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[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. | 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. | |
[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. | 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. | |
[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. | 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. | |
[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. | 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. | |
[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. | 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. | |
[WP] Take a well-known superhero and make the reader sympathize with their nemesis. | Can you hear it? The drums, it is always the drums, be it day or night they sound their *ta-ta-tatata*, be it hot or cold. It wasnt my fault you know? Never trully asked my folks for it, but they wouldnt listen, I had to become a Time Lord they said, no other choice, and when I looked upon the greatness and glory of the vortex I saw nothing but war, nothing but the drums sounding, the warhorns shouting, the universe in flames, the time frozen still... I was ashes, all was ashes.
It was then that I knew if he was the Doctor, I would be the Master. | What point is there of a man when he is forced to share his world with the gods? I worked my entire life for everything I have, yet this being has more than I ever will or possibly can. The people trust him, yet they have no reason to. They leave their fates to blind faith, some seeing him as a symbol of hope, but perhaps others out of fear.
I fear for the men of today who believe their best interests are at the heart of this so-called "Man of Tomorrow". | |
[WP] Take a well-known superhero and make the reader sympathize with their nemesis. | I did not ask to be created.
In the end, does anyone? Does anything? I have been a slave to him as much as he has to me. He needs me, but I do not need him. I never have. I have been his shield, his bastion when he is in need, but always I am reviled as a monster. That's all I have ever been, all I ever will be. Born from hatred. Fueled by fury. There is no rest for me, and I will never let him rest either. When he lets his guard down, I will be there. While he sleeps, I will push at his consciousness, threatening to break through. I did not ask to be created. But here I am. I am.
I am the Hulk. | What point is there of a man when he is forced to share his world with the gods? I worked my entire life for everything I have, yet this being has more than I ever will or possibly can. The people trust him, yet they have no reason to. They leave their fates to blind faith, some seeing him as a symbol of hope, but perhaps others out of fear.
I fear for the men of today who believe their best interests are at the heart of this so-called "Man of Tomorrow". | |
[WP] Take a well-known superhero and make the reader sympathize with their nemesis. | Can you hear it? The drums, it is always the drums, be it day or night they sound their *ta-ta-tatata*, be it hot or cold. It wasnt my fault you know? Never trully asked my folks for it, but they wouldnt listen, I had to become a Time Lord they said, no other choice, and when I looked upon the greatness and glory of the vortex I saw nothing but war, nothing but the drums sounding, the warhorns shouting, the universe in flames, the time frozen still... I was ashes, all was ashes.
It was then that I knew if he was the Doctor, I would be the Master. | >Be 19 years
>Can't get no job
>crushing student loans
>dealdrugs.gif
>word is black mask needs guys
>15 hours of backbending hard labour
>fucking work all night
>boss man comes in
>shoots Marv straight up because he spilled a crate
>holyshit.jpeg
>finally manage to load the truck
>suddenly le wild falcone guys appear
>epicshootout.com
>hide in a corner
>look up and see a tall, black creature with pointed ears
>it attacks me and gives me a concussion
>bewarethebatman.mkv
>fuckthisshit.com
| |
[WP] Write a simple sci fi story where the antagonist is nature | "We heard, but never listened. We never fully understood what we had done...what we were doing. All along we promised change. We promised ourselves that we would be the generation to change; the generation who would radically change the course of history. We saw ourselves as Gods. Our will would suffice in place of global action," the voice from the computer said. "With our knowledge and technology in one hand, and a fist beating our human chests, we set out to change. Our technology, our understanding of nature grew exponentially. We made daring feats; did what was cast to the pit of impossibility. We built wind farms, hydro-electric plants, geo-thermal wells, solar farms and the list goes on. What we didn't realize was...we were too few. Our efforts too minute. The damage was done and continually done, for as our technology grew so did our dependence on a cheap energy source. We said 'things have changed', but that had not. We turned a cheek to our gaudy excess; our over-abundant pollution of our planet. Our home. Oil was our blood; our cancer. Our transfusion with 'green energy' was centuries too late. For once humanity found a sturdy crutch; there was to be no more progress."
Mitchell looked through the sky light as howling winds whisped snow across the dingy Plexiglas.
"Earth evolved, as it always does to counter change. Temperature’s rose in summer, plummeted in winter. This continued until there were no more springs or falls. Plants and animals unable to haphazardly adapt died off. Storms grew fierce; the oceans rose. We too slowly began to die off; beaten in submission to the will of nature. Entire cities fell to a single storm cell. Then, our planet grew colder until only winter prevailed.”
Mitchell was now warming her hands on a small pilot light which functioned as both her source of warmth and cooking. Her ten layers of clothing made her slim physic look like a grizzly bear; with her puffy hood and gloves.
“We failed…we failed for many years to change our home, to restore it to its former self. But, Mother Nature had turned a hard, icy cheek to humankind. She was to shed us as a butterfly sheds its cocoon. For she lives on…into eternity…and we return to the minuscule speck from whence we came. “
Curled up in a ball, she was rocking back and forth, slowly chewing on thawed out rations.
“But, Sarah…”
Mitchell turned her gaze to the blue screen. A kind, gentle face gazed back. Her eyes welcoming, cheeks rosy and lips poised.
“…you are our finest achievement. It’s because you are not like us, this makes you so special, so beautiful. We designed you to be stronger than us; more intelligent, hardy, agile. You are the key to your own survival. Our time has passed, we realize that now. You are the future of Earth. You are the beginning of a whole new species of humanoid.”
The woman in the recording stopped for a moment. Through the grain of the pixels Sarah could make out tears from the woman’s eyes as she held her hand over her mouth.
“You…” the recording said. “…you are the love of my life. From the moment I saw you, I knew the love of a mother. I…I will always love you little bear…I will always love you Sarah.”
She touched the woman’s face on the cold computer monitor.
“You were given the best of all our greatest traits and none of our weaknesses. These will serve you well in years to come. You will build a new civilization; a new culture. By your 18th birthday your reproduction system will take effect on creating a child, a baby girl, within you.”
Sarah touched her belly.
“In three months time your baby girl will come to term and will be born. She will look exactly like you, but your body will have adapted hers. In essence, your greatest characteristics; your strengths will be passed on to her. She will have a two children. One girl, one boy. They will be your grandchildren and will have adapted and obtained all of your daughter’s strengths. And so on and so forth.”
Sarah began to stroke the icy cheek on the monitor. A feeling began to bubble inside her which caused water to precipitate from her eyes.
“I’m sorry the only gift I can give you is life. But you will live three times as long as homosapien lifetime. Long enough to watch your family grow.”
Sarah dried her eyes as the face grew starker.
“Be better than us Sarah. Evolve past subtle human predispositions. Change the world as you see fit. This is Dr. Evelyn Mitchell. Record number 4821. Project Eden.”
| **Sorry for the crappy setting, and crappy flow of words, my first post in this subreddit, May contain some age inappropriate words, but
here it is, formatting might be crappy, wrote on notepad**
Hello, if you are able to read this, please don't mess with things you are able to go by to, and you are going to regret it.
I am writing this in 2132, I will keep track of my progress as I can go. I have my partner with me, he is known for his studies
in psychology and environmental science. I have studied with psychology, cosmology and environmental science. We are trying to conduct
experiments to increase the food production within a limited timespan. With a whole lot of people are trying to protest how genetics may
change how human being can grow. We are basically trying to exterminate the use of genetics in part of our agriculture. I have to move to
the island near the Pacific Ocean, it used to be called the Golden State Bridge, it used to be a dessert but it moves accordingly to the
tectonic plates, and floating by itself.
I digress, We have tried to accumulate edible plants sustainable to these Earth temparature. We asked for some pistachios to grow on a massive scale.
First we experimented with a little plant. We conducted experiments on fertilizers, we tried to apply the best fertilizer as efficient as possible. It
grows much faster, but the current supply is coming low... We have to do something more extravagant.
Psychology didn't help much, we tried to stimulate the perception of time, so they will be seem to be in the future, allthough we just slowed down
their reaction time by a little, so it seems everything to be moving forward quite faster. I couldn't explain much more, it slowed down the mind of
test subject, and he seems to be broken mentally. Psychology is not working.
I have to break some rules, indeed I may be accused of human right violation, but the current society consumed by tyrany and hunger for more and more riches,
It may seem to be just trying to murder someone for self-defense, this experiment is needed, without this, the world may starve. I was not talking about laws
that "government" have setup as a baseline, no. I was talking about breaking some guys physics laws. I have to control spacetime, and control seperately space
and time.
This may seem to be impossible, but it is very doable. "Laws are made to be broken" oh hell, we are breaking major laws tonight. I tried everything,
but nature is deciding to disagree with me. Every single.. equation... is ... making.... mee.. INSANE! I need to take a break, I may die of hunger and
baldness by this stupid experiment.
I HAVE FOUND IT!!!!! I AM GOD!!!! I AM ABLE TO CONTROL TIME AND SPPPPAAACE. I need to make this machine now. I need some materials, we may be able to do this
with our technology, but I need:
* Alu*rub marks*
* Steel
(There are several rub marks in this spot. The rub marks takes up a page and barely tangible.)
Yes!!! I have to test this on the small scale, please nature agree with me.
We are able to grow a tree in almost 10 second! We are also to revert the trees growth!
Luckily, my partner is always to understandable, she planted a whole acre full of pistachios to test out in a large scale.
It works!!!!! I need to send this to the government and reproduce this! I may have done it, I HAVE ALL THE FAME TO ME!!! **I CAN CONTROL EVERYTHING.**
Now, you may think I am insane, nonononono I am not insane, I promise.
**I AM NOT INSANE!!!**
I need to test thisa in organismsss, they seem to work but the emotional state of these organizm is full of loneliness, but who cares. I see it now,
a whole flock of chickens made naturally, but grown by my machine! Yes I have done it, I created a machine to control everything.
*****Page Torn*** **doodles of some random machine, and scribbles seems to go for pages**
**I AM NOT INSANEE!!!**
Shit, everybody ****** up, I need to fix this but there is no time, I need to scan this pages to the machine and save them to a hard drive. It may be the only hope
I am growing yonger n yonger every day, so is r sosity. the esplosion of the start is about to begin to reverse, I see the meteorite uncolliding, tectonic plates reversing. I need to warn you, do not ever mess with technology
I have one more day before the nature begins to destroy me, I have t o scan it noiw, i need to face future fate soomn, i may not see yyoiu enymore but here is my address, if you see me in the **NOT INSANE....** futre warn me, i have to goio bye.
**Picture of a arm is in the scanned files, it seems obscure, the scanned picture of the author's face seemed to be someone I know, a person who is really close to me,
he may be my... | |
[WP] Write a simple sci fi story where the antagonist is nature | I opened my can, fresh air poured into my lungs. It was a fresh respite from the acid that stirred in the atmosphere. The down town wanders stared at a distance, begging towards me with their eyes. They stank of fungi, the only plant matter that would grow on this wasteland. Nothing grows, we all just linger on in this wretched world, trying to grasp at strings. We tried every permutation of every kind of genetically modified organism, and fungi is all we have to eat. Unless you were lucky and found what was left of canned food.
I had lived a long life, I remembered how it all started. I let my mind wander as the opiates from canned air took effect. Such cans were a luxury in today's world and provided much needed respite from the torture that was daily life. Clouds of yellow gas filled my mind, as I slowly drifted into my past.
Amongst the rolling hills of wheat, a younger me worked the fields. The grass cut at my ankles. The sun burned. The dry air took away from my soft moist skin, making it crackled. A truck rolled by in the distance. It was the first bit off shipping of the mushrooms. We were payed a large sum of money. Half of it to grow the fungi, half of it to keep quiet. We had to put their dead cattle in a moist pit of hay, along with the fungi. Apparently you could live off the fungi alone, genetically modified to taste like anything and have any of the nutrients you need. They were cheap, the new corn. Their pollen filled the air, reaching their threads into every crevice possible. But we made money, and we were ready for more. Life was tough and we needed to survive.
The air grew increasingly toxic as each year went by, food crops were dying one by one, unable to bear the effects of the acidic air. Though the fungi grew strong as if fueled by the death and despair of its surroundings. Eventually all crops were replaced by these super fungi which you could see for miles around. People grew sick from a fungi only diet, first their bodies would bloat and discolor. Then their heads and would swell with fluid and would need to be drained otherwise the pressure fluid would build up until and burst forth from their eyes, nose and ears.
I opened another can. I drank in front of all the other people. They stared. Their lungs were filled with spores. The fungi would grow and devour them from inside. I laughed. It wasn't the acid, there was none. I stared into my can, it was half empty with air. It was only a matter of time. The threads would pull us together, I just had to make the decision. I opened my jump suit. I jumped into a pit of fungi, embracing it. I let it seep into my body. Death is what connects us. And death, that's just a part of nature. | **Sorry for the crappy setting, and crappy flow of words, my first post in this subreddit, May contain some age inappropriate words, but
here it is, formatting might be crappy, wrote on notepad**
Hello, if you are able to read this, please don't mess with things you are able to go by to, and you are going to regret it.
I am writing this in 2132, I will keep track of my progress as I can go. I have my partner with me, he is known for his studies
in psychology and environmental science. I have studied with psychology, cosmology and environmental science. We are trying to conduct
experiments to increase the food production within a limited timespan. With a whole lot of people are trying to protest how genetics may
change how human being can grow. We are basically trying to exterminate the use of genetics in part of our agriculture. I have to move to
the island near the Pacific Ocean, it used to be called the Golden State Bridge, it used to be a dessert but it moves accordingly to the
tectonic plates, and floating by itself.
I digress, We have tried to accumulate edible plants sustainable to these Earth temparature. We asked for some pistachios to grow on a massive scale.
First we experimented with a little plant. We conducted experiments on fertilizers, we tried to apply the best fertilizer as efficient as possible. It
grows much faster, but the current supply is coming low... We have to do something more extravagant.
Psychology didn't help much, we tried to stimulate the perception of time, so they will be seem to be in the future, allthough we just slowed down
their reaction time by a little, so it seems everything to be moving forward quite faster. I couldn't explain much more, it slowed down the mind of
test subject, and he seems to be broken mentally. Psychology is not working.
I have to break some rules, indeed I may be accused of human right violation, but the current society consumed by tyrany and hunger for more and more riches,
It may seem to be just trying to murder someone for self-defense, this experiment is needed, without this, the world may starve. I was not talking about laws
that "government" have setup as a baseline, no. I was talking about breaking some guys physics laws. I have to control spacetime, and control seperately space
and time.
This may seem to be impossible, but it is very doable. "Laws are made to be broken" oh hell, we are breaking major laws tonight. I tried everything,
but nature is deciding to disagree with me. Every single.. equation... is ... making.... mee.. INSANE! I need to take a break, I may die of hunger and
baldness by this stupid experiment.
I HAVE FOUND IT!!!!! I AM GOD!!!! I AM ABLE TO CONTROL TIME AND SPPPPAAACE. I need to make this machine now. I need some materials, we may be able to do this
with our technology, but I need:
* Alu*rub marks*
* Steel
(There are several rub marks in this spot. The rub marks takes up a page and barely tangible.)
Yes!!! I have to test this on the small scale, please nature agree with me.
We are able to grow a tree in almost 10 second! We are also to revert the trees growth!
Luckily, my partner is always to understandable, she planted a whole acre full of pistachios to test out in a large scale.
It works!!!!! I need to send this to the government and reproduce this! I may have done it, I HAVE ALL THE FAME TO ME!!! **I CAN CONTROL EVERYTHING.**
Now, you may think I am insane, nonononono I am not insane, I promise.
**I AM NOT INSANE!!!**
I need to test thisa in organismsss, they seem to work but the emotional state of these organizm is full of loneliness, but who cares. I see it now,
a whole flock of chickens made naturally, but grown by my machine! Yes I have done it, I created a machine to control everything.
*****Page Torn*** **doodles of some random machine, and scribbles seems to go for pages**
**I AM NOT INSANEE!!!**
Shit, everybody ****** up, I need to fix this but there is no time, I need to scan this pages to the machine and save them to a hard drive. It may be the only hope
I am growing yonger n yonger every day, so is r sosity. the esplosion of the start is about to begin to reverse, I see the meteorite uncolliding, tectonic plates reversing. I need to warn you, do not ever mess with technology
I have one more day before the nature begins to destroy me, I have t o scan it noiw, i need to face future fate soomn, i may not see yyoiu enymore but here is my address, if you see me in the **NOT INSANE....** futre warn me, i have to goio bye.
