would be leaving.
She had never had to lie about those accounts. They were legal and no one knew she had opened them. That was good, she reflected, or she never would have had enough lies left for today. She had lied to Melissa, of course: There was nothing wrong with her totals. She had lied about the password: There was nothing wrong with hers, unless you counted that it didn't access the bank accounts.
And of course, she had lied about putting Melissa's till money in the vault. Instead, she tipped it into her purse, where it would serve to buy her the one way plane ticket out of the country. She snapped her purse shut, put on her jacket, and headed out the door, hoping no one at the airport asked her any uncomfortable questions.
| "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | Adam came out from his coma sometime around the 5th day after he was admitted to the ICU.
Stefanie heard him stir, coughing in short spurts as he slowly regained his senses. She had been lightly dozing by his side, and she reached for his hand to calm him. Slowly, painfully, he opened his remaining good eye and struggled to focus on her.
“Where… what…” His voice was strained, reedy, perhaps a result of the sore throat he must have from the intubator the doctors had forced down earlier. Or perhaps a result of the blunt trauma he suffered when he crashed through the windshield. It didn’t really matter to Stefanie.
Stefanie caressed Adam’s cheek gently. “Darling, you’re in the hospital. You’ve just had a small accident, that’s all… do you remember anything about how you got here?”
Adam’s brow furrowed in concentration. “No, no I don’t remember… Where are the kids? Are they here?”
Stefanie managed the weakest of smiles. “They’re fine,” she lied for the first time in her life. “They’re downstairs, just for a while.” Which wasn’t a lie, technically, since Timothy was in the morgue at the basement, and Sabrina was in the children’s ICU two floors down, fighting for her life.
“Good, good… wait, why’s your head all bandaged too? And your arm? Were you, like… also…” Adam’s arm flopped back down after his strained efforts to reach out to her. He was evidently still too weak.
“Oh this? It’s nothing, I’ll be fine. I was in the car, when you got into that accident, so here we are.” She omitted to explain that miraculously, she had barely suffered any injuries in the crash. The doctors and paramedics had assumed that to be the cause of her hairline fractures.
She didn’t see the need to clarify that actually, they came from Adam. Maybe the day of the crash, when they were fighting and he forced her and the children into the car, all the while swearing they would all die together. Or maybe the week before, in their last fight. Again, it didn’t really matter to Stefanie.
“… Car? Was I…” Adam’s face visibly blanched. “Was I… drinking again? Did I…”
A wane smile set across Stefanie’s face as she squeezed his hand. “No, it wasn’t your fault,” she lied, for the second time in her life. “The other guy wasn’t looking. He drifted into our lane.”
Adam’s eyelid fluttered as he struggled to keep awake. “Oh, I see. Then, I think I’ll just… sleep some more. I’m so tired. When I’m better, we’ll all go home, ok?” Then, he was out like a light, and soon the rhythmic, steady breaths of deep sleep came.
Stefanie cried then, as silently as she could manage, the sobs coursing through her as she fought to keep them in. She had finally made up her mind. A quick flick of the switch. A deep breath. Then she stood up, all 5.3 feet and 110 pounds of her, and pressed down on Adam’s mouth with her good hand and pinched his nostrils with the other.
The bed frame wobbled, and for a while Stefanie was worried that he would overpower her, just as he always had. But the injuries and multiple surgeries had weakened him, and it was over faster than she thought. When she was sure, she turned the monitoring system back on.
Later, as she made her way down to see Sabrina, an orderly recognized Stefanie and offered a few hasty but soothing words. “Mam, please stay strong. It’s been a big loss for you, but once your husband and daughter get better, well, you guys still have each other. Things will get better.”
“Yes,” Stephanie lied for the last time in her life, “I know we’ll be happy again, some day.”
| "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "And you heard it that's the up up up music, the DOW is up a whopping 4% as the news from Washington..."
The engine sputtered to a stop and Kai Ryssdal's voice faded. Slumping in her seat, Lerin stared at the white columns from the top of the parking deck. Brushing away her auburn hair, she tugged on her eye lids, and pulled the contact from her eye. It fell to the floor, but from the crystal blue circle in the center, it was easy to find. Yet she left it. In a few minutes she wouldn't see this car ever again. She took out the other, pulled on her glasses then stared across to the domes across the park. The sun's light blocked from the podium where she had been not three hours ago. She checked the crumbled sheet that had come from that clean manilla envelope, she was fifteen minutes early.
Despite the excitement of the day, she felt relief as the expectations of years in training ceased to matter. She touched the face she wore and felt the plastic of her cheekbones. Being assigned Nancy was a decent stroke of luck as she had only needed a little convincing to agree completely with her persona, and she looked similar. At least she hadn't ended up a C.E.O or an anchor, both which required very specific facts and elaborate logical mazes. Sure, speeches could be long but generalizations allowed philosophical waxing between the bangs. The beauty was, despite those three bangs, and the now throbbing pain the back of her head that she had come to expect, the world had been turned away from a terrible set of lies, that had been propagated by organizations much larger and more wealthy than hers. She'd done her job, and it was time to relax and let the pain fade as she likewise would fade from the society.
Retirement at 31. She smiled to herself, covered up her face, walked down from the garage, and saw the bus already waiting. Stepping on, she pulled off her hood as the door closed. She saw 4 other girls, each with auburn hair, and some of them still had their contacts in, some had wiped off the dark makeup, but all still had that trademark *Nancy* look. Nancy must be busy today.
"Guess I won't know you until we start talking, huh?" Lerin smirked.
"Well at least I know I can trust you. The name's Becky. Looking forward to this island vacation?".
"Man, I better be, at least we can forget about this place. Oh wait, you were at the noon conference! I loved how you got Nancy's left hand's gestures... I could never quite get those down." | "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "Did you kill Anna Kendrick?"
"No."
"Did you kill Bonnie James?"
"No."
"Did you kill Cindy Irish?"
"No."
"Did you kill Diane Hoffman?"
"N..n...yes! Yes, I did it! I killed her! Damn this sudden compulsion to tell the truth!"
Foster turned to the police chief. "Fucking serial killers, chief. They never learn. If they just stopped at three, they could get away with murder."
| "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | **Never participated in a WP thread before, probably a bad starting point given that the thread's already 12 hours old, but ah well, here goes!**
Chris looked in the mirror one last time, adjusted his collar, grabbed his coat, and left.
4 years of medical school had all come down to this, his first day as a doctor. Excited, and yet simultaneously terrified, he arrived at St. Steven's Hospital for his first day, not knowing at all what lay ahead, and found himself in the E.R. assisting a much more experienced doctor who'd been given the task of mentoring Chris and showing him the ropes, Dr. Symons.
He began the tour around the department, introducing Chris to the relevant staff: Janice and Laverne the receptionists; no sooner did they arrive at the nursing station than a patient was rushed by on a gurney and quickly stationed in a nearby treatment area as the nurses shouted for Dr. Symons. He sprang into action.
*Male, James Davies, mid-30's, traffic accident, broken neck, severe head trauma, lacerations to the upper torso, 2 broken legs*
The nurses began to quickly cut away his clothing as Dr. Symons got to work, shouting instructions to the nurses, demanding IVs and equipment, all the while the patient writhing in agony and gasping for air. Chris froze, fixated on the man's attire. He was dressed to the nines, a sharp black tuxedo now flung open either side of his body on the gurney, with a corsage protruding from behind the lapel. The patient's movement quickly faded, and he lay there, lifeless and still.
*He's stopped breathing, Chris get in here!*
Symons signalled and shouted for Chris to begin using the bag valve mask to help the man breathe, as he readied the defibrillator. They all stood back as Symons tried in vain. Everyone knew it was too late for this patient before they even began, even Chris, but Symons knew he had to teach Chris that it was never too late for anyone, everyone was worth trying for.
*Time of death 13:18.*
Symons head dropped, knowing he'd failed but hoping he'd taught a valuable lesson to the rookie. He looked up to see Chris frozen, tears in his eyes at the ordeal he'd just witnessed within an hour of becoming a doctor, and approached him to provide some comforting words about how they tried as hard as they could, how Chris should learn from this, and assuring him that he'd take the hard part and break the news to the family outside. At this point, Chris stopped him, took the clipboard from his hands, and took on the hard part himself.
He walked into the waiting area and shouted for a Miss Williams, noticing the surname didn't match with the name of the patient. A young woman shakily got to her feet and approached him in a pristine, white wedding dress, surrounded by family members; he took them to a separate room for some privacy, tearing the patient's notes from his clipboard as he went and dispatching it into a bin along the way.
*1. Miss Williams, we believe your fiancé suffered a pulmonary embolism at the wheel of his car this morning.*
*2. He passed almost instantly, and he likely wasn't even aware he was in a car accident.*
*3. He went peacefully, and felt little to no pain.*
*I'm sorry for your loss.*
With that, Chris gave a sympathetic look to the family in the room, lowered his head, and left, quietly closing the door behind him to contain the anguished wails of the ex-bride-to-be. He placed the clipboard on the nurses' desk, along with his badge, and left the hospital never to return, he couldn't face this career.
4 years of medical school had all come down to this, his last day as a doctor. | "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | Mother liked to tell the story. They all had one.
Mom found me reaching for the cookie jar.
"What are you doing kiddo?"
"Nothing..."
"Were you trying to get a cookie and eat it?"
"No."
"What were you doing?"
"I was getting a cookie for you."
Most folks in the community called it good parenting. The practice is called Toddling. Parents make sure their kids will never lie to them. I am, and always will be resentful of that woman. Something clicked off in my mind as she questioned me, and realization, even in my toddler mind, saved what I could.
I did grab 2 cookies, and all I have left is a half-truth. | "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | Joe sat in his room eating cookies before dinner in secret when Joe's Mom walked in. Joe threw the cookies under his blanket and acted natural. Joe's Mom said "Joe, were you eating cookies?" "No!" Joe said. "Really?" "Yes!" "Really really?" "Yes Mom! Really!" "Hmmm well alright, dinner in 5 Joe!". Joe sighed in relief and went down to eat dinner.
When he got downstairs and sat at the table Joe's father said "Hey son, how was your day?" Joe said "It was alright I guess." they ate in silence for a few minutes and Joe's dad said "Oh, by the way Joe can you clean your room tonight?" Joe sighed and said "Okay..." Joe stayed up for awhile playing video games and was so tired that when he went to bed he fell out cold in seconds.
