post_text stringlengths 0 10k | post_title stringlengths 8 313 | chosen stringlengths 1 39.5k | rejected stringlengths 1 13.8k |
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[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill. | He looked down at the open air below, questioning.
"Is this really what I want to do?"
A few moments passed, his resolve weakened.
He looked down, and cried deeply.
"Can I take much more?"
He asked himself sadly.
He stepped forward.
Falling freely.
"Goodbye." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
| He looked down at the open air below, questioning.
"Is this really what I want to do?"
A few moments passed, his resolve weakened.
He looked down, and cried deeply.
"Can I take much more?"
He asked himself sadly.
He stepped forward.
Falling freely.
"Goodbye." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn. | He looked down at the open air below, questioning.
"Is this really what I want to do?"
A few moments passed, his resolve weakened.
He looked down, and cried deeply.
"Can I take much more?"
He asked himself sadly.
He stepped forward.
Falling freely.
"Goodbye." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
| He looked down at the open air below, questioning.
"Is this really what I want to do?"
A few moments passed, his resolve weakened.
He looked down, and cried deeply.
"Can I take much more?"
He asked himself sadly.
He stepped forward.
Falling freely.
"Goodbye." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Honestly, you were never a decent person to begin with.
Even in your final moments, I doubt you'll understand.
Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter now.
In a few seconds, you'll be dead.
People will always forget the man.
But his crimes still remain.
That, they never forget.
But *you,* though?
I'll remember.
Always. | I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Sometimes I feel like the world is shrinking around me.
I see fewer new faces, just the old ones.
I think stale old thoughts for each meal.
I eat cereal instead of good books.
I draw breath in ragged gasps.
When did I get old?
Have I been sleeping?
Have I lived?
Not yet.
Someday.
| I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | The news said that our city was hit the hardest.
I think I hear them running down the hall.
I need to get my family to safety.
That son of a bitch bit me.
I don't know what's going on.
The infection just keeps spreading.
My family left me.
I hear them.
They're coming.
Help. | I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | I'm not sure how I can only use ten words.
Seriously, what can I start to write with that?
"Once upon a time in a faraway land..."
Nah, that just sounds way too cliché.
"Here I sit, all broken-hearted..."
Nah, that ain't right either.
Almost out of words?!
We started already?!
No redos?!
Fuck.
| I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Cutting your hair at home is not a great idea.
At least if you do not have steady hands.
It started off fine but a little uneven.
Now I'll just fix the other side.
Wait, now the back's too long.
Clippers were a bad choice.
Buzz cuts are in.
Little bit more.
Too much.
Bald. | I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
| I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please... | I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | oh please do not touch me there or here
oh please do not touch me there or
oh please do not touch me there
oh please do not touch me
oh please do not touch
oh please do not
oh please do
oh please
oh | I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | I had been with her for a number of years.
My heart was racing with fear, anticipation, and hope.
"Honey, I have something important to ask you."
She turned and gave me a smile.
A voice like an angel answered, "Yes?".
I knelt down before her.
"Will you marry me?"
"Oh my God."
Tears fell.
"Yes." | I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | There were exactly fifty five of these strange little things.
They were strung, line by line, in descending order.
Rows upon rows, each shorter than the last.
All honing in on some intangible topic.
I didn't know what they were.
And they rushed at me.
What were they called?
It was time.
I remembered.
Words. | I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill. | I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
| I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn. | I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
| I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."* | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Sometimes I feel like the world is shrinking around me.
I see fewer new faces, just the old ones.
I think stale old thoughts for each meal.
I eat cereal instead of good books.
I draw breath in ragged gasps.
When did I get old?
Have I been sleeping?
Have I lived?
Not yet.
Someday.
| Honestly, you were never a decent person to begin with.
Even in your final moments, I doubt you'll understand.
Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter now.
In a few seconds, you'll be dead.
People will always forget the man.
But his crimes still remain.
That, they never forget.
But *you,* though?
I'll remember.
Always. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | The news said that our city was hit the hardest.
I think I hear them running down the hall.
I need to get my family to safety.
That son of a bitch bit me.
I don't know what's going on.
The infection just keeps spreading.
My family left me.
I hear them.
They're coming.
Help. | Honestly, you were never a decent person to begin with.
Even in your final moments, I doubt you'll understand.
Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter now.
In a few seconds, you'll be dead.
People will always forget the man.
But his crimes still remain.
That, they never forget.
But *you,* though?
I'll remember.
Always. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | I'm not sure how I can only use ten words.
Seriously, what can I start to write with that?
"Once upon a time in a faraway land..."
Nah, that just sounds way too cliché.
"Here I sit, all broken-hearted..."
Nah, that ain't right either.
Almost out of words?!
We started already?!
No redos?!
Fuck.
| Honestly, you were never a decent person to begin with.
Even in your final moments, I doubt you'll understand.
Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter now.
In a few seconds, you'll be dead.
People will always forget the man.
But his crimes still remain.
That, they never forget.
But *you,* though?
I'll remember.
Always. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Cutting your hair at home is not a great idea.
At least if you do not have steady hands.
It started off fine but a little uneven.
Now I'll just fix the other side.
Wait, now the back's too long.
Clippers were a bad choice.
Buzz cuts are in.
Little bit more.
Too much.
Bald. | Honestly, you were never a decent person to begin with.
Even in your final moments, I doubt you'll understand.
Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter now.
In a few seconds, you'll be dead.
People will always forget the man.
But his crimes still remain.
That, they never forget.
But *you,* though?
I'll remember.
Always. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | oh please do not touch me there or here
oh please do not touch me there or
oh please do not touch me there
oh please do not touch me
oh please do not touch
oh please do not
oh please do
oh please
oh | Honestly, you were never a decent person to begin with.
Even in your final moments, I doubt you'll understand.
Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter now.
In a few seconds, you'll be dead.
People will always forget the man.
But his crimes still remain.
That, they never forget.
But *you,* though?
I'll remember.
Always. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | There were exactly fifty five of these strange little things.
They were strung, line by line, in descending order.
Rows upon rows, each shorter than the last.
All honing in on some intangible topic.
I didn't know what they were.
And they rushed at me.
What were they called?
It was time.
I remembered.
Words. | Honestly, you were never a decent person to begin with.
Even in your final moments, I doubt you'll understand.
Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter now.
In a few seconds, you'll be dead.
People will always forget the man.
But his crimes still remain.
That, they never forget.
But *you,* though?
I'll remember.
Always. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
| Honestly, you were never a decent person to begin with.
Even in your final moments, I doubt you'll understand.
Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter now.
In a few seconds, you'll be dead.
People will always forget the man.
But his crimes still remain.
That, they never forget.
But *you,* though?
I'll remember.
Always. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | The news said that our city was hit the hardest.
I think I hear them running down the hall.
I need to get my family to safety.
That son of a bitch bit me.
I don't know what's going on.
The infection just keeps spreading.
My family left me.
I hear them.
They're coming.
Help. | Sometimes I feel like the world is shrinking around me.
I see fewer new faces, just the old ones.
I think stale old thoughts for each meal.
I eat cereal instead of good books.
I draw breath in ragged gasps.
When did I get old?
Have I been sleeping?
Have I lived?
Not yet.
Someday.
| |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | I'm not sure how I can only use ten words.
Seriously, what can I start to write with that?
"Once upon a time in a faraway land..."
Nah, that just sounds way too cliché.
"Here I sit, all broken-hearted..."
Nah, that ain't right either.
Almost out of words?!
We started already?!
No redos?!
Fuck.
| Sometimes I feel like the world is shrinking around me.
I see fewer new faces, just the old ones.
I think stale old thoughts for each meal.
I eat cereal instead of good books.
I draw breath in ragged gasps.
When did I get old?
Have I been sleeping?
Have I lived?
Not yet.
Someday.
| |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Cutting your hair at home is not a great idea.
At least if you do not have steady hands.
It started off fine but a little uneven.
Now I'll just fix the other side.
Wait, now the back's too long.
Clippers were a bad choice.
Buzz cuts are in.
Little bit more.
Too much.
Bald. | Sometimes I feel like the world is shrinking around me.
I see fewer new faces, just the old ones.
I think stale old thoughts for each meal.
I eat cereal instead of good books.
I draw breath in ragged gasps.
When did I get old?
Have I been sleeping?
Have I lived?
Not yet.
Someday.
| |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | oh please do not touch me there or here
oh please do not touch me there or
oh please do not touch me there
oh please do not touch me
oh please do not touch
oh please do not
oh please do
oh please
oh | Sometimes I feel like the world is shrinking around me.
I see fewer new faces, just the old ones.
I think stale old thoughts for each meal.
I eat cereal instead of good books.
I draw breath in ragged gasps.
When did I get old?
Have I been sleeping?
Have I lived?
Not yet.
Someday.
| |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | I'm not sure how I can only use ten words.
Seriously, what can I start to write with that?
"Once upon a time in a faraway land..."
Nah, that just sounds way too cliché.
"Here I sit, all broken-hearted..."
Nah, that ain't right either.
Almost out of words?!
We started already?!
No redos?!
Fuck.
| The news said that our city was hit the hardest.
I think I hear them running down the hall.
I need to get my family to safety.
That son of a bitch bit me.
I don't know what's going on.
The infection just keeps spreading.
My family left me.
I hear them.
They're coming.
Help. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Cutting your hair at home is not a great idea.
At least if you do not have steady hands.
It started off fine but a little uneven.
Now I'll just fix the other side.
Wait, now the back's too long.
Clippers were a bad choice.
Buzz cuts are in.
Little bit more.
Too much.
Bald. | The news said that our city was hit the hardest.
I think I hear them running down the hall.
I need to get my family to safety.
That son of a bitch bit me.
I don't know what's going on.
The infection just keeps spreading.
My family left me.
I hear them.
They're coming.
Help. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | oh please do not touch me there or here
oh please do not touch me there or
oh please do not touch me there
oh please do not touch me
oh please do not touch
oh please do not
oh please do
oh please
oh | The news said that our city was hit the hardest.
I think I hear them running down the hall.
I need to get my family to safety.
That son of a bitch bit me.
I don't know what's going on.
The infection just keeps spreading.
My family left me.
I hear them.
They're coming.
Help. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | oh please do not touch me there or here
oh please do not touch me there or
oh please do not touch me there
oh please do not touch me
oh please do not touch
oh please do not
oh please do
oh please
oh | The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
| |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | I had been with her for a number of years.
My heart was racing with fear, anticipation, and hope.
"Honey, I have something important to ask you."
She turned and gave me a smile.
A voice like an angel answered, "Yes?".
I knelt down before her.
"Will you marry me?"
"Oh my God."
Tears fell.
"Yes." | The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
| |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | There were exactly fifty five of these strange little things.
They were strung, line by line, in descending order.
Rows upon rows, each shorter than the last.
All honing in on some intangible topic.
I didn't know what they were.
And they rushed at me.
What were they called?
It was time.
I remembered.
Words. | The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
| |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill. | The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
| |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
| The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
| |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn. | The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
| |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
| The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
| |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | oh please do not touch me there or here
oh please do not touch me there or
oh please do not touch me there
oh please do not touch me
oh please do not touch
oh please do not
oh please do
oh please
oh | I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please... | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | I had been with her for a number of years.
My heart was racing with fear, anticipation, and hope.
"Honey, I have something important to ask you."
She turned and gave me a smile.
A voice like an angel answered, "Yes?".
I knelt down before her.
"Will you marry me?"
"Oh my God."
Tears fell.
"Yes." | I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please... | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | There were exactly fifty five of these strange little things.
They were strung, line by line, in descending order.
Rows upon rows, each shorter than the last.
All honing in on some intangible topic.
I didn't know what they were.
And they rushed at me.
What were they called?
It was time.
I remembered.
Words. | I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please... | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill. | I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please... | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
| I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please... | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn. | I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please... | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
| I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please... | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | There were exactly fifty five of these strange little things.
They were strung, line by line, in descending order.
Rows upon rows, each shorter than the last.
All honing in on some intangible topic.
I didn't know what they were.
And they rushed at me.
What were they called?
It was time.
I remembered.
Words. | I had been with her for a number of years.
My heart was racing with fear, anticipation, and hope.
"Honey, I have something important to ask you."
She turned and gave me a smile.
A voice like an angel answered, "Yes?".
I knelt down before her.
"Will you marry me?"
"Oh my God."
Tears fell.
"Yes." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill. | I had been with her for a number of years.
My heart was racing with fear, anticipation, and hope.
"Honey, I have something important to ask you."
She turned and gave me a smile.
A voice like an angel answered, "Yes?".
I knelt down before her.
"Will you marry me?"
"Oh my God."
Tears fell.
"Yes." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
| I had been with her for a number of years.
My heart was racing with fear, anticipation, and hope.
"Honey, I have something important to ask you."
She turned and gave me a smile.
A voice like an angel answered, "Yes?".
I knelt down before her.
"Will you marry me?"
"Oh my God."
Tears fell.
"Yes." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn. | I had been with her for a number of years.
My heart was racing with fear, anticipation, and hope.
"Honey, I have something important to ask you."
She turned and gave me a smile.
A voice like an angel answered, "Yes?".
I knelt down before her.
"Will you marry me?"
"Oh my God."
Tears fell.
"Yes." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
| I had been with her for a number of years.
My heart was racing with fear, anticipation, and hope.
"Honey, I have something important to ask you."
She turned and gave me a smile.
A voice like an angel answered, "Yes?".
I knelt down before her.
"Will you marry me?"
"Oh my God."
Tears fell.
"Yes." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
| There were exactly fifty five of these strange little things.
They were strung, line by line, in descending order.
Rows upon rows, each shorter than the last.
All honing in on some intangible topic.
I didn't know what they were.
And they rushed at me.
What were they called?
It was time.
I remembered.
Words. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill. | She looks behind her like a wary forest animal. Something is watching her, but she does not see. A shudder, and then she quickens her pace. Probably her imagination playing tricks on her. Her heart is thumping loudly now. One more glance behind her. Was that a figure?
"Is someone there?"
A reply. "Hello." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
| She looks behind her like a wary forest animal. Something is watching her, but she does not see. A shudder, and then she quickens her pace. Probably her imagination playing tricks on her. Her heart is thumping loudly now. One more glance behind her. Was that a figure?
"Is someone there?"
A reply. "Hello." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn. | She looks behind her like a wary forest animal. Something is watching her, but she does not see. A shudder, and then she quickens her pace. Probably her imagination playing tricks on her. Her heart is thumping loudly now. One more glance behind her. Was that a figure?
"Is someone there?"
A reply. "Hello." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
| She looks behind her like a wary forest animal. Something is watching her, but she does not see. A shudder, and then she quickens her pace. Probably her imagination playing tricks on her. Her heart is thumping loudly now. One more glance behind her. Was that a figure?
"Is someone there?"
A reply. "Hello." | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
| Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn. | Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
| Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
| In the car on the way home from the hospital. Half your life in half an hour - infant eternities.
On the bus on your way to school. Your life blurs past outside the window.
On the train, commuting to work. Days like hours were, once.
Flying to visit grandchildren. Teenagers born yesterday.
Final car. Hearse. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn. | In the car on the way home from the hospital. Half your life in half an hour - infant eternities.
On the bus on your way to school. Your life blurs past outside the window.
On the train, commuting to work. Days like hours were, once.
Flying to visit grandchildren. Teenagers born yesterday.
Final car. Hearse. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
| In the car on the way home from the hospital. Half your life in half an hour - infant eternities.
On the bus on your way to school. Your life blurs past outside the window.
On the train, commuting to work. Days like hours were, once.
Flying to visit grandchildren. Teenagers born yesterday.
Final car. Hearse. | |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
| My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
| |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure | Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
| Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn. | |
[WP] You wake up in the morning and walk into your bathroom. In the mirror, your reflection is pointing a gun at you. | I was brushing my teeth, just as I do every evening before bed. I looked down to spit into the sink, and when I looked up my reflection was pointing a gun at me. He shouted at me, **"Get down!"** I did. I heard five gun shots. when it was all over, I turned around. And there was my shadow laying on the ground with a knife in its hand. | The neighbor’s dog is barking incessantly. Again.
I roll over and cover my head with my pillow, when I hear a muted crash. My cat pretty much sounds like a bulldozer, but I have a tendency of jumping straight to the ‘My house is being robbed and they’re going to kill me’ train of thought.
I roll out of bed, accidentally tossing my phone to the floor in the process. *Well,* I tell myself sleepily, *If there’s a robber in here they know I’m awake now. Good job.* I pick up my phone, holding it like an imaginary gun. I haven’t heard any more commotion, obviously.
I start humming the Pink Panther theme song and creep toward the hallway, dodging the bathroom. As I approach the door, I hum more quietly, and do an As-Seen-On-TV move around the corner and aim my phone around the hallway.
As suspected, empty. Not even a sign of the cat.
Back to humming loudly, I creep toward the bathroom. I must admit I’m kind of having fun at this point. I edge up against the door frame and reach my arm around, flailing it at the light switch. Peripherally, I register my cat asleep on the far side of my bed, but I’m already swinging around with my phone in front of me, aiming for the mirror opposite my bathroom door.
It takes maybe three full seconds for me to register what’s happening in the mirror. It is cracked like someone punched it, but still held together. In the mirror, I’m holding a very sleek looking gun with what I slowly realize is a silencer.
I start to drop my phone, but as I do I meet my reflection’s eyes. It winks at me, and fires.
I want to say I did anything to stop it, but when I saw the round pierce the mirror with a neat little hole I just closed my eyes.
The darkness got very thick, and then there was nothing. | |
[WP] You wake up in the morning and walk into your bathroom. In the mirror, your reflection is pointing a gun at you. | I was brushing my teeth, just as I do every evening before bed. I looked down to spit into the sink, and when I looked up my reflection was pointing a gun at me. He shouted at me, **"Get down!"** I did. I heard five gun shots. when it was all over, I turned around. And there was my shadow laying on the ground with a knife in its hand. | Yesterday was a day like another for the first 20 minutes. I did my usual roll out of bed and cursed my lack of cereal and non spoiled milk. I threw on the jeans lying on the floor and picked out a shirt and jacket that fit the mood of the day. I put my socks and shoes on and was almost out the door when I realized I hadn't brushed my teeth. Sighing I threw my phone on the bed and went to the bathroom.
I grab the toothbrush and toothpaste sitting on the rim of the sink and begin to scrub my teeth while thinking about the date I had planned for the night.
"Ahem."
Ohfuck
"Hands up fuck face."
If I had been in a book of the adventure variety sweat would have begun to collect on my face, however being a normal human being my pits did all the moisturizing. I looked up toward the source of the voice to see my reflection pointing a gun at my face.
Ohshit.
"I said put your hands above your head dip shit." My reflection growled in a gravely voice that I didn't recognize as my own. My countenance gave a slight pause as if waiting for me to comply. "If you don't fucking well do as I say, I swear to god imma send this piece of lead into your skull."
Not willing to risk it I complied while nervously licking my lips. As I did so I looked at the other me. Everything physically was about the same except where I was slim he was closer to fit, where I kept my brown hair short and maintained his hair was longer and unkempt. I guessed his life philosophy and attitude were about the opposite of mine as well. His vision was probably even 20/20 as if to spite me.
A second passed as he glared at me with his hard eyes and put a finger to his ear.
"Affirmative boss man. I've finally found him. Beginning extraction. Over."
With speed that truly surprised me his hand covered in an odd looking glove, darted out and through the mirror and roughly gripped my collar. Upon closer inspection the arm glove seemed to be sparking electricity all along its length, neon blue lines pulsed in odd patterns and clusters. His muscles flexed and my focus shifted as he twisted around and threw me over his shoulder in what I suppose would have been a sick judo throw. Given that I had never been in a fight, I ascertained that this sort of situation is what intense pain is preceded by, and much to my dismay I found my assumption correct as I my back unceremoniously came into contact with the tile floor of the reflection of my bathroom.