**Picture of a arm is in the scanned files, it seems obscure, the scanned picture of the author's face seemed to be someone I know, a person who is really close to me,
he may be my... | |
[WP] Write a simple sci fi story where the antagonist is nature | "We heard, but never listened. We never fully understood what we had done...what we were doing. All along we promised change. We promised ourselves that we would be the generation to change; the generation who would radically change the course of history. We saw ourselves as Gods. Our will would suffice in place of global action," the voice from the computer said. "With our knowledge and technology in one hand, and a fist beating our human chests, we set out to change. Our technology, our understanding of nature grew exponentially. We made daring feats; did what was cast to the pit of impossibility. We built wind farms, hydro-electric plants, geo-thermal wells, solar farms and the list goes on. What we didn't realize was...we were too few. Our efforts too minute. The damage was done and continually done, for as our technology grew so did our dependence on a cheap energy source. We said 'things have changed', but that had not. We turned a cheek to our gaudy excess; our over-abundant pollution of our planet. Our home. Oil was our blood; our cancer. Our transfusion with 'green energy' was centuries too late. For once humanity found a sturdy crutch; there was to be no more progress."
Mitchell looked through the sky light as howling winds whisped snow across the dingy Plexiglas.
"Earth evolved, as it always does to counter change. Temperature’s rose in summer, plummeted in winter. This continued until there were no more springs or falls. Plants and animals unable to haphazardly adapt died off. Storms grew fierce; the oceans rose. We too slowly began to die off; beaten in submission to the will of nature. Entire cities fell to a single storm cell. Then, our planet grew colder until only winter prevailed.”
Mitchell was now warming her hands on a small pilot light which functioned as both her source of warmth and cooking. Her ten layers of clothing made her slim physic look like a grizzly bear; with her puffy hood and gloves.
“We failed…we failed for many years to change our home, to restore it to its former self. But, Mother Nature had turned a hard, icy cheek to humankind. She was to shed us as a butterfly sheds its cocoon. For she lives on…into eternity…and we return to the minuscule speck from whence we came. “
Curled up in a ball, she was rocking back and forth, slowly chewing on thawed out rations.
“But, Sarah…”
Mitchell turned her gaze to the blue screen. A kind, gentle face gazed back. Her eyes welcoming, cheeks rosy and lips poised.
“…you are our finest achievement. It’s because you are not like us, this makes you so special, so beautiful. We designed you to be stronger than us; more intelligent, hardy, agile. You are the key to your own survival. Our time has passed, we realize that now. You are the future of Earth. You are the beginning of a whole new species of humanoid.”
The woman in the recording stopped for a moment. Through the grain of the pixels Sarah could make out tears from the woman’s eyes as she held her hand over her mouth.
“You…” the recording said. “…you are the love of my life. From the moment I saw you, I knew the love of a mother. I…I will always love you little bear…I will always love you Sarah.”
She touched the woman’s face on the cold computer monitor.
“You were given the best of all our greatest traits and none of our weaknesses. These will serve you well in years to come. You will build a new civilization; a new culture. By your 18th birthday your reproduction system will take effect on creating a child, a baby girl, within you.”
Sarah touched her belly.
“In three months time your baby girl will come to term and will be born. She will look exactly like you, but your body will have adapted hers. In essence, your greatest characteristics; your strengths will be passed on to her. She will have a two children. One girl, one boy. They will be your grandchildren and will have adapted and obtained all of your daughter’s strengths. And so on and so forth.”
Sarah began to stroke the icy cheek on the monitor. A feeling began to bubble inside her which caused water to precipitate from her eyes.
“I’m sorry the only gift I can give you is life. But you will live three times as long as homosapien lifetime. Long enough to watch your family grow.”
Sarah dried her eyes as the face grew starker.
“Be better than us Sarah. Evolve past subtle human predispositions. Change the world as you see fit. This is Dr. Evelyn Mitchell. Record number 4821. Project Eden.”
| As the sun rose to shine on his chrome, he dimmly recalled how it used to glint off onto the ground, instead of thudding dully against his oxidized chassis. That was probably back when his arms could still bend and his wheels still carried him to and from the factory. When he made new generations of androids even more glorious than he was.
At least, that's what he thought he did. He hadn't been so sure recently. His sensors indicated his battery systems were corroding so he had diverted power to his more essential functions. Memory archives were not one of them.
That's probably why he didn't remember how he made it on the beach. How the factory was long abandoned, how rising water levels had lapped up all space between him and the waves that had rusted him to immobility.
The battery ticked down. Higher thought processing was next on the list. He could feel his processing speed slowing. I wonder if I'll miss this, he thought. He turned his corroded face towards the sun.
01000111011011110110111101100100011000100111100101100101 | |
[WP] Write a simple sci fi story where the antagonist is nature | I opened my can, fresh air poured into my lungs. It was a fresh respite from the acid that stirred in the atmosphere. The down town wanders stared at a distance, begging towards me with their eyes. They stank of fungi, the only plant matter that would grow on this wasteland. Nothing grows, we all just linger on in this wretched world, trying to grasp at strings. We tried every permutation of every kind of genetically modified organism, and fungi is all we have to eat. Unless you were lucky and found what was left of canned food.
I had lived a long life, I remembered how it all started. I let my mind wander as the opiates from canned air took effect. Such cans were a luxury in today's world and provided much needed respite from the torture that was daily life. Clouds of yellow gas filled my mind, as I slowly drifted into my past.
Amongst the rolling hills of wheat, a younger me worked the fields. The grass cut at my ankles. The sun burned. The dry air took away from my soft moist skin, making it crackled. A truck rolled by in the distance. It was the first bit off shipping of the mushrooms. We were payed a large sum of money. Half of it to grow the fungi, half of it to keep quiet. We had to put their dead cattle in a moist pit of hay, along with the fungi. Apparently you could live off the fungi alone, genetically modified to taste like anything and have any of the nutrients you need. They were cheap, the new corn. Their pollen filled the air, reaching their threads into every crevice possible. But we made money, and we were ready for more. Life was tough and we needed to survive.
The air grew increasingly toxic as each year went by, food crops were dying one by one, unable to bear the effects of the acidic air. Though the fungi grew strong as if fueled by the death and despair of its surroundings. Eventually all crops were replaced by these super fungi which you could see for miles around. People grew sick from a fungi only diet, first their bodies would bloat and discolor. Then their heads and would swell with fluid and would need to be drained otherwise the pressure fluid would build up until and burst forth from their eyes, nose and ears.
I opened another can. I drank in front of all the other people. They stared. Their lungs were filled with spores. The fungi would grow and devour them from inside. I laughed. It wasn't the acid, there was none. I stared into my can, it was half empty with air. It was only a matter of time. The threads would pull us together, I just had to make the decision. I opened my jump suit. I jumped into a pit of fungi, embracing it. I let it seep into my body. Death is what connects us. And death, that's just a part of nature. | As the sun rose to shine on his chrome, he dimmly recalled how it used to glint off onto the ground, instead of thudding dully against his oxidized chassis. That was probably back when his arms could still bend and his wheels still carried him to and from the factory. When he made new generations of androids even more glorious than he was.
At least, that's what he thought he did. He hadn't been so sure recently. His sensors indicated his battery systems were corroding so he had diverted power to his more essential functions. Memory archives were not one of them.
That's probably why he didn't remember how he made it on the beach. How the factory was long abandoned, how rising water levels had lapped up all space between him and the waves that had rusted him to immobility.
The battery ticked down. Higher thought processing was next on the list. He could feel his processing speed slowing. I wonder if I'll miss this, he thought. He turned his corroded face towards the sun.
01000111011011110110111101100100011000100111100101100101 | |
This sub needs less Hitler and more westerns. | [WP] In the late 1800s, a legendary gunslinger wins duels by secretly slowing down time. He meets his final challenge in the form of... | "More than likely you know this, but most people who draw their guns on a regular basis can do it in about a second and a half. There's the occasional sheriff or bandit or fool kid with too much money for bullets that'll draw under a second. Heard of a guy, Holliday or something, that could pull and fire from the hip in well under half a second. Left a trail of dead bodies in Texas like a scythe going through wheat.
I draw in a tenth of a second. I've shot the gun out of a man's hand, the hat off his head, put three bullets in the dirt and still made him third-eyed before his Colt was half-aimed. Time don't work the way for me that it does for most people. When I concentrate, it slows down. If I want, that tenth of a second can stretch out to what seems like half an hour. I don't move no faster than I did before, but with that much time to think and react, my every movement's apple-pie perfect. And it makes a visit from me a visit from the Grim Reaper, cause I don't miss neither.
See, back in the day I was a range hand, spent hours and days in red dirt hills with earth-baked men and brown cattle. Lots of lazy days with nothing to do but shoot and seventeen year old me thought I'd gone to heaven. Got so's I could plug the pips on a playing card at fifteen feet if I had time to aim. Turns out one day would give me all the time I'd ever need.
On the occasion I had cut about twenty head out of the herd and was driving them to a rancher by the name of Harker. Got there and Harker was there with two of his hired men and a shotgun. Told me in no uncertain terms there wouldn't be no payment for the cattle and there wouldn't be no witnesses to say they hadn't just disappeared neither.
Understandably that scared more hell out of me than a dozen preachers. I closed my eyes with a vague sort of hope it would make the unexpected removal of my insides a bit easier. But after what seemed like a minute or so, I opened up my eyes and Harker was still there, his lips frozen at spittin' out the tail-end of his threat. Glanced right and left: his men hadn't done a thing either. Well, at that point a dog in the dessert who just found water wouldn't have been happier than me and I threw up a quick prayer to Jesus and tried to ride out. 'Ceptin I couldn't. I was moving like a drunk wading through cement. I could tell my hands to move, sure, but they were so slow. So, so slow.
Turns out Harker pulls a shotgun up to his shoulder significantly slower than a tenth of a second, so I had hours to think. Eventually, I forced my hand down, pulled my revolver, and riddled the three of them with lead. It was easy, natural-like. I had adrenaline in my veins like Satan's whisky. One of his ranch hands actually managed to pull a gun on me, but I'd seen it coming and thrown myself into my saddle. The bullet whistled an unnatural low buzz as it flew above me, bird-like, and I gutshot the whoreson and then stopped his heart with my last bullet. Odd enough, as much time as I'd had to think about things, it was only then I noticed I'd pissed myself from fear.
Since then I've been a lawman, a bandit, an assassin, and the savior of Dusty Creek, a little village south of El Paso. But I've never been outclassed. Til right now, but I'm not sure this should count.
Turns out even with time slowed down, twenty is a lot of men to shoot. I'd sent five to Our Lord and Savior before anyone had pulled on me, but then their barrels started leveling. I fired again, knowing the bullet would take the foremost bastard through his left eye. But now I had to reload, and through all the years I'd never been able to move much faster than this cowpoke posse would. I saw the explosions unfold out their revolvers like sunsets, saw the bullets glide toward me, had enough time to to calculate that they probably moved about an inch for every second I'd have to watch. Seeing your death march toward you like a hangman is a hell of a way to go. I almost thought of speeding things up to get it over with.
Then there was a flash of light, and white fire washed over everything. And a hand just appeared. Just is there. Glowing like a white-hot ember. Even in time slowed-down, things has still got to *move*, so I'm sure I was slack-jawed as anything despite living through my share of miracles. Then the hand goes about, all business-like, and pulls the bullets out of the air. Like cherries from a bush in fall, cept this was a sight more uncommon.
Never could tell where it put them. It grabbed the guns too. Never could tell where those went neither. I could feel a heavy-sort of click and there was the weight of bullets in my gun. Another sort of click and suddenly I'm holding a Josselyn in my left hand, which I tried to drop in surprise. It's good that's a hard thing to do or this story I'm telling you wouldn't go nearly close to where it does.
See, a Josselyn is a twenty shot revolver, with ammunition hanging in a damn-fool chain from it instead of a proper cylinder. Needless to say I rode out of that shantytown instead of feeding grass, but I was a bit dead inside. Man's supposed to read about things like that in the Bible, and God's supposed to deliver bread and fishes and the stuff the Jews ate in the desert. Not a gun. Not fourteen men who should've been alive and one who shouldn't.
So I ignored it, threw the Josselyn in a ditch, and lived out the rest of my life. I don't suspect you can blame me for that. You never did tell me nothing. No words coming out of a bush; how the hell should I know I should've been a preacher or dirt-farmer or something? You give a kid, seventeen years old, what you gave me and then make him kill three grown men. Nine times out of ten, he uses that to go off drinking and chasing women and dies with a bullet in his back. I done did the best I could and a sight better than that. Shouldn't be enough for me to burn - of the people you've had up here, I think I know what forever in Hell would mean more than most of them."
"Well, don't think you'll be getting away with anything just by telling a good yarn, but right now that speechifying was enough for me. Don't want no one to say God don't give a man a fair deal. Welcome in, pardner." | The gunslinger leaned back in his chair.
"I need more sake!" He roared.
*Damn japs,* he thought. *Why'd I come here anyways.*
He knew, of course. That paycheck was too big for a gunhand to turn down, and all he had to do was shoot up some swordsmen making trouble for the rebels.
*Swords,* he thought, shaking his head and chuckling. *Swords in 1880.*
"Gord Rancher?" A voice spoke.
"Yeh, that's me," Gord answered, before realizing no-one should know his name, not over here.
"Who are yeh?" He asked, turning and peering at the man before him.
The redhead didn't respond, his gold eyes hard. Harder than any Gord had ever seen. A chill went down his spine before he quelled it. No one was faster than him, and that was a fact.
"Some call me the battosai." The redhead answered. Gord jumped to his feet.
"Well it's my lucky day!" He exclaimed.
"I'll be paid well for killing you."
The battosai, the most feared assassin of the Bakufu grabbed the hilt of his sword. Gord smiled, and slowed down time, the way he always did.
The sword entered his side, beginning to slice through him.
"No - *gahk* - way..." He muttered. Even slowed to half speed, the battosai's blade moved faster than he could draw or dodge.
The cold, gold eyes stared at him; emotionless as he died. Gord had just enough time to wonder who was fast enough to give him the cross shaped scar on his cheek before losing consciousness.
Written on my phone, be gentle. |
This sub needs less Hitler and more westerns. | [WP] In the late 1800s, a legendary gunslinger wins duels by secretly slowing down time. He meets his final challenge in the form of... | *Fuck tumbleweeds.*
Levi Cooper eyed the dirt-brown shrub with suspicion as it rolled through the barren road stretching out before him. The midday sun caused a shimmer towards the end of the small town, and the legendary gunhand felt a small trickle of sweat find it's way down his cheek, pausing shortly at his jawline before running the rest of the way into the grimy, wet bandana coiled around his neck. The typically bustling road was all but deserted, the townsfolk instead crowding the storefronts, and those more frightened peering through the Inn windows. Even the invariably rowdy cowboys and rustlers were uncharacteristically silent, pausing their games of cards and bottle-throwing to watch the two men standing back to back in the street.
A heavy glob of dark spit landed in the dirt next to his boot. The gunslinger reached up to wipe his mouth, as the other hand pulled out a beat-up can of moustache wax kept in his shirt pocket. Reaching in, Cooper scooped out a small gob with his index finger, and allowed himself a small smile of contempt as he listened to his challenger stumble around directly behind him. Cooper shook his head. *The fool comes to a duel drunk... Why is he so feared?*
The gunslinger began shaping his moustache. As he did so, the magical wax took effect, and Cooper watched the tumbleweed slow down it's bounce and roll. He heard the duelist to his back take a couple gulps from a bottle, before throwing it with a thud to the side of the road. Levi Cooper took a step forward. Then two steps.
Upon the tenth step, the gunslinger pivoted around, and felt the warm touch of steel as his hand snapped free the Colt revolver from his waist. He took aim at the staggering figure 20 paces away, and let loose a bullet that always found it's target. He watched it slice through the dry, desert air in slow motion, closer and closer, until it... sailed right past the drunk, swaying duelist at the other end.
Levi Cooper took a second to realize that the drunk's swaying hadn't slowed down, somehow immune to the effects of his shaman-blessed magical moustache wax. He had time for a sharp inhalation of breath at this surprise, before hearing a sharp retort and feeling a deep burn in the center of his chest. All of the sudden, Cooper found himself laying on the hard road, smelling dust and blood with the blinding sun searing his unprotected face.
As his vision went dark, Levi Cooper heard haphazard footsteps near him, and felt the heavy, pervasive stench of whiskey enter his nostrils. Then, the voice of the man that killed him floated it's way down...
"I'm your huckleberry."
| Like most nights the saloon was packed with merrymakers of all types. Cowboys sat around tables playing cards; the smoke of their cigarettes wafted upwards and blended with the raucous melody of the piano. Women in frilly skirts loitered near the bottom of the steps, inviting men upstairs. More men stood at the long bar, sipping their beers and whiskey.
The merriment was interrupted by the saloon doors being kicked aside. The bar grew silent. Curious eyes were drawn to the entrance, where a man with a tin star on his chest stood clutching his crimson-stained side. The man hobbled forward a few feet before collapsing onto a table, sending bottles and poker chips crashing to earth. A woman screamed as the man convulsed on the ground. At the bar, another man with a tin star on his chest watched in horror.