The next morning he got up to eat breakfast and when he sat down his dad said "Did you clean your room like I asked you to?" "Oh no" Joe thought to himself "One more lie can't hurt right? I'll just make sure Dad doesn't go in my room before he leaves for work and clean it when I get home from school." Joe looked at his dad and said "Of course i cleaned my room!" Joe burst into flames. | "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | The 'age of truth' historians were dubbing it. In 2031 a new app was released and became the new big thing. Taking advantage of the constant data stream from Apple's neural implants and the shared cloud of data the new app was able to pick up on subconscious cues and could tell when someone was lying. Privacy laws protected teenagers and kids, but hundreds of politicians and oligarchs suddenly got shunted straight to jail for their backroom dealings and millions of sham relationships collapsed.
And that's where I come in. As a Senator and the husband of an executive of the company that developed the app I knew about the one weakness of the app - it takes three distinct lies to calibrate. I was able to survive the initial purge of politicians by making colleagues exploit this fact, but I had grander plans for my own lies. My plan took years to develop, but I had both the patience and resources. Three lies and my plan would be complete.
"My fellow Americans, today is an historic day. Today we bring truth into the oval office. The government are taking over the running of the Liedetector app. I know some of you are worried about liberty but let me make to you three promises. One, the process will be completely legal; two, nobody will ever be able to alter the results of the app, and finally I will work personally to ensure your freedoms are always maintained."
Three lies was all I needed to get total control. The age of truth was here and my word was law. From this point on my word was The truth. | "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "Your last mandate saw town debt increase by 15%. Are you REALLY going to halve it like your campaign says if you are elected this time ?"
*Crap, this guy is tough. I'm not gonna last the whole debate at this rate...*
Article 14th of the constitution of our nation ensured our right to keep the three lies. But lying was usually done by not answering the question, which in itself is a great indicator that you would have lied by giving the expected answer. So most people choose to not answer to most of the questions you get in everyday life, to avoid accidental lies or to blur lie-related non answers.
But politicians were the most affected. A debate would be useless without answering, and politicians would not be successful without lies. So they hired people to spoke lies for themselves at debates, the *spokepersons*. With a huge student debt, all my three lies still unused, I was hired by mayor candidate Jack Harrolds.
They pay you for every minute of speaking. I was confident I would be able to dodge some questions and last one or two debates. But they don't want you to interpret their answer, they just want a mouth to tell lies. We are expendable mouths.
And there is the answer of Mr Harrolds. "The increase was entirely due to the economical crisis. We're gonna halve it by selling some state unused land, cutting public expenses by 30%, and a winning a partnership with Cloudnet corp that wants to install a new datacenter and will greatly improve our town economy !".
If I say that, I'm sure my last lie will be consumed. Maybe some spokepersons can say lies about stuff they ignore. But I heard Mr Harrolds speaking in a corridor yesterday. It will not be enough. Cloudnet will give him a bribe to get tax reductions, and only create a few jobs. He doesn't care to fail the next election because he will get an administrative job at Cloudnet if he is successful this time.
He gives me a tough glare, having noticed my hesitation. They are rumors about spokepersons who betrayed their candidate. It did not ended well for them. I cannot go back now. Think of the money. There goes my third lie...
"The increase was...." | "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "So, what do you need a lie for?"
I sat behind my dirty desk, covered in take out boxes and cat fur. I sucked on my soggy cigarette noisily, daintily making notes on the back of an envelope.
The man in front of me nervously wrung his hands. He eyed me suspiciously, but I smelled the desperation. Well, most people were pretty desperate to come find my tiny office nestled behind a dumpster.
"I- shit - I need someone to confess to a murder."
I hesitated. Ah, this could get tricky. I snuffed on my cigarette contemplatively. Ricky? Naw, he wouldn't go to prison. There is Amy. But she only had one lie left. This situation will need more. Maybe Michelle? Eh, not clever enough. Then I remembered. Ernesto. 3 lies. Smart. A minority to boot. And he had a family that desperately needed money.
The man in front of me sweated like a pig in a slaughter house, as his round tummy smooshed against my desk. Little numbers popped into my head as I wondered how much his freedom was worth to the sticky little hog.
"Well, Mr. Noname," I drawled, "You do realize lies are a hot commodity. Hmmhmm? Very limited these days. What, with people only able to lie 3 times in their total lives. And humans being natural born liars! It's abysmal, I say. Hmmhmm. And in your situation, we will probably need - ohhhh- all 3 lies. Yes, definitely 3. This can be, hmmhmm, pricey. Hmmhmm."
"Price doesn't matter." The man burst out. I tried to keep my face impassive as I began heaving more money on my imaginary pile.
"Ahh, I see you are eager to have all this business behind you. Hmmhmm. Very good." I tapped my desk and gave him a sideways glance, "Sooooo, who didja kill?"
"What? What does that matter? I just need lies! Nothing more!"
I wagged a finger at him. "Oh, Mr. Noname. It's a very sensitive business this business is, hmmhmm. I need to figure out which one of my pretty little liars can succeed. I need to create a successful... story. So to say." A smile tugged at my lips. "Was it your wife? I betcha it was the wife. It's always the wife."
His face went white and he stood up abruptly. "This is outrageous! I don't have to stand for this!"
"Uh, you just did."
Immediately color began flushing back to his cheeks. "Why you little-" The man blustered for a second, and then with a flourish began stomping out of my alley.
"Oh Senator Calllleeeeeey!" I sang out. The rigidity that struck his back almost sent him squealing onto his face. He glanced back, whites wide.
"What? You got the wrong-" A coughing fit hit him, as he doubled over. Blood spattered on the sidewalk as his nose sprang a leak. Ah, well that answers that question. Not surprising, considering he is a politician. They used up their lies quickly.
I wrinkled my nose. "Seriously, Senator? How stupid do you think I am? How stupid are you trying to lie when you have no more lies? Hmmhmm. Come back here. I have some water. Drink your lie back down, hmmmhmmm."
He weaved back to my table, coughing still keeping him doubled over. I sloshed a half empty water bottle towards him. "It's fancy water. Just for you."
"It's - cough- it's- cough- half empty!"
"I prefer half full. Amazing what people throw out these days. Hmmhmm. Drink, before you choke on your lie."
With a torn grumble, tears and blood streaming down his piggy face, he grabbed the bottle and chugged the remaining water. I tapped my pen on the desk as I appraised the man in front of me.
"$20 million."
The senator spat out the last sip of water. "What?"
"$20 million. $5 mil for each lie. That makes $15, hmmhmm."
"And the last $5 million?" He sputtered.
"That's a bonus for my liar who will be going to prison for you." I glanced up contemplatively at the smog that cuddled amongst the buildings that rose above us. "Actually, hmmhmm, for scum like you, I should make it $10 million. I know who you are, and you are not a very nice man. No one was surprised when your wife was found dead, hmmhmm. So let's make it $25 million. And I need a favor. A favor only a senator could provide."
He glared at me stonily. I knew he wouldn't negotiate. He couldn't really. I was one of the few who could peddle a lie in this city, and - as I shuffled papers on my three legged desk propped up against the dumpster - very difficult to find. He must have pulled a lot of strings already to find me. I knew the moment he stepped curiously into my alleyway that he was a man out of options.
A humorless smile spread across my face. "So what do you say, Senator? Ready to buy a lie?" | "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | James was waiting just outside the door - the door to his future.
It all started, years ago, when he began working for an incumbent Senator from New York - trying to keep his position despite the massive swelling of support for the Republican opposition. He did simple things - phone calls, passing out fliers, until one day, everything changed. Jessie Valdero - the Senator he was working for - was arrested on charges of negligent manslaughter after running over three children while driving drunk. Small crimes could be pushed to the side, but the rage the community felt about this forced the D.A.'s hand, and Valdero was tried and sentenced within a week. The group was without a leader - who would stand up as their representative.
So he did.
He took the position - it took him half a month to get all the paperwork done, but he did it. Now running for Senator, he had to take the lead and organize his supporters. He did okay - the Republican candidate even recognized the hard effort he put forward, in his victory speech.
But losing this once didn't diminish his dreams. No. He now knew what he was meant to do. So he tried, again, four years later. He won.
His induction into the Senate was normal, until night came. He was dragged, screaming, from his office. He was eventually knocked out, and awoke bound to a chair. Men emerged from the shadows, all dressed as donkeys. They said some chanting, then removed their masks and congratulated him on now being a Senator. He'd expected something like this from frat boys, not politicians, then it was explained.
"In 1985," one man stated, stepping forward. "We realized that without the ability to lie often, we would not be able to beat out the Republican opposition - they were too honest, after Abe set a high bar they all had to pass." James nodded. "So we summoned the Devil and made a pact - so long we repeat this ceremony for each new Democratic politician, he will provide us with unlimited lies."
And so began his career as a politician.
And now, years later, here he was. He refused to test the theory of his fellow Democrats, he wanted to save his lies if he could.
He did.
And so now, came the time to use them.
His running mate came up behind him. "So, gonna still hold up your end of the bargain and tear down that wall the Republicans build between us and Mexico?"
He smiled. "Of course!"
One down.
The second came when he assured his wife that, yes, he still loved her and didn't use her for the political connections.
The third came when he said he was willing to work towards ending the wars in the Middle East - they'd been going on for fifty years now, why stop now?
And the fourth...
"Do you solemnly swear to protect, defend, and uphold the Constitution of the United States of America?"
"I do."
Four. | "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. |
Jess and Renée had been talking for a while. The hum of the hospital equipment was almost low enough for them to ignore. Still, this time it persisted in the mind, a deadening musical score to the scene.
Renée squeezed Jess's hand. "God. This wasn't fair. I don't...I wish I could...dammit, Jess, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry. I'm not afraid."
Renée gestured toward the tortuous arrangement of medical equipment, tubes, pumps, everything. "Does it hurt very much?"
"Not as much as I expected, really."
"Weasel words. Did you use up your lies, then?"
"Oh, yeah," and Jess laughed weakly. "Ages ago."
"Okay. Well, as long as it doesn't hurt too bad now." Renée blinked hard once or twice. "I'm sorry," she said again.
"Don't be." Jess focused for a few moments on just breathing in and out. She wanted to be alone for this part. No matter how loved she was. "Same time tomorrow? I just need to sleep for a bit now."
Renée looked wounded, but she covered that fast enough. "Okay," she said. "I'll be there."
Jess smiled, because facial expressions could be faked as much as you wanted in life. Then she closed her eyes and let the hum take over. | "Peter, what happened?"
"Jesus *made* me to it!" | |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | “I do solemnly swear . . . " This was the hardest part. Could he, in fact, step forward, raise his hand, look the Chief Justice in the eye, and do this without bursting out in laughter, smirking, or allowing a spasm to cross his face?
The tireless work of thousands, a cost of billions of dollars, and untold lives altered by bribery, lies, threats, intimidation, blackmail, and murder had led to this very moment.
The fate of a planet hung in the balance.