Things seemed to blur as I tried to blink away the stars inside my skull and as I was doing so, my reflection loomed over me.
"Get up dick weed. We've got to get you to the extraction point."
It was around then, or perhaps about 10 seconds earlier, that I lost my patience.
"First off, my name isn't dick weed. It's Greg! Which you should know seeing as you're me! Secondly why the hell should I follow you anywhere?" I gave it a moment then remembered the gun in his hand. "I mean aside from that thing." I said gesturing to the hunk of metal.
The other me seemed almost surprised, which was to say that he gave a small grunt and seemed to relax a bit.
"Sorry for shouting. My name is Octavius III. We're now partners in a war which you have officially entered by coming to this world. Let's go."
Frustration bubbled over and I threw my hands into the air.
"I don't suppose I can get back the same way I came? Cuz that would be nice."
Octavius glanced at me silently.
"Didn't think so," I sighed. "Alright Octavius, lead on."
We stepped out of the bathroom and into hell. The rest of that day was quite the adventure. | |
[WP] You wake up in the morning and walk into your bathroom. In the mirror, your reflection is pointing a gun at you. | I was brushing my teeth, just as I do every evening before bed. I looked down to spit into the sink, and when I looked up my reflection was pointing a gun at me. He shouted at me, **"Get down!"** I did. I heard five gun shots. when it was all over, I turned around. And there was my shadow laying on the ground with a knife in its hand. | I wake up in a daze. I don't know where I am at first. Right. The floor of my apartment's kitchen.
I get up from where I was lying and stretch out my arms. I head to the bathroom. My brain is throbbing against my forehead. Time for some Tylenol.
The mirror is so dirty I barely see what is happening until I wipe it. There, staring back at me is myself. Pointing a revolver at my own head. What the fuck? Shit. I'm hallucinating again.
Immediately the picture changes to my own dumb face being dull. A voice in my head tells me I should listen to the mirror. I yawn. Just another fucked up Tuesday. | |
If the title is confusing, I mean that all humans right now are stuck at their physical age and look. They can grow mentally however. However all humans are now infertile.
You can write from any perspective you want. | [WP] No one is dying anymore, physical ages now frozen. However no one is being born anymore either. | "Hey Sam?"
He looked up from the cake. His lopsided party almost fell from the effort. "Whaddup?"
I sighed. It was another birthday.Time was going too fast, yet it was slowing. My last birthday felt like a week ago, but I dreaded every moment of it. "How old are you?"
"Probably around thirteen hundred-ish. Why?"
"And you celebrated all thirteen hundred birthdays?"
He paused momentarily. "Yeah. It help's me pass time, you know."
I looked at the cake. The small, bland candle was slowly flickering, yet melting fast. Wax was coating the surface. "Alright then."
I blew.
"Happy Birthday, kid." He looked too weary.
"Thanks, pops. I guess I'm happy." I matched his tone. We were like each other's reflection on the mirror. Blank. | [Apologies for not being a repsonse]
But I really enjoyed reading some of these and if anyone else like me enjoyed the WP then they should check out two pieces of film
Torchwood series 3 (no one dies except for the only immortal person who is now mortal)
And Children of men (Everyone becomes infertile except one women who is about to give birth) |
If the title is confusing, I mean that all humans right now are stuck at their physical age and look. They can grow mentally however. However all humans are now infertile.
You can write from any perspective you want. | [WP] No one is dying anymore, physical ages now frozen. However no one is being born anymore either. | "Yes, dear?" My voice wavered.
"I said we have a patient, Doctor.." Her voice trailed off as she said it, almost as if she couldn't believe the words had come from her own mouth. A patient.
A patient? It had been years since anyone had come, since anyone had needed them; had needed me. I felt my eyes widen as my interest piqued for the first time in decades. "Bring them in, bring them in..!"
The words had come half excitedly as I ushered my nurse into the hall. But a patient, a real live patient for goodness sake! We couldn't leave them waiting, not when there was no good reason for it.
Sweeping back unkempt hair, I found myself primping to look professional, to appear as if they weren't the first one to visit my office in ages.
"He's right through here." I heard my nurse say from the hall, as she come round and into my door with a young man by her side. "This is the Doctor, who you asked to see."
At first glance the boy seemed to be fine, but as a licensed physician I know better than to judge a book by its cover. My hand outstretched I greeted the man, "Hello, my name is Dr. Able, and you are..?"
"I know who you are." He said simply, in a flat tone of voice. "I am Zane, may I come in?"
Not wanting to be rude, I stepped aside to allow him room to enter, closing the door behind him. Privacy was still important, after all.
Alone with him now, I started to recite the age old question, "And what brings you in tod--" before being interrupted.
"I'm not here as a patient. That was a lie." He said in the same flat tone as before.
Not a patient? Then what, to rob the medical center? What money was in that, why come here of all places?
The thoughts must have led to odd expressions on my face, as the young man then said, "I am not here to rob you. I'm here for.. my own reasons."
I didn't understand what he meant at all, but his voice didn't waver, he seemed truthful. Something about him seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite put a finger on what. "So, why are you here?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I tried to explain." He said, back to the same flat voice. Eyes drifting to the floorboards, I could see the man was sad. Very much so, in fact.
Something inside me wanted to ask him what was wrong, why he was sad. But at the same time I found myself still wary of the odd man; no deaths, no births, and no aging, who would show up at a clinic after a century of no maladies?
Before the topic could be broached however, the man looked up and continued, "Well, I really ought to be going now."
He was out the door before I could stop him, not that I could anyway, I had no right to. Still, something about him had struck me as odd beyond the obvious. But what was it?
----
"Uhh.. can I help you sir? H-how was your visit, satisfactory?" Chimed the young nurse behind the counter as he passed.
Waving his hand dismissively, he only said, "Yes, it was as I hoped.." before exiting through the front door. She smiled, not completely aware why.
Outside the man turned, looking up at the large red cross of the clinic, the one he'd seen so many times before. His cross being at least a hundred years older, however; that clinic serving hundreds every day, births and deaths alike.
Cold wind stabbed his eyes as they began to water. This would be the last time he saw him, but he couldn't even know him. "Goodbye, father.." he said as the portal opened before him "If only you knew." | The more things change, the more they stay the same. I despise that phrase, even more than when I first heard it, over 170 years ago. Before the freeze happened, I thought it was just a lame cop-out. Now, it's a hollow bell that won't stop ringing. I don't even know why I am bothering to write this. We are all living in this nightmare. Maybe for my own sanity, so many of us have gone mad over the years. The hospitals were slowly converted into mental asylums long ago.
I'm one of the lucky ones. At first, we all thought we were. What was that clothing store, oh yeah- Forever 21. For some of us, anyways. I was 41 when it happened, old enough to have some perspective on what I thought this life was about and young enough to enjoy it. The world collectively partied for a few years. We celebrated the freedom from the fear of dying, and aging. Anything that can be thought of, we did. We were too busy having a good time to notice how humanity was imploding. I miss naiveté.
It's been much harder for my children. Mentally, they grew up to be smart, funny, sarcastic, and kind, but physically they are and always will be 7 and 10. There's so many things that they will never get to experience even though they have all the time in the world. Still, I suppose it could have been worse. My niece, eternally 5 months old, has been committed to an asylum repeatedly. Time heals all wounds, another old cliche that can kiss my ass. She does get better but it never lasts. She just can't come to terms with all the things she can never have and do. People used to try to kill themselves but that didn't last long. It was pointless. We just can not die.
Ok, I have to stop for tonight, I'm starting to feel depressed. Time to take my happy pills and just forget about everything for a little bit. Next time, I'll try to make a journal entry about some of the adventures that I've had. |
If the title is confusing, I mean that all humans right now are stuck at their physical age and look. They can grow mentally however. However all humans are now infertile.
You can write from any perspective you want. | [WP] No one is dying anymore, physical ages now frozen. However no one is being born anymore either. | Facility 22 was not state-of-the-art, though few buildings managed to keep up appearances with the world's sudden lack of janitors. Still, "facility" was too generous a word for the building, warehouse was more suited, but Dr. Adler called it a dump.
The doctor knew what a top-of-the-line research facility should look like and this was not it. Stray cracks and pot holes made every hallway a series of bruises waiting to happen for the uninitiated. It would have been worse if Dr. Adler hadn't given up on high-heels - which was shortly followed by make-up and formal wear. Sweats and a hoodie were simply more practical, the added comfort was merely a bonus. The only sign of the doctor's status was her greying lab-coat and her dusty ID card.
Not that she needed either, the guards (the dozen or so still left) knew her well enough. As Dr. Adler made her rounds, curt nods were exchanged or brief glances, but never words. Everything had already been said.
The only person Dr. Adler talked to anymore was Vick, who lacked the PhD, but quickly caught up with the suddenly large amount of free time everyone had. She found him in Observation Deck 12, a construction scaffold over a make-shift concrete cell with no ceiling.
"Number 17 doesn't seem to be showing much progress." Vick said as he saw her approaching.
"Unsurprising," Adler said, pressing her lips together, "Should I even bother coming up?"
"If you want to say hello."
"Pass."
Vick smiled tightly and turned back to the cell. "Dr. Adler says hello, 17."
Adler did not wait for a response, there wouldn't be one. "Can we move on, Vick?"
He laughed, he was one of the few who still did, "Of course, doctor."
19 was next, 18 having gone missing along with one of the guards several years ago. A story so scandalous that Adler almost wished it would happen again.
The cell was constructed of entirely of shatter-resistant glass, reportedly air-tight though given the deterioration of everything else, Adler had her doubts. There was a control panel just to the side which Vick was prepping.
"Everything seems to be working properly." Vick reported cheerfully.
"Hrm."
"It's your turn to pick, doctor," Vick smiled, "What'll it be today?"
"How's our reserves of chlorine?"
"Not chlorine again," Vick groaned, "And besides it's the lowest we have at the moment."
She would've rolled her eyes, but it wasn't worth the effort. "Fine, we'll alternate every 30 minutes between nitrogen dioxide and hydrogen cyanide for two hours."
Vick's grin was audible, "Ooh, wasteful!"
"Just start it already."
Vick laughed, "Of course, doctor."
Two tall metal boxes connected to either side of the cell began to rumble. Idly, Adler thought of how inconvenient it would be if they leaked. The machines were old and they took a while to get started, making enough of a racket to wake number 19.
Vick had theorized that a constant state of death - such as starvation - could affect the integrity of certain experiments and although Dr. Adler did not agree, she had no real reason to disagree either, so she had consented to keeping 19 fed. Still 19 was rail-thin, naked, completely hairless and constantly red as if he had been scrubbed to the meat. Somehow though, 19 found the strength to move and he stumbled toward the glass wall closest to the control panel.
Vick watched him, smiling, "You'd think he'd learn."
The cell wasn't sound-proof, but was close enough. 19's lungs had long burned out to the point where even breathing hurt so when 19 opened his mouth, Adler knew he couldn't scream. The most he could manage was to mouth the words.
Adler whispered back, "I'm trying."
"What?" Vick asked absent-minded, too busy watching 19 turn blue as he started choking, "Did you say something?"
"No, nothing."
19 gasped wildly, his eyes blurry with tears and his neck pulled taut, but he desperately mouthed the words one more time, his whole body pushing with each syllable.
Kill me. | The more things change, the more they stay the same. I despise that phrase, even more than when I first heard it, over 170 years ago. Before the freeze happened, I thought it was just a lame cop-out. Now, it's a hollow bell that won't stop ringing. I don't even know why I am bothering to write this. We are all living in this nightmare. Maybe for my own sanity, so many of us have gone mad over the years. The hospitals were slowly converted into mental asylums long ago.
I'm one of the lucky ones. At first, we all thought we were. What was that clothing store, oh yeah- Forever 21. For some of us, anyways. I was 41 when it happened, old enough to have some perspective on what I thought this life was about and young enough to enjoy it. The world collectively partied for a few years. We celebrated the freedom from the fear of dying, and aging. Anything that can be thought of, we did. We were too busy having a good time to notice how humanity was imploding. I miss naiveté.
It's been much harder for my children. Mentally, they grew up to be smart, funny, sarcastic, and kind, but physically they are and always will be 7 and 10. There's so many things that they will never get to experience even though they have all the time in the world. Still, I suppose it could have been worse. My niece, eternally 5 months old, has been committed to an asylum repeatedly. Time heals all wounds, another old cliche that can kiss my ass. She does get better but it never lasts. She just can't come to terms with all the things she can never have and do. People used to try to kill themselves but that didn't last long. It was pointless. We just can not die.
Ok, I have to stop for tonight, I'm starting to feel depressed. Time to take my happy pills and just forget about everything for a little bit. Next time, I'll try to make a journal entry about some of the adventures that I've had. |
If the title is confusing, I mean that all humans right now are stuck at their physical age and look. They can grow mentally however. However all humans are now infertile.
You can write from any perspective you want. | [WP] No one is dying anymore, physical ages now frozen. However no one is being born anymore either. | For the first 300 years, or so, we called it a gift. We labelled immortality as the final step in human evolution, that we are a perfect species. Without resources going into medicinal equipment and experts, focus and money was shifted into industrialism and technology. We had evolved technology beyond what we had dreamed; implants, volunteer cybernetics, quantum computers, data that moves faster than the speed of light, to name a few. With brilliant minds never having to worry about being wasted on death, disease, and inevitable end, they were able to pursue their passions for decades, centuries until they had perfected their creations and ideas, twice-over.
Religion and government were affected, too. Without the motivation of death towards the public in some of the worse-off countries, dictatorships and violent governments had started dissolving. Countries meshed and formed new republics, ones without the true fear of death that had kept so many silent and terrified. Religion was all about destroyed, with most counting on our deaths as a motivating factor behind morality, our idealism, and who we fear/love the most.
Of course, people, as is our nature, attempted violence, and experiments to see how far we could push our new bodies. Pain was still a real thing, but it was not nearly as scary and problematic as it used to be. Most attempts and experiments were all but complete in the first 50 years, and while there were still issues with more of the violent of our species, concern was low. Crimes that did not even directly affect a person's being were surprisingly rare. People with no fear have no problem defending their valuables, assets, and other people. Anyone who caused a serious and chronic problem, would be confined to sealed cells with no release, no food, or interaction as a final punishment.
The animal kingdom changed, as well. The demand for certain things all but disappeared, mainly exotic foods, and we were able to drive back a mass extinction with the combined efforts of many republics, focusing on genetic and organic alterations and creation. Species were being born in labs, then large warehouses and being re-released back into their natural habitat. We learned how to make animal pelts without killing the actual animal, growing the dermis in factories, and other novelties like ivory were specially manufactured instead of tearing them from dying species.
We were at our apex. We were peaceful, we had grown and achieved more than ever thought possible. Philosophy, art, science, and morality grew ten-fold. We worked together to create a positive world, because there was really no point in trying to kill each other anymore. The stars looked brighter, the world greener, and faces mostly carried contented looks and smiles.
Then it all slowed down. Then it all but stopped. We began to realize that our gift was actually a curse. Once we had achieved what we wanted to achieve, what more was there? What could we do without new minds coming into their own and creating that which we had never conceived before. We never got to travel the stars, we never left the planet, and we didn't finish learning every mystery out there. When we began slowing down, we had no motivation to achieve, because we had no motivation to leave a legacy. The stronger minded individuals were able to keep some form of order for a little while, assuring the people who started to suffer from Immortality Sickness (IS) that this was just a phase, that we would bounce back like humans always do. Like an infection, however, IS spread through humans, slowly driving them mad, most reverted to a primal, instinctual way of being, language dissolving, technology becoming moot, and smaller groups forming, then finally they would just stop. Like corpses, they would stare unblinking, no movement in their bodies, completely unresponsive, and non-reactive to any stimuli. They were lost forever, staring and dead to everything around them. Some stopped while standing, some lying down, some while sitting, and they stayed like that for as long as we were able to observe it. They entered this final phase wherever they were when their brain decided to stop. We called this the final phase, or the Corpse Phase. The few of us left that kept our consciousness tried to reverse IS, but to no avail. Rapidly we fell, and within 20 years of the first recorded inception of IS, we had less than 10% of the population functioning around the world. Unfortunately for the last 10%, we felt like the unlucky bit of the population. We were able to survive, intact for almost another century, walking the streets and places where the corpses were propped. We tried to move them out of sight and mind, but it was to no avail.
We have suffered a fate worse than death, all because we feared death too much. There is nothing left for the remaining humans to do but sit and wait, and hope that our eventual decline will be painless, and that we are not aware of our state for the rest of eternity. Unfortunately, from the tests we conducted on the first brains that fell into the Corpse Phase, there were still function brain patterns. Semi-Conscious brain patterns. They were stick, un-moving, but aware for the rest of eternity.
It's funny how death is the greatest gift we could ever have. | The more things change, the more they stay the same. I despise that phrase, even more than when I first heard it, over 170 years ago. Before the freeze happened, I thought it was just a lame cop-out. Now, it's a hollow bell that won't stop ringing. I don't even know why I am bothering to write this. We are all living in this nightmare. Maybe for my own sanity, so many of us have gone mad over the years. The hospitals were slowly converted into mental asylums long ago.
I'm one of the lucky ones. At first, we all thought we were. What was that clothing store, oh yeah- Forever 21. For some of us, anyways. I was 41 when it happened, old enough to have some perspective on what I thought this life was about and young enough to enjoy it. The world collectively partied for a few years. We celebrated the freedom from the fear of dying, and aging. Anything that can be thought of, we did. We were too busy having a good time to notice how humanity was imploding. I miss naiveté.
It's been much harder for my children. Mentally, they grew up to be smart, funny, sarcastic, and kind, but physically they are and always will be 7 and 10. There's so many things that they will never get to experience even though they have all the time in the world. Still, I suppose it could have been worse. My niece, eternally 5 months old, has been committed to an asylum repeatedly. Time heals all wounds, another old cliche that can kiss my ass. She does get better but it never lasts. She just can't come to terms with all the things she can never have and do. People used to try to kill themselves but that didn't last long. It was pointless. We just can not die.
Ok, I have to stop for tonight, I'm starting to feel depressed. Time to take my happy pills and just forget about everything for a little bit. Next time, I'll try to make a journal entry about some of the adventures that I've had. |
If the title is confusing, I mean that all humans right now are stuck at their physical age and look. They can grow mentally however. However all humans are now infertile.
You can write from any perspective you want. | [WP] No one is dying anymore, physical ages now frozen. However no one is being born anymore either. | Every day I watch my wife eat her cereal, brush her teeth, get dressed. She's still breathtakingly beautiful. Of course she is, she hasn't aged a day in 92 years. No one has.
It sounds ideal, and it was for the first few years. We were in the prime of our lives. Then things became... stagnant.
We had wanted children, but before this - whatever this is - happened we weren't ready, and then we spent 5 years revelling in extended youth. Mentally, we aged and changed and one day we found ourselves longing for someone to call our own. We started trying for a baby.
We tried, and tried, and tried.
Eventually, when it was clear that nothing was working, we went to our doctor. His faced dropped when we told him why we were there. He told us that we weren't alone, that it was the apparent cost of this never aging deal. No one was being born, and no one was dying. It was something that had been worked out early on, but it wasn't common knowledge back then because they didn't want to cause panic. He told us to maybe come back in a few years, and maybe he can tell us something different.
My wife has never given up. She took his word as gospel, and every few years she goes back to him without fail. Every time, he tells her the same thing. Every fucking time a piece of her dies. She's not the person she was. She's not the person I fell in love with.
Me? I figure we're lucky. My friend had a baby before all this happened. He's been newborn for 25 years. He could talk, and little else. Couldn't even hold his own fucking head up.