“Get the Doc!” He roared.
Some men rushed forward to help the injured lawman as another scampered out the door to find the town’s doctor. The rest of the horrified patrons observed the wounded man groan in pain, his breathing shallow and rapid. The saloon was deathly quiet. Pausing to finish his drink, the man spoke again.
“And the coroner.” He growled to the bartender.
It had been several years since there had been a murder on Sheriff Wexler’s watch. He had spent years drifting across the West developing a fearsome reputation as a gunslinger and gun-for-hire before settling down as Sheriff of Gatlinburg, New Mexico. He’d never lost a duel, and that was usually enough to settle down the hotheads that arrived in town looking for trouble. Secretly he was glad that his reputation preceded him. He could still see the faces of the dozens of men that he had fought, could still see the bullets slowly drill their way into their flesh. Killing gave him no pleasure. But for shooting his friend, Deputy Dawson, someone was going to die. He was going to savor every second, too.
He stormed out of the saloon, looking around for the guilty party. Directly across the street he spotted a man, dressed in all black leaning casually against a post. A holstered revolver dangled conspicuously from his hip.
“You shot my deputy” Sheriff Wexler said, descending the saloon steps.
“Killed him, I reckon” the man in black replied.
“Make your peace with God, because you won’t have any from me” Wexler spat.
Both men maneuvered around the street, trying to get into the best position for when the shooting started. A solemn crowd had gathered in the street to bear witness to the evening’s proceedings. Wexler closed his eyes, and his breathing slowed as he began to concentrate. The noise faded away. He could feel his heart beating, and every inch of his body was on alert. As he took another large breath he heard the familiar sound that meant he succeeded.
*Zhoom.*
He released his breath as he opened his eyes. It had been a long time since he had tried this. He learned the trick to slowing down time as a little boy, using it to swipe pieces of his brother’s pie during dinnertime. The man in black seemed frozen, his outstretched hand halfway to his holster. Sheriff Wexler looked to his left, then to his right, observing the crowd. He thought briefly about how amusing their faces were when time was at a crawl. He had to remind himself of the task at hand, but when he turned to face his opponent, he was overcome with dread.
Marching straight towards him, gun held high and level, was the man in black.
|
This sub needs less Hitler and more westerns. | [WP] In the late 1800s, a legendary gunslinger wins duels by secretly slowing down time. He meets his final challenge in the form of... | "More than likely you know this, but most people who draw their guns on a regular basis can do it in about a second and a half. There's the occasional sheriff or bandit or fool kid with too much money for bullets that'll draw under a second. Heard of a guy, Holliday or something, that could pull and fire from the hip in well under half a second. Left a trail of dead bodies in Texas like a scythe going through wheat.
I draw in a tenth of a second. I've shot the gun out of a man's hand, the hat off his head, put three bullets in the dirt and still made him third-eyed before his Colt was half-aimed. Time don't work the way for me that it does for most people. When I concentrate, it slows down. If I want, that tenth of a second can stretch out to what seems like half an hour. I don't move no faster than I did before, but with that much time to think and react, my every movement's apple-pie perfect. And it makes a visit from me a visit from the Grim Reaper, cause I don't miss neither.
See, back in the day I was a range hand, spent hours and days in red dirt hills with earth-baked men and brown cattle. Lots of lazy days with nothing to do but shoot and seventeen year old me thought I'd gone to heaven. Got so's I could plug the pips on a playing card at fifteen feet if I had time to aim. Turns out one day would give me all the time I'd ever need.
On the occasion I had cut about twenty head out of the herd and was driving them to a rancher by the name of Harker. Got there and Harker was there with two of his hired men and a shotgun. Told me in no uncertain terms there wouldn't be no payment for the cattle and there wouldn't be no witnesses to say they hadn't just disappeared neither.
Understandably that scared more hell out of me than a dozen preachers. I closed my eyes with a vague sort of hope it would make the unexpected removal of my insides a bit easier. But after what seemed like a minute or so, I opened up my eyes and Harker was still there, his lips frozen at spittin' out the tail-end of his threat. Glanced right and left: his men hadn't done a thing either. Well, at that point a dog in the dessert who just found water wouldn't have been happier than me and I threw up a quick prayer to Jesus and tried to ride out. 'Ceptin I couldn't. I was moving like a drunk wading through cement. I could tell my hands to move, sure, but they were so slow. So, so slow.
Turns out Harker pulls a shotgun up to his shoulder significantly slower than a tenth of a second, so I had hours to think. Eventually, I forced my hand down, pulled my revolver, and riddled the three of them with lead. It was easy, natural-like. I had adrenaline in my veins like Satan's whisky. One of his ranch hands actually managed to pull a gun on me, but I'd seen it coming and thrown myself into my saddle. The bullet whistled an unnatural low buzz as it flew above me, bird-like, and I gutshot the whoreson and then stopped his heart with my last bullet. Odd enough, as much time as I'd had to think about things, it was only then I noticed I'd pissed myself from fear.
Since then I've been a lawman, a bandit, an assassin, and the savior of Dusty Creek, a little village south of El Paso. But I've never been outclassed. Til right now, but I'm not sure this should count.
Turns out even with time slowed down, twenty is a lot of men to shoot. I'd sent five to Our Lord and Savior before anyone had pulled on me, but then their barrels started leveling. I fired again, knowing the bullet would take the foremost bastard through his left eye. But now I had to reload, and through all the years I'd never been able to move much faster than this cowpoke posse would. I saw the explosions unfold out their revolvers like sunsets, saw the bullets glide toward me, had enough time to to calculate that they probably moved about an inch for every second I'd have to watch. Seeing your death march toward you like a hangman is a hell of a way to go. I almost thought of speeding things up to get it over with.
Then there was a flash of light, and white fire washed over everything. And a hand just appeared. Just is there. Glowing like a white-hot ember. Even in time slowed-down, things has still got to *move*, so I'm sure I was slack-jawed as anything despite living through my share of miracles. Then the hand goes about, all business-like, and pulls the bullets out of the air. Like cherries from a bush in fall, cept this was a sight more uncommon.
Never could tell where it put them. It grabbed the guns too. Never could tell where those went neither. I could feel a heavy-sort of click and there was the weight of bullets in my gun. Another sort of click and suddenly I'm holding a Josselyn in my left hand, which I tried to drop in surprise. It's good that's a hard thing to do or this story I'm telling you wouldn't go nearly close to where it does.
See, a Josselyn is a twenty shot revolver, with ammunition hanging in a damn-fool chain from it instead of a proper cylinder. Needless to say I rode out of that shantytown instead of feeding grass, but I was a bit dead inside. Man's supposed to read about things like that in the Bible, and God's supposed to deliver bread and fishes and the stuff the Jews ate in the desert. Not a gun. Not fourteen men who should've been alive and one who shouldn't.
So I ignored it, threw the Josselyn in a ditch, and lived out the rest of my life. I don't suspect you can blame me for that. You never did tell me nothing. No words coming out of a bush; how the hell should I know I should've been a preacher or dirt-farmer or something? You give a kid, seventeen years old, what you gave me and then make him kill three grown men. Nine times out of ten, he uses that to go off drinking and chasing women and dies with a bullet in his back. I done did the best I could and a sight better than that. Shouldn't be enough for me to burn - of the people you've had up here, I think I know what forever in Hell would mean more than most of them."
"Well, don't think you'll be getting away with anything just by telling a good yarn, but right now that speechifying was enough for me. Don't want no one to say God don't give a man a fair deal. Welcome in, pardner." | Like most nights the saloon was packed with merrymakers of all types. Cowboys sat around tables playing cards; the smoke of their cigarettes wafted upwards and blended with the raucous melody of the piano. Women in frilly skirts loitered near the bottom of the steps, inviting men upstairs. More men stood at the long bar, sipping their beers and whiskey.
The merriment was interrupted by the saloon doors being kicked aside. The bar grew silent. Curious eyes were drawn to the entrance, where a man with a tin star on his chest stood clutching his crimson-stained side. The man hobbled forward a few feet before collapsing onto a table, sending bottles and poker chips crashing to earth. A woman screamed as the man convulsed on the ground. At the bar, another man with a tin star on his chest watched in horror.
“Get the Doc!” He roared.
Some men rushed forward to help the injured lawman as another scampered out the door to find the town’s doctor. The rest of the horrified patrons observed the wounded man groan in pain, his breathing shallow and rapid. The saloon was deathly quiet. Pausing to finish his drink, the man spoke again.
“And the coroner.” He growled to the bartender.
It had been several years since there had been a murder on Sheriff Wexler’s watch. He had spent years drifting across the West developing a fearsome reputation as a gunslinger and gun-for-hire before settling down as Sheriff of Gatlinburg, New Mexico. He’d never lost a duel, and that was usually enough to settle down the hotheads that arrived in town looking for trouble. Secretly he was glad that his reputation preceded him. He could still see the faces of the dozens of men that he had fought, could still see the bullets slowly drill their way into their flesh. Killing gave him no pleasure. But for shooting his friend, Deputy Dawson, someone was going to die. He was going to savor every second, too.
He stormed out of the saloon, looking around for the guilty party. Directly across the street he spotted a man, dressed in all black leaning casually against a post. A holstered revolver dangled conspicuously from his hip.
“You shot my deputy” Sheriff Wexler said, descending the saloon steps.
“Killed him, I reckon” the man in black replied.
“Make your peace with God, because you won’t have any from me” Wexler spat.
Both men maneuvered around the street, trying to get into the best position for when the shooting started. A solemn crowd had gathered in the street to bear witness to the evening’s proceedings. Wexler closed his eyes, and his breathing slowed as he began to concentrate. The noise faded away. He could feel his heart beating, and every inch of his body was on alert. As he took another large breath he heard the familiar sound that meant he succeeded.
*Zhoom.*
He released his breath as he opened his eyes. It had been a long time since he had tried this. He learned the trick to slowing down time as a little boy, using it to swipe pieces of his brother’s pie during dinnertime. The man in black seemed frozen, his outstretched hand halfway to his holster. Sheriff Wexler looked to his left, then to his right, observing the crowd. He thought briefly about how amusing their faces were when time was at a crawl. He had to remind himself of the task at hand, but when he turned to face his opponent, he was overcome with dread.
Marching straight towards him, gun held high and level, was the man in black.
|
This sub needs less Hitler and more westerns. | [WP] In the late 1800s, a legendary gunslinger wins duels by secretly slowing down time. He meets his final challenge in the form of... | Time travels slowly enough that I can trace the bullet with my eyes. He has one eye closed as he prepares to aim when the lead slugger makes contact with his skin. My eyelids always seal shut during this part. I took another man’s life today. He’s the tenth man I’ve killed. I wish I never had to put a bullet through head.
After every duel and after every victory, I visit the church and pray to God to take away this curse. To every kid, I’m a town hero, but privately, I think myself a villain forever fixed in a continuous cycle of kill or be killed. Sometimes I wish I could muster the courage to die.
After church, I visit Dr. Henry Fate, an eccentric peddler who, after I saved his life, provided me with the elixir that made time itself drag on its hands and knees. I ordered another batch, knowing that inevitably another youth will ride into town looking to prove himself a man by challenging the legend. I then had the task of swallowing a mouthful of the bitter potion right before the duel to give me that secret advantage long enough to end any future a young man may have had before he met me.
I ventured into the saloon filled with piano music and cigar smoke. I looked around the room, but even between the amicable drunks and promiscuous whores, I couldn’t find a true friend. Every man and woman only feared the man who couldn’t be killed. I quietly sat by the large window and drank my draft. Before I could finish, a new arrival found me.
“Are you Samuel Garr?” The youth dressed in all white asked.
“That’s me.” I responded with a heavy sigh. “Save yourself the trouble kid. Go home.”
“Can’t do that Sam,” He responded confidently. “My name is Gabriel and you have a date with destiny tomorrow. Meet me in front in the town bank tomorrow at noon. We draw at the end of the last chime of the clock.”
I sadly obliged. Poor kid. He couldn’t have been older than twenty. I took a long, hard sip of my drink, which tasted so much bitterer than before another duel and another murder was added to my conscience.
The next day, I stood in the summer Oklahoma heat as the sun stood directly over us and almost seemed to watch our duel in anticipation. As the first bell chimed, I put my flask to my mouth, letting the elixir do its magic. A problem, however, occurred; time refused to halt. For the first time, I stood unconfident and dumbfounded in my first fair duel.
As the last chime echoed through the town, I scrambled to reach for my revolver. Before I could lift it, a loud bang punctured my ear drums as a searing white pain ran through my hand. I looked down in horror to see blood dripping down my fingers and my trusty gun several yards behind me.
Gabriel slowly approached me and smiled. Still dressed in spotless white, I saw a certain purity in his blue eyes that somehow reassured me.
“The shot severed a few key tendons. Your trigger finger simply won’t function.”
Still bewildered, I looked at him. He only laughed.
“Every prayer sent to the heavens above is heard. He knows you’re a good guy in a bad situation, but don’t worry. Anybody can be saved, even if it’s in ways they don’t expect,” He said with a wink.
As the youth in white walked away from me, I sunk to my knees and laughed as the locals rushed to me and the local doctor examined my hand. What a brilliant son of a bitch, I thought. | Like most nights the saloon was packed with merrymakers of all types. Cowboys sat around tables playing cards; the smoke of their cigarettes wafted upwards and blended with the raucous melody of the piano. Women in frilly skirts loitered near the bottom of the steps, inviting men upstairs. More men stood at the long bar, sipping their beers and whiskey.
The merriment was interrupted by the saloon doors being kicked aside. The bar grew silent. Curious eyes were drawn to the entrance, where a man with a tin star on his chest stood clutching his crimson-stained side. The man hobbled forward a few feet before collapsing onto a table, sending bottles and poker chips crashing to earth. A woman screamed as the man convulsed on the ground. At the bar, another man with a tin star on his chest watched in horror.
“Get the Doc!” He roared.
Some men rushed forward to help the injured lawman as another scampered out the door to find the town’s doctor. The rest of the horrified patrons observed the wounded man groan in pain, his breathing shallow and rapid. The saloon was deathly quiet. Pausing to finish his drink, the man spoke again.
“And the coroner.” He growled to the bartender.
It had been several years since there had been a murder on Sheriff Wexler’s watch. He had spent years drifting across the West developing a fearsome reputation as a gunslinger and gun-for-hire before settling down as Sheriff of Gatlinburg, New Mexico. He’d never lost a duel, and that was usually enough to settle down the hotheads that arrived in town looking for trouble. Secretly he was glad that his reputation preceded him. He could still see the faces of the dozens of men that he had fought, could still see the bullets slowly drill their way into their flesh. Killing gave him no pleasure. But for shooting his friend, Deputy Dawson, someone was going to die. He was going to savor every second, too.
He stormed out of the saloon, looking around for the guilty party. Directly across the street he spotted a man, dressed in all black leaning casually against a post. A holstered revolver dangled conspicuously from his hip.
“You shot my deputy” Sheriff Wexler said, descending the saloon steps.
“Killed him, I reckon” the man in black replied.
“Make your peace with God, because you won’t have any from me” Wexler spat.
Both men maneuvered around the street, trying to get into the best position for when the shooting started. A solemn crowd had gathered in the street to bear witness to the evening’s proceedings. Wexler closed his eyes, and his breathing slowed as he began to concentrate. The noise faded away. He could feel his heart beating, and every inch of his body was on alert. As he took another large breath he heard the familiar sound that meant he succeeded.
*Zhoom.*
He released his breath as he opened his eyes. It had been a long time since he had tried this. He learned the trick to slowing down time as a little boy, using it to swipe pieces of his brother’s pie during dinnertime. The man in black seemed frozen, his outstretched hand halfway to his holster. Sheriff Wexler looked to his left, then to his right, observing the crowd. He thought briefly about how amusing their faces were when time was at a crawl. He had to remind himself of the task at hand, but when he turned to face his opponent, he was overcome with dread.
Marching straight towards him, gun held high and level, was the man in black.
|
This sub needs less Hitler and more westerns. | [WP] In the late 1800s, a legendary gunslinger wins duels by secretly slowing down time. He meets his final challenge in the form of... | "More than likely you know this, but most people who draw their guns on a regular basis can do it in about a second and a half. There's the occasional sheriff or bandit or fool kid with too much money for bullets that'll draw under a second. Heard of a guy, Holliday or something, that could pull and fire from the hip in well under half a second. Left a trail of dead bodies in Texas like a scythe going through wheat.
I draw in a tenth of a second. I've shot the gun out of a man's hand, the hat off his head, put three bullets in the dirt and still made him third-eyed before his Colt was half-aimed. Time don't work the way for me that it does for most people. When I concentrate, it slows down. If I want, that tenth of a second can stretch out to what seems like half an hour. I don't move no faster than I did before, but with that much time to think and react, my every movement's apple-pie perfect. And it makes a visit from me a visit from the Grim Reaper, cause I don't miss neither.