". . . that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States,"
This had been rehearsed since the very beginning, practiced in undisclosed locations, using sophisticated computer simulations, live actors, volunteer audiences, endless replays, ruthless criticism, vehement arguments, and unflinching self-examination.
"and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
The third lie. He had no intention of protecting anyone. He had an economy to plunder, a people to subjugate, and a nation to destroy. Nothing was going to stop him.
"So help me God."
So help him he would see this through, or die.
The cameras were watching. Millions were glued to their screens. The slightest misstep, the tiniest facial tic, and it was all over.
He tried not to think about it too much.
There was a hand extended. He was supposed to shake it. That's all he head to do, shake the hand, smile, turn and wave.
And the world was his, to unmake, shatter, and remake in his own image.
He turned and, hand still extended, pictured the Earth as a glowing bauble, cradled gently in the palm of his hand, glowing an ethereal blue. A sound, a growing tide of voices, rose and filled his mind. It was the sound of a million squealing teenage girls, a hundred million, the mindless adulation of youth casting itself at his feet in abject worship. His fist closed to capture the bauble and squeeze it, until the money and the blood and the power leaked out and infused his soul with an overwhelming sense of purpose and drive.
Alexander? Caesar? Muhammed? Ghengis Khan? Napoleon? Hitler? Pffffft.
Justin Bieber strode forth to conquer the world.
| "Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*DAMMIT WOMAN!*
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "I know, I'm late." Melissa said as she disgustedly brought her till to her supervisor's office.
"Well if you know you're late, why the hell are you?" Sherry barked back.
"Hey, customer at register 2 had an obnoxious little brat who kept screaming and getting into things. I told her to hustler her ass, and you know what she says to me?"
"I could not care less, sincerely."
"The damned ditz asks me whatever happened to 'the customer is always right?'"
"What?!"
"I know, right? I told her, lady, we sell clothing, not miracles."
"Yeah, well, you're here now. Let's get this counted."
"Oh, come on! It's all here. Why the hell do we have to do this every god damn night? All you gotta do is ask me if it's here. You always gotta count everything when you know all you have to do is ask us."
"And you will hedge, and say 'as far as I know' which makes me wanna hit you with the nearest blunt object."
"You are the worst damned bitch of a supervisor ever."
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, spill it and let's get this over with. Where are your receipts?"
"Right here. Gawd!" she threw them at Sherry, dropped into the nearest chair, and tried to look put upon.
Sherry did not give a damn. She hated everyone she worked with and didn't care who knew it. She had no lies to waste on making them feel good. Nobody did. They hadn't for years now. Even now, thirty years after the mysterious event that had left everyone stuck with a maximum of three lies for life, most people stupidly used them up early on, even the ones whose parents tried to drill into them that sincerity was the only policy these days.
But it turned out it meant more than just no deception in ethical matters: it meant no little white lies, either. It changed the entire dynamic of society in just a few decades. Society held together only because it had become so interdependent that a world full of newly honest people had no choice but to admit they couldn't make it without each other. That didn't mean they had to like it, though.
"This is all wrong," Sherry said, "The totals are screwed up and don't match the till."
"You're lying!" Melissa shouted, but then realized what she was saying, and backed down as she looked at Sherry's raised eyebrows. Right. How likely was that? "Look, I don't have time for this. I've got a date." Oh, how that rankled. Privacy considerations were right out the window these days. You couldn't make an excuse to save your soul, so you blurted out the truth whether you wanted to or not. No more sick aunts, or family emergencies. Melissa flushed just thinking what she might say if Sherry pressed her for details, but she needn't have worried.
"Fine. Go get laid, if that's more important to you than your job," Sherry told her, and Melissa had to choke down an urge to slap her. "I'll put this in the safe as is, and we'll go over it in the morning. BE EARLY," she said warningly, her tone making it perfectly clear that "early" did *not* imply overtime. Melissa didn't care. She couldn't believe she was getting off so easily and hurried out before Sherry changed her mind.
Sherry shook her head, tucked the till in her drawer and went over to Ron's office and knocked.
"Something wrong?" her manager asked her.
"My password isn't working again. Can I just borrow yours? It takes so long to get through to I.S. I haven't finished entering the final receipts for the day."
He gave it to her, of course. Why would he suspect anything, after all? In a world where hardly anyone had lies left, it was inconceivable someone her age would have any. She hurried back to her desk, logged in as Ron, and after hastily checking to ensure he wasn't looking in on her, closed out the accounting database and logged into banking, which was accessible only on this account. She made the transactions payable to her offshore account, in sufficient quantities to keep her in style for years. She closed out, signed off, and told Ron she would be leaving.
She had never had to lie about those accounts. They were legal and no one knew she had opened them. That was good, she reflected, or she never would have had enough lies left for today. She had lied to Melissa, of course: There was nothing wrong with her totals. She had lied about the password: There was nothing wrong with hers, unless you counted that it didn't access the bank accounts.
And of course, she had lied about putting Melissa's till money in the vault. Instead, she tipped it into her purse, where it would serve to buy her the one way plane ticket out of the country. She snapped her purse shut, put on her jacket, and headed out the door, hoping no one at the airport asked her any uncomfortable questions.
| "Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*DAMMIT WOMAN!*
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "Did you kill Anna Kendrick?"
"No."
"Did you kill Bonnie James?"
"No."
"Did you kill Cindy Irish?"
"No."
"Did you kill Diane Hoffman?"
"N..n...yes! Yes, I did it! I killed her! Damn this sudden compulsion to tell the truth!"
Foster turned to the police chief. "Fucking serial killers, chief. They never learn. If they just stopped at three, they could get away with murder."
| "Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*DAMMIT WOMAN!*
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | **Never participated in a WP thread before, probably a bad starting point given that the thread's already 12 hours old, but ah well, here goes!**
Chris looked in the mirror one last time, adjusted his collar, grabbed his coat, and left.
4 years of medical school had all come down to this, his first day as a doctor. Excited, and yet simultaneously terrified, he arrived at St. Steven's Hospital for his first day, not knowing at all what lay ahead, and found himself in the E.R. assisting a much more experienced doctor who'd been given the task of mentoring Chris and showing him the ropes, Dr. Symons.
He began the tour around the department, introducing Chris to the relevant staff: Janice and Laverne the receptionists; no sooner did they arrive at the nursing station than a patient was rushed by on a gurney and quickly stationed in a nearby treatment area as the nurses shouted for Dr. Symons. He sprang into action.
*Male, James Davies, mid-30's, traffic accident, broken neck, severe head trauma, lacerations to the upper torso, 2 broken legs*
The nurses began to quickly cut away his clothing as Dr. Symons got to work, shouting instructions to the nurses, demanding IVs and equipment, all the while the patient writhing in agony and gasping for air. Chris froze, fixated on the man's attire. He was dressed to the nines, a sharp black tuxedo now flung open either side of his body on the gurney, with a corsage protruding from behind the lapel. The patient's movement quickly faded, and he lay there, lifeless and still.
*He's stopped breathing, Chris get in here!*
Symons signalled and shouted for Chris to begin using the bag valve mask to help the man breathe, as he readied the defibrillator. They all stood back as Symons tried in vain. Everyone knew it was too late for this patient before they even began, even Chris, but Symons knew he had to teach Chris that it was never too late for anyone, everyone was worth trying for.
*Time of death 13:18.*
Symons head dropped, knowing he'd failed but hoping he'd taught a valuable lesson to the rookie. He looked up to see Chris frozen, tears in his eyes at the ordeal he'd just witnessed within an hour of becoming a doctor, and approached him to provide some comforting words about how they tried as hard as they could, how Chris should learn from this, and assuring him that he'd take the hard part and break the news to the family outside. At this point, Chris stopped him, took the clipboard from his hands, and took on the hard part himself.
He walked into the waiting area and shouted for a Miss Williams, noticing the surname didn't match with the name of the patient. A young woman shakily got to her feet and approached him in a pristine, white wedding dress, surrounded by family members; he took them to a separate room for some privacy, tearing the patient's notes from his clipboard as he went and dispatching it into a bin along the way.
*1. Miss Williams, we believe your fiancé suffered a pulmonary embolism at the wheel of his car this morning.*
*2. He passed almost instantly, and he likely wasn't even aware he was in a car accident.*
*3. He went peacefully, and felt little to no pain.*
*I'm sorry for your loss.*
With that, Chris gave a sympathetic look to the family in the room, lowered his head, and left, quietly closing the door behind him to contain the anguished wails of the ex-bride-to-be. He placed the clipboard on the nurses' desk, along with his badge, and left the hospital never to return, he couldn't face this career.
4 years of medical school had all come down to this, his last day as a doctor. | "Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*DAMMIT WOMAN!*
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | Mother liked to tell the story. They all had one.
Mom found me reaching for the cookie jar.
"What are you doing kiddo?"
"Nothing..."
"Were you trying to get a cookie and eat it?"
"No."
"What were you doing?"
"I was getting a cookie for you."
Most folks in the community called it good parenting. The practice is called Toddling. Parents make sure their kids will never lie to them. I am, and always will be resentful of that woman. Something clicked off in my mind as she questioned me, and realization, even in my toddler mind, saved what I could.
I did grab 2 cookies, and all I have left is a half-truth. | "Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*DAMMIT WOMAN!*
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | The 'age of truth' historians were dubbing it. In 2031 a new app was released and became the new big thing. Taking advantage of the constant data stream from Apple's neural implants and the shared cloud of data the new app was able to pick up on subconscious cues and could tell when someone was lying. Privacy laws protected teenagers and kids, but hundreds of politicians and oligarchs suddenly got shunted straight to jail for their backroom dealings and millions of sham relationships collapsed.
And that's where I come in. As a Senator and the husband of an executive of the company that developed the app I knew about the one weakness of the app - it takes three distinct lies to calibrate. I was able to survive the initial purge of politicians by making colleagues exploit this fact, but I had grander plans for my own lies. My plan took years to develop, but I had both the patience and resources. Three lies and my plan would be complete.
"My fellow Americans, today is an historic day. Today we bring truth into the oval office. The government are taking over the running of the Liedetector app. I know some of you are worried about liberty but let me make to you three promises. One, the process will be completely legal; two, nobody will ever be able to alter the results of the app, and finally I will work personally to ensure your freedoms are always maintained."
Three lies was all I needed to get total control. The age of truth was here and my word was law. From this point on my word was The truth. | "Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*DAMMIT WOMAN!*
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "So, what do you need a lie for?"
I sat behind my dirty desk, covered in take out boxes and cat fur. I sucked on my soggy cigarette noisily, daintily making notes on the back of an envelope.
The man in front of me nervously wrung his hands. He eyed me suspiciously, but I smelled the desperation. Well, most people were pretty desperate to come find my tiny office nestled behind a dumpster.
"I- shit - I need someone to confess to a murder."