Yeah. We're lucky. | The more things change, the more they stay the same. I despise that phrase, even more than when I first heard it, over 170 years ago. Before the freeze happened, I thought it was just a lame cop-out. Now, it's a hollow bell that won't stop ringing. I don't even know why I am bothering to write this. We are all living in this nightmare. Maybe for my own sanity, so many of us have gone mad over the years. The hospitals were slowly converted into mental asylums long ago.
I'm one of the lucky ones. At first, we all thought we were. What was that clothing store, oh yeah- Forever 21. For some of us, anyways. I was 41 when it happened, old enough to have some perspective on what I thought this life was about and young enough to enjoy it. The world collectively partied for a few years. We celebrated the freedom from the fear of dying, and aging. Anything that can be thought of, we did. We were too busy having a good time to notice how humanity was imploding. I miss naiveté.
It's been much harder for my children. Mentally, they grew up to be smart, funny, sarcastic, and kind, but physically they are and always will be 7 and 10. There's so many things that they will never get to experience even though they have all the time in the world. Still, I suppose it could have been worse. My niece, eternally 5 months old, has been committed to an asylum repeatedly. Time heals all wounds, another old cliche that can kiss my ass. She does get better but it never lasts. She just can't come to terms with all the things she can never have and do. People used to try to kill themselves but that didn't last long. It was pointless. We just can not die.
Ok, I have to stop for tonight, I'm starting to feel depressed. Time to take my happy pills and just forget about everything for a little bit. Next time, I'll try to make a journal entry about some of the adventures that I've had. |
If the title is confusing, I mean that all humans right now are stuck at their physical age and look. They can grow mentally however. However all humans are now infertile.
You can write from any perspective you want. | [WP] No one is dying anymore, physical ages now frozen. However no one is being born anymore either. | There was a time when children grew. There was a time when we buried our old; there was a time when people stopped breathing.
That was before the Pause.
I remembered, barely, because it has been so, so, so long, and memory fades away with time even if everything else remains unchanged. I remember me peering down my sister's cot on tiptoes, marvelling at how tiny she was. I remember my dad picking me up and twirling me around. We were a children, once. We must have been, for there were pictures- documented proof- that cemented the faint memory of a laugh or a smell. Pictures of us as tiny, squealing infants; unable to do much more than wave our limbs and wail in high-pitched voices, pictures of two little girls playing in the garden, pictures of us, side by side, as we seemed to grow bit by bit, inch by inch, until we became what we were 200 years ago; adults.
Its a fading memory, but sometimes, when I look at the pictures, I remember. I remember the birth of my own son, one of the last to be born before the Pause. I can faintly recall a time when I didn't tire of his crying, when I thought he was growing up so fast, too fast. Maybe I shouldn't have had such thoughts.Ali is 200 years now, and although he has lived very, very long, he is still in his diapers, forever frozen as an infant.
In this world, babies were no longer born. Sure, the children who were born before the Pause remained, frozen in age, just like the rest of us adults. Mothers grew tired- who wouldn't? Afterall, children were supposed to growup. Getting out of bed in the middle of the night, tending to a newborn everyday for hundreds of years - children were too much for most parents. But there were those who hadn't had children before the Pause. For these people, the children were precious, frozen as they were(frozen as we all were), and so was born the trade of children.
When it became too much for parents to handle their children, they could put them up for rent or they could sell them. People usually rented children on an yearly basis, but there were people who sold them. These people were rare, for once you sell the child, you lose all rights to him or her, and ofcourse, there was the fear of slave trade(although it was very rare if you went through the proper Child-trading agencies which made sure that every child was placed in a proper family and followed it up with visits on a ten-yearly basis). Renting was the safer option, and renting was what most parents did, especially with babies. It was beneficial both ways; it gave tired parents a well deserved rest for a few years, and a chance for people who'd never had biological kids to be parents. It was a source of income as well.
Edit: Corrected grammar and spelling.
| The more things change, the more they stay the same. I despise that phrase, even more than when I first heard it, over 170 years ago. Before the freeze happened, I thought it was just a lame cop-out. Now, it's a hollow bell that won't stop ringing. I don't even know why I am bothering to write this. We are all living in this nightmare. Maybe for my own sanity, so many of us have gone mad over the years. The hospitals were slowly converted into mental asylums long ago.
I'm one of the lucky ones. At first, we all thought we were. What was that clothing store, oh yeah- Forever 21. For some of us, anyways. I was 41 when it happened, old enough to have some perspective on what I thought this life was about and young enough to enjoy it. The world collectively partied for a few years. We celebrated the freedom from the fear of dying, and aging. Anything that can be thought of, we did. We were too busy having a good time to notice how humanity was imploding. I miss naiveté.
It's been much harder for my children. Mentally, they grew up to be smart, funny, sarcastic, and kind, but physically they are and always will be 7 and 10. There's so many things that they will never get to experience even though they have all the time in the world. Still, I suppose it could have been worse. My niece, eternally 5 months old, has been committed to an asylum repeatedly. Time heals all wounds, another old cliche that can kiss my ass. She does get better but it never lasts. She just can't come to terms with all the things she can never have and do. People used to try to kill themselves but that didn't last long. It was pointless. We just can not die.
Ok, I have to stop for tonight, I'm starting to feel depressed. Time to take my happy pills and just forget about everything for a little bit. Next time, I'll try to make a journal entry about some of the adventures that I've had. |
If the title is confusing, I mean that all humans right now are stuck at their physical age and look. They can grow mentally however. However all humans are now infertile.
You can write from any perspective you want. | [WP] No one is dying anymore, physical ages now frozen. However no one is being born anymore either. | Sam rolled off of Callie as he felt the muscles all over his body relax in unison. He stared up at the bland, white ceiling, but the usual euphoria wasn't coming. He wanted to say he loved her, or that she was amazing, but the words just felt stale and meaningless in his throat. He exhaled deeply.
"You feel it too, right?" Callie asked, also staring intently at the ceiling. It wasn't so much a feeling as a lack thereof, but Sam knew exactly what she was talking about. He nodded but didn't speak. Things were different now. How many times had they stayed up talking until the first light of the morning, wishing they could stay young forever? How many times had he told Callie that he would always be by her side? Now, everything they had been through just seemed like an ironic slap to the face.
"I thought we would feel this way forever," Callie finally said after a long silence. It wasn't so much an accusation directed at Sam, and he sensed no real anger or sadness. Just an empty, defeated tone. Her words were more of a concession to the universe. They had been wrong.
They *were* going to be young forever. Things *could* always stay the same. But on the inside, Sam and Callie still grew older every day. There were no more risks to be taken. No more living fast and taking on the universe together. *Were we not meant for each other? Did we go about this the wrong way?* A million questions formed in Sam's head, but they had no answer. All he knew was that everyone's new-found infinite life had given his and Callie's relationship an expiration date. Things weren't the same, and he knew deep down that they couldn't be fixed.
"I should go," Sam said as he got up and grabbed his clothes. Callie made no attempt to get up or even move at all. She just continued to lay on her back, staring into the blank ceiling.
"Yeah, you probably should," She finally said. | The more things change, the more they stay the same. I despise that phrase, even more than when I first heard it, over 170 years ago. Before the freeze happened, I thought it was just a lame cop-out. Now, it's a hollow bell that won't stop ringing. I don't even know why I am bothering to write this. We are all living in this nightmare. Maybe for my own sanity, so many of us have gone mad over the years. The hospitals were slowly converted into mental asylums long ago.
I'm one of the lucky ones. At first, we all thought we were. What was that clothing store, oh yeah- Forever 21. For some of us, anyways. I was 41 when it happened, old enough to have some perspective on what I thought this life was about and young enough to enjoy it. The world collectively partied for a few years. We celebrated the freedom from the fear of dying, and aging. Anything that can be thought of, we did. We were too busy having a good time to notice how humanity was imploding. I miss naiveté.
It's been much harder for my children. Mentally, they grew up to be smart, funny, sarcastic, and kind, but physically they are and always will be 7 and 10. There's so many things that they will never get to experience even though they have all the time in the world. Still, I suppose it could have been worse. My niece, eternally 5 months old, has been committed to an asylum repeatedly. Time heals all wounds, another old cliche that can kiss my ass. She does get better but it never lasts. She just can't come to terms with all the things she can never have and do. People used to try to kill themselves but that didn't last long. It was pointless. We just can not die.
Ok, I have to stop for tonight, I'm starting to feel depressed. Time to take my happy pills and just forget about everything for a little bit. Next time, I'll try to make a journal entry about some of the adventures that I've had. |
If the title is confusing, I mean that all humans right now are stuck at their physical age and look. They can grow mentally however. However all humans are now infertile.
You can write from any perspective you want. | [WP] No one is dying anymore, physical ages now frozen. However no one is being born anymore either. | Every day I watch my wife eat her cereal, brush her teeth, get dressed. She's still breathtakingly beautiful. Of course she is, she hasn't aged a day in 92 years. No one has.
It sounds ideal, and it was for the first few years. We were in the prime of our lives. Then things became... stagnant.
We had wanted children, but before this - whatever this is - happened we weren't ready, and then we spent 5 years revelling in extended youth. Mentally, we aged and changed and one day we found ourselves longing for someone to call our own. We started trying for a baby.
We tried, and tried, and tried.
Eventually, when it was clear that nothing was working, we went to our doctor. His faced dropped when we told him why we were there. He told us that we weren't alone, that it was the apparent cost of this never aging deal. No one was being born, and no one was dying. It was something that had been worked out early on, but it wasn't common knowledge back then because they didn't want to cause panic. He told us to maybe come back in a few years, and maybe he can tell us something different.
My wife has never given up. She took his word as gospel, and every few years she goes back to him without fail. Every time, he tells her the same thing. Every fucking time a piece of her dies. She's not the person she was. She's not the person I fell in love with.
Me? I figure we're lucky. My friend had a baby before all this happened. He's been newborn for 25 years. He could talk, and little else. Couldn't even hold his own fucking head up.
Yeah. We're lucky. | "Yes, dear?" My voice wavered.
"I said we have a patient, Doctor.." Her voice trailed off as she said it, almost as if she couldn't believe the words had come from her own mouth. A patient.
A patient? It had been years since anyone had come, since anyone had needed them; had needed me. I felt my eyes widen as my interest piqued for the first time in decades. "Bring them in, bring them in..!"
The words had come half excitedly as I ushered my nurse into the hall. But a patient, a real live patient for goodness sake! We couldn't leave them waiting, not when there was no good reason for it.
Sweeping back unkempt hair, I found myself primping to look professional, to appear as if they weren't the first one to visit my office in ages.
"He's right through here." I heard my nurse say from the hall, as she come round and into my door with a young man by her side. "This is the Doctor, who you asked to see."
At first glance the boy seemed to be fine, but as a licensed physician I know better than to judge a book by its cover. My hand outstretched I greeted the man, "Hello, my name is Dr. Able, and you are..?"
"I know who you are." He said simply, in a flat tone of voice. "I am Zane, may I come in?"
Not wanting to be rude, I stepped aside to allow him room to enter, closing the door behind him. Privacy was still important, after all.
Alone with him now, I started to recite the age old question, "And what brings you in tod--" before being interrupted.
"I'm not here as a patient. That was a lie." He said in the same flat tone as before.
Not a patient? Then what, to rob the medical center? What money was in that, why come here of all places?
The thoughts must have led to odd expressions on my face, as the young man then said, "I am not here to rob you. I'm here for.. my own reasons."
I didn't understand what he meant at all, but his voice didn't waver, he seemed truthful. Something about him seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite put a finger on what. "So, why are you here?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I tried to explain." He said, back to the same flat voice. Eyes drifting to the floorboards, I could see the man was sad. Very much so, in fact.
Something inside me wanted to ask him what was wrong, why he was sad. But at the same time I found myself still wary of the odd man; no deaths, no births, and no aging, who would show up at a clinic after a century of no maladies?
Before the topic could be broached however, the man looked up and continued, "Well, I really ought to be going now."
He was out the door before I could stop him, not that I could anyway, I had no right to. Still, something about him had struck me as odd beyond the obvious. But what was it?
----
"Uhh.. can I help you sir? H-how was your visit, satisfactory?" Chimed the young nurse behind the counter as he passed.
Waving his hand dismissively, he only said, "Yes, it was as I hoped.." before exiting through the front door. She smiled, not completely aware why.
Outside the man turned, looking up at the large red cross of the clinic, the one he'd seen so many times before. His cross being at least a hundred years older, however; that clinic serving hundreds every day, births and deaths alike.
Cold wind stabbed his eyes as they began to water. This would be the last time he saw him, but he couldn't even know him. "Goodbye, father.." he said as the portal opened before him "If only you knew." |
If the title is confusing, I mean that all humans right now are stuck at their physical age and look. They can grow mentally however. However all humans are now infertile.
You can write from any perspective you want. | [WP] No one is dying anymore, physical ages now frozen. However no one is being born anymore either. | Every day I watch my wife eat her cereal, brush her teeth, get dressed. She's still breathtakingly beautiful. Of course she is, she hasn't aged a day in 92 years. No one has.
It sounds ideal, and it was for the first few years. We were in the prime of our lives. Then things became... stagnant.
We had wanted children, but before this - whatever this is - happened we weren't ready, and then we spent 5 years revelling in extended youth. Mentally, we aged and changed and one day we found ourselves longing for someone to call our own. We started trying for a baby.
We tried, and tried, and tried.
Eventually, when it was clear that nothing was working, we went to our doctor. His faced dropped when we told him why we were there. He told us that we weren't alone, that it was the apparent cost of this never aging deal. No one was being born, and no one was dying. It was something that had been worked out early on, but it wasn't common knowledge back then because they didn't want to cause panic. He told us to maybe come back in a few years, and maybe he can tell us something different.
My wife has never given up. She took his word as gospel, and every few years she goes back to him without fail. Every time, he tells her the same thing. Every fucking time a piece of her dies. She's not the person she was. She's not the person I fell in love with.
Me? I figure we're lucky. My friend had a baby before all this happened. He's been newborn for 25 years. He could talk, and little else. Couldn't even hold his own fucking head up.
Yeah. We're lucky. | Facility 22 was not state-of-the-art, though few buildings managed to keep up appearances with the world's sudden lack of janitors. Still, "facility" was too generous a word for the building, warehouse was more suited, but Dr. Adler called it a dump.
The doctor knew what a top-of-the-line research facility should look like and this was not it. Stray cracks and pot holes made every hallway a series of bruises waiting to happen for the uninitiated. It would have been worse if Dr. Adler hadn't given up on high-heels - which was shortly followed by make-up and formal wear. Sweats and a hoodie were simply more practical, the added comfort was merely a bonus. The only sign of the doctor's status was her greying lab-coat and her dusty ID card.
Not that she needed either, the guards (the dozen or so still left) knew her well enough. As Dr. Adler made her rounds, curt nods were exchanged or brief glances, but never words. Everything had already been said.
The only person Dr. Adler talked to anymore was Vick, who lacked the PhD, but quickly caught up with the suddenly large amount of free time everyone had. She found him in Observation Deck 12, a construction scaffold over a make-shift concrete cell with no ceiling.
"Number 17 doesn't seem to be showing much progress." Vick said as he saw her approaching.
"Unsurprising," Adler said, pressing her lips together, "Should I even bother coming up?"
"If you want to say hello."
"Pass."
Vick smiled tightly and turned back to the cell. "Dr. Adler says hello, 17."
Adler did not wait for a response, there wouldn't be one. "Can we move on, Vick?"
He laughed, he was one of the few who still did, "Of course, doctor."
19 was next, 18 having gone missing along with one of the guards several years ago. A story so scandalous that Adler almost wished it would happen again.
The cell was constructed of entirely of shatter-resistant glass, reportedly air-tight though given the deterioration of everything else, Adler had her doubts. There was a control panel just to the side which Vick was prepping.
"Everything seems to be working properly." Vick reported cheerfully.
"Hrm."
"It's your turn to pick, doctor," Vick smiled, "What'll it be today?"
"How's our reserves of chlorine?"
"Not chlorine again," Vick groaned, "And besides it's the lowest we have at the moment."
She would've rolled her eyes, but it wasn't worth the effort. "Fine, we'll alternate every 30 minutes between nitrogen dioxide and hydrogen cyanide for two hours."
Vick's grin was audible, "Ooh, wasteful!"
"Just start it already."
Vick laughed, "Of course, doctor."
Two tall metal boxes connected to either side of the cell began to rumble. Idly, Adler thought of how inconvenient it would be if they leaked. The machines were old and they took a while to get started, making enough of a racket to wake number 19.
Vick had theorized that a constant state of death - such as starvation - could affect the integrity of certain experiments and although Dr. Adler did not agree, she had no real reason to disagree either, so she had consented to keeping 19 fed. Still 19 was rail-thin, naked, completely hairless and constantly red as if he had been scrubbed to the meat. Somehow though, 19 found the strength to move and he stumbled toward the glass wall closest to the control panel.
Vick watched him, smiling, "You'd think he'd learn."
The cell wasn't sound-proof, but was close enough. 19's lungs had long burned out to the point where even breathing hurt so when 19 opened his mouth, Adler knew he couldn't scream. The most he could manage was to mouth the words.
Adler whispered back, "I'm trying."
"What?" Vick asked absent-minded, too busy watching 19 turn blue as he started choking, "Did you say something?"
"No, nothing."
19 gasped wildly, his eyes blurry with tears and his neck pulled taut, but he desperately mouthed the words one more time, his whole body pushing with each syllable.
Kill me. |
If the title is confusing, I mean that all humans right now are stuck at their physical age and look. They can grow mentally however. However all humans are now infertile.
You can write from any perspective you want. | [WP] No one is dying anymore, physical ages now frozen. However no one is being born anymore either. | Every day I watch my wife eat her cereal, brush her teeth, get dressed. She's still breathtakingly beautiful. Of course she is, she hasn't aged a day in 92 years. No one has.
It sounds ideal, and it was for the first few years. We were in the prime of our lives. Then things became... stagnant.
We had wanted children, but before this - whatever this is - happened we weren't ready, and then we spent 5 years revelling in extended youth. Mentally, we aged and changed and one day we found ourselves longing for someone to call our own. We started trying for a baby.
We tried, and tried, and tried.
Eventually, when it was clear that nothing was working, we went to our doctor. His faced dropped when we told him why we were there. He told us that we weren't alone, that it was the apparent cost of this never aging deal. No one was being born, and no one was dying. It was something that had been worked out early on, but it wasn't common knowledge back then because they didn't want to cause panic. He told us to maybe come back in a few years, and maybe he can tell us something different.
My wife has never given up. She took his word as gospel, and every few years she goes back to him without fail. Every time, he tells her the same thing. Every fucking time a piece of her dies. She's not the person she was. She's not the person I fell in love with.
Me? I figure we're lucky. My friend had a baby before all this happened. He's been newborn for 25 years. He could talk, and little else. Couldn't even hold his own fucking head up.
Yeah. We're lucky. | For the first 300 years, or so, we called it a gift. We labelled immortality as the final step in human evolution, that we are a perfect species. Without resources going into medicinal equipment and experts, focus and money was shifted into industrialism and technology. We had evolved technology beyond what we had dreamed; implants, volunteer cybernetics, quantum computers, data that moves faster than the speed of light, to name a few. With brilliant minds never having to worry about being wasted on death, disease, and inevitable end, they were able to pursue their passions for decades, centuries until they had perfected their creations and ideas, twice-over.
Religion and government were affected, too. Without the motivation of death towards the public in some of the worse-off countries, dictatorships and violent governments had started dissolving. Countries meshed and formed new republics, ones without the true fear of death that had kept so many silent and terrified. Religion was all about destroyed, with most counting on our deaths as a motivating factor behind morality, our idealism, and who we fear/love the most.