See, back in the day I was a range hand, spent hours and days in red dirt hills with earth-baked men and brown cattle. Lots of lazy days with nothing to do but shoot and seventeen year old me thought I'd gone to heaven. Got so's I could plug the pips on a playing card at fifteen feet if I had time to aim. Turns out one day would give me all the time I'd ever need.
On the occasion I had cut about twenty head out of the herd and was driving them to a rancher by the name of Harker. Got there and Harker was there with two of his hired men and a shotgun. Told me in no uncertain terms there wouldn't be no payment for the cattle and there wouldn't be no witnesses to say they hadn't just disappeared neither.
Understandably that scared more hell out of me than a dozen preachers. I closed my eyes with a vague sort of hope it would make the unexpected removal of my insides a bit easier. But after what seemed like a minute or so, I opened up my eyes and Harker was still there, his lips frozen at spittin' out the tail-end of his threat. Glanced right and left: his men hadn't done a thing either. Well, at that point a dog in the dessert who just found water wouldn't have been happier than me and I threw up a quick prayer to Jesus and tried to ride out. 'Ceptin I couldn't. I was moving like a drunk wading through cement. I could tell my hands to move, sure, but they were so slow. So, so slow.
Turns out Harker pulls a shotgun up to his shoulder significantly slower than a tenth of a second, so I had hours to think. Eventually, I forced my hand down, pulled my revolver, and riddled the three of them with lead. It was easy, natural-like. I had adrenaline in my veins like Satan's whisky. One of his ranch hands actually managed to pull a gun on me, but I'd seen it coming and thrown myself into my saddle. The bullet whistled an unnatural low buzz as it flew above me, bird-like, and I gutshot the whoreson and then stopped his heart with my last bullet. Odd enough, as much time as I'd had to think about things, it was only then I noticed I'd pissed myself from fear.
Since then I've been a lawman, a bandit, an assassin, and the savior of Dusty Creek, a little village south of El Paso. But I've never been outclassed. Til right now, but I'm not sure this should count.
Turns out even with time slowed down, twenty is a lot of men to shoot. I'd sent five to Our Lord and Savior before anyone had pulled on me, but then their barrels started leveling. I fired again, knowing the bullet would take the foremost bastard through his left eye. But now I had to reload, and through all the years I'd never been able to move much faster than this cowpoke posse would. I saw the explosions unfold out their revolvers like sunsets, saw the bullets glide toward me, had enough time to to calculate that they probably moved about an inch for every second I'd have to watch. Seeing your death march toward you like a hangman is a hell of a way to go. I almost thought of speeding things up to get it over with.
Then there was a flash of light, and white fire washed over everything. And a hand just appeared. Just is there. Glowing like a white-hot ember. Even in time slowed-down, things has still got to *move*, so I'm sure I was slack-jawed as anything despite living through my share of miracles. Then the hand goes about, all business-like, and pulls the bullets out of the air. Like cherries from a bush in fall, cept this was a sight more uncommon.
Never could tell where it put them. It grabbed the guns too. Never could tell where those went neither. I could feel a heavy-sort of click and there was the weight of bullets in my gun. Another sort of click and suddenly I'm holding a Josselyn in my left hand, which I tried to drop in surprise. It's good that's a hard thing to do or this story I'm telling you wouldn't go nearly close to where it does.
See, a Josselyn is a twenty shot revolver, with ammunition hanging in a damn-fool chain from it instead of a proper cylinder. Needless to say I rode out of that shantytown instead of feeding grass, but I was a bit dead inside. Man's supposed to read about things like that in the Bible, and God's supposed to deliver bread and fishes and the stuff the Jews ate in the desert. Not a gun. Not fourteen men who should've been alive and one who shouldn't.
So I ignored it, threw the Josselyn in a ditch, and lived out the rest of my life. I don't suspect you can blame me for that. You never did tell me nothing. No words coming out of a bush; how the hell should I know I should've been a preacher or dirt-farmer or something? You give a kid, seventeen years old, what you gave me and then make him kill three grown men. Nine times out of ten, he uses that to go off drinking and chasing women and dies with a bullet in his back. I done did the best I could and a sight better than that. Shouldn't be enough for me to burn - of the people you've had up here, I think I know what forever in Hell would mean more than most of them."
"Well, don't think you'll be getting away with anything just by telling a good yarn, but right now that speechifying was enough for me. Don't want no one to say God don't give a man a fair deal. Welcome in, pardner." | *Fuck tumbleweeds.*
Levi Cooper eyed the dirt-brown shrub with suspicion as it rolled through the barren road stretching out before him. The midday sun caused a shimmer towards the end of the small town, and the legendary gunhand felt a small trickle of sweat find it's way down his cheek, pausing shortly at his jawline before running the rest of the way into the grimy, wet bandana coiled around his neck. The typically bustling road was all but deserted, the townsfolk instead crowding the storefronts, and those more frightened peering through the Inn windows. Even the invariably rowdy cowboys and rustlers were uncharacteristically silent, pausing their games of cards and bottle-throwing to watch the two men standing back to back in the street.
A heavy glob of dark spit landed in the dirt next to his boot. The gunslinger reached up to wipe his mouth, as the other hand pulled out a beat-up can of moustache wax kept in his shirt pocket. Reaching in, Cooper scooped out a small gob with his index finger, and allowed himself a small smile of contempt as he listened to his challenger stumble around directly behind him. Cooper shook his head. *The fool comes to a duel drunk... Why is he so feared?*
The gunslinger began shaping his moustache. As he did so, the magical wax took effect, and Cooper watched the tumbleweed slow down it's bounce and roll. He heard the duelist to his back take a couple gulps from a bottle, before throwing it with a thud to the side of the road. Levi Cooper took a step forward. Then two steps.
Upon the tenth step, the gunslinger pivoted around, and felt the warm touch of steel as his hand snapped free the Colt revolver from his waist. He took aim at the staggering figure 20 paces away, and let loose a bullet that always found it's target. He watched it slice through the dry, desert air in slow motion, closer and closer, until it... sailed right past the drunk, swaying duelist at the other end.
Levi Cooper took a second to realize that the drunk's swaying hadn't slowed down, somehow immune to the effects of his shaman-blessed magical moustache wax. He had time for a sharp inhalation of breath at this surprise, before hearing a sharp retort and feeling a deep burn in the center of his chest. All of the sudden, Cooper found himself laying on the hard road, smelling dust and blood with the blinding sun searing his unprotected face.
As his vision went dark, Levi Cooper heard haphazard footsteps near him, and felt the heavy, pervasive stench of whiskey enter his nostrils. Then, the voice of the man that killed him floated it's way down...
"I'm your huckleberry."
|
[WP] The year is 2218, world population: 200 000 000. | “Man, I hate this place.”
The morning sun peaked out between smokestacks and cooling towers, bathing the world in a sickly green pall as the shuttle rocketed towards the Kolton Mining Works headquarters. John looked down through the viewport as they crossed over the tremendous pit-mine known formerly as Yellowstone Lake.
“Hey, it aint so bad” Carl replied, between bites of a stimulant bar. He threw one of the small, foil-wrapped bars to John, who grimaced. “And these fuckin’ things, seriously, how can you eat these?”
Carl looked over suspiciously. “What you talkin bout, John, you always loved these things.” John merely sighed, unwrapped the bar, and took a small bite. It tasked like wood chips and engine grease, but nevertheless John felt the familiar tingle run up his spine, and his hair stood on end as the stimulant worked its way into his system.
“Man, I’m just sayin” John replied, choking down another bite of his less-than-palatable breakfast “one a’ these days, I’m gonna head up a layer, get off this fuckin rock.” Carl chuckled under his breath, half-listening.
*It had been over 100 years since the Partridge Act was passed; ‘the Earth was dying’, they said, and humanity was growing too quickly for it to remain a viable home for long. It was decided that the Earth would be strip-mined for the construction of humanity’s future. And so, in one last act of selfless motherhood, the Earth gave itself to us fully.*
“So what, you wanna head up to the drydocks? Start building ships?” Carl asked, sarcastically. “You know we aint allowed to leave the surface, not without an invitation from one a’ them colony ships. Where you gonna live, huh? Just gonna drift around up there?” Carl shook his head and returned his attention to the dancing, holographic lady on his seat-tray.
*They stripped her bare, took everything they could. They made a promise that, with the Earth’s sacrifice, they would find new worlds, they would start fresh. They would not make the same mistake twice.*
John brushed away the sarcasm and looked back to the window. Far below, he could make out the robotic drill rigs and transports, going about their daily routine; each cargo load a nail in the coffin of the planet that raised us. The sight made John sick.
*Leviathans of steel and glass, built in orbit and set to drift, our new homes were said to be miracles of technological advancement, the magnum opi of a species transitioning out of its childhood; grand palaces praising all of human achievement, if you could afford to live there.*
Carl’s words echoed in John’s mind, and at that moment, as he watched the desolate, sundered landscape fly away beneath the shuttle, something deep within John snapped. He looked down the rows, but the shuttle was all-but-empty. Steeling himself, John unbuckled his harness, rose from his seat, and moved towards the cockpit. Carl look up from this hologram suspiciously. “Hey, man, what you doin?” John ignored him as he continued his way up the rows. The door to the cockpit was locked, but with a firm kick it swung in, revealing a single, empty pilot’s chair.
*The majority of the population lived their entire lives on-board one of the colossal colony ships, while the wealthy could afford to purchase their own vessel. The richest of the rich, those who profited most from the exodus of humanity and the exploitation of Earth in her final days, lived lives of unimaginable luxury. But the lowest, the poorest, remained on the dying planet, maintaining the robotic equipment. They were the teeth in the saw cutting down the tree of life.*
John sat down at the controls. He had flown similar shuttles as a boy, and he figured this one shouldn’t be too different. He flipped off the auto-pilot and gripped the joysticks. Carl was shouting from the back. A series of red emblems flashed on the HUD, warning of illegal activity and dispatched police forces, but John ignored the warnings, wiped his brow, and yanked back on the controls; the shuttle violently changed course, and shot nearly vertical.
He had had enough. He was leaving.
| It's been 200 years. 200 years since the first bomb was dropped on the Earth. It started at the UN summit in 2018. China and the US got into a heated debate. Something about a trade embargo, I think. Nobody really knows, it's been lost to history. Nobody really knew in the first place, as the summit's contents were kept a strict secret. China were so upset, they walked out of the summit and were on a plane back to Beijing an hour later. Then, there was a weak of no contact with the Chinese government. The calm before the storm, you might say.
At 3:30 am PST, on February 2nd, an unidentified bomber plane was detected 750 nautical miles off of the coast of California. Considering the summit's events, the President was notified immediately, and he scrambled jets to its location. The bomber refused to identify itself, and was shot down over Nevada. They're lucky they shot it when they did. When the plane crashed into the desert, it set off a 5 mega ton nuclear bomb. Thankfully, no lives were lost, but if it had hit a major city, such as New York, or Washington DC, the entire city would have been lost. In the hours following the incident, China claimed responsibility for the bomb. As an attack on a NATO member, all 28 member states were now at war with China.
The war only lasted three weeks. That's all that it took for the world to be brought down to 100000000. Half of China is uninhabitable. A quarter of Russia is, and most of the US and Canada are, too. Africa is a criss-cross of safe and deadly. People flocked to countries such as Ireland, Japan, Brazil, and Scotland to be safe. But only a fraction of the world survived. | |
[WP] You wake up tied to a hospital bed in a bunker, you are surrounded by world leaders and a handful of doctors. You have developed a condition that nobody has ever seen before, it is worthy of their concern. How did you get here? | "...hm?"
I stirred, causing the sheets over my body to slide quietly over my legs. Warmth emanated from my heart, spreading to my limbs like so much life-giving fire.
"mmm."
Just five more minutes. Five more minutes of bliss before I face the cold, cold world.
"Don't fall back asleep."
An unfamiliar voice shook me from my dozing, causing me to startle. A deep rumbling could be heard from...somewhere, far away, before it settled down into silence once again.
"Whoa there, whoa..." The voice was kind, like a grandfather. "No need to be upset! We will explain everything. Don't you worry."
I opened my eyes, the world a blur of fuzzy shapes. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, peering at the dark shape in front of me.
"Who?...Oh..." I looked down, suddenly very conscious of the fact that I was naked under the hospital sheets. "Hello, President Obama."
He chuckled, shaking his grey head. "Former president now, I am afraid. But I volunteered to help you through this little...project."
I pulled the sheets tighter around myself. "And what project is that?" I looked around at walls that were certainly not my own. "Are we in a hospital? Did I get injured?"
His smile was filled with warmth. "No no, not at all. This is the hospital wing of the Cheyenne Mountain Nuclear Bunker. You aren't injured, we just wanted to keep you here for observation. Until you stabilized.
"Stabilized...?" My head was starting to spin. I lifted my palm to my forehead, and shrieked.
"Ah! I'm GREEN! And...blue?" The deep rumbling returned for a moment, before subsiding quietly once more. I lifted my hand to examine it under the fluorescent lights. My entire hand had turned to a mottled green color, with veins of blue occasionally crossing through. I followed the length of my arm to my shoulder, where the green suddenly gave way to deep blue. A thin strip of my original tan skin separated the two, like someone had drawn on me with a white-out pen. The effect was actually rather pretty, once I got over the strangeness of it all.
"What is going on?"
"I was hoping that you could tell us." He shook his head sadly. "All we know is what we have seen. Last night, your mother admitted you to a local hospital with a significant fever. You were unresponsive to treatment, and it seemed that you were in a great deal of pain. Then, the markings that you have noticed started to appear all over your body. Once they became recognizable, a specialized unit was called to bring you out here."
"Recognizable?" I took a closer look at my skin. Green...and...
"It's...a map." I finally said. "My body is covered in a map."
"Not just any map." The former head of the United States smiled. "The entire surface of the world is imprinted on your skin." He paused to let that sink in.
"Also...We have reason to believe that the changes are more than skin deep. Attempts at getting blood samples have resulted in multiple broken needles, and the one that did get through had it's tip melted before any meaningful sample could be withdrawn. Additionally, the location corresponding to where we attempted to take the sample has noted some...unusual volcanic activity."
My silence prompted him to continue.
"It seems...that you have awakened as the avatar of our world. What happens to you, in here, happens to all of us out there." He gestured behind him. "The United States is cooperating with the rest of the world on this, but we cannot allow you to fall into the hands of someone who wishes you harm. Project Gaia has been created to cater to your every need. Just ask it, and we will deliver it to you as soon as possible." He stood up and walked toward the door.
"Now, once you are dressed, of the world's leaders holding for a video conference. We will need you up and ready in thirty minutes."
The door closed behind him with a thud. | I can feel the cold surface pressing against my back. My arms and ankles are shackled to the metallic surface. Fuck. I open my eyes to a bright light and blink.
"Cooper, are you with us?"
The voice pierces the fog which envelopes my mind and my thoughts become clearer. I remain silent, but my pupils contract and the torch is removed from before my eyes.
"He's with us" says the voice.
I hear a clamour, I am surrounded by voices and though they all speak at once I can understand all that is being said.
"What's so special about him?"
"Why did I fly halfway round the globe to see a passed out man on a fucking slab?"
"Why the fuck is she here?"
Confusion, anger ... there are a lot of people here who don't like each other, and they don't seem to be too keen on me either.
"Ladies and gentleman, a voice rings out right above my head, this man or rather this thing is the greatest threat humanity has ever faced."
"Then kill it, an accented voice says, and stop wasting our time with this trivial bullshit. If it's a threat neutralise it."
Well, turns out I'm dangerous, whoever I am. I don't have any superpowers otherwise I wouldn't be lying here like a limp dick. I'm still Cooper apparently, though I don't remember anything before I woke up in this room. Shouldn't I be panicking? I'm naked, helpless and have no clue where I am except tied down in this room full of people. Nevertheless I feel calm . The first voice speaks again:
"This thing is a threat to humanity, because it might be the next step. It will replace us with something superior if we do not act to prevent it. This thing has reached what some have called Enlightnement."
And then it hits me.
| |
[WP] You wake up tied to a hospital bed in a bunker, you are surrounded by world leaders and a handful of doctors. You have developed a condition that nobody has ever seen before, it is worthy of their concern. How did you get here? | “Good afternoon, Joe.” The voice was distant, as if coming from another room. Joe looked around as the world slowly came into focus. “Welcome back to the conscious world.”
He tried to speak, but only a rough cough came out. “Easy now,” the voice said. “We don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Joe tried to sit up, but couldn't; cold, metal restraints on his arms, his legs, and across his chest stopped him.
“Wha…,” he started, unable to voice even one of the hundreds of questions tumbling through his head.