I hesitated. Ah, this could get tricky. I snuffed on my cigarette contemplatively. Ricky? Naw, he wouldn't go to prison. There is Amy. But she only had one lie left. This situation will need more. Maybe Michelle? Eh, not clever enough. Then I remembered. Ernesto. 3 lies. Smart. A minority to boot. And he had a family that desperately needed money.
The man in front of me sweated like a pig in a slaughter house, as his round tummy smooshed against my desk. Little numbers popped into my head as I wondered how much his freedom was worth to the sticky little hog.
"Well, Mr. Noname," I drawled, "You do realize lies are a hot commodity. Hmmhmm? Very limited these days. What, with people only able to lie 3 times in their total lives. And humans being natural born liars! It's abysmal, I say. Hmmhmm. And in your situation, we will probably need - ohhhh- all 3 lies. Yes, definitely 3. This can be, hmmhmm, pricey. Hmmhmm."
"Price doesn't matter." The man burst out. I tried to keep my face impassive as I began heaving more money on my imaginary pile.
"Ahh, I see you are eager to have all this business behind you. Hmmhmm. Very good." I tapped my desk and gave him a sideways glance, "Sooooo, who didja kill?"
"What? What does that matter? I just need lies! Nothing more!"
I wagged a finger at him. "Oh, Mr. Noname. It's a very sensitive business this business is, hmmhmm. I need to figure out which one of my pretty little liars can succeed. I need to create a successful... story. So to say." A smile tugged at my lips. "Was it your wife? I betcha it was the wife. It's always the wife."
His face went white and he stood up abruptly. "This is outrageous! I don't have to stand for this!"
"Uh, you just did."
Immediately color began flushing back to his cheeks. "Why you little-" The man blustered for a second, and then with a flourish began stomping out of my alley.
"Oh Senator Calllleeeeeey!" I sang out. The rigidity that struck his back almost sent him squealing onto his face. He glanced back, whites wide.
"What? You got the wrong-" A coughing fit hit him, as he doubled over. Blood spattered on the sidewalk as his nose sprang a leak. Ah, well that answers that question. Not surprising, considering he is a politician. They used up their lies quickly.
I wrinkled my nose. "Seriously, Senator? How stupid do you think I am? How stupid are you trying to lie when you have no more lies? Hmmhmm. Come back here. I have some water. Drink your lie back down, hmmmhmmm."
He weaved back to my table, coughing still keeping him doubled over. I sloshed a half empty water bottle towards him. "It's fancy water. Just for you."
"It's - cough- it's- cough- half empty!"
"I prefer half full. Amazing what people throw out these days. Hmmhmm. Drink, before you choke on your lie."
With a torn grumble, tears and blood streaming down his piggy face, he grabbed the bottle and chugged the remaining water. I tapped my pen on the desk as I appraised the man in front of me.
"$20 million."
The senator spat out the last sip of water. "What?"
"$20 million. $5 mil for each lie. That makes $15, hmmhmm."
"And the last $5 million?" He sputtered.
"That's a bonus for my liar who will be going to prison for you." I glanced up contemplatively at the smog that cuddled amongst the buildings that rose above us. "Actually, hmmhmm, for scum like you, I should make it $10 million. I know who you are, and you are not a very nice man. No one was surprised when your wife was found dead, hmmhmm. So let's make it $25 million. And I need a favor. A favor only a senator could provide."
He glared at me stonily. I knew he wouldn't negotiate. He couldn't really. I was one of the few who could peddle a lie in this city, and - as I shuffled papers on my three legged desk propped up against the dumpster - very difficult to find. He must have pulled a lot of strings already to find me. I knew the moment he stepped curiously into my alleyway that he was a man out of options.
A humorless smile spread across my face. "So what do you say, Senator? Ready to buy a lie?" | "Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*NO!!*
"Are you cheating on me!"
*DAMMIT WOMAN!*
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "I know, I'm late." Melissa said as she disgustedly brought her till to her supervisor's office.
"Well if you know you're late, why the hell are you?" Sherry barked back.
"Hey, customer at register 2 had an obnoxious little brat who kept screaming and getting into things. I told her to hustler her ass, and you know what she says to me?"
"I could not care less, sincerely."
"The damned ditz asks me whatever happened to 'the customer is always right?'"
"What?!"
"I know, right? I told her, lady, we sell clothing, not miracles."
"Yeah, well, you're here now. Let's get this counted."
"Oh, come on! It's all here. Why the hell do we have to do this every god damn night? All you gotta do is ask me if it's here. You always gotta count everything when you know all you have to do is ask us."
"And you will hedge, and say 'as far as I know' which makes me wanna hit you with the nearest blunt object."
"You are the worst damned bitch of a supervisor ever."
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, spill it and let's get this over with. Where are your receipts?"
"Right here. Gawd!" she threw them at Sherry, dropped into the nearest chair, and tried to look put upon.
Sherry did not give a damn. She hated everyone she worked with and didn't care who knew it. She had no lies to waste on making them feel good. Nobody did. They hadn't for years now. Even now, thirty years after the mysterious event that had left everyone stuck with a maximum of three lies for life, most people stupidly used them up early on, even the ones whose parents tried to drill into them that sincerity was the only policy these days.
But it turned out it meant more than just no deception in ethical matters: it meant no little white lies, either. It changed the entire dynamic of society in just a few decades. Society held together only because it had become so interdependent that a world full of newly honest people had no choice but to admit they couldn't make it without each other. That didn't mean they had to like it, though.
"This is all wrong," Sherry said, "The totals are screwed up and don't match the till."
"You're lying!" Melissa shouted, but then realized what she was saying, and backed down as she looked at Sherry's raised eyebrows. Right. How likely was that? "Look, I don't have time for this. I've got a date." Oh, how that rankled. Privacy considerations were right out the window these days. You couldn't make an excuse to save your soul, so you blurted out the truth whether you wanted to or not. No more sick aunts, or family emergencies. Melissa flushed just thinking what she might say if Sherry pressed her for details, but she needn't have worried.
"Fine. Go get laid, if that's more important to you than your job," Sherry told her, and Melissa had to choke down an urge to slap her. "I'll put this in the safe as is, and we'll go over it in the morning. BE EARLY," she said warningly, her tone making it perfectly clear that "early" did *not* imply overtime. Melissa didn't care. She couldn't believe she was getting off so easily and hurried out before Sherry changed her mind.
Sherry shook her head, tucked the till in her drawer and went over to Ron's office and knocked.
"Something wrong?" her manager asked her.
"My password isn't working again. Can I just borrow yours? It takes so long to get through to I.S. I haven't finished entering the final receipts for the day."
He gave it to her, of course. Why would he suspect anything, after all? In a world where hardly anyone had lies left, it was inconceivable someone her age would have any. She hurried back to her desk, logged in as Ron, and after hastily checking to ensure he wasn't looking in on her, closed out the accounting database and logged into banking, which was accessible only on this account. She made the transactions payable to her offshore account, in sufficient quantities to keep her in style for years. She closed out, signed off, and told Ron she would be leaving.
She had never had to lie about those accounts. They were legal and no one knew she had opened them. That was good, she reflected, or she never would have had enough lies left for today. She had lied to Melissa, of course: There was nothing wrong with her totals. She had lied about the password: There was nothing wrong with hers, unless you counted that it didn't access the bank accounts.
And of course, she had lied about putting Melissa's till money in the vault. Instead, she tipped it into her purse, where it would serve to buy her the one way plane ticket out of the country. She snapped her purse shut, put on her jacket, and headed out the door, hoping no one at the airport asked her any uncomfortable questions.
| 15 year old daughter needs a blood transfusion. Father's not a match, so they test mom. Mom's not a match either....
>"She's yours! I swear."
>"How? How is that even possible?"
>"I didn't cheat on you."
>"Really? Then why doesn't *our* blood match *our* daughter's?"
>"I...I needed a donor."
>"So, you fucking cheated on me?"
>"No! I...I needed a female donor."
>"What? Why?"
>"I....I was born a man."
>"What?"
>"My birth name was John, not Juanita."
>"What?"
>"I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I didn't think you would understand."
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | Adam came out from his coma sometime around the 5th day after he was admitted to the ICU.
Stefanie heard him stir, coughing in short spurts as he slowly regained his senses. She had been lightly dozing by his side, and she reached for his hand to calm him. Slowly, painfully, he opened his remaining good eye and struggled to focus on her.
“Where… what…” His voice was strained, reedy, perhaps a result of the sore throat he must have from the intubator the doctors had forced down earlier. Or perhaps a result of the blunt trauma he suffered when he crashed through the windshield. It didn’t really matter to Stefanie.
Stefanie caressed Adam’s cheek gently. “Darling, you’re in the hospital. You’ve just had a small accident, that’s all… do you remember anything about how you got here?”
Adam’s brow furrowed in concentration. “No, no I don’t remember… Where are the kids? Are they here?”
Stefanie managed the weakest of smiles. “They’re fine,” she lied for the first time in her life. “They’re downstairs, just for a while.” Which wasn’t a lie, technically, since Timothy was in the morgue at the basement, and Sabrina was in the children’s ICU two floors down, fighting for her life.
“Good, good… wait, why’s your head all bandaged too? And your arm? Were you, like… also…” Adam’s arm flopped back down after his strained efforts to reach out to her. He was evidently still too weak.
“Oh this? It’s nothing, I’ll be fine. I was in the car, when you got into that accident, so here we are.” She omitted to explain that miraculously, she had barely suffered any injuries in the crash. The doctors and paramedics had assumed that to be the cause of her hairline fractures.
She didn’t see the need to clarify that actually, they came from Adam. Maybe the day of the crash, when they were fighting and he forced her and the children into the car, all the while swearing they would all die together. Or maybe the week before, in their last fight. Again, it didn’t really matter to Stefanie.
“… Car? Was I…” Adam’s face visibly blanched. “Was I… drinking again? Did I…”
A wane smile set across Stefanie’s face as she squeezed his hand. “No, it wasn’t your fault,” she lied, for the second time in her life. “The other guy wasn’t looking. He drifted into our lane.”
Adam’s eyelid fluttered as he struggled to keep awake. “Oh, I see. Then, I think I’ll just… sleep some more. I’m so tired. When I’m better, we’ll all go home, ok?” Then, he was out like a light, and soon the rhythmic, steady breaths of deep sleep came.
Stefanie cried then, as silently as she could manage, the sobs coursing through her as she fought to keep them in. She had finally made up her mind. A quick flick of the switch. A deep breath. Then she stood up, all 5.3 feet and 110 pounds of her, and pressed down on Adam’s mouth with her good hand and pinched his nostrils with the other.