Of course, people, as is our nature, attempted violence, and experiments to see how far we could push our new bodies. Pain was still a real thing, but it was not nearly as scary and problematic as it used to be. Most attempts and experiments were all but complete in the first 50 years, and while there were still issues with more of the violent of our species, concern was low. Crimes that did not even directly affect a person's being were surprisingly rare. People with no fear have no problem defending their valuables, assets, and other people. Anyone who caused a serious and chronic problem, would be confined to sealed cells with no release, no food, or interaction as a final punishment.
The animal kingdom changed, as well. The demand for certain things all but disappeared, mainly exotic foods, and we were able to drive back a mass extinction with the combined efforts of many republics, focusing on genetic and organic alterations and creation. Species were being born in labs, then large warehouses and being re-released back into their natural habitat. We learned how to make animal pelts without killing the actual animal, growing the dermis in factories, and other novelties like ivory were specially manufactured instead of tearing them from dying species.
We were at our apex. We were peaceful, we had grown and achieved more than ever thought possible. Philosophy, art, science, and morality grew ten-fold. We worked together to create a positive world, because there was really no point in trying to kill each other anymore. The stars looked brighter, the world greener, and faces mostly carried contented looks and smiles.
Then it all slowed down. Then it all but stopped. We began to realize that our gift was actually a curse. Once we had achieved what we wanted to achieve, what more was there? What could we do without new minds coming into their own and creating that which we had never conceived before. We never got to travel the stars, we never left the planet, and we didn't finish learning every mystery out there. When we began slowing down, we had no motivation to achieve, because we had no motivation to leave a legacy. The stronger minded individuals were able to keep some form of order for a little while, assuring the people who started to suffer from Immortality Sickness (IS) that this was just a phase, that we would bounce back like humans always do. Like an infection, however, IS spread through humans, slowly driving them mad, most reverted to a primal, instinctual way of being, language dissolving, technology becoming moot, and smaller groups forming, then finally they would just stop. Like corpses, they would stare unblinking, no movement in their bodies, completely unresponsive, and non-reactive to any stimuli. They were lost forever, staring and dead to everything around them. Some stopped while standing, some lying down, some while sitting, and they stayed like that for as long as we were able to observe it. They entered this final phase wherever they were when their brain decided to stop. We called this the final phase, or the Corpse Phase. The few of us left that kept our consciousness tried to reverse IS, but to no avail. Rapidly we fell, and within 20 years of the first recorded inception of IS, we had less than 10% of the population functioning around the world. Unfortunately for the last 10%, we felt like the unlucky bit of the population. We were able to survive, intact for almost another century, walking the streets and places where the corpses were propped. We tried to move them out of sight and mind, but it was to no avail.
We have suffered a fate worse than death, all because we feared death too much. There is nothing left for the remaining humans to do but sit and wait, and hope that our eventual decline will be painless, and that we are not aware of our state for the rest of eternity. Unfortunately, from the tests we conducted on the first brains that fell into the Corpse Phase, there were still function brain patterns. Semi-Conscious brain patterns. They were stick, un-moving, but aware for the rest of eternity.
It's funny how death is the greatest gift we could ever have. |
[WP] Tell a story of a character that does the same seemingly menial task again and again, but as the story progresses this task takes on a different meaning. | He signed his name. That's all it took. His name on the contract. The job was his. He had security, financial and mental.
He signed his name. That's all it took. His name on the title. The car was his, a symbol of his success.
He signed his name. That's all it took. His name on the bill. Paying for dinner on their first date, knowing there were many more to come.
He signed his name. That's all it took. His name on the marriage license. It was just the first step on a long road together.
He signed his name. That's all it took. His name on the deed. The house was his. A place for them to live, a good home.
He signed his name. That's all it took. His name on the roster. It was his first meeting, he felt unsure but she was already inside, waiting for him with the community.
He signed his name. That's all it took. His name on the confidentiality agreement. They were both members now, part of the community, he didn't know why he had doubted them before.
He signed his name. That's all it took. His name on the check. The money was theirs, the number was nothing, considering all the community had given them. She thought it was too much. But she understood.
He signed his name. That's all it took. His name on the title. The car was theirs. He didn't need it anymore, the community would take care of them, he had no doubts. She did. She didn't understand.
He signed his name. That's all it took. His name on the deed. The house was theirs. It made more sense for the community to own it for him, they could both still live there, after all. He didn't understand why she was so angry.
He signed his name. That's all it took. His name on the divorce papers. He was alone now, in the house, with an extra wedding ring.
He signed his name. That's all it took. His name on the note. There was nothing left except the ticking clock, the extra ring, and the gun. | I walked towards my apartment building. I smiled and waved at the friendly doorman, who curiously wears a top hat, and my smile grew even wider as he tipped his hat at me. He opened the door and let me through, just like any other day.
As I entered my apartment, I felt my phone begin to ring. When I looked down at the caller id, I saw that it was Jessica. My childhood best friend’s sister. I didn’t know why she might be calling me.
**A couple weeks later**
I walked back to my apartment, past the crowd of all the cold, stiff people. I sipped my coffee, letting it warm up, thoughts of Jessica in my mind. She had wanted to meet for coffee, to get my advice on some art project of hers. When she heard I was some graphic designer, she had insisted that she needed my opinion on it.
The doorman smiled like always and tipped his hat at me. And then I went thought the door. But this time I looked back. I never really did; once I was in my apartment building, I was in it, no reason to look back. I watched as he opened the door for one of my neighbors. But there was only a fake, contrived smile. And his hat remained firmly on his head.
**A week before Christmas, two weeks since the previous incident**
I walked with Jessica, her leaning into my side to get warm. We headed back to my apartment. I would have never imagined I’d be dating my teenage crush, let alone be bringing her back to my apartment.
We came towards the door. The doorman stood there, still and solemn. But then he saw us and a smile warmed up his face. Curiously, he tipped his hat yet again at us and then opened the door.
“Thanks,” I said, like normal.
As we walked up to my apartment, I remembered that I had actually gotten a Christmas gift for the doorman. He was always so nice and kind to me, I thought I should finally do something for him. And so I left Jessica up in the apartment for a minute and ran downstairs to give the present to him real quick.
Tears filled the man’s eyes. I hope that he didn’t think I had bought him something very nice. It was just a $20 giftcard to the restaurant down the street.
“Thank you sir,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Do you know this is the first time someone has given me a gift in years?”
“No,” I said, feeling a bit awkward. Suddenly I felt myself being squeezed to death as he hugged me quickly, then let me go.
“Sorry, I just…” he started. “Thank you.”
And with that, he tipped his hat to me again, then turned back around and waited for the next person who needed the door opened to come along.
**New Years**
I walked back towards my apartment. But as I approached the door, a new doorman was there.
“What happened to the guy that usually is here?” I asked.
“Killed himself,” the man answered. “Said most people didn’t care. No one out there was worth much, no one he would ever tip his hat too. That man and his hat. I’m not sure what that was really about. Well, freed up a job for me I suppose.”
Resisting my urge to punch the guy, I opened the door for myself and walked up to my apartment after grabbing the mail. I closed my door as I saw an envelope addressed to me. From the doorman of all people.
*This is for you*
That was all it said. A little key dropped out with a note, apparently to a safety deposit box. And a receipt from a few nights ago, from the restaurant down the street, nearly for the exact amount for $20 paid by giftcard.
“What’s that?” Jessica asked, wrapping her arms around me. The light from the windows reflected off of the key, which also reflected off of the diamond ring on her finger.
“A gift from that doorman I liked so much, it would appear,” I answered. | |
[WP] It's the first showing of a highly anticipated play. An actor with just 1 line decides he wants to be a new major character - while onstage, in the middle of the play. | Benny was always alone; it didn't strike me as weird when I bumped into him hanging out behind the high school, smoking a cigarette while perched against the bleachers. It was cold as hell out. "Hey, Benny, what're you up to man?" He ashes his cig into the wind and fixed his glasses. "I missed my bus. Figured I'd hang until it's time to be back for costumes and makeup. Want a cig?" Benny didn't take the bus. I had seen him walking home before as a freshman. I knew the kids that hung out on the cemetery where he would cut through to make his way toward his street; and I knew they picked on him. "Na, I don't smoke," I rejected. "Oh yea," he snarled "forgot you need you're lungs for football." "Haha, right. Well, I'd stay and hang man but I was just putting my jersey in my locker. You psyched for the play tonight? I saw you in Robin Hood last year, you were really good." "Thanks. Unfortunately I had to take a smaller role in this one. I failed Ethics and have 15 truancy days this year so me and Mr. Hunter agreed I could build the stage sets and have a line or so, instead of take the lead. Bullshit." "Hey man, no biggie," I reassured, "I'm sure you're parents will still enjoy it." He threw his cigarette onto the bleachers just above his head, tightened up his jacket and in a melancholy voice said "Yeah, they don't really come to these things." He glanced off scanning the football field, not looking for anything in particular. Just scanning. "Alright Benny, I gotta split, my ride's here. Maybe I'll see you tonight. Good luck." I shook his hand, grabbed my things and walked over to my girlfriends car. I got in, leaned over and kissed her. Before I shut the door, he strained his voice in the wind just enough to convey it to me. "Travis! Nutcrackers kind of corny man, don't worry about coming." I had no intention of going. "Haha. Alright, see ya!"
The next morning was even colder. I guess I passed out because I forgot to charge my fucking phone and now I couldn't even call James for a lift. I got my stuff together, bundled up in my hat, gloves and jacket and was off to school. As I made my way up the hill I couldn't help but notice how empty the surrounding streets seemed. No buses were in sight and the side streets where most of the students illegally parked were eerily vacant. I got closer to the school, my nose was numb and I was trembling in my letterman. As I approached I saw a slew of unmarked police cars in the parking lot. Fucking detectives. Coming in to rattle kids they suspect of peddling drugs. I had a K-9 go bananas outside my locker last year for catching wind of a tuna sandwich that had been in there for months. There were a group of girls on the smoker's corner having a quick boag before class. As I got closer I overheard one through her sobs, "I just can't fucking believe it. How could someone possibly do this. In front of everyone. Especially at the Nutcracker." I didn't want to rudely budge in but I couldn't help it, this light takes forever to change. "Hey, um, what happened at the play?" "You didn't hear?" Another girl smirked through her cancer stick, "Obviously not, Shana, he's fucking walking into school. What do you think?" One of the girls had been quietly sobbing. She threw her cig and looked up, pulling the hair away from her eyes and readjusting her knit hat. "Half way through the third act," she said, "one of the pixies from the icy forrest broke from the chain March and walked up to the microphone. He was supposed to say something like 'I sure hope the prince will be able to make it tonight!" She paused. Looked down at her feet again as tears came rolling down her face. "He pulled out a gun and shot himself. Right there. In front of everyone." I couldn't move. "Wh-what?" The stern girl interjected again "yea man, heard it was a .45. Thing probably put his brain up into the light fixtures. It was that junior weirdo, always wearing the cloak thing around the hallways. Ben I think?" I lost balance in my legs, stumbling against the street light. My heart felt like it was going to come out of my chest. Ben. Benny. The kid I just saw yesterday? What? Tears flew down my cheeks. How coul- WHY? I pulled my hood over face, promptly turned around and ran home. It was all over the news. Every cable channel had a reporter in or around the school, talking about the tragedy that unfolded the night before. After hours of disbelief, crying and denial I got up again, walked into my parents' room and reached in my dad's nightstand. I walked outback, plumped down on my steps, and lit up my first cigarette.
| “Sound and lights… Go.”
As the sound pulled back, a blue wash grew from downstage and slowly crept up. Slowly the Victorian parlor was revealed. The walls towered over the two lone performers onstage, they were covered with deer heads and antique guns.
Kathleen leaned back and turned to her technician, Tom. “Now for the easy part. Only twenty till the next cue,” she whispered with a grin.
Tom held his fist for a bump. After Kathleen received his gesture he pulled out two airplane bottles of whiskey. “Happy opening. Let’s get this show over with so we can drink,” he said.
Kathleen took a bottle and both shot back the burning liquor.
“Do you think Jerry is going to fuck it up again?” Tom asked after tossing the bottle expertly into the waste bin beside the booth’s door. Before the show, Kathleen had overheard him and the designers placing bets on whether Jerry would mess up his one line on opening.
Kathleen shrugged. Jerry had been on a slow decline during the entire preview process. The short rehearsal before house open was the first time he hadn’t stammered through or paraphrased. “I fucking hope not,” she murmured.
Jerry’s massive figure took center and raised the starter pistol. The audience let out a collective gasp.
“Here goes.” Tom was on the edge of his seat.
“No,” Jerry bellowed.
Kathleen held her breath. No (beat) I can’t let you do that. She heard him say the line a million times in rehearsal. He just needed to say it twenty-three more times till closing.
“No,” Jerry repeated. He moved the aim of the gun from Claire and aimed it at himself.
Tom chuckled nervously. “Was there a rewrite?”
Kathleen cursed. “If there was Lenard didn’t tell me.”
Claire was frozen in place. There was no rewrite. Lenard would have told Claire. Jerry was going rogue. Luckily the audience couldn’t be concerned with the poor frightened actress, and was fixated on Jerry who was improving his ass off. “For years I’ve been a part of the background,” he said. He took the line out to the audience. “Not anymore.”
Tom snorted. “No one in this show takes their lines out. What the hell is this guy thinking?” He turned to his stage manager who was paler than the pages of her script. “Is there anything we can do?”
“There are fifteen reviewers in the house,” Kathleen replied. The theater was going under. If they couldn’t get this show to take off, it would be their final season. “If I take the intermission blackout now, Jerry will still be alive when the show starts again. And Jim enter to take his line about the photo album.”
Tom bit his lip. “So what are we going to do?” Kathleen sighed. They couldn’t do anything. It was up to the actors.
“Family means everything to me, Linda,” Jerry rambled. He still faced the audience.
“At least it sounds rehearsed,” Tom said in an effort to alieve Kathleen’s frustration with the man on stage. She glared at Jerry with a fire that would leave anyone trembling, if only she weren’t locked in a both with only a light switch at her disposal.
“Claire is doing something.” Tom leaned forward over the sound board.
Almost knocking over her coffee, Kathleen jumped up and peered past the plastic window. Claire was creeping upstage toward one of the rifles.
“She’s going to kill herself,” Kathleen squealed quietly. “Okay, we’ll go to black as soon as the audience notices her pointing it at herself.” Kathleen put on her game face and stared forward. “Get ready for the most important cue of your life.”
Tom hovered his finger over the go button. “Standing by.”
Claire pulled the gun from its mount on the wall. She cleared her throat. “No.” The poor woman was trembling. “I can’t let you do that.”
Jerry turned sharply upstage, clearly unhappy that he had to begin sharing the stage again.
Claire pointed the rifle at herself and pulled the trigger.
There was no loud shot heard. Luckily no one knew because at that moment Tom triggered the intermission sound and light. Loud electronica music poured into the house, the lights bumped out.
As the music faded to a comfortable background level, and the lights filled the house Kathleen heard from all the way backstage a loud and distinct, “What the actual fuck, Jerry?!”
Tom pulled out another airplane bottle and threw it back. “Well, I guess Jerry did fix one thing the playwright missed.”
Kathleen shot her technician a dirty look.
Tom shrugged and threw a bottle to Claire. “Chekhov’s gun.”
| |
[WP] It's the first showing of a highly anticipated play. An actor with just 1 line decides he wants to be a new major character - while onstage, in the middle of the play. | Oh man. Big show tonight. Packed house. High profile audience. This is the kind of night that we have been working so hard for.
Well...at least they have been working so hard. I didn't really have to work that hard. I only have ONE stupid line.
ONE.
*I am better than playing some extra servant*.
Can you believe that shit? I am a **THESPIAN** dammit. I deserve better than this. I am a star. Fuck. I am **THE** star. At least I will be..
Ugh. Look at that schmuck. Harry FUCKING Hawk. The epitome of this lost country. He is like a dog. Sure he's loveable. But he is dumb. Idiotic. A conformist that does whatever someone tells him to do. Including those Northern bastards. He probably licked the director's cock like it had peanut butter on it for this role. I should have been Asa Trenchard. ME.
I will steal this show from that son of a bitch. But how?
*The play director walks in and begins to speak, he wreaks of peanut butter*
"Okay folks the show is about to start! I dont want to make any of you even more nervous, but I should tell you that we do have a special guest in attendance tonight...the President of the United States himself! So go out there and make this the best playing of *Our American Cousin* this world has ever seen!"
Hmm...I have just had the most glorious idea. And I will still steal this show with one line. But what shall it be? Hmm..
The South is avenged?
Wait.
That would sound so much cooler in Latin.
Its show time.
| “Sound and lights… Go.”
As the sound pulled back, a blue wash grew from downstage and slowly crept up. Slowly the Victorian parlor was revealed. The walls towered over the two lone performers onstage, they were covered with deer heads and antique guns.
Kathleen leaned back and turned to her technician, Tom. “Now for the easy part. Only twenty till the next cue,” she whispered with a grin.
Tom held his fist for a bump. After Kathleen received his gesture he pulled out two airplane bottles of whiskey. “Happy opening. Let’s get this show over with so we can drink,” he said.
Kathleen took a bottle and both shot back the burning liquor.
“Do you think Jerry is going to fuck it up again?” Tom asked after tossing the bottle expertly into the waste bin beside the booth’s door. Before the show, Kathleen had overheard him and the designers placing bets on whether Jerry would mess up his one line on opening.
Kathleen shrugged. Jerry had been on a slow decline during the entire preview process. The short rehearsal before house open was the first time he hadn’t stammered through or paraphrased. “I fucking hope not,” she murmured.
Jerry’s massive figure took center and raised the starter pistol. The audience let out a collective gasp.
“Here goes.” Tom was on the edge of his seat.
“No,” Jerry bellowed.
Kathleen held her breath. No (beat) I can’t let you do that. She heard him say the line a million times in rehearsal. He just needed to say it twenty-three more times till closing.
“No,” Jerry repeated. He moved the aim of the gun from Claire and aimed it at himself.
Tom chuckled nervously. “Was there a rewrite?”
Kathleen cursed. “If there was Lenard didn’t tell me.”
Claire was frozen in place. There was no rewrite. Lenard would have told Claire. Jerry was going rogue. Luckily the audience couldn’t be concerned with the poor frightened actress, and was fixated on Jerry who was improving his ass off. “For years I’ve been a part of the background,” he said. He took the line out to the audience. “Not anymore.”
Tom snorted. “No one in this show takes their lines out. What the hell is this guy thinking?” He turned to his stage manager who was paler than the pages of her script. “Is there anything we can do?”
“There are fifteen reviewers in the house,” Kathleen replied. The theater was going under. If they couldn’t get this show to take off, it would be their final season. “If I take the intermission blackout now, Jerry will still be alive when the show starts again. And Jim enter to take his line about the photo album.”
Tom bit his lip. “So what are we going to do?” Kathleen sighed. They couldn’t do anything. It was up to the actors.
“Family means everything to me, Linda,” Jerry rambled. He still faced the audience.
“At least it sounds rehearsed,” Tom said in an effort to alieve Kathleen’s frustration with the man on stage. She glared at Jerry with a fire that would leave anyone trembling, if only she weren’t locked in a both with only a light switch at her disposal.
“Claire is doing something.” Tom leaned forward over the sound board.
Almost knocking over her coffee, Kathleen jumped up and peered past the plastic window. Claire was creeping upstage toward one of the rifles.
“She’s going to kill herself,” Kathleen squealed quietly. “Okay, we’ll go to black as soon as the audience notices her pointing it at herself.” Kathleen put on her game face and stared forward. “Get ready for the most important cue of your life.”