“Drink this,” the man said. After a short pause, he added, “Don’t worry, it’s only water. Trust me when I say we want nothing more than to keep you safe and healthy.”
Joe drank the water as it was funneled down his throat. The walls around him were bleak, yet pristine, and the bright florescent lights were almost blinding. Finally, he managed to ask where he was. “Am I in prison?”
There were now several people standing over him, all of them looked vaguely familiar. Especially one of the men toward the back of the group. *Why would Barack Obama visit me?* Joe chalked it up to his own grogginess.
“No, Joe, you’re not in prison, but once you hear the truth I’m sure you’ll wish you were.”
“I…,” Joe struggled with the thought. “I don’t understand.”
“Allow me, dear.” It was a soft, elderly female voice. “The year is 2163. You've been in a coma for the last one hundred and forty-eight years. Everyone you knew or cared about has long since been forgotten. I truly am sorry, Joseph.”
“That’s impossible,” he muttered. “That would mean I’m…” Joe tried to add the years together, but the woman interrupted his thought.
“One hundred and eighty years old, Joe, but do not worry. You are not the oldest here; I am afraid that honor belongs to me, I am two hundred and thirty six years old.”
*I must be drugged,* Joe thought. He began to realize where he recognized the others from. *That’s Vladimir Putin, and that’s Tony Abbott, and…is that David Cameron?*
“Wait, you’re Queen Elizabeth!” The elderly woman cracked a smile and nodded.
“We learned a long time ago that our lives were tied to yours. None of the world leaders could be harmed as long as you remained alive. We do not know how or why it happened, but that does not change the facts.”
Joe laughed. That was impossible. “I’m just a gas station attendant. I’m nobody.” The room erupted in laughter.
“Oh no, my dear, you are the most important man in the world. We have kept you alive all these years so that we could remain in power. It was difficult at first, but all of us have worked hard toward a common peace, all because of you. None of the organs in your body are originally yours, that is how special you are. And that is why you can never leave. We have all worked too long and too hard to pass this legacy on to others.”
Joe fought at his restraints, tried to break free, but could not budge them. They all watched on as he struggled until finally he relaxed, exhausted.
“Now, let me be clear.” This time, it was President Obama who spoke. “You will not die, Joe, nor will you be allowed to harm yourself, but your sacrifice will be will be honored throughout the world. Your descendants will never want and they will always remain prominent members of society. Your sacrifice allows them to live a life you could never give them otherwise.”
“You must understand,” Queen Elizabeth said. “We could not allow this to go any other way.” With that, the world leaders walked out of the cold, brightly lit room. The Queen, who was clearly the leader among the leaders, turned to a man in white clothes. “Put him back to sleep, doctor.”
Joe laid on the slab, watching as the doctor shoved a needle into his arm, and sobbed uncontrollably until the world went dark around him. | I can feel the cold surface pressing against my back. My arms and ankles are shackled to the metallic surface. Fuck. I open my eyes to a bright light and blink.
"Cooper, are you with us?"
The voice pierces the fog which envelopes my mind and my thoughts become clearer. I remain silent, but my pupils contract and the torch is removed from before my eyes.
"He's with us" says the voice.
I hear a clamour, I am surrounded by voices and though they all speak at once I can understand all that is being said.
"What's so special about him?"
"Why did I fly halfway round the globe to see a passed out man on a fucking slab?"
"Why the fuck is she here?"
Confusion, anger ... there are a lot of people here who don't like each other, and they don't seem to be too keen on me either.
"Ladies and gentleman, a voice rings out right above my head, this man or rather this thing is the greatest threat humanity has ever faced."
"Then kill it, an accented voice says, and stop wasting our time with this trivial bullshit. If it's a threat neutralise it."
Well, turns out I'm dangerous, whoever I am. I don't have any superpowers otherwise I wouldn't be lying here like a limp dick. I'm still Cooper apparently, though I don't remember anything before I woke up in this room. Shouldn't I be panicking? I'm naked, helpless and have no clue where I am except tied down in this room full of people. Nevertheless I feel calm . The first voice speaks again:
"This thing is a threat to humanity, because it might be the next step. It will replace us with something superior if we do not act to prevent it. This thing has reached what some have called Enlightnement."
And then it hits me.
| |
[WP] You wake up tied to a hospital bed in a bunker, you are surrounded by world leaders and a handful of doctors. You have developed a condition that nobody has ever seen before, it is worthy of their concern. How did you get here? | "Are you sure this is true doctor?" A tall white man asks another man in a white coat. Around the room is several people of all ethnicities, including the world leaders of Russia and US.
"Mr. Obama, if you relinquish ze boy to us, ve of Russia svear to be democratic and follow you to ze depths of hell." A man looking like Vladimir Putin asks
"I am sorry, but we cannot give this child up, the promise he holds within his body is too great to give up. I am going to have to say no to that." A familiar voice I have heard on TV replies, as I see it truly is Obama.
"We of North Korea swear on the Kim family's name that we will give up our nuclear weapons and unify Korea once again with the South in charge. If you just give us the boy!" Another person asks. Is that Jabba? Holy shit even star wars wants me. Someone get me a mirror! Did I grow something new?
"What the hell, where am I?" I ask, looking for extra appendages I might have grown.
"Good day son, I am your president, and what has happened to you might shock you. We believe that you have found a way to make your penis grow to 12 inches. We are hiding you right now because every doctor around the world is after your head. They HATE you."
| I can feel the cold surface pressing against my back. My arms and ankles are shackled to the metallic surface. Fuck. I open my eyes to a bright light and blink.
"Cooper, are you with us?"
The voice pierces the fog which envelopes my mind and my thoughts become clearer. I remain silent, but my pupils contract and the torch is removed from before my eyes.
"He's with us" says the voice.
I hear a clamour, I am surrounded by voices and though they all speak at once I can understand all that is being said.
"What's so special about him?"
"Why did I fly halfway round the globe to see a passed out man on a fucking slab?"
"Why the fuck is she here?"
Confusion, anger ... there are a lot of people here who don't like each other, and they don't seem to be too keen on me either.
"Ladies and gentleman, a voice rings out right above my head, this man or rather this thing is the greatest threat humanity has ever faced."
"Then kill it, an accented voice says, and stop wasting our time with this trivial bullshit. If it's a threat neutralise it."
Well, turns out I'm dangerous, whoever I am. I don't have any superpowers otherwise I wouldn't be lying here like a limp dick. I'm still Cooper apparently, though I don't remember anything before I woke up in this room. Shouldn't I be panicking? I'm naked, helpless and have no clue where I am except tied down in this room full of people. Nevertheless I feel calm . The first voice speaks again:
"This thing is a threat to humanity, because it might be the next step. It will replace us with something superior if we do not act to prevent it. This thing has reached what some have called Enlightnement."
And then it hits me.
| |
[WP] You wake up tied to a hospital bed in a bunker, you are surrounded by world leaders and a handful of doctors. You have developed a condition that nobody has ever seen before, it is worthy of their concern. How did you get here? | "Are you sure this is true doctor?" A tall white man asks another man in a white coat. Around the room is several people of all ethnicities, including the world leaders of Russia and US.
"Mr. Obama, if you relinquish ze boy to us, ve of Russia svear to be democratic and follow you to ze depths of hell." A man looking like Vladimir Putin asks
"I am sorry, but we cannot give this child up, the promise he holds within his body is too great to give up. I am going to have to say no to that." A familiar voice I have heard on TV replies, as I see it truly is Obama.
"We of North Korea swear on the Kim family's name that we will give up our nuclear weapons and unify Korea once again with the South in charge. If you just give us the boy!" Another person asks. Is that Jabba? Holy shit even star wars wants me. Someone get me a mirror! Did I grow something new?
"What the hell, where am I?" I ask, looking for extra appendages I might have grown.
"Good day son, I am your president, and what has happened to you might shock you. We believe that you have found a way to make your penis grow to 12 inches. We are hiding you right now because every doctor around the world is after your head. They HATE you."
| “Good afternoon, Joe.” The voice was distant, as if coming from another room. Joe looked around as the world slowly came into focus. “Welcome back to the conscious world.”
He tried to speak, but only a rough cough came out. “Easy now,” the voice said. “We don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Joe tried to sit up, but couldn't; cold, metal restraints on his arms, his legs, and across his chest stopped him.
“Wha…,” he started, unable to voice even one of the hundreds of questions tumbling through his head.
“Drink this,” the man said. After a short pause, he added, “Don’t worry, it’s only water. Trust me when I say we want nothing more than to keep you safe and healthy.”
Joe drank the water as it was funneled down his throat. The walls around him were bleak, yet pristine, and the bright florescent lights were almost blinding. Finally, he managed to ask where he was. “Am I in prison?”
There were now several people standing over him, all of them looked vaguely familiar. Especially one of the men toward the back of the group. *Why would Barack Obama visit me?* Joe chalked it up to his own grogginess.
“No, Joe, you’re not in prison, but once you hear the truth I’m sure you’ll wish you were.”
“I…,” Joe struggled with the thought. “I don’t understand.”
“Allow me, dear.” It was a soft, elderly female voice. “The year is 2163. You've been in a coma for the last one hundred and forty-eight years. Everyone you knew or cared about has long since been forgotten. I truly am sorry, Joseph.”
“That’s impossible,” he muttered. “That would mean I’m…” Joe tried to add the years together, but the woman interrupted his thought.
“One hundred and eighty years old, Joe, but do not worry. You are not the oldest here; I am afraid that honor belongs to me, I am two hundred and thirty six years old.”
*I must be drugged,* Joe thought. He began to realize where he recognized the others from. *That’s Vladimir Putin, and that’s Tony Abbott, and…is that David Cameron?*
“Wait, you’re Queen Elizabeth!” The elderly woman cracked a smile and nodded.
“We learned a long time ago that our lives were tied to yours. None of the world leaders could be harmed as long as you remained alive. We do not know how or why it happened, but that does not change the facts.”
Joe laughed. That was impossible. “I’m just a gas station attendant. I’m nobody.” The room erupted in laughter.
“Oh no, my dear, you are the most important man in the world. We have kept you alive all these years so that we could remain in power. It was difficult at first, but all of us have worked hard toward a common peace, all because of you. None of the organs in your body are originally yours, that is how special you are. And that is why you can never leave. We have all worked too long and too hard to pass this legacy on to others.”
Joe fought at his restraints, tried to break free, but could not budge them. They all watched on as he struggled until finally he relaxed, exhausted.
“Now, let me be clear.” This time, it was President Obama who spoke. “You will not die, Joe, nor will you be allowed to harm yourself, but your sacrifice will be will be honored throughout the world. Your descendants will never want and they will always remain prominent members of society. Your sacrifice allows them to live a life you could never give them otherwise.”
“You must understand,” Queen Elizabeth said. “We could not allow this to go any other way.” With that, the world leaders walked out of the cold, brightly lit room. The Queen, who was clearly the leader among the leaders, turned to a man in white clothes. “Put him back to sleep, doctor.”
Joe laid on the slab, watching as the doctor shoved a needle into his arm, and sobbed uncontrollably until the world went dark around him. | |
[WP]A probe like Earth's Voyager probes, reaches Earth. It is not man made | When it crashed on Earth, no one knew the reason. America claimed it was a korean scam. Some weird-looking-apocalipse-triggering-device. Russia accused the US to plot everything to draw attention from the truth. The truth? No one knew. Not even the russians.
Television networks all over the world brought conspiracy theory fans, analysts, experts in UFO`s and all sorts of opportunists to try to explain the phenomenon of the century, on its own words.
Bullshit. All bullshit. The truth was that no one had a clue about what was going on. Inside the fallen probe was a perfectly plain metal blue glowing sphere - with no slots or symbols, nor holes or any form of writing or drawings - that fell into the middle of the desert, causing an explosion so big and strong that transformed the crater into a gigantic organic jewel: a stadium wide black glass hole surrounded by sand.
When NORAD took control of the operations, everybody else knew that things were more serious than a simple space falling debris. The isolation level of both ground and airspace just strengthened the rumors of something alien.
A hipster trailer park was estabilished at binoculars distance from the site and an illegal betting exchange has transformed the place in the most popular destination of the United States. The betting was, of course, what was the so called "sphere" or better: what was INSIDE of it? If anything.
The crowd along the fences compressed themselves, day after day, trying to sneak peek something from the distance. Powerful tv cameras, binoculars, telescopes, everything was used to get a glimpse of whatever that was. But it was impossible to see inside the giant tents and improvised buildings. For some reason they didn't build anything around the sphere to cover it. And as days went by, people noticed that they couldn't even get close to it. At some point, they decided to shoot the sphere, maybe to check if it was protected by some sort of field, and it was the only time they did it. The explosion was felt in the trailer park as if it happened a few metters away. Trailer`s windows shattered and the shockwave put the clothes poles to the ground.
A year passed after the incident, and nothing has changed. The money raised from the betting was violently split between those who survived the battleground in which the trailer park was turned into. Anxious and angry rednecks, UFO fanatics and all sorts of weirdos clashed themselves after many months of frustrations and a 45 degree celsius sun above their heads. The number of trailers was still high but nothing close to the one 12 months ago.
And there it was the glowing sphere, flashing its blue light into the night sky. Night after night.
"See anything, kid?" - the old guy asked uninterested.
"Nah. Same as always. - he replied - "A gigantic glowing sphere with lots of soldiers, tents and boredom around it".
"I told you. This is a waste of time. We should grab the money and leave. We won a decent amount after all."
"I won, you mean."
"You, me, what's the difference? We're in this together." - he said lowering his newspaper and looking right in to his eyes.
"The difference, uncle, is that I was the one who smashed the guy's face in the first place. And if it wasn't for me, we wouldn't have enough to even buy something to eat in this God forsaken desert." - he challenged.
"Whatever, Keith." - he shrugged
"Yeah, right..." - Keith turned around to look at the fences again with his googles - "Hey! What the fuck?!?" - he waved to his uncle. - "C'mon uncle John! Take a look at that!"
John slowly stood up from his wooden chair, speeding up his steps when he noticed the commotion alongside the fence.
"What's that?" - someone shouted to somebody.
"Is he insane? He's going to get shot!" - someone else said.
As John breached out the human wall in front of him, he could see, in the distance, what seemed to be a guy on tattered clothes, getting close to the militar tents.
A siren echoed in the distance.
Soldiers gathered together in formation. Everybody could see the red dots over the guy.
"Freeze! Stay where you are! This is a militarized zone! Entering is strictly forbiden!" - a voice shouted from some amplifying device. - "If you move any further we will engage you! That's our last warning! Stay where you are!"
The guy continued to walk towards the center of the military camp, heading to the sphere.
"That's enough right there!" - the amplified voice said - "Fire!"
A dozen blasts sparkled through the night when the soldiers guns blazed.
The next seconds were an absolute silence. Not only from the fact that the guy was still walking towards them, but mostly because everybody could see the bright traces left in the air when the bullets ricocheted into something invisible around the guy.
A second round of bullets rained him with the same effect.
Some minutes after, the first line of soldiers split to let the tank get into position.
This time the blast was similar to the one produced by the sphere and only one third of the soldiers survived.
Then the guy stoped a few meters from the sphere. He stood still for some minutes.
It would be possible to hear his breathing if he was just a little bit closer.
The silence.
And then he steped forward.
One.
Two.
Ten steps.
He was at arms reach from the sphere.
A few survivors were trying to get away from there. Others were trying to help the mutilated.
Then he touched the sphere.
And it started to glow red...
...the same as his eyes.
| February 2014:
As dawn approached the dwarf planet Ceres, a lone spot moved across the newly images disk. Based on the two images that caught the spot in its field of view, the object had to be traveling faster then the escape velocity of the sun. Earths greatest scientist scrambled to determine its trajectory .
March 2014:
As Dawn continued on its mission, the Hubble space telescope locates the object as it crosses the orbit of Mars. Using the Dawn pictures and the new image obtained, it appeared the object would come half as close as the orbit of Venus before moving away from the earth and leaving the solar system in 186 days time at its present speed of 38,610mph. NASA appeals to congress for additional funding to send a Rosetta type probe to the new object as this will be a one in a million chance to study a extra solar object
June 9 2015:
With unpresendented speed, NASA launched its most powerful launch ever. Using the new Space launch system, the small probe obtained the fastest launch speed ever attempted by man to overcome the orbital speed of the earth so that it could "fall towards" the object. Further imaging of the object had detected a extremely reflective surface with a several long "arms" coming off a central disk 3 to 5 meters across. Scientist speculated it must be similar to a M type asteroid that's face had been polished over millions of years by nanopartical in the intellar medium.
September 17 2015:
Numerous scientist and others interested in space tuned into live coverage of the flyby of the object. Because of the speeds involved, contact with the object was off the table. The earth probe would only have a five minute window to obtain pictures from the object before it was out of range.