The bed frame wobbled, and for a while Stefanie was worried that he would overpower her, just as he always had. But the injuries and multiple surgeries had weakened him, and it was over faster than she thought. When she was sure, she turned the monitoring system back on.
Later, as she made her way down to see Sabrina, an orderly recognized Stefanie and offered a few hasty but soothing words. “Mam, please stay strong. It’s been a big loss for you, but once your husband and daughter get better, well, you guys still have each other. Things will get better.”
“Yes,” Stephanie lied for the last time in her life, “I know we’ll be happy again, some day.”
| 15 year old daughter needs a blood transfusion. Father's not a match, so they test mom. Mom's not a match either....
>"She's yours! I swear."
>"How? How is that even possible?"
>"I didn't cheat on you."
>"Really? Then why doesn't *our* blood match *our* daughter's?"
>"I...I needed a donor."
>"So, you fucking cheated on me?"
>"No! I...I needed a female donor."
>"What? Why?"
>"I....I was born a man."
>"What?"
>"My birth name was John, not Juanita."
>"What?"
>"I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I didn't think you would understand."
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "And you heard it that's the up up up music, the DOW is up a whopping 4% as the news from Washington..."
The engine sputtered to a stop and Kai Ryssdal's voice faded. Slumping in her seat, Lerin stared at the white columns from the top of the parking deck. Brushing away her auburn hair, she tugged on her eye lids, and pulled the contact from her eye. It fell to the floor, but from the crystal blue circle in the center, it was easy to find. Yet she left it. In a few minutes she wouldn't see this car ever again. She took out the other, pulled on her glasses then stared across to the domes across the park. The sun's light blocked from the podium where she had been not three hours ago. She checked the crumbled sheet that had come from that clean manilla envelope, she was fifteen minutes early.
Despite the excitement of the day, she felt relief as the expectations of years in training ceased to matter. She touched the face she wore and felt the plastic of her cheekbones. Being assigned Nancy was a decent stroke of luck as she had only needed a little convincing to agree completely with her persona, and she looked similar. At least she hadn't ended up a C.E.O or an anchor, both which required very specific facts and elaborate logical mazes. Sure, speeches could be long but generalizations allowed philosophical waxing between the bangs. The beauty was, despite those three bangs, and the now throbbing pain the back of her head that she had come to expect, the world had been turned away from a terrible set of lies, that had been propagated by organizations much larger and more wealthy than hers. She'd done her job, and it was time to relax and let the pain fade as she likewise would fade from the society.
Retirement at 31. She smiled to herself, covered up her face, walked down from the garage, and saw the bus already waiting. Stepping on, she pulled off her hood as the door closed. She saw 4 other girls, each with auburn hair, and some of them still had their contacts in, some had wiped off the dark makeup, but all still had that trademark *Nancy* look. Nancy must be busy today.
"Guess I won't know you until we start talking, huh?" Lerin smirked.
"Well at least I know I can trust you. The name's Becky. Looking forward to this island vacation?".
"Man, I better be, at least we can forget about this place. Oh wait, you were at the noon conference! I loved how you got Nancy's left hand's gestures... I could never quite get those down." | 15 year old daughter needs a blood transfusion. Father's not a match, so they test mom. Mom's not a match either....
>"She's yours! I swear."
>"How? How is that even possible?"
>"I didn't cheat on you."
>"Really? Then why doesn't *our* blood match *our* daughter's?"
>"I...I needed a donor."
>"So, you fucking cheated on me?"
>"No! I...I needed a female donor."
>"What? Why?"
>"I....I was born a man."
>"What?"
>"My birth name was John, not Juanita."
>"What?"
>"I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I didn't think you would understand."
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "Did you kill Anna Kendrick?"
"No."
"Did you kill Bonnie James?"
"No."
"Did you kill Cindy Irish?"
"No."
"Did you kill Diane Hoffman?"
"N..n...yes! Yes, I did it! I killed her! Damn this sudden compulsion to tell the truth!"
Foster turned to the police chief. "Fucking serial killers, chief. They never learn. If they just stopped at three, they could get away with murder."
| 15 year old daughter needs a blood transfusion. Father's not a match, so they test mom. Mom's not a match either....
>"She's yours! I swear."
>"How? How is that even possible?"
>"I didn't cheat on you."
>"Really? Then why doesn't *our* blood match *our* daughter's?"
>"I...I needed a donor."
>"So, you fucking cheated on me?"
>"No! I...I needed a female donor."
>"What? Why?"
>"I....I was born a man."
>"What?"
>"My birth name was John, not Juanita."
>"What?"
>"I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I didn't think you would understand."
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | **Never participated in a WP thread before, probably a bad starting point given that the thread's already 12 hours old, but ah well, here goes!**
Chris looked in the mirror one last time, adjusted his collar, grabbed his coat, and left.
4 years of medical school had all come down to this, his first day as a doctor. Excited, and yet simultaneously terrified, he arrived at St. Steven's Hospital for his first day, not knowing at all what lay ahead, and found himself in the E.R. assisting a much more experienced doctor who'd been given the task of mentoring Chris and showing him the ropes, Dr. Symons.
He began the tour around the department, introducing Chris to the relevant staff: Janice and Laverne the receptionists; no sooner did they arrive at the nursing station than a patient was rushed by on a gurney and quickly stationed in a nearby treatment area as the nurses shouted for Dr. Symons. He sprang into action.
*Male, James Davies, mid-30's, traffic accident, broken neck, severe head trauma, lacerations to the upper torso, 2 broken legs*
The nurses began to quickly cut away his clothing as Dr. Symons got to work, shouting instructions to the nurses, demanding IVs and equipment, all the while the patient writhing in agony and gasping for air. Chris froze, fixated on the man's attire. He was dressed to the nines, a sharp black tuxedo now flung open either side of his body on the gurney, with a corsage protruding from behind the lapel. The patient's movement quickly faded, and he lay there, lifeless and still.
*He's stopped breathing, Chris get in here!*
Symons signalled and shouted for Chris to begin using the bag valve mask to help the man breathe, as he readied the defibrillator. They all stood back as Symons tried in vain. Everyone knew it was too late for this patient before they even began, even Chris, but Symons knew he had to teach Chris that it was never too late for anyone, everyone was worth trying for.
*Time of death 13:18.*
Symons head dropped, knowing he'd failed but hoping he'd taught a valuable lesson to the rookie. He looked up to see Chris frozen, tears in his eyes at the ordeal he'd just witnessed within an hour of becoming a doctor, and approached him to provide some comforting words about how they tried as hard as they could, how Chris should learn from this, and assuring him that he'd take the hard part and break the news to the family outside. At this point, Chris stopped him, took the clipboard from his hands, and took on the hard part himself.
He walked into the waiting area and shouted for a Miss Williams, noticing the surname didn't match with the name of the patient. A young woman shakily got to her feet and approached him in a pristine, white wedding dress, surrounded by family members; he took them to a separate room for some privacy, tearing the patient's notes from his clipboard as he went and dispatching it into a bin along the way.
*1. Miss Williams, we believe your fiancé suffered a pulmonary embolism at the wheel of his car this morning.*
*2. He passed almost instantly, and he likely wasn't even aware he was in a car accident.*
*3. He went peacefully, and felt little to no pain.*
*I'm sorry for your loss.*
With that, Chris gave a sympathetic look to the family in the room, lowered his head, and left, quietly closing the door behind him to contain the anguished wails of the ex-bride-to-be. He placed the clipboard on the nurses' desk, along with his badge, and left the hospital never to return, he couldn't face this career.
4 years of medical school had all come down to this, his last day as a doctor. | 15 year old daughter needs a blood transfusion. Father's not a match, so they test mom. Mom's not a match either....
>"She's yours! I swear."
>"How? How is that even possible?"
>"I didn't cheat on you."
>"Really? Then why doesn't *our* blood match *our* daughter's?"
>"I...I needed a donor."
>"So, you fucking cheated on me?"
>"No! I...I needed a female donor."
>"What? Why?"
>"I....I was born a man."
>"What?"
>"My birth name was John, not Juanita."
>"What?"
>"I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I didn't think you would understand."
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | Mother liked to tell the story. They all had one.
Mom found me reaching for the cookie jar.
"What are you doing kiddo?"
"Nothing..."
"Were you trying to get a cookie and eat it?"
"No."
"What were you doing?"
"I was getting a cookie for you."
Most folks in the community called it good parenting. The practice is called Toddling. Parents make sure their kids will never lie to them. I am, and always will be resentful of that woman. Something clicked off in my mind as she questioned me, and realization, even in my toddler mind, saved what I could.
I did grab 2 cookies, and all I have left is a half-truth. | 15 year old daughter needs a blood transfusion. Father's not a match, so they test mom. Mom's not a match either....
>"She's yours! I swear."
>"How? How is that even possible?"
>"I didn't cheat on you."
>"Really? Then why doesn't *our* blood match *our* daughter's?"
>"I...I needed a donor."
>"So, you fucking cheated on me?"
>"No! I...I needed a female donor."
>"What? Why?"
>"I....I was born a man."
>"What?"
>"My birth name was John, not Juanita."
>"What?"
>"I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I didn't think you would understand."
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | The 'age of truth' historians were dubbing it. In 2031 a new app was released and became the new big thing. Taking advantage of the constant data stream from Apple's neural implants and the shared cloud of data the new app was able to pick up on subconscious cues and could tell when someone was lying. Privacy laws protected teenagers and kids, but hundreds of politicians and oligarchs suddenly got shunted straight to jail for their backroom dealings and millions of sham relationships collapsed.
And that's where I come in. As a Senator and the husband of an executive of the company that developed the app I knew about the one weakness of the app - it takes three distinct lies to calibrate. I was able to survive the initial purge of politicians by making colleagues exploit this fact, but I had grander plans for my own lies. My plan took years to develop, but I had both the patience and resources. Three lies and my plan would be complete.
"My fellow Americans, today is an historic day. Today we bring truth into the oval office. The government are taking over the running of the Liedetector app. I know some of you are worried about liberty but let me make to you three promises. One, the process will be completely legal; two, nobody will ever be able to alter the results of the app, and finally I will work personally to ensure your freedoms are always maintained."
Three lies was all I needed to get total control. The age of truth was here and my word was law. From this point on my word was The truth. | 15 year old daughter needs a blood transfusion. Father's not a match, so they test mom. Mom's not a match either....
>"She's yours! I swear."
>"How? How is that even possible?"
>"I didn't cheat on you."
>"Really? Then why doesn't *our* blood match *our* daughter's?"
>"I...I needed a donor."
>"So, you fucking cheated on me?"
>"No! I...I needed a female donor."
>"What? Why?"
>"I....I was born a man."
>"What?"
>"My birth name was John, not Juanita."
>"What?"
>"I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I didn't think you would understand."