Tom hovered his finger over the go button. “Standing by.”
Claire pulled the gun from its mount on the wall. She cleared her throat. “No.” The poor woman was trembling. “I can’t let you do that.”
Jerry turned sharply upstage, clearly unhappy that he had to begin sharing the stage again.
Claire pointed the rifle at herself and pulled the trigger.
There was no loud shot heard. Luckily no one knew because at that moment Tom triggered the intermission sound and light. Loud electronica music poured into the house, the lights bumped out.
As the music faded to a comfortable background level, and the lights filled the house Kathleen heard from all the way backstage a loud and distinct, “What the actual fuck, Jerry?!”
Tom pulled out another airplane bottle and threw it back. “Well, I guess Jerry did fix one thing the playwright missed.”
Kathleen shot her technician a dirty look.
Tom shrugged and threw a bottle to Claire. “Chekhov’s gun.”
| |
[WP] humankind finds a planet in a solar system far away where a god actually does visit them, it is shocked and alarmed to have been discovered by humankind. | "...Well this is awkward." God said.
"..Yep." Colonel Andrews said in reply.
There were in a cafe that looked suspiciously like a Johnny Rockets on an unnamed planet in the Andromeda system. Delta Team had landed here as part of project "Lightbringer". They were on a one way trip to another solar system, to see if it was inhabitable. They would send a signal back to earth if was, and Earth ships would follow in the next few decades.
Delta team had uncovered an entire abandoned city that was a weird mix between future and past. Long vines hung off an identical representation of the Sears Tower. The team walked down a cobblestone road past a solid gold Eiffel towers and gigantic diamond representations of Easter Island statues that cast a shadow over the abandoned streets. Colonel Andrews had spotted a herd of antelope gathered around a park that resembled an African plain.
Officer Brown had spotted the restaurant, and Delta team had come upon a man in a robe who was very surprised to see them, looking much like a man who was not expecting Mormon solicitors.
Officer Kim leveled a Erenor plasma-cooled tribarreled liquifier pistol at him.
"Identify your s-self" she said through gritted teeth, her stutter slipping through.
"The most powerful handgun in world." God said in a Clint Eastwood impression. God wagged his finger and Kim's weapon dissolved into a cloud of butterflies, which flapped out the door. God sighed and said,
"Well, come on in, you're a long way from home."
God snapped his fingers and food appeared on the table with a small pop, and gestured them to sit, which they cautiously did.
Delta Team sat in silence, eating their burgers, fries, and milkshakes.
"So....how did you get here?" God scratched his scalp and sipped his strawberry milkshake.
"You don't know? You're..God." Captain Brown piped up.
"I mean...it's not all about you human guys, you know? There's an entire multiverse to look after. I gave you guys the good Books, the Sun, Marijuana, water, oxygen, and then called it a day." God tossed a fry into his mouth.
"Our scientists harnessed the power of the Sun, and used the energy to slingshot us into the next system over. One way trip though." Brown frowned, and then took a spoonful of his Oreo milkshake.
"Capital!" God exclaimed, showering Brown in fried potato. "I kinda lost track of you human folks, haven't checked in for a few centuries, til around 240 years ago, a bit after that handsome guy got killed in Dallas. I check in every now and then, make sure you guys haven't killed each other off, and to try the newest foods, and look at the architecture. I Didn't think you guys would actually make it here."
"What does that say about you?" Kim smirked.
God made a face at her.
"I was surprised you made it to your moon, to be honest. You guys were barely figuring out civil rights when I left around '73. I figured you guys would kill each other or get eaten. I'm pleasantly surprised though."
"Well then, would you like to meet the rest of your children?" Colonel Andrews asked cautiously. After all, he wasn't in much of a position to tell God to do anything.
God smiled, his wrinkles showed laugh lines around his mouth.
"Absolutely, he said." | As the priests and ministers stepped from the spacecraft, clutching their crosses, they stared upon the great being before them. It was so large it blotted out the orange star with its shadow. As more departed the ship, the imams, the Buddhist monks, the pagan priestesses, the Shinto monks, the shamans, they looked upon the being they all knew was god and fell to their knees.
And he spoke.
"Well.... this is awkward.", as he reached his noodlely appendage behind his head to scratch his meatball. | |
[WP] humankind finds a planet in a solar system far away where a god actually does visit them, it is shocked and alarmed to have been discovered by humankind. | "Please, let me tell you your past and my future."
"In the beginning there was only the void. I do not yet know how it was made, or when, or why I was there. All I know was that there was nothing. No light, no matter, and no time. It was as if I was in a never ending cage left only with my thoughts. Then I had what can only be referred to as a thought, and literally everything exploded away from me. At that moment I had no idea what was happening, it was only later that I came to realize I had created. . .well, everything."
"At first, I toyed around with shapes and sizes. I became very fond of spherical shapes, but lacked the knowledge to keep anything together. I spent, what you would refer to as billions of years, merely playing with this new universe. I created beautiful structures out of energy and mere dust, and after awhile learned to implement ways of making them last. Unfortunately, I had wasted to much time and the energy and my creations seemed to dissolve and it was at that point I realized the cold.
"That was my first attempt, it took me dozens of tries to get where we are now. I had to learn from my mistakes each time so to make everything last longer. I first taught myself to distinguish between all the different types of. . .stuff. I created chemistry. Then, I perfected my way to keep my creations together. I created gravity. I will say, I had to tweak it a few times to keep everything moving smoothly, and with those tweaks, I created math. However, I still have spots where I seemed to have screwed up and the fact that you figured out what they were before me is astounding. I'm referring to the black holes your species seems to love studying. It took me a few billions years into this universe to finally have an almost self-sufficient system."
"Now we turn to you, the humans. It was only about 5 billion years ago that I decided I was lonely. By that time, I solved a bunch of my older problems and was able to create quite a few galaxies. I toyed with chemistry and physics to create microscopic systems spread all over, each implementing different chemical and physical properties. For the most part, all of them failed. Out of the trillions of unique combinations, only a a couple billion made it to reproduction. Of those, only several hundred million made it to "intelligence". It was about 3 and a half billion years ago I first shocked your planet with life. I turned my attention to other creations for only a mere 2 billion years and I came back to find what you call primates. It was at that discovery that I decided to keep a watchful eye over you. You evolved and evolved much faster than all the others, and with your evolution, you pushed along other species that lived around you. It was only millions of years later you evolved to free thought. You were making tools and discovered fire. This is when I came to fear your species."
"You discovered in millions of years, what took me billions of billions. I tried to intervene without harming any of you, but the more I showed myself, the more you seemed to kill each other. I tried appearing in many forms to guide you, but you started to argue what I was. I would try and tell you, but it only took one of you to twist my words and convince the others. It was by indirect means I seemed to create religion. Each time I came to you, a new one would be formed. You would kill each other by the thousands and millions just because you didn't agree. I tried to kill you off. Everything I sent your way, you just adapted to. I took other life from other galaxies and sent them to you in hopes that they would wipe you out. You just kept adapting. Then you left your planet and I feared all of my creations were doomed."
"I could only watch as you spread from star to star, and eventually from galaxy to galaxy. At first, you met other life with ravenous curiosity. You merged yourself with their customs and ideologies and I thought there would be peace. After awhile, you seemed to grow bored with the new creatures you met and became openly hostile with those you were at peace with for so long. You saw yourselves as masters of the universe and saw fit to pass judgement upon my creations."
"And now were are here. Your species has thrived for countless years, and now witness the death of this universe. It has been a million billion years since your "Big Bang", and everything will die soon. You were my greatest mistake, and I have learned much from you, but I do not think I am ready to deal with you again."
"If it is an consolation, you did impress me. You discovered my math, my physics. You worked out where I got things wrong before I did. I created you with only 4 dimensions, only 3 of which you could perceive. Think about what I will be able to do with 100. Your simple minds all but mastered my creation, what's to stop the next ones from creating their own?"
"Please accept your inevitable death, I will pray for you." | 3/4 Local Time, Mission Day 159 Post-Landing
Self-report.
This will be my last transmission until we come around the other side of Kapeteyn. I guess that'll be local spring. Something's changing in the flora here, anyway, a kind of thinning—you'll remember in my earlier report that things often look kind of swollen here? Well that's draining away over the weeks and it has trended colder. I've reviewed the greenhouse and the LSS for defects and everything's good. I have high confidence that I can weather whatever weather is coming. That's a joke.
My status continues to be good. Sick again—I'm picking up a lot of local bugs despite my best efforts and I feel sympathy for the Martians in War of the Worlds. My sample scans are going to keep you busy. I'm going through a lot of water, to put it delicately. Thanks for making such an efficient purifier. On the plus side, I haven't had anything truly awful, so our preventative and acclimatory measures are working to some degree. Once you get your results on the DNA scans (is it DNA?) on the viral samples I uploaded, let's see about whipping up some vaccines and then I can really start interacting with the Locals.
Anyway, I guess you're all most interested in the developments on the “magic” side of things. The Locals are trying to explain it all to me but their language is really frustrating. I was reading some of the books you guys uploaded for me and there's this tribe up north in Canada that speaks entirely in metaphor—or maybe it was in Siberia, I can't remember; too much NO2 floating around. Haha! They're otherwise doing their thing pretty much as normal, still, so we know this is definitely not a singular occurrence. What I interpreted as shock on their part during the first encounter was actually a kind of excitement. In hindsight, after this second encounter, yesterday, it was definitely a reverent kind of excitement. The little guys worship these visitors. A lot more than they worship me—I think they see me as some kind of dim bulb, which I guess is better than being a threat.
The gods themselves are really impressive. I took video of what I saw and am including it but there's not much to see beyond the light show. You guys'll have to tell me if the lab boys figure something out that I haven't seen. To me it was lights, like a jawbreaker made of lasers, holding in a million colours. That's not really a fair description though—things change when they move. I suspect that it's not really light, or not as we understand light. That trope about “should have sent a poet?” I really believe in that right now! Could be some kind of exotic matter-manipulation or spacetime distortion (eclipsing the disc with my thumb revealed what might be a sort of lensing in the corona, though there doesn't seem to be any gravitational effects to corroborate that. Your guess is as good as mine. I tried to show it in my video but I don't think it worked). Makes me wonder what kind of exposure I could be getting. The badge is suggesting maybe 10mSv more than normal. I kept one badge in the foliage with me and it is showing no exposure above background—the plants blocked everything.
I was discovered shortly after the “ceremony” began, by a Local who brought me forward to them. I followed protocol and didn't do much in the way of anything but try to seem open and unthreatening. You can review the video feed. This was the most terrifying experience of my life, and I will suspect of any human life ever, I'll tell you that. They have demonstrated a telekinetic ability and seeming negation of B's gravity. They float up and down in what look like random patterns. The Locals touch them—or reach into them, I'm at a loss for terminology—according to some metric or social deciding. It's only a few special ones each time, but not always the same ones. There could be a ceremonial aspect (which would imply a level of mutual understanding and communication between them) and maybe even a healing aspect. There is a very sick Local that wasn't brought up to touch the visitors, however. Every time the visitors have left, a steady rain has followed, lasting one day. I'm inclined to think the visitors are causing it, outrageous as that seems. More observations are needed—motto of this whole mission.
In my case, the visitors behaved very strangely, stopping entirely for a while. I wasn't allowed to “touch” them, nor did they dance around me. It felt very much like I was an intruder on a private event—at least from the visitors' side. The Locals, it seemed, maybe had higher hopes for my reception. The ceremony was much shorter this time—even hurried? I have to wonder what the visitors thought of me. I have thousands of ideas in my head that would all make great sci-fi movies.
They have arrived both times just after Local sunset, when both moons are aligned above the sun. I am looking for Local artwork in the area, especially the caves where they go on their hunting trips. Hopefully they have depicted the gods on previous visits. In preparation of the next visit, I am working out a mathematics demonstration. I am open to your suggestions. Haha!
I know there's a lot of excitement down there about these visitors and what they might represent. If they're sentient and non-natural after all (the second video is extremely compelling evidence of that, but we've seen enough weird stuff already, haven't we?) then it's hard to imagine that their form is a natural occurrence. I wouldn't pop the champagne yet but my “expert” opinion is that we've found something really advanced. They're doing stuff we haven't even imagined yet. I'll try not to piss them off.
Hopefully you can get your response to me before B is eclipsed. Otherwise, here begins the long silence. As I said, I am in good spirits and relatively good health. I have lots of work to do and this possibility of real contact has me very energetic. Please tell my wife I very much enjoyed her video and forward the one I have made for her and Cynthia, as usual. There is also a collection of new clips showing more scenery and some of the Locals for you to publish.
Oh, and before I go, I have also made a video for Thomas. If there is a difficult part of all of this, its that Karen isn't here to see it all with me. All of this has been said, again and again, by myself and others, but I want to repeat it another time: she was the best teammate I could have had. None of this would have been possible without her sacrifice, and every day I am reminded of that. My thoughts are with Thomas and the rest of Karen's family.
That's about it. All the best to all of you. It's beginning to look a little, teeny bit like space Christmas up here. Maybe I should dig up the lights. You guys did pack me a string of Christmas lights, right? (Another joke).
Awaiting your reply. | |
[WP]: As a part of his most elaborate project yet, a master pranker fakes his own death, only to attend his funeral and realise how happy people seem to be that he is gone | I'm a screenwriting student. Would you mind if I adapted this into a film project? | It was the ultimate prank. I had carried it out perfectly and it was a success.
Or so I had thought, as I lifted up my Yankees Baseball cap and was met with an atmosphere of joy and celebration. I was confused at first, thinking I was in the wrong place. However, it soon became clear that these people were rejoicing over my death.
I fervently searched through the crowd, trying to spot a single face that showed remorse. I failed. "Attention please!", a voice echoed from the stage. "Today, we are here to celebrate.. Uhm.. I mean mourn the death of Patrick Jones, who was known for being one of the best pranksters in the world." A few chuckles emanated from the crowd. "He was an entertainer, but no one was really entertained. He was an egoistic maniac who brought sadness and shame to many, but no one wanted to admit that, as we all know he would torment those who did so with his tasteless yet annoying pranks. However, we are not here today to let him get on nerves, but to rejoice at his demise!" A rousing applause soon followed.
I was utterly destroyed. I had thought millions of people adored and loved me, but it was the complete opposite. It was not anger I felt, but emptiness. I briskly walked away. I was going to end it for real this time.
| |
[WP]: As a part of his most elaborate project yet, a master pranker fakes his own death, only to attend his funeral and realise how happy people seem to be that he is gone | As a part of his most elaborate project yet, a master pranker fakes his own death, only to attend his funeral and realise how happy people seem to be that he is gone.
January 2014
I have recently thought of the greatest prank ever - faking my own death. In my five years as a pranker, all I have ever done are stupid halloween tricks, mini mousetraps disguised as packs of chewing gums and large rolls of clear tape across doors. This time, I’ll take it to a whole new level. The past two nights have been tiring. I’ve been trying to learn how to apply make up convincingly, in order for the master plan to work. I shall spend the next few months learning, practicing and mastering the details of a person’s appearance - clothing, shoes and hairstyle. There’s still a lot more to learn.
June 2014
The past few months have been tough. I may not have mastered anything, but at least I’m a jack of all trades now. I figured that jumping off a building would be perfect, with a suicide letter to ensure nobody reads too much into my death, least they discover what I’ve done. I could easily throw on some makeup, dress the fake body with my usual checkered red and black shirt with skinny jean and craft a phony story involving a breakup and monetary issues. Heh, they’ll never notice. The only difficult thing would be finding a human analogue body to replace me. Hmm, maybe Shaun will have one or two bodies from his funeral parlour? It’s probably illegal but who cares? Money goes a long way. The funeral will be quiet, just a few words from my family and a simple cremation. Everyone goes home crying and regretting they didn’t spend enough time with me, and BUZZINGA, it’s me! At least they’ll treasure me more after this.
6th November 2014
Everything’s settled. The body’s ready; the letter’s prepared. It’s go time.
17th November 2014
The plan backfired.
It was all going well, no one discovered that the body wasn’t mine, everyone was convinced of my troubles, my body was ready to be cremated, I was hidden amongst the staff at Shaun’s, pretending to be handling the coffin. I thought the words exchanged between my dearest kins were something along the lines of “It’s such a pity, he was so young”; “It’s okay…”. Instead, I heard “The mad son of a bitch has finally done it”; “No more pranks for halloween, hooray!”.
It was weird though. I didn’t feel angry at first. I didn’t feel sad. Rather, the master pranker in me woke up.
I wonder who will be the next one to *suicide*? | It was the ultimate prank. I had carried it out perfectly and it was a success.
Or so I had thought, as I lifted up my Yankees Baseball cap and was met with an atmosphere of joy and celebration. I was confused at first, thinking I was in the wrong place. However, it soon became clear that these people were rejoicing over my death.
I fervently searched through the crowd, trying to spot a single face that showed remorse. I failed. "Attention please!", a voice echoed from the stage. "Today, we are here to celebrate.. Uhm.. I mean mourn the death of Patrick Jones, who was known for being one of the best pranksters in the world." A few chuckles emanated from the crowd. "He was an entertainer, but no one was really entertained. He was an egoistic maniac who brought sadness and shame to many, but no one wanted to admit that, as we all know he would torment those who did so with his tasteless yet annoying pranks. However, we are not here today to let him get on nerves, but to rejoice at his demise!" A rousing applause soon followed.
I was utterly destroyed. I had thought millions of people adored and loved me, but it was the complete opposite. It was not anger I felt, but emptiness. I briskly walked away. I was going to end it for real this time.
| |
[WP]: As a part of his most elaborate project yet, a master pranker fakes his own death, only to attend his funeral and realise how happy people seem to be that he is gone | As a part of his most elaborate project yet, a master pranker fakes his own death, only to attend his funeral and realise how happy people seem to be that he is gone.
January 2014
I have recently thought of the greatest prank ever - faking my own death. In my five years as a pranker, all I have ever done are stupid halloween tricks, mini mousetraps disguised as packs of chewing gums and large rolls of clear tape across doors. This time, I’ll take it to a whole new level. The past two nights have been tiring. I’ve been trying to learn how to apply make up convincingly, in order for the master plan to work. I shall spend the next few months learning, practicing and mastering the details of a person’s appearance - clothing, shoes and hairstyle. There’s still a lot more to learn.
June 2014
The past few months have been tough. I may not have mastered anything, but at least I’m a jack of all trades now. I figured that jumping off a building would be perfect, with a suicide letter to ensure nobody reads too much into my death, least they discover what I’ve done. I could easily throw on some makeup, dress the fake body with my usual checkered red and black shirt with skinny jean and craft a phony story involving a breakup and monetary issues. Heh, they’ll never notice. The only difficult thing would be finding a human analogue body to replace me. Hmm, maybe Shaun will have one or two bodies from his funeral parlour? It’s probably illegal but who cares? Money goes a long way. The funeral will be quiet, just a few words from my family and a simple cremation. Everyone goes home crying and regretting they didn’t spend enough time with me, and BUZZINGA, it’s me! At least they’ll treasure me more after this.
6th November 2014
Everything’s settled. The body’s ready; the letter’s prepared. It’s go time.
17th November 2014
The plan backfired.
It was all going well, no one discovered that the body wasn’t mine, everyone was convinced of my troubles, my body was ready to be cremated, I was hidden amongst the staff at Shaun’s, pretending to be handling the coffin. I thought the words exchanged between my dearest kins were something along the lines of “It’s such a pity, he was so young”; “It’s okay…”. Instead, I heard “The mad son of a bitch has finally done it”; “No more pranks for halloween, hooray!”.
It was weird though. I didn’t feel angry at first. I didn’t feel sad. Rather, the master pranker in me woke up.