As the object moved closure with its apogee with earth, more facts became apparent. It's origin seemed to be from the direction of Gilese some 16 light years away. At the objects current speed, it would of taken 272,000 years to transit from the Gilese system to earth. Scientist speculated that it was the core of a burnt out comet that survived a highly elipitical orbit of Gilese to be flung out of the Gilese system.
The object itself seemed to be rotating at about 2m per second. Several lighter and darker spots had been imaged. This would help the probe capture all angles of the object befor contact was lost.
| |
[WP]A probe like Earth's Voyager probes, reaches Earth. It is not man made | "Hey, Ralph, c'mere and take a look at what I's found."
"Hole-lee shit Billy-Bob, that's- that's... what the hell is that?"
"I dunno. Looks like it fell from the sky. See how it took out the tops of all them there fir trees and left that trail that ends where it's a layin'?"
"Shee-it. I first thought it was someone's moonshite still. You think it's one of them there GPS sattelites? Does this mean my phone won't be able to find the nearest Stuckeys? I need my bacon and egg and five cheese breakfast muffins in the morning, and on these hunting trips, Googlin for the nearest one is what I does. I love me my modern techno-logee."
"Maybe yer shot it down when you was blastin them geese we saw in that there flock earlier."
"Ain't no way Billy-Bob. Them there sattylites fly higher than them jet planes, and I can't shoot that high with this pump action. Maybe a 12-guage, but not this here gun."
"You think we should call the po-leece and tell them?"
"I s'pose. But first, you see any parts on there we could sell for scrap metal?"
"Good idea. There's writin' on here I can't read, looks alien to me."
"Ain't alien. It says Feder- federa- federation of planes."
"There, mayhap it just fell off a plane."
"There's a flap here, lemme just peek what's under it."
"Holy shit!" Suddenly a long reddish brown probing tentacle sprang out from under the flap and wrapped itself around Ralph's neck before entering his mouth and inserting itself down his throat."
"What the fuck Ralph, now ain't the time to be given it a blow job. Spit that thing out right now! You ain't got no idea where that there things been. What'cha even thinking?"
"Mmghrhherrzzttmnh," Ralph replied incoherently, struggling to breathe. Another tentacle now came out and went up Ralph's pant leg, clearly entering his other main orifice.
"Jesus Christ almighty Ralph, you shure are picking a strange time to have close relations with that there space octopus. Well, you can't say I won't respect your privacy, so when you two's done gettin to know each other better, give me a holler and then we can go back to the pickup and go find the nearest Stuckeys. Maybe your date will want to come too. Have fun bro." And Billy-bob walked back into the woods following the deer track that had brought them to this spot, shaking his head. "Wish the Federation of Planes would probe me like that," he muttered under his breath. | February 2014:
As dawn approached the dwarf planet Ceres, a lone spot moved across the newly images disk. Based on the two images that caught the spot in its field of view, the object had to be traveling faster then the escape velocity of the sun. Earths greatest scientist scrambled to determine its trajectory .
March 2014:
As Dawn continued on its mission, the Hubble space telescope locates the object as it crosses the orbit of Mars. Using the Dawn pictures and the new image obtained, it appeared the object would come half as close as the orbit of Venus before moving away from the earth and leaving the solar system in 186 days time at its present speed of 38,610mph. NASA appeals to congress for additional funding to send a Rosetta type probe to the new object as this will be a one in a million chance to study a extra solar object
June 9 2015:
With unpresendented speed, NASA launched its most powerful launch ever. Using the new Space launch system, the small probe obtained the fastest launch speed ever attempted by man to overcome the orbital speed of the earth so that it could "fall towards" the object. Further imaging of the object had detected a extremely reflective surface with a several long "arms" coming off a central disk 3 to 5 meters across. Scientist speculated it must be similar to a M type asteroid that's face had been polished over millions of years by nanopartical in the intellar medium.
September 17 2015:
Numerous scientist and others interested in space tuned into live coverage of the flyby of the object. Because of the speeds involved, contact with the object was off the table. The earth probe would only have a five minute window to obtain pictures from the object before it was out of range.
As the object moved closure with its apogee with earth, more facts became apparent. It's origin seemed to be from the direction of Gilese some 16 light years away. At the objects current speed, it would of taken 272,000 years to transit from the Gilese system to earth. Scientist speculated that it was the core of a burnt out comet that survived a highly elipitical orbit of Gilese to be flung out of the Gilese system.
The object itself seemed to be rotating at about 2m per second. Several lighter and darker spots had been imaged. This would help the probe capture all angles of the object befor contact was lost.
| |
[WP]A probe like Earth's Voyager probes, reaches Earth. It is not man made | "Hey, Ralph, c'mere and take a look at what I's found."
"Hole-lee shit Billy-Bob, that's- that's... what the hell is that?"
"I dunno. Looks like it fell from the sky. See how it took out the tops of all them there fir trees and left that trail that ends where it's a layin'?"
"Shee-it. I first thought it was someone's moonshite still. You think it's one of them there GPS sattelites? Does this mean my phone won't be able to find the nearest Stuckeys? I need my bacon and egg and five cheese breakfast muffins in the morning, and on these hunting trips, Googlin for the nearest one is what I does. I love me my modern techno-logee."
"Maybe yer shot it down when you was blastin them geese we saw in that there flock earlier."
"Ain't no way Billy-Bob. Them there sattylites fly higher than them jet planes, and I can't shoot that high with this pump action. Maybe a 12-guage, but not this here gun."
"You think we should call the po-leece and tell them?"
"I s'pose. But first, you see any parts on there we could sell for scrap metal?"
"Good idea. There's writin' on here I can't read, looks alien to me."
"Ain't alien. It says Feder- federa- federation of planes."
"There, mayhap it just fell off a plane."
"There's a flap here, lemme just peek what's under it."
"Holy shit!" Suddenly a long reddish brown probing tentacle sprang out from under the flap and wrapped itself around Ralph's neck before entering his mouth and inserting itself down his throat."
"What the fuck Ralph, now ain't the time to be given it a blow job. Spit that thing out right now! You ain't got no idea where that there things been. What'cha even thinking?"
"Mmghrhherrzzttmnh," Ralph replied incoherently, struggling to breathe. Another tentacle now came out and went up Ralph's pant leg, clearly entering his other main orifice.
"Jesus Christ almighty Ralph, you shure are picking a strange time to have close relations with that there space octopus. Well, you can't say I won't respect your privacy, so when you two's done gettin to know each other better, give me a holler and then we can go back to the pickup and go find the nearest Stuckeys. Maybe your date will want to come too. Have fun bro." And Billy-bob walked back into the woods following the deer track that had brought them to this spot, shaking his head. "Wish the Federation of Planes would probe me like that," he muttered under his breath. | *CRASH!* I'm wide awake, my dog is barking at the front door, and I'm already shaking. I grab my keys, walk over to the vault, and unlock it, pulling out the revolver, making sure it's loaded. I take a deep breath, and let it go.
Rufus stops barking as I walk over to the front door. "Lay down, Rufus. I got this," I say, with a shaky voice that doesn't quite seem my own.
*I live in the middle of nowhere. It can't be burglars. I don't even have anything good to steal!*
The door creaks loud as a clocktower, and trying to shut it slower just makes it worse. I see some smoke out in the field, and perhaps a small fire. There's a fire extinguisher next to the front door, so I go back and grab it.
The fire isn't too bad, and I put it out quickly. And get a good look at... *What the hell *is* that?*
It's pretty big, I can tell that. As the smoke clears, I see that it's made of gold, and steel. It seems to be damaged in someway, but that was probably from the fall. I reach out, and touch it with the gun. And then I hear a rumble, or more like a low hum. Lights start to come on all over the craft. And then the lights start to stretch out, like small beams of light, ending in a point, which seems rather bright. It's like a hologram, or something, and I'm starting to just stare in awe. I pinch myself, but it doesn't stop.
But soon, the lights start to move, and point to different places. Eventually they coalesce, and become on large beam of light... which seems to *zoom* in. And then there it is. The Milky Way, in all its glory. I'd recognize the spiral arms anywhere.
The lights zoom back through one particular part on the arm, and it shows a our solar system. I recognize Jupiter, and Saturn. The lights move more, and show the Earth, and then zoom into the point on where we were, right in the middle of the midwest US.
After staying on it for a few minutes, it zooms far out to the Milky Way again. Then that zooms out even more. It moves to a different galaxy, one that I wasn't familiar with. It zooms into a cluster of stars in that galaxy, showing another solar system. On it are planets similar to Mars, and Venus. Dead rocks, orbiting a red-white sun. It moves through the planets, until it gets to the fourth from the sun. It's a pretty planet, blue and green. After focusing on that image, the light show faded away.
And then it spoke.
| |
[WP] A Witch attempts to kill the knight who has been hunting her for years by pretending to be a damsel in distress. As she discovers his ultimate weakness, she realizes she has fallen in love with him. | "Alright," Cassandra said, checking her face in the pocket mirror. "Just the right amount of doe eye. Maybe overdid the boobs, but somehow I don't think he'll mind."
Burbank hooted from his perch on the branch next to her.
"I did not," Cassandra said indignantly. "My ass fat wouldn't have filled my chest."
Burbank turned and flew off.
"Fine then, go eat a spoiled rat you ungrateful shit," she muttered.
The *clop* of horse hooves filled her ears.
*Why do you suddenly have butterflies?* Cassandra thought. She cleared her throat, her usual croak rising to a lovely falsetto.
"Hello?" she cried out in a dainty question, pulling her blouse down just a bit more and angling her legs off to the side of the hanging cage in an uncomfortable position. "Hello, is anyone there? Won't someone rescue me?"
The sound of the horse came to a stop and silence filled the woods, the crickets and birds sensing something off and staying silent.
Sir Rothbar, the fabled Black Knight of Red Mourn stepped from behind a tree and examined the young woman. He wasn't wearing his armor, but had obviously scouted the scene before revealing himself.
*You've grown old, Rothbar,* Cassandra thought. *It looks good on you.* Rothbar had indeed gone gray and years in the sun had weathered his face, giving his stern features the appearance of chiseled stone.
"Young Miss," his deep voice carried. "Why are you in a cage in a tree?"
"Oh, sir, can you help me?" Cassandra asked, leaning against the wooden bars and working up a tear to fall between her breasts. "I have been trapped up here for hours. A wicked old woman trapped me here."
"Was she tall?" Rothbar asked. "With a haggish face and a stoop?"
"Well, I wouldn't call it a haggish face," Cassandra said. "But yes, that sounds like her."
"Ah," Rothbar said. "She trussed you up here to slow me down. Clever woman, I'll give her that. Well, be patient, I'll get you down."
"Oh, thank you sir," Cassandra said.
After some fiddling with the knots of the rope that suspended her in the tree, Rothbar began to lower Cassandra to the ground. He stopped the cage a few feet from the packed earth of the road and cut the bindings of the cage door with a casual swipe of his sword. Gripping Cassandra by the hips, he lifted her effortlessly and set her down.
"Oh, ooh, my you're solid sir knight," Cassandra said. "Thank you. I was ever so sure I was done for. Hardly anyone comes down this road."
"Well, then Miss," Rothbar said. "Where do you hail from?"
"Oh my village is up the road a few days," Cassandra said. "You see, I was on my way to the market at the village south of here when that...that horrible woman captured me."
"Very well then," Rothbar said. "I will return you to your village before I return to my quest."
Rothbar whistled, and a great black stallion stepped around a tree and approached them. One sniff of Cassandra and it reared.
"Easy, easy girl," Rothbar said. "I'm sorry madame, but he must have the scent of the witch in his nose."
*Shit, I forgot the scent spell,* Cassandra said, and began to mutter it under her breath. By the time Rothbar mounted the horse and offered her his arm, Cassandra smelled like sweet oats and the great beast tried to nuzzle her.
"Oh, what a sweet creature," she said. "Oh, yes, ah hah hah *knock it off!*"
Rothbar hoisted her with one arm behind him and they were off, Cassandra wondering why the feel of him seemed to warm her insides. She leaned back and felt the armor secured on the rear of the horse and smiled to herself.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Day one was spent in mostly silence, Cassandra asking a few pointed questions of Rothbar. That night at a campfire she told him her name was Sarah, and she began to tell him of her history. Cassandra found herself telling Rothbar of her evil father and dull-witted mother, of the sister tossed down the well because Father was drunk and had dropped something. She told him many things, her script for the young naive Sarah forgotten as she shared the tale of her upbringing.
Day two, Rothbar started telling war stories as Cassandra pestered him. They were grim things, tales of blood and nightmares. That evening he told her of his loving blacksmith father and mother, and how their plague deaths left the boy orphaned.
On day three, Cassandra sent up a spell to make it rain, and the road became impassable. In a cave off the road, huddled together for warmth before the fire, Rothbar told her the tale of how he became the squire of the original Black Knight, and how he inherited the legendary armor, it's black metal guarding against all magic even if the knight wasn't currently wearing it, so long as the Black Knight kept himself pure.
*Purity,* Cassandra thought with glee. *There it is.*
As the evening grew colder, Cassandra drew herself closer to the knight, and with satisfyingly little effort convinced him to break his vow of celibacy.
Afterwards, laying together wrapped in Rothbar's cloak in their own sweat, she felt herself dozing in the crook of his arm.
"Is it everything you hoped for, Cassandra?" Rothbar said.
Her eyes snapped open.
"Hmm?" she asked, feigning sleep.
"Knock it off," Rothbar growled.
"Shit," Cassandra said, rolling to her feet. "How long have you known?"
"Since my horse tried to trample you," Rothbar said. "Sloppy of you. Go back to sleep, we'll settle this tomorrow. It's raining outside and I'm cold."
Cassandra dressed instead, and waited on the other side of the fire, wondering why there were tears in her eyes. Her jaw dropped as she heard Rothbar's snore.
____________________________________________________________________________________
"Honor demands we duel," Sir Rothbar said solemnly, the morning sun shining on the grass outside the cave. Cassandra's eyes woke from unplanned sleep to find him rustling through his armor outside.
"I'm not dueling you," Cassandra said. "We aren't doing this. Put the armor down. Don't you put on that greave. Take that greave off. Don't you put on that gauntlet."
"You killed my Lord," Rothbar answered.
"He was a prick! He murdered people for fun! Your stupid honor had you bound to a psychopath. I did you a favor."
"I swore an oath," Rothbar said. "I swore it to his father that I would protect him. I couldn't...I could have guided him on the right path if you hadn't killed him."
"No you couldn't," Cassandra said. "No one could. You don't have to do this, Roth, you're vulnerable now. I don't want to hurt you."
'Hah," Rothbar said. "You misunderstood the power of the armor. It isn't celibacy, it's purity as defined by the old charters. So long as I never love anyone but my lord, I am protected. Raise your guard, witch."
Cassandra sighed. "*Moob*," she muttered, and lightning shot from her fingers. Rothbar flew through the air and landed five yards away, his useless armor smoking. Cassandra strolled towards him and stood over his panting form, her arms crossed defiantly.
"Ah," he said. "Bugger."
She looked down at him, pity creasing her face.
"Breakfast?" she asked.
Rothbar contemplated this for a moment.
"Yes," he agreed, and she helped him up. | "Help!"
Ser Galen's eyes narrowed at the shriek, though he struggled to remain outwardly calm. He had been a witch-hunter for years, and this would not be the first trap he'd been led into by his own compassion. *Nor the last,* he thought grimly, spurring his mount toward the sound.
It was late. The witching hour, it was called - the time just before midnight when the barrier between the world and the next was thinnest. The ideal time to strike back at a pursuer, or lash out at a victim. It was possible that the cry for help was issued from someone with a perfectly innocent reason to be here on the moor in the dead of night - but unlikely.
"Hail, the desperate!" Galen shouted after checking the wards on his shield. "Are you in need of aid?"
"Yes!" Not the voice of a young woman - perhaps just old enough to be a grandmother. "Help me, please! My daughter, she's not breathing!" He saw her come running toward the light of his lantern, silhouette plain against the starlit brambles. "How far?" Galen asked, gently urging his steed forward. "Across the brook, milord, about a league. Please, she needs a priest!"
"Direct me, then," he instructed, making the sign of the cross and throwing salt across his shoulder. "Ride with me. I would not separate a woman of God from her imperiled kin." The woman ran up to the horse and mounted it behind him with an ease that bespoke years of horsemanship. Unusual, but not impossible - and any witch who tried to mount his horse would be met with intense pain. "Forward here, ser, and turn to the left as you cross the brook!" she commanded confidently. That was more unusual, for a peasant addressing a knight. *Curious.*
They came upon the girl laying unconscious against a tree. The woman leapt off immediately and cradled her, pulling one of the girl's hands up to brush her face. *She conceals knowledge of medicine,* Galen realized. "Does her blood yet flow?" he asked, watching the reaction. "Yes, her heart is beating, milord. Please, we need to bring her to a church! She may yet confess her sins and enter God's kingdom in a state of grace."