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "Your last mandate saw town debt increase by 15%. Are you REALLY going to halve it like your campaign says if you are elected this time ?"
*Crap, this guy is tough. I'm not gonna last the whole debate at this rate...*
Article 14th of the constitution of our nation ensured our right to keep the three lies. But lying was usually done by not answering the question, which in itself is a great indicator that you would have lied by giving the expected answer. So most people choose to not answer to most of the questions you get in everyday life, to avoid accidental lies or to blur lie-related non answers.
But politicians were the most affected. A debate would be useless without answering, and politicians would not be successful without lies. So they hired people to spoke lies for themselves at debates, the *spokepersons*. With a huge student debt, all my three lies still unused, I was hired by mayor candidate Jack Harrolds.
They pay you for every minute of speaking. I was confident I would be able to dodge some questions and last one or two debates. But they don't want you to interpret their answer, they just want a mouth to tell lies. We are expendable mouths.
And there is the answer of Mr Harrolds. "The increase was entirely due to the economical crisis. We're gonna halve it by selling some state unused land, cutting public expenses by 30%, and a winning a partnership with Cloudnet corp that wants to install a new datacenter and will greatly improve our town economy !".
If I say that, I'm sure my last lie will be consumed. Maybe some spokepersons can say lies about stuff they ignore. But I heard Mr Harrolds speaking in a corridor yesterday. It will not be enough. Cloudnet will give him a bribe to get tax reductions, and only create a few jobs. He doesn't care to fail the next election because he will get an administrative job at Cloudnet if he is successful this time.
He gives me a tough glare, having noticed my hesitation. They are rumors about spokepersons who betrayed their candidate. It did not ended well for them. I cannot go back now. Think of the money. There goes my third lie...
"The increase was...." | 15 year old daughter needs a blood transfusion. Father's not a match, so they test mom. Mom's not a match either....
>"She's yours! I swear."
>"How? How is that even possible?"
>"I didn't cheat on you."
>"Really? Then why doesn't *our* blood match *our* daughter's?"
>"I...I needed a donor."
>"So, you fucking cheated on me?"
>"No! I...I needed a female donor."
>"What? Why?"
>"I....I was born a man."
>"What?"
>"My birth name was John, not Juanita."
>"What?"
>"I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I didn't think you would understand."
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | "So, what do you need a lie for?"
I sat behind my dirty desk, covered in take out boxes and cat fur. I sucked on my soggy cigarette noisily, daintily making notes on the back of an envelope.
The man in front of me nervously wrung his hands. He eyed me suspiciously, but I smelled the desperation. Well, most people were pretty desperate to come find my tiny office nestled behind a dumpster.
"I- shit - I need someone to confess to a murder."
I hesitated. Ah, this could get tricky. I snuffed on my cigarette contemplatively. Ricky? Naw, he wouldn't go to prison. There is Amy. But she only had one lie left. This situation will need more. Maybe Michelle? Eh, not clever enough. Then I remembered. Ernesto. 3 lies. Smart. A minority to boot. And he had a family that desperately needed money.
The man in front of me sweated like a pig in a slaughter house, as his round tummy smooshed against my desk. Little numbers popped into my head as I wondered how much his freedom was worth to the sticky little hog.
"Well, Mr. Noname," I drawled, "You do realize lies are a hot commodity. Hmmhmm? Very limited these days. What, with people only able to lie 3 times in their total lives. And humans being natural born liars! It's abysmal, I say. Hmmhmm. And in your situation, we will probably need - ohhhh- all 3 lies. Yes, definitely 3. This can be, hmmhmm, pricey. Hmmhmm."
"Price doesn't matter." The man burst out. I tried to keep my face impassive as I began heaving more money on my imaginary pile.
"Ahh, I see you are eager to have all this business behind you. Hmmhmm. Very good." I tapped my desk and gave him a sideways glance, "Sooooo, who didja kill?"
"What? What does that matter? I just need lies! Nothing more!"
I wagged a finger at him. "Oh, Mr. Noname. It's a very sensitive business this business is, hmmhmm. I need to figure out which one of my pretty little liars can succeed. I need to create a successful... story. So to say." A smile tugged at my lips. "Was it your wife? I betcha it was the wife. It's always the wife."
His face went white and he stood up abruptly. "This is outrageous! I don't have to stand for this!"
"Uh, you just did."
Immediately color began flushing back to his cheeks. "Why you little-" The man blustered for a second, and then with a flourish began stomping out of my alley.
"Oh Senator Calllleeeeeey!" I sang out. The rigidity that struck his back almost sent him squealing onto his face. He glanced back, whites wide.
"What? You got the wrong-" A coughing fit hit him, as he doubled over. Blood spattered on the sidewalk as his nose sprang a leak. Ah, well that answers that question. Not surprising, considering he is a politician. They used up their lies quickly.
I wrinkled my nose. "Seriously, Senator? How stupid do you think I am? How stupid are you trying to lie when you have no more lies? Hmmhmm. Come back here. I have some water. Drink your lie back down, hmmmhmmm."
He weaved back to my table, coughing still keeping him doubled over. I sloshed a half empty water bottle towards him. "It's fancy water. Just for you."
"It's - cough- it's- cough- half empty!"
"I prefer half full. Amazing what people throw out these days. Hmmhmm. Drink, before you choke on your lie."
With a torn grumble, tears and blood streaming down his piggy face, he grabbed the bottle and chugged the remaining water. I tapped my pen on the desk as I appraised the man in front of me.
"$20 million."
The senator spat out the last sip of water. "What?"
"$20 million. $5 mil for each lie. That makes $15, hmmhmm."
"And the last $5 million?" He sputtered.
"That's a bonus for my liar who will be going to prison for you." I glanced up contemplatively at the smog that cuddled amongst the buildings that rose above us. "Actually, hmmhmm, for scum like you, I should make it $10 million. I know who you are, and you are not a very nice man. No one was surprised when your wife was found dead, hmmhmm. So let's make it $25 million. And I need a favor. A favor only a senator could provide."
He glared at me stonily. I knew he wouldn't negotiate. He couldn't really. I was one of the few who could peddle a lie in this city, and - as I shuffled papers on my three legged desk propped up against the dumpster - very difficult to find. He must have pulled a lot of strings already to find me. I knew the moment he stepped curiously into my alleyway that he was a man out of options.
A humorless smile spread across my face. "So what do you say, Senator? Ready to buy a lie?" | 15 year old daughter needs a blood transfusion. Father's not a match, so they test mom. Mom's not a match either....
>"She's yours! I swear."
>"How? How is that even possible?"
>"I didn't cheat on you."
>"Really? Then why doesn't *our* blood match *our* daughter's?"
>"I...I needed a donor."
>"So, you fucking cheated on me?"
>"No! I...I needed a female donor."
>"What? Why?"
>"I....I was born a man."
>"What?"
>"My birth name was John, not Juanita."
>"What?"
>"I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I didn't think you would understand."
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | James was waiting just outside the door - the door to his future.
It all started, years ago, when he began working for an incumbent Senator from New York - trying to keep his position despite the massive swelling of support for the Republican opposition. He did simple things - phone calls, passing out fliers, until one day, everything changed. Jessie Valdero - the Senator he was working for - was arrested on charges of negligent manslaughter after running over three children while driving drunk. Small crimes could be pushed to the side, but the rage the community felt about this forced the D.A.'s hand, and Valdero was tried and sentenced within a week. The group was without a leader - who would stand up as their representative.
So he did.
He took the position - it took him half a month to get all the paperwork done, but he did it. Now running for Senator, he had to take the lead and organize his supporters. He did okay - the Republican candidate even recognized the hard effort he put forward, in his victory speech.
But losing this once didn't diminish his dreams. No. He now knew what he was meant to do. So he tried, again, four years later. He won.
His induction into the Senate was normal, until night came. He was dragged, screaming, from his office. He was eventually knocked out, and awoke bound to a chair. Men emerged from the shadows, all dressed as donkeys. They said some chanting, then removed their masks and congratulated him on now being a Senator. He'd expected something like this from frat boys, not politicians, then it was explained.
"In 1985," one man stated, stepping forward. "We realized that without the ability to lie often, we would not be able to beat out the Republican opposition - they were too honest, after Abe set a high bar they all had to pass." James nodded. "So we summoned the Devil and made a pact - so long we repeat this ceremony for each new Democratic politician, he will provide us with unlimited lies."
And so began his career as a politician.
And now, years later, here he was. He refused to test the theory of his fellow Democrats, he wanted to save his lies if he could.
He did.
And so now, came the time to use them.
His running mate came up behind him. "So, gonna still hold up your end of the bargain and tear down that wall the Republicans build between us and Mexico?"
He smiled. "Of course!"
One down.
The second came when he assured his wife that, yes, he still loved her and didn't use her for the political connections.
The third came when he said he was willing to work towards ending the wars in the Middle East - they'd been going on for fifty years now, why stop now?
And the fourth...
"Do you solemnly swear to protect, defend, and uphold the Constitution of the United States of America?"
"I do."
Four. | 15 year old daughter needs a blood transfusion. Father's not a match, so they test mom. Mom's not a match either....
>"She's yours! I swear."
>"How? How is that even possible?"
>"I didn't cheat on you."
>"Really? Then why doesn't *our* blood match *our* daughter's?"
>"I...I needed a donor."
>"So, you fucking cheated on me?"
>"No! I...I needed a female donor."
>"What? Why?"
>"I....I was born a man."
>"What?"
>"My birth name was John, not Juanita."
>"What?"
>"I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I didn't think you would understand."
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. |
Jess and Renée had been talking for a while. The hum of the hospital equipment was almost low enough for them to ignore. Still, this time it persisted in the mind, a deadening musical score to the scene.
Renée squeezed Jess's hand. "God. This wasn't fair. I don't...I wish I could...dammit, Jess, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry. I'm not afraid."
Renée gestured toward the tortuous arrangement of medical equipment, tubes, pumps, everything. "Does it hurt very much?"
"Not as much as I expected, really."
"Weasel words. Did you use up your lies, then?"
"Oh, yeah," and Jess laughed weakly. "Ages ago."
"Okay. Well, as long as it doesn't hurt too bad now." Renée blinked hard once or twice. "I'm sorry," she said again.
"Don't be." Jess focused for a few moments on just breathing in and out. She wanted to be alone for this part. No matter how loved she was. "Same time tomorrow? I just need to sleep for a bit now."
Renée looked wounded, but she covered that fast enough. "Okay," she said. "I'll be there."
Jess smiled, because facial expressions could be faked as much as you wanted in life. Then she closed her eyes and let the hum take over. | 15 year old daughter needs a blood transfusion. Father's not a match, so they test mom. Mom's not a match either....
>"She's yours! I swear."