I wonder who will be the next one to *suicide*? | I'm a screenwriting student. Would you mind if I adapted this into a film project? | |
[WP] An alien species contacts Earth with a desperate plea for military assistance. Mankind takes to the stars to defend their new ally and fights bravely. Humanity then realises that it just joined the Intergalactic equivalent of the Axis powers. | "tube one ready sir!" Echoed the response heard just a second ago.
"Prepare to fire" responded the captain. He stood on the platform over looking the bridge, he brushed the Chevron and Earth symbol on his right shoulder.
The uniforms had changed. The countries had changed. Seven years ago humanity had barely left their planet. The USA and Russia were on the brink of war, now the patch was for the federation.
When earth was first contacted the aliraak were losing the war, now we were crushing our enemies.
"FIRE!"
The torpedo launched toward it's target,an elevator, at lightening speed. It made impact in three seconds, obliterating the supports and bring the elevator down on the planet.
Mission accomplished.
This mission occurred on July 20, 2026 at 06:24 Earth standard time during the first nebula war. Many missions similar to this on occurred during this war resulting in the death of many civilians.
Even though there is no way of knowing the exact death toll of the war, a rough estimate is between 10 to 12 billion.
Humanity suffered only 200 million and gained it's place as a military power.....
"We teach this in schools. It's been four years since the war. We can't be dragging up something like this." The president was irritated, shocked, and ashamed at what the director had just showed him.
"Mr. President how long it's been doesn't matter. We know what they were doing now."
"But they were our allies, we were on their side."
"We can choose not to tell people. But we would be leaving that government in power, and I think people would find out eventually."
"So I'm just supposed to go out and tell everyone that the war we fought and died in. The war I fought in! Was for a race that was secretly committing genocide?!"
"It's your call Mr. President." | It’s strange how the mind deals with impossible sights. All that I can think about right now is my grandmother’s cookies from when I was a child. It was back on Earth, in a country that we used to call “Canada.” In the summers (which were so warm at times that it would be possible to walk around comfortably without any clothes), she used to bake wonderfully soft, warm cookies with chocolate chunks in them. Chocolate is a delicacy of the highest value now, but it was easy to get back then. Just as delicious. They would come out of the oven steaming and melted, like little pools of heaven.
It would be funny that I’m thinking about that, if anything could be funny.
Planet Weebel’s satellite has crashed, and I am watching from beyond the safety of orbit. I am watching the shockwave vaporize its oceans. I am watching the continents burn. I am watching, and it hurts to watch, and I caused it. I pressed the button. Me.
My commander didn’t tell me what the button would do. He just told me that it would win the war, and I thought I saw a hint of a smirk but it’s always hard to read the Eran.
The cabin is utterly silent. I know that there’s no way that the sound of the crash or . . . the screams could be heard across the void, but superstition has encouraged me to turn off the communicator. My second in command is standing at attention. His voice shakes: "'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.'”
I look at him. “Oppenheimer,” he explains. I guess I’m supposed to understand what that means. “Don’t hate yourself, captain. War is hell, and life is too, sometimes, but all we can do is our best.” Bullshit philosophy, as usual. I want to tell him that it is not the time for rationalization, that he does not need to comfort me, but if I speak now my voice will betray me.
“Captain, let’s turn the sound back on. The Commanders will want to debrief us.”
I reach over, and press the switch.
***
Thirty years ago, humanity had to leave Earth. Most people don’t remember it, because most of the 20,000,000,000 people that were alive didn’t make it. But everyone learns about it in grade school: there was simply too much human and not enough planet. I was one of the lucky ones, with a one-room apartment in Kansas and enough food to survive. But the fear was unbearable. I would commute from work every day in the armored buses, hurry up the street to my building with hand on stun-pistol, and make sure every one of the dozen locks and latches on my steel door clicked. Then I would turn on the news as I dehydrated a pack of synthesized noodles, and watch the daily poison. I’d rather not remember those headlines. Every day, the sky got darker, until it seemed the leaden clouds would never break.
Then, with no warning, like a sunbeam in the rain, there were the Eran. They told us that if we helped with their war, they would help humanity take the first steps into the galaxy. They would show us how to colonize other planets.
I was lucky again. I got to leave. And I enlisted because I was alive.
***
The Communicator buzzes to life, in a way that always reminds me of the radio I used to have in my room to help me fall asleep. It would play a classic rock and folk station, and the music would remind me of a time when I could walk around in the grass without shoes and catch fireflies in my hands.
God. I have not been a child for years, but I if I had a drop of innocence left-
Laughing. That’s what’s coming over the Ansible field. Eran laughter. They are watching this monstrosity, and it makes them happy. I can hear them speaking. Roughly translated: “We’ve finished them. The extermination is complete. The galaxy is free of those pests. We have won.”
And the phrase being said the most: “Final Solution.”
I look over to my second in command. “Am I mishearing this?”
He looks back, face whiter than the space is black. “No, I don’t believe you are, sir.”
They never explained why they needed our help. The Pacifists always say that it’s because the Eran thought humans are great at pressing buttons, and stupid enough to do it without asking questions. I look at my trembling hands. They were right. We are.
Edit: Word Choice | |
[WP] An alien species contacts Earth with a desperate plea for military assistance. Mankind takes to the stars to defend their new ally and fights bravely. Humanity then realises that it just joined the Intergalactic equivalent of the Axis powers. | *One and a quarter billion soldiers in Sol, seven hundred million sent to Tau Ceti, and they put ME on guard duty,* Rico thought dismally as he trudged through the fresh snow. He hated guard duty. He had joined the Marines in the hopes of being sent off world--even if only to Mars--and when the big chance came, the lot he drew kept him safe and bored on Earth. He wanted to be dropping through atmo in his own assault pod, not walking walls and patrolling cell blocks.
Worse than the boredom was the stink. The Taus' homeworld was a lot warmer than Earth, so the entire detention complex was kept at 50 C--warm enough to keep the Taus alive (if not comfortable), not so warm as to necessitate *nice* 'viro suits for the guards. With the cheap suits that did little more than circulate chilled water around the body, just walking up about five steps would get a sweat going and leave one stinkier'n a yak after a seven hour shift. Worse was the Taus themselves; their metabolism utilized oxygen in the same way as that of a human, but rather than carbon dioxide and nitrogen they exhaled nitrogen and methane. Their breath literally smelled like shit and rotten vegetables--and combine that with the heat, one could only think of a full, maggot infested trash can on a very hot summer day.
With another woe-is-me sigh, Rico stepped through the door of Eagle Block, his home away from barracks. The trash can smell instantly filled his nostrils, and Rico silently wished, for the millionth time, that the *fucking 667s* would wrap up their war with the Taus and take the PoWs off of Earth. The 667s weren't any nicer than the Taus, but had offered the secret to Trans Luminal propulsion in return for soldiers and, apparently, prison real estate. The United Nations and Planets had jumped at the offer.
"'Bout fucking time, Rico," Pvt. Daniels griped as Rico wrinkled his nose.
"Shut the fuck up, I ain't late. You're relieved."
"Damn straight I am." Daniels all but ran out the door. Rico couldn't blame him. He stopped just before disappearing. "Cap'm's got a visitor at C3. Go check with him after you let the Taus know you're here."
Rico went through the next door by which Daniels had been waiting. Left thumb on the scanner, right hand punched in the passcode, and the heavy door hissed and groaned as it opened. Inside was the common area. No Taus were about, though; they were in their cells that lined the circumference of the room. Two sentries still waiting for their reliefs stood on opposite sides, looking ready to break the first thing to present itself. It was the smell, Rico knew all too well. It drove everyone crazy.
"All right, Shit-breaths!" Rico shouted. "Day shift! You know what that means: you get to come out to eat in a half hour, but the first one of you fuckers to breathe in my direction will get to spend night shift in the infirmary." Some low grumbles and murmurs came from a few cells; the Tau language sounded like a Silverback jacking off to King Kong. "And no talking! The less you talk, the better it smells in here, for Chrissake." One of the sentries mumbled, *hardly makes a difference.*
Rico got the night shift's report from the sentries, then headed for Eagle Block's C3 (Command and Control Center), where Rico was met with his first surprise in about three years. His CO, Cpt. Reynolds, was speaking rather stiffly to a real live 667. The six-limbed monstrosity was wearing a rather elaborate cloak-like thing over a decidedly simplistic exo-suit. One of its four eyes bent backwards on its stalk to look at him through the glass helmet as the door closed behind him. The sheer weirdness of it sent a shudder down Rico's spine; the Taus might stink, but at least they couldn't do *that*.
The 667 was saying, "... the Gliese Armada will take operational command of this post during prisoner dispensation." The raspy, electronic voice could not have been more musical in Rico's ears.
"I understood that the *first* time you said it, sir," Cpt. Reynolds grumbled. A series of muted chirps and clicks came from inside the 667's helmet as his gear translated. "I want to know what you mean by 'dispensation.' Are they going to be returned to Tau? Relocated to Gliese 667? Or does 'dispense' here mean 'dispose'?"
"Transfer command at 1200 hours local. That is all." The 667 turned abruptly and made for the door. Rico had to step three times to get out of the hulk's path, and it was almost comical to watch it squeeze all its limbs and bulk through a human-sized door--sort of in the same way it was comical to watch a tarantula try to squeeze through the crack in your barely open window. Rico shuddered again.
"What the fuck was that about, Cap'?" Rico asked when the thing was gone and the door shut.
"That fucker won't say shit," Reynolds grumbled, "but I got a top secret report from the Mars detention facility. *I* didn't tell you this, if anyone asks, but the 667s used the Tau prisoners there for medical experiments. The few survivors and the ones not experimented on...." He said it like it was some terrible thing. Rico wanted to jump for joy.
"About fucking time they're doing *something* with the shit-breaths."
Reynolds glared at him. "I wonder if you could say that if they were humans being experimented on."
"They're not. They're Taus, shit-breaths. Cap'm, these things are what happens when a superior life form takes a dump in a primordial pond."
"You don't read the front line bulletins."
"Nope. Makes me hate this place even more to read about what I'm missing out there."
"The 667s have started using bioweapons against Tau. These things are on a genocidal rampage."
The word 'genocidal' stuck in Rico's mind. It brought back history lessons in grade school, the various efforts of one group of humans to completely annihilate another. One such war had led to the development of atomic weapons and ultimately the foundation of society prior to contact with the 667s almost two hundred years later.
Still, he hated the Taus.
"Well better them than us," Rico said. | It’s strange how the mind deals with impossible sights. All that I can think about right now is my grandmother’s cookies from when I was a child. It was back on Earth, in a country that we used to call “Canada.” In the summers (which were so warm at times that it would be possible to walk around comfortably without any clothes), she used to bake wonderfully soft, warm cookies with chocolate chunks in them. Chocolate is a delicacy of the highest value now, but it was easy to get back then. Just as delicious. They would come out of the oven steaming and melted, like little pools of heaven.
It would be funny that I’m thinking about that, if anything could be funny.
Planet Weebel’s satellite has crashed, and I am watching from beyond the safety of orbit. I am watching the shockwave vaporize its oceans. I am watching the continents burn. I am watching, and it hurts to watch, and I caused it. I pressed the button. Me.
My commander didn’t tell me what the button would do. He just told me that it would win the war, and I thought I saw a hint of a smirk but it’s always hard to read the Eran.
The cabin is utterly silent. I know that there’s no way that the sound of the crash or . . . the screams could be heard across the void, but superstition has encouraged me to turn off the communicator. My second in command is standing at attention. His voice shakes: "'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.'”
I look at him. “Oppenheimer,” he explains. I guess I’m supposed to understand what that means. “Don’t hate yourself, captain. War is hell, and life is too, sometimes, but all we can do is our best.” Bullshit philosophy, as usual. I want to tell him that it is not the time for rationalization, that he does not need to comfort me, but if I speak now my voice will betray me.
“Captain, let’s turn the sound back on. The Commanders will want to debrief us.”
I reach over, and press the switch.
***
Thirty years ago, humanity had to leave Earth. Most people don’t remember it, because most of the 20,000,000,000 people that were alive didn’t make it. But everyone learns about it in grade school: there was simply too much human and not enough planet. I was one of the lucky ones, with a one-room apartment in Kansas and enough food to survive. But the fear was unbearable. I would commute from work every day in the armored buses, hurry up the street to my building with hand on stun-pistol, and make sure every one of the dozen locks and latches on my steel door clicked. Then I would turn on the news as I dehydrated a pack of synthesized noodles, and watch the daily poison. I’d rather not remember those headlines. Every day, the sky got darker, until it seemed the leaden clouds would never break.
Then, with no warning, like a sunbeam in the rain, there were the Eran. They told us that if we helped with their war, they would help humanity take the first steps into the galaxy. They would show us how to colonize other planets.
I was lucky again. I got to leave. And I enlisted because I was alive.
***
The Communicator buzzes to life, in a way that always reminds me of the radio I used to have in my room to help me fall asleep. It would play a classic rock and folk station, and the music would remind me of a time when I could walk around in the grass without shoes and catch fireflies in my hands.
God. I have not been a child for years, but I if I had a drop of innocence left-
Laughing. That’s what’s coming over the Ansible field. Eran laughter. They are watching this monstrosity, and it makes them happy. I can hear them speaking. Roughly translated: “We’ve finished them. The extermination is complete. The galaxy is free of those pests. We have won.”
And the phrase being said the most: “Final Solution.”
I look over to my second in command. “Am I mishearing this?”
He looks back, face whiter than the space is black. “No, I don’t believe you are, sir.”
They never explained why they needed our help. The Pacifists always say that it’s because the Eran thought humans are great at pressing buttons, and stupid enough to do it without asking questions. I look at my trembling hands. They were right. We are.
Edit: Word Choice | |
[WP] An alien species contacts Earth with a desperate plea for military assistance. Mankind takes to the stars to defend their new ally and fights bravely. Humanity then realises that it just joined the Intergalactic equivalent of the Axis powers. | "tube one ready sir!" Echoed the response heard just a second ago.
"Prepare to fire" responded the captain. He stood on the platform over looking the bridge, he brushed the Chevron and Earth symbol on his right shoulder.
The uniforms had changed. The countries had changed. Seven years ago humanity had barely left their planet. The USA and Russia were on the brink of war, now the patch was for the federation.
When earth was first contacted the aliraak were losing the war, now we were crushing our enemies.
"FIRE!"
The torpedo launched toward it's target,an elevator, at lightening speed. It made impact in three seconds, obliterating the supports and bring the elevator down on the planet.
Mission accomplished.
This mission occurred on July 20, 2026 at 06:24 Earth standard time during the first nebula war. Many missions similar to this on occurred during this war resulting in the death of many civilians.
Even though there is no way of knowing the exact death toll of the war, a rough estimate is between 10 to 12 billion.
Humanity suffered only 200 million and gained it's place as a military power.....
"We teach this in schools. It's been four years since the war. We can't be dragging up something like this." The president was irritated, shocked, and ashamed at what the director had just showed him.
"Mr. President how long it's been doesn't matter. We know what they were doing now."
"But they were our allies, we were on their side."
"We can choose not to tell people. But we would be leaving that government in power, and I think people would find out eventually."
"So I'm just supposed to go out and tell everyone that the war we fought and died in. The war I fought in! Was for a race that was secretly committing genocide?!"
"It's your call Mr. President." | "Dammit," I muttered, sitting at my seat next to the commander of my allies fleet. I just watched the board up an entire planet's populous in ships to send them to work God-knows well. It was a repeat of Hitler, and I should of been able to tell from just his manner. It was the exact same, he looked almost exactly like him, except green.
The man beside me switches to a screen of a crowd, and he stands up, and starts making a speech in an alien language I have never been able to understand.
I pull at the color of my shirt, and, stand up, saying in a language that I made sure the troops of Earth could understand, so that we could communicate during war with the utmost ease. I shouted in Latin, "My people, we are going to revolt, and our final stand starts here. You bore witness to the atrocities with your own eyes, and now, it is time to FIGHT! FOR OUR PLANET AND OUR FALLEN COMRADES IN THE OTHER SOLAR SYSTEMS!"
And with that, all the human flight controllers in the room turned on their greener comrades from another world, and, in the crowd, laser shots start ringing out as Earth's finest turn on their former allies.
Me? I turn to the man making the speech and tackle him to the ground, trying to kill him with my limited close combat experience. | |
[WP] An alien species contacts Earth with a desperate plea for military assistance. Mankind takes to the stars to defend their new ally and fights bravely. Humanity then realises that it just joined the Intergalactic equivalent of the Axis powers. | *One and a quarter billion soldiers in Sol, seven hundred million sent to Tau Ceti, and they put ME on guard duty,* Rico thought dismally as he trudged through the fresh snow. He hated guard duty. He had joined the Marines in the hopes of being sent off world--even if only to Mars--and when the big chance came, the lot he drew kept him safe and bored on Earth. He wanted to be dropping through atmo in his own assault pod, not walking walls and patrolling cell blocks.
Worse than the boredom was the stink. The Taus' homeworld was a lot warmer than Earth, so the entire detention complex was kept at 50 C--warm enough to keep the Taus alive (if not comfortable), not so warm as to necessitate *nice* 'viro suits for the guards. With the cheap suits that did little more than circulate chilled water around the body, just walking up about five steps would get a sweat going and leave one stinkier'n a yak after a seven hour shift. Worse was the Taus themselves; their metabolism utilized oxygen in the same way as that of a human, but rather than carbon dioxide and nitrogen they exhaled nitrogen and methane. Their breath literally smelled like shit and rotten vegetables--and combine that with the heat, one could only think of a full, maggot infested trash can on a very hot summer day.
With another woe-is-me sigh, Rico stepped through the door of Eagle Block, his home away from barracks. The trash can smell instantly filled his nostrils, and Rico silently wished, for the millionth time, that the *fucking 667s* would wrap up their war with the Taus and take the PoWs off of Earth. The 667s weren't any nicer than the Taus, but had offered the secret to Trans Luminal propulsion in return for soldiers and, apparently, prison real estate. The United Nations and Planets had jumped at the offer.
"'Bout fucking time, Rico," Pvt. Daniels griped as Rico wrinkled his nose.
"Shut the fuck up, I ain't late. You're relieved."
"Damn straight I am." Daniels all but ran out the door. Rico couldn't blame him. He stopped just before disappearing. "Cap'm's got a visitor at C3. Go check with him after you let the Taus know you're here."
Rico went through the next door by which Daniels had been waiting. Left thumb on the scanner, right hand punched in the passcode, and the heavy door hissed and groaned as it opened. Inside was the common area. No Taus were about, though; they were in their cells that lined the circumference of the room. Two sentries still waiting for their reliefs stood on opposite sides, looking ready to break the first thing to present itself. It was the smell, Rico knew all too well. It drove everyone crazy.
"All right, Shit-breaths!" Rico shouted. "Day shift! You know what that means: you get to come out to eat in a half hour, but the first one of you fuckers to breathe in my direction will get to spend night shift in the infirmary." Some low grumbles and murmurs came from a few cells; the Tau language sounded like a Silverback jacking off to King Kong. "And no talking! The less you talk, the better it smells in here, for Chrissake." One of the sentries mumbled, *hardly makes a difference.*
Rico got the night shift's report from the sentries, then headed for Eagle Block's C3 (Command and Control Center), where Rico was met with his first surprise in about three years. His CO, Cpt. Reynolds, was speaking rather stiffly to a real live 667. The six-limbed monstrosity was wearing a rather elaborate cloak-like thing over a decidedly simplistic exo-suit. One of its four eyes bent backwards on its stalk to look at him through the glass helmet as the door closed behind him. The sheer weirdness of it sent a shudder down Rico's spine; the Taus might stink, but at least they couldn't do *that*.