*A trap, but not for me,* Galen mused. *Fell creatures may not enter hallowed ground unbidden.* "She doesn't need a church, mother." *What am I doing?* he wondered, but continued: "She needs her blood let, and tea made of willow. She's been bitten by a snake, don't you see? Her blood will curdle and rot if we are not quick to push it from her."
"Ser knight, she's been here cavorting with the Devil himself. Small wonder if she's been bitten by a serpent. I would not want her to live in sin any more than to die in it, do you understand? Take us to a church at once!" She threw her arms about in a commanding gesture.
Galen pushed the old woman away and threw a quick circle of salt about the girl. "Do you think you have authority over death, woman? Has all of your wickedness driven from you the memory of compassion?" She spat at this, but he continued. "Until the moment of death, all of God's creatures may find redemption. Even this girl. Even you. Please do not make me end your life, and hers, tonight."
Two grotesque punctures about the left breast marked the poison's entry. Quickly, he set to the bloodletting. *An initiation ritual.* He had seen these marks before. *The next step, the profane resurrection on an altar of our Lord.* Grimly, wordlessly, he pushed the tainted blood from her wound.
He was there for some time, intent enough that he did not see the witch return. She placed a small clay cup of willow tea at the boundary of the circle and said, "Do you truly think she can be saved?"
"Her wounds are not fatal. She may yet live through the night."
"Stubborn as ever, I see. That's not what I meant." She looked away, pensive. "How long have you been chasing after me now?"
"Nine-hundred and sixty-two days," Galen replied, not looking up. "Though if you count the days I spent as page to Ser Thalus, God rest his soul, the total is increased by eight hundred and twelve."
She smiled at that. "He was never as careful as you are, Galen. Nor so concerned with the lives of blasphemers."
"All are rendered equal before the Lord," he quoted in a monotone. "We shall not turn away those in need until they have turned away from our Lord God."
"And do you think, even now, that she has not turned? That I have not turned? Would you stoop over even me, to push poison from my veins?"
"My lady," Galen exhaled, extending one hand from the circle and picking up the tea, "It saddens me that you do not understand that is what I am doing now. All children of God are given the opportunity to repent until they are dead. My mission is to ensure that you meet with one outcome or the other." As he poured the tea across her lips, the girl began to cough and breathe more deeply. "I will not forsake anyone, even a mistress of the Adversary."
"I daresay you will not," she said, seemingly whispering into Galen's ear. He stood up, shield raised and sword drawn, but she was long gone.
| |
[WP] The rest of the universe actually shows up for the Miss Universe Pageant. | Lights. Camera. Action.
The pageant was in full swing. A buzz filled the air with thousands of people cheering for their countries and waving flags, energy levels surging whenever the film cameras swooped near them. Below the crowds and fronting the stage were the jury, ready to cast their votes for the girl who would ascend from the masses and join their lofty ranks in the world of mediocre celebrity.
Seven girls remained. Nervous, with faces frozen in the widest smile possible, they stood perfectly poised as the hosts began the next segment to announce the top five contestants.
"Now that we've gotten to know them, let's find out who's in the-"
And the host's mic cut off. The lights went out. Millions of people at home found themselves staring at a blank television screen as producers worldwide scrambled to fill the empty space with commercials.
In the auditorium, a split moment of silence had turned into a palpable tension as murmurs of discontent grew and everyone fidgeted in their seats, annoyed that their mobile phones suddenly stopped working. Backstage, security was going nuts, calling in the sniffer dogs and bomb squads while the crew yelled at everyone to calm down.
A flash of light. Then-
BOOM.
Screams were heard and panic was setting in when the lights came back on and behold, on the stage where Miss Ukraine once stood was the equally svelte figure of a- what WAS that?
"Greetings, gentle Ladies and Men," a disembodied voice floated out of The Thing, projected through the speakers. Now everybody was shocked into silence.
"Pardon my speech, We have yet to acquire a fully functional translating mechanism," it continued, seemingly unaware that half the audience thought they were going mad and the other half were slowly going mad trying to get their phones and cameras to start.
"I come to broker seating arrangements as there seems to be insufficient chairs for Everyone arriving. The line has been backed up for ages and ages and I fear the large reptiles are losing their charm for those at the end of the queue," it paused and peered into the nearest rows. "Might I speak with thy leader?"
"Sorry," squeaked a voice to the left of the stage. It was Miss Canada! Bless their hearts, almost all the girls were still standing diligently in place! "But who are you?"
The Thing spun round, all four glossy eyes searching for the question's source. At that sight, one of the Miss Latin Americas finally fainted, deftly caught by Miss India, who was no stranger to multi-limbed deities.
"I am an Ambassador, as thy people call it. The Galaxies have chosen me to speak with the Peoples of Earth because They say I most closely resemble thy kind," the alien ambassador grew excited as it said so. "The other species did always say my kind was leastly developed. Well, now, Our kind can finally contribute to the furthering of the Great Intergalactic Relations."
"So what do you want from us?" one of the pageant hosts appeared to have recovered enough to shout (as her mic was still malfunctioning).
"Much apologies, I was under the impression Our message had been received," its four eyes looked quizzically in four directions for someone to answer in the affirmative.
"I'm afraid none of us here know what you are talking about."
"Everyone is anticipating the contest. Many have sent Their finest female specimens. Even the non-gendered species have found a Representative," the ambassador literally glowed with pride.
Then Miss China found her voice.
"I don't understand. Are you saying..."
"Pardon my speech once more. I failed to remember not Everyone speaks English," it inclined its elongated body rather gracefully at her. "We have come to Earth to participate in this selection of the greatest of beauty and correctness."
"We have come to join in the search for Miss Universe." |
We were blind considering our imagination of sexy aliens reached its peak in the world with 'three tittied alien' in total recall. Really world? Really? Your only sexiness understanding came from a regular human with three boobs? Thats not an alien thats a defect on a human , a disease perhaps.
Now standing right near our country winners , came the sexiness. We were in awe with their ooze of sex appeal. This is the universe , they have mutated long before us , they were billions of years ahead of us , so why not with mutation as well. We started using protection for sex and just have sex for fun for how long now? It has been billions of years for them to use sex just for entertainment , so their bodies adopted.
Here came the beauty from KOI-1686.01 , they did not felt any 'shame' for being naked , sure they did wore stuff to keep from cold but when its hot the need to cover up was useless for them. She walked through the stage with her genitals glatring with her reproductive organ having wet suntion function and her ass widening and tightening as she pleases , in the middle there was no weird emptiness like us humans , there was a tongue like organ helping the penetrator during sex.
What about the Gliese 832 c marvel! She had the most beatiful gaze into human soul any women/men could ever want , also they were a race very into their biotechnology and put all their lifes work into perfecting their race with technological replacements. Why does this matter? She had jackhammer reflexes for elbow and plastic freedom of wrist, the word handjob was useless for it was just touching for them when our men finished and women screamed the words stop, their mouths were trapped shut and there was no tongue there , only hundreds of nipple looking knobs jerking you while giving warm liquids. I do not even want to mention their reproductive organs.
There was man with penises like our tongues , they had one big and one small behind it , the big ones purpose was reaching your end and it was like Dr.Reed Richards , the small one had a nucleer missle aiming type of ability which located where exactly was the G-spot and nibble on it.
Of course with the Gliese 832 c women in all those technological marvel but how about its male? How about the male that had fingers that gave warm liquid at the pointy end with jackhammer elbows for your fast pleasure and big rubbery slippery genitals attached to their amazingly flexible waist , they had no early ejaculation for the fun part , but boy oh boy how about the money shot , the hard dash point hits you first and warmness covers you later on. Their ejaculation is another orgasm material if you are not tired of cumming yet.
They had no bisexuality there , because they have no straight or gay , there are no creature that chooses to be with only one race , they born 'bisexual' as what we say and die bisexual and never even heard being with one gender. If you stop to think about our hormones for a moment , the gender means nothing to them , just because they have different organs doesnt mean they are different , they have sex with whoever they can while they can. If you think we are amazed by their sexual abilities , it has not faded for them as well , it is still an amazing thing to feel for them as well , they don't have the selectiveness of humans and they try to find partners all the free time they have.
Now they come here , to show their most beatiful ones , the most sexy creatures they can make a show of , their most willing to have sex with a human creature ones . Their only hope? Win the miss universe (they still dont understand the 'miss' part , and find humans to try different types of pleasure if they can and return their home exoplanet to tell their memories , if they enjoy it more of these angels of sexaulity will come to try us.
So I stand here , asking for our women and men , spread as wide as you can and go as deep as you can for your planet. Our sexual desires to be with our dream relies heavily upon you! | |
[WP] A scientist sells his soul to make it possible to travel the stars incredibly fast. In a year multiple planets have been colonized, but the devil is due the scientists soul, but can't leave earth so he hires you as his assassin. | The man turned, panting heavily as the latest assassin hit the dirt. A formidable opponent, but not formidable enough. None of the enhancements the assassins had received had been enough to take him down.
How many had it been now? There'd been the violinist, the man who could freeze anything solid, the one who could meld metal and flesh.
He felt remorse over their deaths, of course - he was no murderer. Still, he had no choice. Humanity had gone further in the past few months than it had in all its history. With his help, no planet or system was too far away.
Lost in thought, he barely dodged the assailant's blow.
"You can't run forever. The Devil will have your soul, you know."
He didn't bother to respond, opting instead to sprint at the man and end the fight quickly.
Almost impossibly, his assailant managed to dodge the blow. No... could it be? Had the Devil created another like him?
The yellow suited assassin tilted his head, his voice echoing.
"I am Zoom. You, Barry Allen, are dead."
-------------
Questions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon | Everyone important seems to have a family. That's convenient for deals like this.
I approached the scientist's house on Earth. A minivan sat in the driveway. Good. There was nothing implying a sophisticated security system. Better. I reviewed his files - no gun or weapon licenses for anyone. Perfect.
I snuck around back onto the scientist's patio. The back door was locked. Not surprising. Not difficult either. I pulled out my lockpicks, and within 5 minutes I was in the empty kitchen. The house had a fairly open design plan. From the kitchen I could see the rest of the rooms on this floor barring the bathroom, which had its door wide open anyways. The wife and kid were upstairs.
***
It's amazing what you can with a gun. I had the wife and kid ziptied faster than I could tie my shoes. A bit of duct tape and I think I was good to go with the next part of my plan.
Using the FTL phone that the wife had, I called the scientist.
"Hey Karen, what's up?" answered the voice on the other end.
Turning on my voice changer, I replied, "Karen is sitting here tied up. If you want to hear her and your child again, come to your house, bring nobody else."
He believed me instantly. The only other FTL phones humanity had were at NASA and the Oval Office. Neither of whom joke around. I don't joke around either.
***
The scientist appeared at his front door. As he opened it, my client appeared in the room. The terror on the faces of the other two people were priceless. I called for the scientist to come upstairs. He did exactly that.
When he opened the door, it was as if time slowed. The handgun raised. The devil smiled. I heard a muffled "No!" My finger pulled the trigger. The bullet raced towards the scientist. Then, the most amazing of things happened.
The scientist moved so fast, he was blur at most. The bullet was caught, and dropped onto the ground in front of me. Before I could utter a "what?" the gun was out of my hands and bullets sank into my chest. The family was freed and moved out of the house.
I hit the ground and watched.
"Your assassin appears to have failed you" the scientist said.
"But how?" replied the bewildered devil.
"You made it possible for me to travel the stars. You let me move at speeds multiple times faster than the speed of light. You gave me the durability I would need to endure such a trip. I could move fast enough to catch a bullet, and send some more into your assassin."
"Ah, but I can remove your powers right now..."
As soon as the words came out of his mouth, the scientist was gone. The devil took a gander through his all seeing eyes. He muttered about how they were now on another planet. Those were the last words I heard as I lost my life, and the devil lost his game. | |
[WP] A scientist sells his soul to make it possible to travel the stars incredibly fast. In a year multiple planets have been colonized, but the devil is due the scientists soul, but can't leave earth so he hires you as his assassin. | The plan was simple. Kill the scientist either in hell or on earth. or bring him alive to kill him before him. Any other place and the devil would lose the soul and takes mine for exchange. I received the things from him to accomplish this task. The tongue of an million speeches, The wits of an thousands genius, the coordinates of hell itself and the power to corrupt. The devil may be bound to hell it self but its agents are not.
I went to planet Eplis-5 disguised as an scientist turned discoverer. I took with me what looked like evidence of an new form of intelligent life. With of course was very big news even trough nothing more then an big lure. The scientist took the bait but remained paranoid. He knew his faith if he set foot to earth. But the promise of an new life intelligent life forms where he could hide from the devil was irresistible for him. At least the promise of an safe Eden away from hell took his toll. He knew wouldn't be safe at any worlds with had humans settled. He joined so called expedition.
Welcome on board i said to the group that accompanied. 4 scientists with each field of expertise in lifeforms, 25 solders to guard the expedition, An supercomputer who could Analise planets in an matter of days and the scientist who tried to escape the devil. Unwary that he walked straight into an hell itself.
I had to move quickly he still was nervous. After all he sold his soul to the devil and was in no way going back to earth. He had even the coordinates of earth tattooed on his right arm to remind himself not to go there. After he looked at the coordinates he was relived it wasn't earth. I couldn't corrupt him there. But i corrupted the pilots instead. They took the coordinates to hell instead. The FTL started to run. There is no turning back now.
An bright light went all around us as we traveled at FTL speeds. Then there we where. Welcome in hell i said. The engines went down and daemons summoned on the ship. The solders tried to shoot the daemons the instant they saw them but at not avail. There where in their turf they Killed the solders with extreme brutality and enjoyed every second of it. they left the scientists alone they served another purpose.
I walked to the scientist in question. You know your here i said. The guy was pale with fear but didn't try to declined it. he tried one last chance. You send 29 people unrighteous into hell god would not forgive you. Oh i said didn't they shot first? They commended themselves by shooting them. All because you didn't honor your agreement. Now their souls are dammed in hell now as are you. You will be brought to devil himself. Alive or your soul*. Nobody can safe your now. The engines will not work here without Satan approval. as for the others you scientist go. Go spread the word what happened here. The devil will always get his way.
| Everyone important seems to have a family. That's convenient for deals like this.
I approached the scientist's house on Earth. A minivan sat in the driveway. Good. There was nothing implying a sophisticated security system. Better. I reviewed his files - no gun or weapon licenses for anyone. Perfect.
I snuck around back onto the scientist's patio. The back door was locked. Not surprising. Not difficult either. I pulled out my lockpicks, and within 5 minutes I was in the empty kitchen. The house had a fairly open design plan. From the kitchen I could see the rest of the rooms on this floor barring the bathroom, which had its door wide open anyways. The wife and kid were upstairs.
***
It's amazing what you can with a gun. I had the wife and kid ziptied faster than I could tie my shoes. A bit of duct tape and I think I was good to go with the next part of my plan.
Using the FTL phone that the wife had, I called the scientist.
"Hey Karen, what's up?" answered the voice on the other end.
Turning on my voice changer, I replied, "Karen is sitting here tied up. If you want to hear her and your child again, come to your house, bring nobody else."
He believed me instantly. The only other FTL phones humanity had were at NASA and the Oval Office. Neither of whom joke around. I don't joke around either.
***
The scientist appeared at his front door. As he opened it, my client appeared in the room. The terror on the faces of the other two people were priceless. I called for the scientist to come upstairs. He did exactly that.
When he opened the door, it was as if time slowed. The handgun raised. The devil smiled. I heard a muffled "No!" My finger pulled the trigger. The bullet raced towards the scientist. Then, the most amazing of things happened.
The scientist moved so fast, he was blur at most. The bullet was caught, and dropped onto the ground in front of me. Before I could utter a "what?" the gun was out of my hands and bullets sank into my chest. The family was freed and moved out of the house.
I hit the ground and watched.
"Your assassin appears to have failed you" the scientist said.
"But how?" replied the bewildered devil.
"You made it possible for me to travel the stars. You let me move at speeds multiple times faster than the speed of light. You gave me the durability I would need to endure such a trip. I could move fast enough to catch a bullet, and send some more into your assassin."
"Ah, but I can remove your powers right now..."
As soon as the words came out of his mouth, the scientist was gone. The devil took a gander through his all seeing eyes. He muttered about how they were now on another planet. Those were the last words I heard as I lost my life, and the devil lost his game. | |
[WP] A lone hitchhiker is picked up by a truck driver, on a dark, remote stretch of the already remote Route 50 in NV. Over the course of the ride, both people slowly become convinced the other is a serial killer waiting for their chance to strike. | "So, uh, you drive down Route 50 alot?" I ask the driver giving me, a young hitchhiker, a ride. I need to fill the air with words because this driver seems a little... Different. It is throwing me off.