>"How? How is that even possible?"
>"I didn't cheat on you."
>"Really? Then why doesn't *our* blood match *our* daughter's?"
>"I...I needed a donor."
>"So, you fucking cheated on me?"
>"No! I...I needed a female donor."
>"What? Why?"
>"I....I was born a man."
>"What?"
>"My birth name was John, not Juanita."
>"What?"
>"I'm so sorry. I couldn't tell you. I didn't think you would understand."
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | Mother liked to tell the story. They all had one.
Mom found me reaching for the cookie jar.
"What are you doing kiddo?"
"Nothing..."
"Were you trying to get a cookie and eat it?"
"No."
"What were you doing?"
"I was getting a cookie for you."
Most folks in the community called it good parenting. The practice is called Toddling. Parents make sure their kids will never lie to them. I am, and always will be resentful of that woman. Something clicked off in my mind as she questioned me, and realization, even in my toddler mind, saved what I could.
I did grab 2 cookies, and all I have left is a half-truth. | “I do solemnly swear . . . " This was the hardest part. Could he, in fact, step forward, raise his hand, look the Chief Justice in the eye, and do this without bursting out in laughter, smirking, or allowing a spasm to cross his face?
The tireless work of thousands, a cost of billions of dollars, and untold lives altered by bribery, lies, threats, intimidation, blackmail, and murder had led to this very moment.
The fate of a planet hung in the balance.
". . . that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States,"
This had been rehearsed since the very beginning, practiced in undisclosed locations, using sophisticated computer simulations, live actors, volunteer audiences, endless replays, ruthless criticism, vehement arguments, and unflinching self-examination.
"and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
The third lie. He had no intention of protecting anyone. He had an economy to plunder, a people to subjugate, and a nation to destroy. Nothing was going to stop him.
"So help me God."
So help him he would see this through, or die.
The cameras were watching. Millions were glued to their screens. The slightest misstep, the tiniest facial tic, and it was all over.
He tried not to think about it too much.
There was a hand extended. He was supposed to shake it. That's all he head to do, shake the hand, smile, turn and wave.
And the world was his, to unmake, shatter, and remake in his own image.
He turned and, hand still extended, pictured the Earth as a glowing bauble, cradled gently in the palm of his hand, glowing an ethereal blue. A sound, a growing tide of voices, rose and filled his mind. It was the sound of a million squealing teenage girls, a hundred million, the mindless adulation of youth casting itself at his feet in abject worship. His fist closed to capture the bauble and squeeze it, until the money and the blood and the power leaked out and infused his soul with an overwhelming sense of purpose and drive.
Alexander? Caesar? Muhammed? Ghengis Khan? Napoleon? Hitler? Pffffft.
Justin Bieber strode forth to conquer the world.
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | The 'age of truth' historians were dubbing it. In 2031 a new app was released and became the new big thing. Taking advantage of the constant data stream from Apple's neural implants and the shared cloud of data the new app was able to pick up on subconscious cues and could tell when someone was lying. Privacy laws protected teenagers and kids, but hundreds of politicians and oligarchs suddenly got shunted straight to jail for their backroom dealings and millions of sham relationships collapsed.
And that's where I come in. As a Senator and the husband of an executive of the company that developed the app I knew about the one weakness of the app - it takes three distinct lies to calibrate. I was able to survive the initial purge of politicians by making colleagues exploit this fact, but I had grander plans for my own lies. My plan took years to develop, but I had both the patience and resources. Three lies and my plan would be complete.
"My fellow Americans, today is an historic day. Today we bring truth into the oval office. The government are taking over the running of the Liedetector app. I know some of you are worried about liberty but let me make to you three promises. One, the process will be completely legal; two, nobody will ever be able to alter the results of the app, and finally I will work personally to ensure your freedoms are always maintained."
Three lies was all I needed to get total control. The age of truth was here and my word was law. From this point on my word was The truth. | “I do solemnly swear . . . " This was the hardest part. Could he, in fact, step forward, raise his hand, look the Chief Justice in the eye, and do this without bursting out in laughter, smirking, or allowing a spasm to cross his face?
The tireless work of thousands, a cost of billions of dollars, and untold lives altered by bribery, lies, threats, intimidation, blackmail, and murder had led to this very moment.
The fate of a planet hung in the balance.
". . . that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States,"
This had been rehearsed since the very beginning, practiced in undisclosed locations, using sophisticated computer simulations, live actors, volunteer audiences, endless replays, ruthless criticism, vehement arguments, and unflinching self-examination.
"and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
The third lie. He had no intention of protecting anyone. He had an economy to plunder, a people to subjugate, and a nation to destroy. Nothing was going to stop him.
"So help me God."
So help him he would see this through, or die.
The cameras were watching. Millions were glued to their screens. The slightest misstep, the tiniest facial tic, and it was all over.
He tried not to think about it too much.
There was a hand extended. He was supposed to shake it. That's all he head to do, shake the hand, smile, turn and wave.
And the world was his, to unmake, shatter, and remake in his own image.
He turned and, hand still extended, pictured the Earth as a glowing bauble, cradled gently in the palm of his hand, glowing an ethereal blue. A sound, a growing tide of voices, rose and filled his mind. It was the sound of a million squealing teenage girls, a hundred million, the mindless adulation of youth casting itself at his feet in abject worship. His fist closed to capture the bauble and squeeze it, until the money and the blood and the power leaked out and infused his soul with an overwhelming sense of purpose and drive.
Alexander? Caesar? Muhammed? Ghengis Khan? Napoleon? Hitler? Pffffft.
Justin Bieber strode forth to conquer the world.
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | **Never participated in a WP thread before, probably a bad starting point given that the thread's already 12 hours old, but ah well, here goes!**
Chris looked in the mirror one last time, adjusted his collar, grabbed his coat, and left.
4 years of medical school had all come down to this, his first day as a doctor. Excited, and yet simultaneously terrified, he arrived at St. Steven's Hospital for his first day, not knowing at all what lay ahead, and found himself in the E.R. assisting a much more experienced doctor who'd been given the task of mentoring Chris and showing him the ropes, Dr. Symons.
He began the tour around the department, introducing Chris to the relevant staff: Janice and Laverne the receptionists; no sooner did they arrive at the nursing station than a patient was rushed by on a gurney and quickly stationed in a nearby treatment area as the nurses shouted for Dr. Symons. He sprang into action.
*Male, James Davies, mid-30's, traffic accident, broken neck, severe head trauma, lacerations to the upper torso, 2 broken legs*
The nurses began to quickly cut away his clothing as Dr. Symons got to work, shouting instructions to the nurses, demanding IVs and equipment, all the while the patient writhing in agony and gasping for air. Chris froze, fixated on the man's attire. He was dressed to the nines, a sharp black tuxedo now flung open either side of his body on the gurney, with a corsage protruding from behind the lapel. The patient's movement quickly faded, and he lay there, lifeless and still.
*He's stopped breathing, Chris get in here!*
Symons signalled and shouted for Chris to begin using the bag valve mask to help the man breathe, as he readied the defibrillator. They all stood back as Symons tried in vain. Everyone knew it was too late for this patient before they even began, even Chris, but Symons knew he had to teach Chris that it was never too late for anyone, everyone was worth trying for.
*Time of death 13:18.*
Symons head dropped, knowing he'd failed but hoping he'd taught a valuable lesson to the rookie. He looked up to see Chris frozen, tears in his eyes at the ordeal he'd just witnessed within an hour of becoming a doctor, and approached him to provide some comforting words about how they tried as hard as they could, how Chris should learn from this, and assuring him that he'd take the hard part and break the news to the family outside. At this point, Chris stopped him, took the clipboard from his hands, and took on the hard part himself.
He walked into the waiting area and shouted for a Miss Williams, noticing the surname didn't match with the name of the patient. A young woman shakily got to her feet and approached him in a pristine, white wedding dress, surrounded by family members; he took them to a separate room for some privacy, tearing the patient's notes from his clipboard as he went and dispatching it into a bin along the way.
*1. Miss Williams, we believe your fiancé suffered a pulmonary embolism at the wheel of his car this morning.*
*2. He passed almost instantly, and he likely wasn't even aware he was in a car accident.*
*3. He went peacefully, and felt little to no pain.*
*I'm sorry for your loss.*
With that, Chris gave a sympathetic look to the family in the room, lowered his head, and left, quietly closing the door behind him to contain the anguished wails of the ex-bride-to-be. He placed the clipboard on the nurses' desk, along with his badge, and left the hospital never to return, he couldn't face this career.
4 years of medical school had all come down to this, his last day as a doctor. | "I know, I'm late." Melissa said as she disgustedly brought her till to her supervisor's office.
"Well if you know you're late, why the hell are you?" Sherry barked back.
"Hey, customer at register 2 had an obnoxious little brat who kept screaming and getting into things. I told her to hustler her ass, and you know what she says to me?"
"I could not care less, sincerely."
"The damned ditz asks me whatever happened to 'the customer is always right?'"
"What?!"
"I know, right? I told her, lady, we sell clothing, not miracles."
"Yeah, well, you're here now. Let's get this counted."
"Oh, come on! It's all here. Why the hell do we have to do this every god damn night? All you gotta do is ask me if it's here. You always gotta count everything when you know all you have to do is ask us."
"And you will hedge, and say 'as far as I know' which makes me wanna hit you with the nearest blunt object."
"You are the worst damned bitch of a supervisor ever."
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, spill it and let's get this over with. Where are your receipts?"
"Right here. Gawd!" she threw them at Sherry, dropped into the nearest chair, and tried to look put upon.
Sherry did not give a damn. She hated everyone she worked with and didn't care who knew it. She had no lies to waste on making them feel good. Nobody did. They hadn't for years now. Even now, thirty years after the mysterious event that had left everyone stuck with a maximum of three lies for life, most people stupidly used them up early on, even the ones whose parents tried to drill into them that sincerity was the only policy these days.
But it turned out it meant more than just no deception in ethical matters: it meant no little white lies, either. It changed the entire dynamic of society in just a few decades. Society held together only because it had become so interdependent that a world full of newly honest people had no choice but to admit they couldn't make it without each other. That didn't mean they had to like it, though.
"This is all wrong," Sherry said, "The totals are screwed up and don't match the till."
"You're lying!" Melissa shouted, but then realized what she was saying, and backed down as she looked at Sherry's raised eyebrows. Right. How likely was that? "Look, I don't have time for this. I've got a date." Oh, how that rankled. Privacy considerations were right out the window these days. You couldn't make an excuse to save your soul, so you blurted out the truth whether you wanted to or not. No more sick aunts, or family emergencies. Melissa flushed just thinking what she might say if Sherry pressed her for details, but she needn't have worried.