The 667 was saying, "... the Gliese Armada will take operational command of this post during prisoner dispensation." The raspy, electronic voice could not have been more musical in Rico's ears.
"I understood that the *first* time you said it, sir," Cpt. Reynolds grumbled. A series of muted chirps and clicks came from inside the 667's helmet as his gear translated. "I want to know what you mean by 'dispensation.' Are they going to be returned to Tau? Relocated to Gliese 667? Or does 'dispense' here mean 'dispose'?"
"Transfer command at 1200 hours local. That is all." The 667 turned abruptly and made for the door. Rico had to step three times to get out of the hulk's path, and it was almost comical to watch it squeeze all its limbs and bulk through a human-sized door--sort of in the same way it was comical to watch a tarantula try to squeeze through the crack in your barely open window. Rico shuddered again.
"What the fuck was that about, Cap'?" Rico asked when the thing was gone and the door shut.
"That fucker won't say shit," Reynolds grumbled, "but I got a top secret report from the Mars detention facility. *I* didn't tell you this, if anyone asks, but the 667s used the Tau prisoners there for medical experiments. The few survivors and the ones not experimented on...." He said it like it was some terrible thing. Rico wanted to jump for joy.
"About fucking time they're doing *something* with the shit-breaths."
Reynolds glared at him. "I wonder if you could say that if they were humans being experimented on."
"They're not. They're Taus, shit-breaths. Cap'm, these things are what happens when a superior life form takes a dump in a primordial pond."
"You don't read the front line bulletins."
"Nope. Makes me hate this place even more to read about what I'm missing out there."
"The 667s have started using bioweapons against Tau. These things are on a genocidal rampage."
The word 'genocidal' stuck in Rico's mind. It brought back history lessons in grade school, the various efforts of one group of humans to completely annihilate another. One such war had led to the development of atomic weapons and ultimately the foundation of society prior to contact with the 667s almost two hundred years later.
Still, he hated the Taus.
"Well better them than us," Rico said. | "Dammit," I muttered, sitting at my seat next to the commander of my allies fleet. I just watched the board up an entire planet's populous in ships to send them to work God-knows well. It was a repeat of Hitler, and I should of been able to tell from just his manner. It was the exact same, he looked almost exactly like him, except green.
The man beside me switches to a screen of a crowd, and he stands up, and starts making a speech in an alien language I have never been able to understand.
I pull at the color of my shirt, and, stand up, saying in a language that I made sure the troops of Earth could understand, so that we could communicate during war with the utmost ease. I shouted in Latin, "My people, we are going to revolt, and our final stand starts here. You bore witness to the atrocities with your own eyes, and now, it is time to FIGHT! FOR OUR PLANET AND OUR FALLEN COMRADES IN THE OTHER SOLAR SYSTEMS!"
And with that, all the human flight controllers in the room turned on their greener comrades from another world, and, in the crowd, laser shots start ringing out as Earth's finest turn on their former allies.
Me? I turn to the man making the speech and tackle him to the ground, trying to kill him with my limited close combat experience. | |
[WP] An alien species contacts Earth with a desperate plea for military assistance. Mankind takes to the stars to defend their new ally and fights bravely. Humanity then realises that it just joined the Intergalactic equivalent of the Axis powers. | Some Cats are Tigers.
There comes a point in every soldier’s career that he questions whether the fight is morally justifiable. It’s not a doubt born out of fear, or loneliness, or pain. It usually comes in the quiet, as your sitting watch, when your mind can drift a bit from its task to reflect not on what you’re *doing* but on *what* you’re doing. Most face the challenge briefly and, resolving that the fight is justified, think nothing more of it. Then, there are some that change their minds. I’m one of those.
If they had been made of slime or cyborgs we might have said no or at least “we’ll think about it”. Instead the Tinks flew out of their little ship on little wings carrying the wounded and broken bodies of their comrades. They glowed slightly at night, their laughter was infectious, and they could fit in the palm of your hand. We could no more distrust them than the internet could hate pictures of cats. When they told us that their homeworld was under attack by a ruthless enemy that coincidently looked like slime creatures we bought it warp drive and all. They had the technology and the manufacturing capability but lacked ability of extended stays on class M worlds, and water, salt water. Humanity’s overcrowded homeworld surely had a billion or two bodies and liters to spare.
I was shipped out as part of Army Group B to Gilese 667c. Our mission was easy, as all human missions up until that point had been, we just had to occupy the planet after the Tinks eliminated Slug resistance. It was a major industrial world home to the Slug Second General Army, a major enemy force capable of threatening Earth. We were there to help eliminate that threat.
The Slugs got lucky. Some slime pilot managed to break break through Tink fighter cover and ram our troopship. Things went tits up pretty quick. Lucky for my unit were were close to the dropships and managed an emergency launch before the boat hit atmo. Out of one million men on board 250 thousand made it to the ground and not all of them were in fighting form. A few thousand mechs, maybe twice as many drones, and almost no food and even less fuel.
It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to fight once we could see what was going on below. We assumed the clouds of white were smoke from a momentous, planet spanning battle. As we glided toward our landing zone we could see it ebb and flow like the tide over plains and around mountains. Tink bombers dove in and out of it, spewing it forth from their wings, sending it over mesas and down fertile looking valleys.
My moment was when I stepped out of the dropship. There was no enemy fire, no pounding in my ears, no fear or pain. There was just the smell of salt in the air and green slush beneath my feet. | Not every system develops meat eaters. Some are just symbiotic. And it was around the time we discovered this that we learned in the fight between good and evil that we are unequivocally on the side of evil. It was baked in from the start but we couldn't see it. Not that it matters now because for us to expand they must be displaced. You know, it's the same old story and it's kind of sad but they are like ants compared to us. What we can do with those systems is beyond what they can even dream. It would be unethical not to take them.
| |
[WP] An alien species contacts Earth with a desperate plea for military assistance. Mankind takes to the stars to defend their new ally and fights bravely. Humanity then realises that it just joined the Intergalactic equivalent of the Axis powers. | Some Cats are Tigers.
There comes a point in every soldier’s career that he questions whether the fight is morally justifiable. It’s not a doubt born out of fear, or loneliness, or pain. It usually comes in the quiet, as your sitting watch, when your mind can drift a bit from its task to reflect not on what you’re *doing* but on *what* you’re doing. Most face the challenge briefly and, resolving that the fight is justified, think nothing more of it. Then, there are some that change their minds. I’m one of those.
If they had been made of slime or cyborgs we might have said no or at least “we’ll think about it”. Instead the Tinks flew out of their little ship on little wings carrying the wounded and broken bodies of their comrades. They glowed slightly at night, their laughter was infectious, and they could fit in the palm of your hand. We could no more distrust them than the internet could hate pictures of cats. When they told us that their homeworld was under attack by a ruthless enemy that coincidently looked like slime creatures we bought it warp drive and all. They had the technology and the manufacturing capability but lacked ability of extended stays on class M worlds, and water, salt water. Humanity’s overcrowded homeworld surely had a billion or two bodies and liters to spare.
I was shipped out as part of Army Group B to Gilese 667c. Our mission was easy, as all human missions up until that point had been, we just had to occupy the planet after the Tinks eliminated Slug resistance. It was a major industrial world home to the Slug Second General Army, a major enemy force capable of threatening Earth. We were there to help eliminate that threat.
The Slugs got lucky. Some slime pilot managed to break break through Tink fighter cover and ram our troopship. Things went tits up pretty quick. Lucky for my unit were were close to the dropships and managed an emergency launch before the boat hit atmo. Out of one million men on board 250 thousand made it to the ground and not all of them were in fighting form. A few thousand mechs, maybe twice as many drones, and almost no food and even less fuel.
It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to fight once we could see what was going on below. We assumed the clouds of white were smoke from a momentous, planet spanning battle. As we glided toward our landing zone we could see it ebb and flow like the tide over plains and around mountains. Tink bombers dove in and out of it, spewing it forth from their wings, sending it over mesas and down fertile looking valleys.
My moment was when I stepped out of the dropship. There was no enemy fire, no pounding in my ears, no fear or pain. There was just the smell of salt in the air and green slush beneath my feet. | "Run that by me again"
The CO was a grizzled old man whose face had never met a razor it liked.
"I'm running the numbers again, but that's just for show. Our silicon chips are giving different results. The photon tech has been lying to us from the start." Tommy flicked his visor to the side and switched to laptop mode. "The Sires incident was from a redshift impeller, not a blueshift one."
"Which means..." The CO started, but didn't have to finish.
"Which means that was a Xakir ship, not a Rallan one. Our benefactors like to blow up planets."
The CO looked over the reports, printed on ancient paper, and frowned. "Can they hear us? Their computers are all over the ship."
Tommy grinned. "This cutter was too old to retrofit. Every part of this bird is 100% obsolete Terran technology." Then he sombered. "But most ships have integrated the new tech. The second we broadcast this, they'll kill the stream. Their chips have backdoors everywhere, if they want to ground our fleet they can do it with a keystroke. They have us, sir. Even if we can tell the others without being caught, there's nothing we can do. They hold the killswitch."
The CO considered his options, then picked up a steel microphone and flicked an ancient switch.
"Breaker two. Breaker... two. I... have to... talk... to the reinforcement... frigate commencement ordinance... come in... come... in... commander all commanders... respond in..." The speech went on for several minutes before the CO unplugged the microphone and gave the order to detonate one of the engines.
"What was that all about?" Asked Tommy, genuinely confused.
"We have to send a message without sending a message. The exploding engine will draw attention to us so that someone picks it up. You're right, they own our tech. They can shut us down at any time. But with guerrilla action we can slow them down enough for the other side to win. I hope."
"But sir, what was the message?"
"Haven't you heard of morse code?"
| |
[WP] Pick a videogame with almost no story behind it, and give it an extensive backstory and lore. | Catastrophic Runaway avian extinction event.
That's what the records of headlines called it; some variation of the bird based influenzas that were hitting humanity back at the turn if the millennium. Some whitecoat in a lab must have tweaked it, weaponized it just right... too right. It got out.
It tore through us like wildfire, 99% mortality rate. It killed the birds too. Cities became mausoleums. Any tech that was salvageable was taken with survivors as they fled. Fled to the plains, away from any carriers, away from humans and birds.
Dates got hazy. Gramps remembers the cities, all I know is the plains. We lost knowledge: agriculture, physics, mathematics. Gramps made off with tech. Its our most prized heirloom, none of us know how long it will last. All we know is that it keeps us alive, it lets us hunt.
Its funny. The one species that was immune to the virus, without any other predators was free to overpopulate, to dominate every ecological niche. Its all there is to eat now, there's nothing else. Every day I must hunt to feed our family, the torch has been passed to me.
Tenderly, with trembling hands I open the dusty wooden case for the tech. Bright orange greets me. Back then they made tech out of something called plastic. Most of the words on the tech have been worn away or lost all meaning. But we know its name, we know what they called it. Its a gun. Its not like the metal ones though: it doesn't shoot bullets, it shoots light. Its 5am and my prey is waking, I can hear outside of the barn: the rustling feathers.
I reach down and grab my gun: the Light gun,and with it I head to the fields to hunt my prey. With me goes the responsibility of ensuring my family survives another day. The duck hunt begins. | I honestly don't know what to expect. I've been standing here, motionless for minutes? hours? days? No clue, but I know if I stand still nothing will happen. Just stand still, don't move... nothing can get you.
Dammit - I had to. But where do I go now? My watch says 19:59 and its clearly counting down. However why? How did it see me move? I have to get out of here, there's only so many places to run to. Perhaps over this hole will take me somewhere out? That's it - I need to go OUT. But where is out? What happens when my watch hits 0?
Must run, keep on running... and the logs. Man they're huge but alas I can jump over them and these small holes fairly easily. But I am ok, right? 19:50 - crap I need to keep moving. Anyone else hear the bleep when I jump? Sounds digital - I dunno - maybe I was standing motionless too long before. Keep moving.
More holes? Why? Where do they lead? I can jump over them, but there in a series and the first one is bigger, however I do see a ladder. Forget it I'll just - WAIT holy crap are those logs rolling towards me? Oh man this is not good. I can jump over the logs but I have to be careful not to fall in the hole, god knows what's down there.
Jump, wait... ok run again, made it past the... crap the logs are coming back? Oh man - they are really making this hard. One more hole you can do it. Jump. Ok I'm past here, but I'm not sure where I am going. Maybe the ladder on that last set of holes might help, I mean its dark but how much worse can it be than up here. Those bleeps when I jump are happening EVERY time I jump. Why?
Maybe now is not the time to worry - but I see a tar pit up ahead and oddly enough a pendulum like swing of a vine. Strange, why would a vine swing on its own accord. This is definitely strange, but if it can help me get across, there has to be a way out somehow. Just need to wait till the vine reaches here. Moment more and its all mine.
Jump to grab on cause if I fall in, things can't be good, I mean its black as tar. Damn noise again when I - WHOA wait - what the hell, the vine is MUSICAL! Ok have to let go from the vin... crap missed my hopping off point because, YEP logs rolling by again. Why is this music still playing? oh man - I'm losing it. Fuck. 19:40... just.. need.. to jump after the logs pass, I can do it. Yep. Off. Music stopped. ugh.
Can't stop - the logs will be back again if I don't move. But I can deal with them. I think there's another body of something up ahead. I can make out water but ARRRRGGGGGHHHH... hit in the knee by the damn tree. The noise is horrific when that happens, a ringing like I've never heard just fills my head with dread and I feel weakened.
Back to that body of something - water? Has to be - its blue but I can make out some shapes. Outlines of something IN the water. More logs? maybe - but wait holy shit. Crocs! 3 of them with just a few teeth in their mouths - but given their size I'd say they are easily 15' or more. Taunting me... opening and closing their mouths.
I can go back - the tar pit wasn't so bad, but I know what's back there - this HAS to get better right? Maybe I can cross the water by using the crocs as stepping stones, just time things right and avoid those nasty teeth. Jumping on the back of the head I can do this - 1, 2, ahh.... ooo - wait 3. Made it. 19:30 - what happens at 0? I dunno, but I have to escape.
Crap this time there's more logs and more holes, I may not have a choice here, but maybe going underground I might be safer. Doesn't look like anything is near the holes, I am gonna jump down. Last chance, I'm jumping... and down I go. Hmm... not too bad, the fall didn't hurt but alas there's a brick wall here. That's really strange, maybe I just need to run away from it - but I'm not liking down here much more. Onward.
Well the hallway here is dark and long... not much going on, but I will say it feels like I'm traveling faster here. Maybe that's a good thing, feels like I'm running 3x faster than above ground, oh yeah I'm in a groove now. Crap... I see something up ahead. I need to turn back, but I know I'm farther along down here than up above. I'll just have to face it.
Its white... still can't make out what it is... looks like this thing doesn't get much sun given the white color. Not sure what to do - its almost half my height. Its huge... wait its walking towards me. It wants something... I need to get over it - I'm NOT going back. Just get over it... that's it - jump.
Made it! Whooo hooo - I'm over the scorpion! WAIT WHAT? Holy shit its a massively huge scorpion! Oh man this is NOT getting better, what did I do to deserve this. I'm going to not get out... of here... another wall - I can see it coming. But wait... a ladder? Crap - I'm going up - no sense going over the scorpion again. yeah I'm flying thru these tunnels far faster than above, but at what cost? I'm up... daylight again.
There is no rhyme or reason why I'm here, I just know I HAVE to get out - or at least die trying. Someone will help me... someone will rescue me... right?
Another pit.... wait it WAS a pit, I know I saw it. And another vine... what is going on? The pit was just here, I know I saw it! Its just - whoaoooo howowo WTF - its back. The pit reappeared right under the vine. I can do this... I can cross - its just a swing and a silly pit.
I jump (damn where is that noise and music coming from?) and I know I can do this... I will do this... I see the pit vanishing. I can drop off right here where I think it ended right? Just over the... shit - the pit is beloo..... DARKNESS.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm falling from the trees. Ok whoa, what the hell... I'm back on the wrong side of the pit. This isn't good and I guess I died? I dunno. This is bad. This is really bad. But I didn't die completely. Did I?
Did I just teleport from somewhere? Is my body in the pit? Oh the questions I have - 19:05...
I must cross, maybe I can run for it instead of swinging? Sure I can - time it right and just run.. I am good this time. But there's a snake on the other side of the pit waiting, maybe if I run - too late my legs are going, I'll make it. Just a few feet more - I can.. darkness...
Ahhhhhhhhh falling again. This is so strange, I died didn't I. Oh man this is bad. I can't keep doing this can I? I must cross, I will cross, I will survive. But what for? No clue... RUN..
I've made it. Crossed the tar, made it past the snake, I am industructable! I can do this. I don't tire easily and honestly I can do this a few dozen more times right? Just keep doing, don't fall, don't hit the trees, and DON'T fall into the gator's mouth, those damn things are HUGE.
I make it thru a few more areas, rolling logs, holes, ladders, more water and vines, heck some more tar, I can make this. All I have to do is set my mind to see the issues. Its not hard. 17:45 left... maybe I can make it the whole 20 minutes? Its not that bad.
Gators! I won't make it... But I have to. Just time things right. I'll make it... jump once. There! Over the second... 3rd is a cinch - I'm home free baby... home... darkness. I'll just fall out of the tree again right?
Right?
helloooo?
Anyone?
Mr. gator?
Crap my watch stopped - its 17:30. It not moving. This isn't good.
help. *gulp*
--- silence ----
(As a very cool side note to this story, I had the pleasure of emailing David Crane a number of years back and asked him the one question that in 2003 - wasn't published anywhere. How many levels were there and what happens at 0 and/or what happens if you go thru all the levels? The answer is that without using the tunnels and timing EVERYTHING perfectly, there are 255 levels and if you do it right you'll have gone thru every last one and be back at the beginning with seconds (only seconds) to spare. Then the clock stops and that's it. No "you won", not a thing, just nothing, silence.) | |
[WP] Pick a videogame with almost no story behind it, and give it an extensive backstory and lore. | They told us to build a wall.
So we build.
Four squares a day, they told us.
So we build.
They give us pieces.
Sometimes the pieces don't make sense.
But we build. | I honestly don't know what to expect. I've been standing here, motionless for minutes? hours? days? No clue, but I know if I stand still nothing will happen. Just stand still, don't move... nothing can get you.
Dammit - I had to. But where do I go now? My watch says 19:59 and its clearly counting down. However why? How did it see me move? I have to get out of here, there's only so many places to run to. Perhaps over this hole will take me somewhere out? That's it - I need to go OUT. But where is out? What happens when my watch hits 0?
Must run, keep on running... and the logs. Man they're huge but alas I can jump over them and these small holes fairly easily. But I am ok, right? 19:50 - crap I need to keep moving. Anyone else hear the bleep when I jump? Sounds digital - I dunno - maybe I was standing motionless too long before. Keep moving.
More holes? Why? Where do they lead? I can jump over them, but there in a series and the first one is bigger, however I do see a ladder. Forget it I'll just - WAIT holy crap are those logs rolling towards me? Oh man this is not good. I can jump over the logs but I have to be careful not to fall in the hole, god knows what's down there.
Jump, wait... ok run again, made it past the... crap the logs are coming back? Oh man - they are really making this hard. One more hole you can do it. Jump. Ok I'm past here, but I'm not sure where I am going. Maybe the ladder on that last set of holes might help, I mean its dark but how much worse can it be than up here. Those bleeps when I jump are happening EVERY time I jump. Why?
Maybe now is not the time to worry - but I see a tar pit up ahead and oddly enough a pendulum like swing of a vine. Strange, why would a vine swing on its own accord. This is definitely strange, but if it can help me get across, there has to be a way out somehow. Just need to wait till the vine reaches here. Moment more and its all mine.
Jump to grab on cause if I fall in, things can't be good, I mean its black as tar. Damn noise again when I - WHOA wait - what the hell, the vine is MUSICAL! Ok have to let go from the vin... crap missed my hopping off point because, YEP logs rolling by again. Why is this music still playing? oh man - I'm losing it. Fuck. 19:40... just.. need.. to jump after the logs pass, I can do it. Yep. Off. Music stopped. ugh.
Can't stop - the logs will be back again if I don't move. But I can deal with them. I think there's another body of something up ahead. I can make out water but ARRRRGGGGGHHHH... hit in the knee by the damn tree. The noise is horrific when that happens, a ringing like I've never heard just fills my head with dread and I feel weakened.
Back to that body of something - water? Has to be - its blue but I can make out some shapes. Outlines of something IN the water. More logs? maybe - but wait holy shit. Crocs! 3 of them with just a few teeth in their mouths - but given their size I'd say they are easily 15' or more. Taunting me... opening and closing their mouths.
I can go back - the tar pit wasn't so bad, but I know what's back there - this HAS to get better right? Maybe I can cross the water by using the crocs as stepping stones, just time things right and avoid those nasty teeth. Jumping on the back of the head I can do this - 1, 2, ahh.... ooo - wait 3. Made it. 19:30 - what happens at 0? I dunno, but I have to escape.
Crap this time there's more logs and more holes, I may not have a choice here, but maybe going underground I might be safer. Doesn't look like anything is near the holes, I am gonna jump down. Last chance, I'm jumping... and down I go. Hmm... not too bad, the fall didn't hurt but alas there's a brick wall here. That's really strange, maybe I just need to run away from it - but I'm not liking down here much more. Onward.
Well the hallway here is dark and long... not much going on, but I will say it feels like I'm traveling faster here. Maybe that's a good thing, feels like I'm running 3x faster than above ground, oh yeah I'm in a groove now. Crap... I see something up ahead. I need to turn back, but I know I'm farther along down here than up above. I'll just have to face it.
Its white... still can't make out what it is... looks like this thing doesn't get much sun given the white color. Not sure what to do - its almost half my height. Its huge... wait its walking towards me. It wants something... I need to get over it - I'm NOT going back. Just get over it... that's it - jump.
Made it! Whooo hooo - I'm over the scorpion! WAIT WHAT? Holy shit its a massively huge scorpion! Oh man this is NOT getting better, what did I do to deserve this. I'm going to not get out... of here... another wall - I can see it coming. But wait... a ladder? Crap - I'm going up - no sense going over the scorpion again. yeah I'm flying thru these tunnels far faster than above, but at what cost? I'm up... daylight again.
There is no rhyme or reason why I'm here, I just know I HAVE to get out - or at least die trying. Someone will help me... someone will rescue me... right?
Another pit.... wait it WAS a pit, I know I saw it. And another vine... what is going on? The pit was just here, I know I saw it! Its just - whoaoooo howowo WTF - its back. The pit reappeared right under the vine. I can do this... I can cross - its just a swing and a silly pit.
I jump (damn where is that noise and music coming from?) and I know I can do this... I will do this... I see the pit vanishing. I can drop off right here where I think it ended right? Just over the... shit - the pit is beloo..... DARKNESS.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm falling from the trees. Ok whoa, what the hell... I'm back on the wrong side of the pit. This isn't good and I guess I died? I dunno. This is bad. This is really bad. But I didn't die completely. Did I?
Did I just teleport from somewhere? Is my body in the pit? Oh the questions I have - 19:05...
I must cross, maybe I can run for it instead of swinging? Sure I can - time it right and just run.. I am good this time. But there's a snake on the other side of the pit waiting, maybe if I run - too late my legs are going, I'll make it. Just a few feet more - I can.. darkness...
Ahhhhhhhhh falling again. This is so strange, I died didn't I. Oh man this is bad. I can't keep doing this can I? I must cross, I will cross, I will survive. But what for? No clue... RUN..
I've made it. Crossed the tar, made it past the snake, I am industructable! I can do this. I don't tire easily and honestly I can do this a few dozen more times right? Just keep doing, don't fall, don't hit the trees, and DON'T fall into the gator's mouth, those damn things are HUGE.
I make it thru a few more areas, rolling logs, holes, ladders, more water and vines, heck some more tar, I can make this. All I have to do is set my mind to see the issues. Its not hard. 17:45 left... maybe I can make it the whole 20 minutes? Its not that bad.
Gators! I won't make it... But I have to. Just time things right. I'll make it... jump once. There! Over the second... 3rd is a cinch - I'm home free baby... home... darkness. I'll just fall out of the tree again right?
Right?
helloooo?
Anyone?
Mr. gator?
Crap my watch stopped - its 17:30. It not moving. This isn't good.
help. *gulp*
--- silence ----
(As a very cool side note to this story, I had the pleasure of emailing David Crane a number of years back and asked him the one question that in 2003 - wasn't published anywhere. How many levels were there and what happens at 0 and/or what happens if you go thru all the levels? The answer is that without using the tunnels and timing EVERYTHING perfectly, there are 255 levels and if you do it right you'll have gone thru every last one and be back at the beginning with seconds (only seconds) to spare. Then the clock stops and that's it. No "you won", not a thing, just nothing, silence.) | |
[WP] Pick a videogame with almost no story behind it, and give it an extensive backstory and lore. | Okay pilots, listen up. This is Phobos command. We'll be briefing you today.
Protein is hard to get in the jovian colonies. They rely on solar powered amino acid synthesis in order to create it, however the sunlight is weak and the machines run incredibly slowly. Jupiter, as you know, has a large gravity well and is quite adept at pulling in space debris, which damage the large solar collectors.
Parts are running scarce, and they are losing valuable solar panels faster than they can manufacture them. The millions of colonists out there are beginning to starve, and we will need to provide them help.
Fortunately we have an opening. You are the best and brightest martian pilots we have, and we will assist resupplying them. Our orbit brings us within slingshot range of Jupiter soon. Earth has attempted to resupply them six months ago, but they ran into problems in the asteroid belt. It is time for Mars to shine!
We don't know why they didn't make it through the asteroid belt. Maybe they ran into some large rocks. Maybe they're just displaying some good old terran ineptitude. Maybe there's something else out there - like ghosts! or flying saucers! nah, i'm just messing with yas.
You go in teams of three. Clear the path by blasting the asteroids, and the transport ship will follow. Please don't mess it up, and please come back in one piece. Let's show these Earth idiots that Mars is more reliable than them. Let's be the savior of Jupiter.
Phobos out. | Duck Hunt: A young farmer and his trusty dog go out on the field only to find his bread plants (Yes, bread plants.) being eaten by ducks! The filthy birds! He lets them do so for another few days, hoping they will fly away, but instead, they just keep coming back. He grabs his Nintendo pistol and starts shooting at the frightened ducks, his dog making fun of him along the way.
The love hate relationship between the dog and the farmer only worsens and soon enough they go neck on neck, trying to be better. this leads to 2P Duck Hunt. Eventually, the farmer is so annoyed with the dog that in an epic turn of events a Halo battle occurs,the farmer succeeding and executing the damn dog.
Make a book. Give it detail. I'll buy all of the copies. | |
[WP] Pick a videogame with almost no story behind it, and give it an extensive backstory and lore. | I've been into video games for as long as I can remember. Hell, when I finished high school I had more game consoles than dates. But I've always had a soft spot for Nintendo in particular. Back in the late 90's, Nintendo came out with this line of collectible figurines. Naturally, I had to have them all. I was just shy of fourteen years old when my mom got me my first pair--Mario and Link. They were my reward for doing so well in school that year.
But the Toys R' Us in my area had ten more of these little toys in stock. I whined and moaned to my parents for the complete set, but they weren't about to cave in over a few bits of plastic; I was encouraged to get out of my comfort zone and come up with the money myself. There were lawns to be mowed, dogs to be walked, newspapers to deliver--good thing nobody in my neighborhood had Internet service yet! My allowance would only take me so far, so I took every opportunity I could.
I remember being obsessed with the little figurines. Maybe a little bit too much so, but there were worse things I could've centered my life around. I had grabbed some old jars from the basement and labeled them with the names of characters in the set; Donkey Kong, Samus, Yoshi, plus a few others I hadn't heard of at the time (Pikachu, Ness, etc.) but still needed to round out my collection. When I had a bit of extra cash, I would plunk a few bills and coins into one of these jars. When one of them filled up with $15 (the price of each figurine), my dad would take me to Toys R' Us.
Many lawns and mowed and one Sega Saturn sold off later, all twelve graced my bedroom. Seeing Mario, Luigi, Kirby, and the rest of them on my shelf was one of the proudest moments of my life thus far. If I'd been diagnosed with cancer that day, I would have died happily.
After a few weeks, the novelty wore off; they were now just *there*. School started, and my priorities shifted back to actually playing games. The figurines had come out too late in the school year for my classmates to really be abuzz about them, and by the time September rolled around my friends were too busy waiting for Pokemon Yellow to care.
Soon after the warnings for Hurricane Floyd started to roll in. Flooding, property damage, interrupted public transportation and more were all predicted--but none of that worried me as long as I had my Game Boy Color at hand! As the power went out, my face went into smug mode as I groped around my backpack for the little red brick. I'd be waiting out this storm in style...except I'd left it at my grandma's earlier that week. Rats! With no electricity, I had no video games! What would I do to pass the time? I sat there, bored, counting the little paint bumps on the wall next to my bed.
The hour and the minute hands spun around the clock, but I was no more satisfied with the diversions my bedroom could offer than when the lights went out. Maybe I'd clean up a bit to pass the time, I guess. God forbid. I took out some of my old video games and started alphabetizing and dusting them. First my Super Nintendo. Let's see...Star Fox. Good. Mega Man VII. Nice. Super Street Fighter II. Eh. I'd never really been a fan of Street Fighter, and I'm still not. I couldn't really get attached to the characters; they were just muscular dudes that shouted weird Japanese things.
What if Mario was in a fighting game, though? What if he was in Street Fighter? Nah, that'd never happen--but something about that idea just *made sense*. I abandoned my dust rag and walked over to my shelf, flashlight in hand. Mario sat above his second fiddle Luigi. It'd be kind of funny seeing Luigi try to get back at Mario for hogging the spotlight. Luigi wouldn't get a chance to be more than just Player 2 for a few years. My idle right hand reached for my Luigi figurine, holding it at an angle that allowed me an appreciative gaze of his face. I pinched the head between my thumb and forefinger, and swung the base of the figurine towards Mario, knocking him off the shelf and onto the floor. I was left feeling strangely satisfied and smug. I didn't know it yet, but I had an imagination, and just then I had used it to pretend Luigi was kicking the crap out of Mario. But why stop there? I bet plenty of other video game characters wanted to get even with Mario.
And on that day, my career in game design would begin. Even now I still have those figurines, plus a bunch of others from later lineups. | Duck Hunt: A young farmer and his trusty dog go out on the field only to find his bread plants (Yes, bread plants.) being eaten by ducks! The filthy birds! He lets them do so for another few days, hoping they will fly away, but instead, they just keep coming back. He grabs his Nintendo pistol and starts shooting at the frightened ducks, his dog making fun of him along the way.
The love hate relationship between the dog and the farmer only worsens and soon enough they go neck on neck, trying to be better. this leads to 2P Duck Hunt. Eventually, the farmer is so annoyed with the dog that in an epic turn of events a Halo battle occurs,the farmer succeeding and executing the damn dog.
Make a book. Give it detail. I'll buy all of the copies. | |
[WP] Pick a videogame with almost no story behind it, and give it an extensive backstory and lore. | Exile.
What a terrible world. They changed everything about me before they sent me there. Absolutely everything. And there I was, all alone. A square sun rising every so often, then setting again. It was a world that taught me about hard work and suffering, for success. It taught me to appreciate the rare moments of beauty that I witnessed.
My knuckles, callused from punching trees. My arms, heavy from swinging my pickaxe. My fingers, aching from the fine manipulation it took to control my unbalanced sword. But I persevered, and I pushed on. I broke ore after ore, smelted metal after metal. I traveled to different dimensions within my infinite world - a land of fire and misery, which I could bear for no more than a few minutes.
Finally, I was well armored and had enough gear for what I expected to be the battle of my life. I took a last look at the glorious town I had built. A building for everything, from smelting to farming. I had everything I needed in my beautiful town, and yet I chose to keep fighting.
They said that if you fought hard enough - that if you beat the final boss, then you were no longer exiled. That you came back to the real world. They said that the creepers were the souls of the exiles who had died, the zombies the souls of the creeper’s who blew up. The world itself had been created as an exile, but its developers had let it grow to something more. It became not just an exile for me, but a life.
I jumped into the glowing darkness of the end portal, ready to fight for my life. It was over in a second. Deep purple eyes cut through my soul, and I flew into the void. Into the darkness. I suppose it was my fate to never escape exile. | Duck Hunt: A young farmer and his trusty dog go out on the field only to find his bread plants (Yes, bread plants.) being eaten by ducks! The filthy birds! He lets them do so for another few days, hoping they will fly away, but instead, they just keep coming back. He grabs his Nintendo pistol and starts shooting at the frightened ducks, his dog making fun of him along the way.
The love hate relationship between the dog and the farmer only worsens and soon enough they go neck on neck, trying to be better. this leads to 2P Duck Hunt. Eventually, the farmer is so annoyed with the dog that in an epic turn of events a Halo battle occurs,the farmer succeeding and executing the damn dog.
Make a book. Give it detail. I'll buy all of the copies. | |
[WP] Pick a videogame with almost no story behind it, and give it an extensive backstory and lore. | It all started with carrier pigeons. Back in the old days, that was how we delivered messages, and it worked. Then humanity developed. Began to use people to carry mail, still worked quite well. Sure, wasn't as fast, but they said it was more orderly and consistent. Technology developed, systems of transportation changed. Bikes, trucks, planes, all different ways to deliver things. Eventually, the Pipes were invented. That was the downfall of our people.
Pipes in the ground, pipes through the air, underwater, through forests, over valleys. As demand increased for faster and faster communication, more and more pipes were built. They say that the CEO of PipeCorp went mad, started building pipes everywhere. The systems became convoluted, and eventually it all just stopped functioning. There was no backup, we had so much faith in those damned pipes. Now they blocked the roads, they clogged the rivers, and they had overrun runways. It was almost like some kind of seething, growing organism.
For many, it seemed like the apocalypse. Human communication was simply falling apart. Wars were brewing, science devolved, people began to group up into tribes of raiders and scavengers. Some of us, though, we made a solution. We had to turn back to our past. A new, improved carrier pigeon was created with advanced genetic engineering. It looked strange, but it was extremely efficient. These new pigeons saved us all. Many would fall, but their messages would be picked up and set back along on their journey.
They don't have a traditional flight path, they almost seem to bounce on the air. The birds make a distinct sound as they fly, so children have made a nickname for them. Flappy Birds. They have saved us all. | Duck Hunt: A young farmer and his trusty dog go out on the field only to find his bread plants (Yes, bread plants.) being eaten by ducks! The filthy birds! He lets them do so for another few days, hoping they will fly away, but instead, they just keep coming back. He grabs his Nintendo pistol and starts shooting at the frightened ducks, his dog making fun of him along the way.
The love hate relationship between the dog and the farmer only worsens and soon enough they go neck on neck, trying to be better. this leads to 2P Duck Hunt. Eventually, the farmer is so annoyed with the dog that in an epic turn of events a Halo battle occurs,the farmer succeeding and executing the damn dog.
Make a book. Give it detail. I'll buy all of the copies. | |
[WP] Pick a videogame with almost no story behind it, and give it an extensive backstory and lore. | Before there was the universe, there was the void; and before God created the universe, he drew the lines.
In the depths of the center of the universe, we found a pencil: the very same that He used to paint and make Everything as we know it. You are the one we have chosen to wield it.
Do not fear: even He could not have always been omnipotent and infinitely competent. All that will come with time. Learn the strokes and the beauty within them. Create and experience your creation.
Ride your lines. | Duck Hunt: A young farmer and his trusty dog go out on the field only to find his bread plants (Yes, bread plants.) being eaten by ducks! The filthy birds! He lets them do so for another few days, hoping they will fly away, but instead, they just keep coming back. He grabs his Nintendo pistol and starts shooting at the frightened ducks, his dog making fun of him along the way.
The love hate relationship between the dog and the farmer only worsens and soon enough they go neck on neck, trying to be better. this leads to 2P Duck Hunt. Eventually, the farmer is so annoyed with the dog that in an epic turn of events a Halo battle occurs,the farmer succeeding and executing the damn dog.
Make a book. Give it detail. I'll buy all of the copies. | |
[WP] Pick a videogame with almost no story behind it, and give it an extensive backstory and lore. | "No!" Tears streamed down my face as the monster began devouring the eggs.
How had he found us? We'd run so far, hidden so well... The maze was supposed to be impossible to enter.
"My children!" Someone cried out in anguish. We all stood paralyzed, as the monster turned the corner and began heading for us.
A burning rage swept through me. I couldn't let our species die out - those eggs were the last hope for our race. I clenched my fists, grabbed my weapon, and sprinted at him. A moment of hesitation later, the others followed.
Suitably intimidated by the display, he turned and ran. He may have had size and strength, but he must have known he wouldn't have been able to defeat us. I simply grinned. We weren't going to let him get away. As the first of us reached him, however, I saw him gulp down some sort of pill. Some kind of performance enhancer?
He opened his mouth impossibly wide, and swallowed my friends whole, one by one.
As he backed me into a corner, I simply closed my eyes and hoped it would end quickly.
*WAKAWAKAWAKAWAKA* | Duck Hunt: A young farmer and his trusty dog go out on the field only to find his bread plants (Yes, bread plants.) being eaten by ducks! The filthy birds! He lets them do so for another few days, hoping they will fly away, but instead, they just keep coming back. He grabs his Nintendo pistol and starts shooting at the frightened ducks, his dog making fun of him along the way.
The love hate relationship between the dog and the farmer only worsens and soon enough they go neck on neck, trying to be better. this leads to 2P Duck Hunt. Eventually, the farmer is so annoyed with the dog that in an epic turn of events a Halo battle occurs,the farmer succeeding and executing the damn dog.
Make a book. Give it detail. I'll buy all of the copies. | |
[WP] Pick a videogame with almost no story behind it, and give it an extensive backstory and lore. | The ghost's came silently. A first, calming floating through the city, a few people told rumors of a friend of a friend vanishing.
Then it started to get more intense. A "news event" of the century". Do you know how it feels? To be sat at a desk only to see what you thought a total myth rise in-front of your work window? It eye's look right through you.
Then it got really awful. Children, Fuck entire schools, flashing out of existence. The media actually stopped reporting it. I've never heard of that. Then the media stopped all together. A few last stories, then, silence.
Followed by this.
"This is the Emergency broadcast system. Important Information from POTUS will follow.
My fellow Americans. There is no easy way of saying this.
We are out of lives. Head for the Maze, take only what you need. Pray for Pacman.
There will be no further announcements."
He arrived in the Night. A quiet "WAKAWAKAWAKA". It came to symbolize hope. He was our hope.
| Duck Hunt: A young farmer and his trusty dog go out on the field only to find his bread plants (Yes, bread plants.) being eaten by ducks! The filthy birds! He lets them do so for another few days, hoping they will fly away, but instead, they just keep coming back. He grabs his Nintendo pistol and starts shooting at the frightened ducks, his dog making fun of him along the way.
The love hate relationship between the dog and the farmer only worsens and soon enough they go neck on neck, trying to be better. this leads to 2P Duck Hunt. Eventually, the farmer is so annoyed with the dog that in an epic turn of events a Halo battle occurs,the farmer succeeding and executing the damn dog.
Make a book. Give it detail. I'll buy all of the copies. |
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