"Fine. Go get laid, if that's more important to you than your job," Sherry told her, and Melissa had to choke down an urge to slap her. "I'll put this in the safe as is, and we'll go over it in the morning. BE EARLY," she said warningly, her tone making it perfectly clear that "early" did *not* imply overtime. Melissa didn't care. She couldn't believe she was getting off so easily and hurried out before Sherry changed her mind.
Sherry shook her head, tucked the till in her drawer and went over to Ron's office and knocked.
"Something wrong?" her manager asked her.
"My password isn't working again. Can I just borrow yours? It takes so long to get through to I.S. I haven't finished entering the final receipts for the day."
He gave it to her, of course. Why would he suspect anything, after all? In a world where hardly anyone had lies left, it was inconceivable someone her age would have any. She hurried back to her desk, logged in as Ron, and after hastily checking to ensure he wasn't looking in on her, closed out the accounting database and logged into banking, which was accessible only on this account. She made the transactions payable to her offshore account, in sufficient quantities to keep her in style for years. She closed out, signed off, and told Ron she would be leaving.
She had never had to lie about those accounts. They were legal and no one knew she had opened them. That was good, she reflected, or she never would have had enough lies left for today. She had lied to Melissa, of course: There was nothing wrong with her totals. She had lied about the password: There was nothing wrong with hers, unless you counted that it didn't access the bank accounts.
And of course, she had lied about putting Melissa's till money in the vault. Instead, she tipped it into her purse, where it would serve to buy her the one way plane ticket out of the country. She snapped her purse shut, put on her jacket, and headed out the door, hoping no one at the airport asked her any uncomfortable questions.
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | Mother liked to tell the story. They all had one.
Mom found me reaching for the cookie jar.
"What are you doing kiddo?"
"Nothing..."
"Were you trying to get a cookie and eat it?"
"No."
"What were you doing?"
"I was getting a cookie for you."
Most folks in the community called it good parenting. The practice is called Toddling. Parents make sure their kids will never lie to them. I am, and always will be resentful of that woman. Something clicked off in my mind as she questioned me, and realization, even in my toddler mind, saved what I could.
I did grab 2 cookies, and all I have left is a half-truth. | "I know, I'm late." Melissa said as she disgustedly brought her till to her supervisor's office.
"Well if you know you're late, why the hell are you?" Sherry barked back.
"Hey, customer at register 2 had an obnoxious little brat who kept screaming and getting into things. I told her to hustler her ass, and you know what she says to me?"
"I could not care less, sincerely."
"The damned ditz asks me whatever happened to 'the customer is always right?'"
"What?!"
"I know, right? I told her, lady, we sell clothing, not miracles."
"Yeah, well, you're here now. Let's get this counted."
"Oh, come on! It's all here. Why the hell do we have to do this every god damn night? All you gotta do is ask me if it's here. You always gotta count everything when you know all you have to do is ask us."
"And you will hedge, and say 'as far as I know' which makes me wanna hit you with the nearest blunt object."
"You are the worst damned bitch of a supervisor ever."
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, spill it and let's get this over with. Where are your receipts?"
"Right here. Gawd!" she threw them at Sherry, dropped into the nearest chair, and tried to look put upon.
Sherry did not give a damn. She hated everyone she worked with and didn't care who knew it. She had no lies to waste on making them feel good. Nobody did. They hadn't for years now. Even now, thirty years after the mysterious event that had left everyone stuck with a maximum of three lies for life, most people stupidly used them up early on, even the ones whose parents tried to drill into them that sincerity was the only policy these days.
But it turned out it meant more than just no deception in ethical matters: it meant no little white lies, either. It changed the entire dynamic of society in just a few decades. Society held together only because it had become so interdependent that a world full of newly honest people had no choice but to admit they couldn't make it without each other. That didn't mean they had to like it, though.
"This is all wrong," Sherry said, "The totals are screwed up and don't match the till."
"You're lying!" Melissa shouted, but then realized what she was saying, and backed down as she looked at Sherry's raised eyebrows. Right. How likely was that? "Look, I don't have time for this. I've got a date." Oh, how that rankled. Privacy considerations were right out the window these days. You couldn't make an excuse to save your soul, so you blurted out the truth whether you wanted to or not. No more sick aunts, or family emergencies. Melissa flushed just thinking what she might say if Sherry pressed her for details, but she needn't have worried.
"Fine. Go get laid, if that's more important to you than your job," Sherry told her, and Melissa had to choke down an urge to slap her. "I'll put this in the safe as is, and we'll go over it in the morning. BE EARLY," she said warningly, her tone making it perfectly clear that "early" did *not* imply overtime. Melissa didn't care. She couldn't believe she was getting off so easily and hurried out before Sherry changed her mind.
Sherry shook her head, tucked the till in her drawer and went over to Ron's office and knocked.
"Something wrong?" her manager asked her.
"My password isn't working again. Can I just borrow yours? It takes so long to get through to I.S. I haven't finished entering the final receipts for the day."
He gave it to her, of course. Why would he suspect anything, after all? In a world where hardly anyone had lies left, it was inconceivable someone her age would have any. She hurried back to her desk, logged in as Ron, and after hastily checking to ensure he wasn't looking in on her, closed out the accounting database and logged into banking, which was accessible only on this account. She made the transactions payable to her offshore account, in sufficient quantities to keep her in style for years. She closed out, signed off, and told Ron she would be leaving.
She had never had to lie about those accounts. They were legal and no one knew she had opened them. That was good, she reflected, or she never would have had enough lies left for today. She had lied to Melissa, of course: There was nothing wrong with her totals. She had lied about the password: There was nothing wrong with hers, unless you counted that it didn't access the bank accounts.
And of course, she had lied about putting Melissa's till money in the vault. Instead, she tipped it into her purse, where it would serve to buy her the one way plane ticket out of the country. She snapped her purse shut, put on her jacket, and headed out the door, hoping no one at the airport asked her any uncomfortable questions.
| |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | The 'age of truth' historians were dubbing it. In 2031 a new app was released and became the new big thing. Taking advantage of the constant data stream from Apple's neural implants and the shared cloud of data the new app was able to pick up on subconscious cues and could tell when someone was lying. Privacy laws protected teenagers and kids, but hundreds of politicians and oligarchs suddenly got shunted straight to jail for their backroom dealings and millions of sham relationships collapsed.
And that's where I come in. As a Senator and the husband of an executive of the company that developed the app I knew about the one weakness of the app - it takes three distinct lies to calibrate. I was able to survive the initial purge of politicians by making colleagues exploit this fact, but I had grander plans for my own lies. My plan took years to develop, but I had both the patience and resources. Three lies and my plan would be complete.
"My fellow Americans, today is an historic day. Today we bring truth into the oval office. The government are taking over the running of the Liedetector app. I know some of you are worried about liberty but let me make to you three promises. One, the process will be completely legal; two, nobody will ever be able to alter the results of the app, and finally I will work personally to ensure your freedoms are always maintained."
Three lies was all I needed to get total control. The age of truth was here and my word was law. From this point on my word was The truth. | "I know, I'm late." Melissa said as she disgustedly brought her till to her supervisor's office.
"Well if you know you're late, why the hell are you?" Sherry barked back.
"Hey, customer at register 2 had an obnoxious little brat who kept screaming and getting into things. I told her to hustler her ass, and you know what she says to me?"
"I could not care less, sincerely."
"The damned ditz asks me whatever happened to 'the customer is always right?'"
"What?!"
"I know, right? I told her, lady, we sell clothing, not miracles."
"Yeah, well, you're here now. Let's get this counted."
"Oh, come on! It's all here. Why the hell do we have to do this every god damn night? All you gotta do is ask me if it's here. You always gotta count everything when you know all you have to do is ask us."
"And you will hedge, and say 'as far as I know' which makes me wanna hit you with the nearest blunt object."
"You are the worst damned bitch of a supervisor ever."
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, spill it and let's get this over with. Where are your receipts?"
"Right here. Gawd!" she threw them at Sherry, dropped into the nearest chair, and tried to look put upon.
Sherry did not give a damn. She hated everyone she worked with and didn't care who knew it. She had no lies to waste on making them feel good. Nobody did. They hadn't for years now. Even now, thirty years after the mysterious event that had left everyone stuck with a maximum of three lies for life, most people stupidly used them up early on, even the ones whose parents tried to drill into them that sincerity was the only policy these days.
But it turned out it meant more than just no deception in ethical matters: it meant no little white lies, either. It changed the entire dynamic of society in just a few decades. Society held together only because it had become so interdependent that a world full of newly honest people had no choice but to admit they couldn't make it without each other. That didn't mean they had to like it, though.
"This is all wrong," Sherry said, "The totals are screwed up and don't match the till."
"You're lying!" Melissa shouted, but then realized what she was saying, and backed down as she looked at Sherry's raised eyebrows. Right. How likely was that? "Look, I don't have time for this. I've got a date." Oh, how that rankled. Privacy considerations were right out the window these days. You couldn't make an excuse to save your soul, so you blurted out the truth whether you wanted to or not. No more sick aunts, or family emergencies. Melissa flushed just thinking what she might say if Sherry pressed her for details, but she needn't have worried.
"Fine. Go get laid, if that's more important to you than your job," Sherry told her, and Melissa had to choke down an urge to slap her. "I'll put this in the safe as is, and we'll go over it in the morning. BE EARLY," she said warningly, her tone making it perfectly clear that "early" did *not* imply overtime. Melissa didn't care. She couldn't believe she was getting off so easily and hurried out before Sherry changed her mind.
Sherry shook her head, tucked the till in her drawer and went over to Ron's office and knocked.
"Something wrong?" her manager asked her.
"My password isn't working again. Can I just borrow yours? It takes so long to get through to I.S. I haven't finished entering the final receipts for the day."
He gave it to her, of course. Why would he suspect anything, after all? In a world where hardly anyone had lies left, it was inconceivable someone her age would have any. She hurried back to her desk, logged in as Ron, and after hastily checking to ensure he wasn't looking in on her, closed out the accounting database and logged into banking, which was accessible only on this account. She made the transactions payable to her offshore account, in sufficient quantities to keep her in style for years. She closed out, signed off, and told Ron she would be leaving.
She had never had to lie about those accounts. They were legal and no one knew she had opened them. That was good, she reflected, or she never would have had enough lies left for today. She had lied to Melissa, of course: There was nothing wrong with her totals. She had lied about the password: There was nothing wrong with hers, unless you counted that it didn't access the bank accounts.
And of course, she had lied about putting Melissa's till money in the vault. Instead, she tipped it into her purse, where it would serve to buy her the one way plane ticket out of the country. She snapped her purse shut, put on her jacket, and headed out the door, hoping no one at the airport asked her any uncomfortable questions.
|
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.