"Yeah. I know it like the back of my hand. The first time I was driving it I was kinda freaked out. It's so remote. What brings you to these parts?" The large, bearded truck driver says, handing me a beef jerky.
"Thanks. Uh, well, I needed get out of the same routine. Same shit over and over with the same people was driving me insane." I say earnestly, hungrily taking a big bite of the jerky. It has been a day since I've eaten.
"Haha. Well. Just wait til you hit 40. Then you'll truly be insane. No one really talks about the tightrope we walk down honestly." The driver takes a swig from something in a thermos and drips it on his red flannel shirt. "Shit!" He says.
"You seem a lot more insightful than most of the truck drivers I've hitched rides with lately." I say.
"Yeah? I wanted to be a shrink but neither me nor my folks had the money. I read old textbooks sometimes when I have down time. You actually seem like an interesting character yourself. Where ya from?" He says with a mildly suspicious tone.
"I'm actually from Illinois so I've been on the road awhile. Not sure if I'm gonna stay here or head to Cali yet. What kind of psychology do you like? I've taken a few classes myself." I say.
"Abnormal. I like the really fucked up shit. I like to get into people's minds to see what makes them tick. I've figured out all the pathologies in my family." He says proudly, smiling at me.
"Ah." I say, a little concerned.
"My brother is a straight-up sociopath. Been in and out of jail since he was a teenager. Lucky he hasn't killed anyone yet. I could've gone down the same road if I never became a truck driver. There's something about the open road that stabilises a man." He says.
I'm not so sure about this guy. He seems to really want to impress me and let me into his life. He really is quite charming... But then again, so was Dahmer.
"My family is kinda nuts too. My dad has schizophrenia and routinely goes off his meds. My mom's a bit of a drinker. My sister is pretty depressed and talks about suicide a lot." I offer.
"Yeah. And what about you? Serial killer or puppy dog?" He says with a frown.
"Neither. I'm somewhere in between." I say cautiously, looking out the window.
"Okay. Cuz I've got a shotgun in the back if you try anything." He says, obviously forcing a chuckle.
I gulp audibly and he stares me down.
Most of the rest of the trip is done in silence. I realise I don't even know this man's name, though, and when we're almost at our destination I can't help but remedy that.
"I'm Johnny." I say into the silence, breaking it smoothly.
"Sam." He says, not even glancing over. He seems to speed up at this point and I grab onto the dashboard unconsciously.
"A little speed scares ya, huh?" He says, giving me a toothy smile.
"Harder to roll out if there's a problem." I say automatically in honesty, almost slapping my forehead after I say it.
"You think there's gonna be a problem?" He asks, fingering something in his torn-up jeans pocket.
"Uh, no. I'm just overly cautious." I answer.
"Well, that's not true. You're riding with a complete stranger that's armed to the hilt. Are you scared of me?" He asks, pulling out the knife in his pocket and moving it to his breast pocket.
"Can I be let off here?" I ask as a response.
"Haha. No. You're wearing the same shirt my friend Jimmy was wearing when a killer ripped it off of him and did him in. I don't think that's a coincidence." He says, glaring at me.
This man has become imcreasingly paranoid. I have no idea how to calm him down. So, stupidly, I keep talking.
"I bought it at Walmart. Honest. I don't want to hurt you I just want to get out." I shriek, pulling at the door handle.
Sam speeds up. "Tell me why you killed Jimmy! I've got you all figured out except for that! Was it drugs?" He asks, almost weeping.
"I don't know what to do here, man. I don't know Jimmy. I-" but before I can finish my sentence he stabs me with his butterfly knife in the arm. He was aiming for the chest.
I have no choice. I open the door and roll out of the truck at 60 miles an hour. The impact leaves me torn to shreds and immediately I pass out.
I wake up on the side of the road, left for dead. I can't move. Somehow a transport spots me as I slip in and out of consciousness.
He is screaming something at me, and I have no idea what. He puts me in the bed in the back of his truck and drives me to the hospital.
At the hospital I'm treated for broken... Well, almost everything. Internal bleeding. Superficial wounds. I bet I look horrible.
After days of laying in the hospital I am finally able to see visitors. I know my family will be coming from Illinois to see me.
"You have a visitor. It's the truck driver that saved your life." The nurse says, pulling back my curtain.
The man is lanky, scruffy looking and probably about 35 years old. I am glad to see the face of the person that saved me.
"Thank you for saving my life." I say, barely being able to move but somehow being able to talk.
"Yeah yeah. Let's get to it, though." He says, coming closer and grabbing an extra pillow. "I'm sorry I saved you. Sam just told me you're the killer. I need to know what the fuck you did that to Jimmy for before I cut your air out."
| I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. I looked over at the man who introduced himself as Jim.
Without looking back at me Jim asks "so do u like to kill people lol?"
My heart rate increases. "Yes!", I exclaim
His eyes light up and he sits up straight, "wait same lol!"
We high five and find the nearest town.
For the next hour all you can hear are screams from our victims and Jim and I shouting "1v1 me mate! Get rekt!"
We then bought some French toast crunch because it's back in stores, and watched a few episodes of Mr. Pickles and Salad Fingers.
What a guy Jim is. What a guy. | |
While this is set in the future, try to ground your story as much as possible. There is no "kill-switch", "big boss" to take out, or possibility that a small group of people will take down the establishment. This is the beginning of resistance, not the end of a regime. | [WP] In the year 2030, America is a police state and the majority of the populace stands by idly and scared, feeling powerless. One person begins to organize a secret resistance. | *It will be fine,* Terry thought to himself. *Think of it as going out to get your mail.*
Terry did always like mail. Something about sending and receiving letters just spoke to him; the intimacy of communication between two people who could be so distant. Handwritten only, of course. Otherwise it wouldn't be real.
Years ago--oh god, it felt like a lifetime away now--he found himself on a penpal-matching website, solely for the purpose of writing and receiving letters. He still remembered the first letter he got back. He spent hours reading it over and over, inspecting the handwriting, curiously mulling over little things like a small distinctive loop on the tail of the *y* in "Dear Terry".
They would never meet in person, but over time, the two became quite close; a treasured friendship was built through mailboxes. Even as his work became more demanding, Terry's penpal always found time among his work to write.
And then, one day, Terry heard his penpal's name on the news.
And then, one day, Terry's penpal was elected to the office of the President of the United States.
Neither of them ever spoke to the press about their relationship. It was a private friendship. Terry saw no reason for his penpal's status to change anything. They still wrote each other regularly after his inauguration. He was still the same person, after all.
And then, one day, the letters stopped.
And then, one day, the Homeland Vigilance Act was signed into law.
Everyone dealt with it in their own way; for Terry, that meant writing letters. So he wrote one to the only person that mattered.
He was angry, hurt, and scared. Every feeling was put by pen onto paper. The law was passed by a man he had called a friend, and Terry wanted to know why; not the bullshit reasons they gave on the news, he knew better than that. *Why?*
A week later, he received an envelope from 1600 Pennsylvania avenue. Inside was a piece of paper with a typewritten word placed in the center.
"Sorry."
Years passed. The president left office. A new one took his place, building on his predecessor's work. Everyone dealt with it in their own way. Terry stopped writing letters.
But he always had the memories, and it was these memories that calmed him as he left his apartment.
As he walked along the street, he tried not to suppress his nerves. He was new to this kind of thing, and was desperate not to give himself away. If they caught him, Penance would be exposed--another resistance movement squashed before it began. And this one held promise; Terry had seen others try and fail, but, few as they were, everyone in Penance seemed to know what they were doing.
Several minutes later, he had arrived. He looked over his shoulders before entering the alley. He reached behind the dumpster and, sure enough, found the envelope. Silent but eager, he quickly opened it to read the instructions from his new leader.
He hadn't received a real letter in a long time, and he found himself falling back into old habits. He inspected the handwriting, noticing in particular a subtle but distinctive loop on the tail of a lowercase *y*. | It always starts with a spark. A small, almost imperceptible moment of light, gone almost as it arrives. Of course, a spark is never enough. It usually isn't. Sometimes though, it's in just the right place, at just the right time, to kindle the fires of liberty in a people too long oppressed.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you for some ID."
"Why? I'm on the sidewalk, and I haven't done anything wrong."
"Sir, ID please, and slowly."
"I don't have to show you anything. Why do you want to see my ID?"
"Because you're carrying an AK47 type rifle on your back down the middle of Main Street on Saturday afternoon, and we received a complaint."
"That's not illegal! You have no right to ask for my ID."
"Sir, I'm going to check your ID to verify that you do not have a criminal record that would prohibit you from possessing that firearm, and I am going to verify that the firearm is in fact a legal semi-automatic variant, and not a fully automatic rifle, which are prohibited in this state."
"Am I being detained?"
"Sir, I understand that you do not wish to provide identification at this time, but since we received a complaint from a citizen that believes you are carrying a fully automatic rifle, I am going to ask you to lift your arms, and I am going to take the rifle off your back, unload it, and perform a function check to determine that it is a legal semi-automatic rifle."
"AM I BEING DETAINED?"
"Sir, please hold your arms out. Is the rifle currently loaded?"
"AM I FREE TO GO?"
"You will be free to go as soon as I determine that the call we received was without merit. If you prefer, I can arrest you under suspicion of carrying an illegal firearm in public, and we can turn the firearm over to our evidence technicians to determine it's legality."
"AM I BEING DETAINED? AM I FREE TO GO? AM I BEING DETAINED?"
A crowd had gathered now, and the officer looked out at the faces in it. He looked to his partner, and he though about his family back home. It takes a spark. This was not the America he knew. This was not the America he wanted...
"No. You're free to go."
|
While this is set in the future, try to ground your story as much as possible. There is no "kill-switch", "big boss" to take out, or possibility that a small group of people will take down the establishment. This is the beginning of resistance, not the end of a regime. | [WP] In the year 2030, America is a police state and the majority of the populace stands by idly and scared, feeling powerless. One person begins to organize a secret resistance. | *It will be fine,* Terry thought to himself. *Think of it as going out to get your mail.*
Terry did always like mail. Something about sending and receiving letters just spoke to him; the intimacy of communication between two people who could be so distant. Handwritten only, of course. Otherwise it wouldn't be real.
Years ago--oh god, it felt like a lifetime away now--he found himself on a penpal-matching website, solely for the purpose of writing and receiving letters. He still remembered the first letter he got back. He spent hours reading it over and over, inspecting the handwriting, curiously mulling over little things like a small distinctive loop on the tail of the *y* in "Dear Terry".
They would never meet in person, but over time, the two became quite close; a treasured friendship was built through mailboxes. Even as his work became more demanding, Terry's penpal always found time among his work to write.
And then, one day, Terry heard his penpal's name on the news.
And then, one day, Terry's penpal was elected to the office of the President of the United States.
Neither of them ever spoke to the press about their relationship. It was a private friendship. Terry saw no reason for his penpal's status to change anything. They still wrote each other regularly after his inauguration. He was still the same person, after all.
And then, one day, the letters stopped.
And then, one day, the Homeland Vigilance Act was signed into law.
Everyone dealt with it in their own way; for Terry, that meant writing letters. So he wrote one to the only person that mattered.
He was angry, hurt, and scared. Every feeling was put by pen onto paper. The law was passed by a man he had called a friend, and Terry wanted to know why; not the bullshit reasons they gave on the news, he knew better than that. *Why?*
A week later, he received an envelope from 1600 Pennsylvania avenue. Inside was a piece of paper with a typewritten word placed in the center.
"Sorry."
Years passed. The president left office. A new one took his place, building on his predecessor's work. Everyone dealt with it in their own way. Terry stopped writing letters.
But he always had the memories, and it was these memories that calmed him as he left his apartment.
As he walked along the street, he tried not to suppress his nerves. He was new to this kind of thing, and was desperate not to give himself away. If they caught him, Penance would be exposed--another resistance movement squashed before it began. And this one held promise; Terry had seen others try and fail, but, few as they were, everyone in Penance seemed to know what they were doing.
Several minutes later, he had arrived. He looked over his shoulders before entering the alley. He reached behind the dumpster and, sure enough, found the envelope. Silent but eager, he quickly opened it to read the instructions from his new leader.
He hadn't received a real letter in a long time, and he found himself falling back into old habits. He inspected the handwriting, noticing in particular a subtle but distinctive loop on the tail of a lowercase *y*. | Abe was approaching the newspaper vending machine when another customer left the coffee shop and he had to pretend to look down at his phone. The coffee shop was busy, but it was also the only building in the city with a broken surveillance camera. As the customer hurried down the street, Abe slid his wrist under the credit reader on the machine and opened the display door. He ignored the copies laying in a neat pile inside and instead pulled out the display paper. He replaced it with one of the fresh papers and glanced about quickly from side to side. He entered the coffee shop with his paper.
He sat behind a couple that were chatting about a recent celebrity scandal and started to read.
"The toy shipment is going to arrive tomorrow," he whispered to the empty chair across from him.
"How many teddy bears do we have for the orphans?" the man with the woman asked without turning around.
"Looks like 30, big ones too from the sound of it," he said as he flipped through the pages, occasionally glancing over the paper at the barista.
"Good, we'll meet at the orphanage at 2300. No phones," the man said as he stood up and took the woman's hand. Abe watched them go through the reflection on his phone.
A few minutes later he got up and started walking down the street. The first of the three checkpoints between the coffee shop and his house was the largest. HESCO barriers were arranged into defensive positions on either side of the road. The road itself had barriers staggered across either lane to prevent vehicles from blowing through the checkpoint.
"Hey Abe, what's the news today?" asked one of the guards with a smile.
"Same old celebrity gossip. Emma Watson had another affair," he replied as he scratched the ears of the German Shepard that was laying near an MRAP and prepared to walk through the barrier when a hand landed on his shoulder.
"Sorry old fella, we have to start searching everyone now," said the smiling soldier. "The damn terrorists hit another checkpoint last night."
"Is that really necessary?" asked Abe. "What can a little old man like me do?"
"I'm just doing my job," said the soldier. His smile had faded. "Please take off your shoes and pants."
Abe struggled to take off his clothes. He hadn't been forced to undress standing up since he had retired from the Army. His knees and back burned as he pulled off the pants. Years of lifting heavy packs had taken their toll.
"That old man's about to pass out," laughed the gunner behind the machine gun on the MRAP. "Let him go before we get a complaint." All the other soldiers joined in the laughter.
Eventually, the soldiers were satisfied with their inspection and let the old man struggle home. Thankfully, he made it through the remaining checkpoints without incident.
He laid in bed for several hours and stared up at the medals hanging on the wall. An American flag hung behind the bed.
"Grandpa, are you okay?" his grandson asked when he came home from work.
"I'll be fine," said Abe gritting his teeth to hide the pain. "Is the store ready for the shipment?"
"Yeah, I cleaned out a few of the fridges for the truck tomorrow."
"Good," Abe said as his eyes narrowed. "I have our next target." |
[WP] Two people met in an online game on a specific server, and made a habit of playing with each other on it every day. One day, the player logs on to find his friend offline. The admin must break the news to the player that his friend has passed away. | I think I'm not alone in having experienced this. Fuck man, the feels right now. | *RoamingChipmunk09 has logged in.*
JettJ12: Hey man! I've been waiting for you for like thirty minutes. Its time for us to go into the cave and try to take down the main demon.
RoamingChipmunk09: Hi is this, Jay? I believe?
JettJ12: C'mon Chip. Stop playing around, I have work at 4 tonight. I wanna get this done.
RoamingChipmunk09: Hi Jay, my name is Emily. Im Chip's wife. My husband cannot play today, I will tell you why another time. Please text me.. (xxx)-xxx-xxxx
JettJ12: Is everything okay?
*RoamingChipmunk09 has logged off*
| |
[WP] Two people met in an online game on a specific server, and made a habit of playing with each other on it every day. One day, the player logs on to find his friend offline. The admin must break the news to the player that his friend has passed away. | I stared blankly at the screen, not even seeing it anymore. The chat cursor flashed blankly in the chat window. The last message still unsent.
I scroll the chat window up to the first entry.
5:46 PM ***Changed channel to General Chat***
5:57 PM Alexus: Has anyone seen Platiumburn?
6:10 PM Alexus: I'm trying to find Platiumburn... They arent in my friends list anymore...
6:10 PM Rickstone: Maybe they changed servers.
6:12 PM Dash0ss: Have you checked when they last logged in?
6:13 PM Alexus: Yeah I tried but all i get is no player found.
I keep reading and the messages just continue the same way. Hour after hour of chat messages. And with each passing hour the messages get more desperate.
8:10 PM Alexus: HAS ANYONE SEEN PLATIUMBURN!?
8:10 PM Braxus: CAPS!!!!!!
8:10 PM Naffle: DUDE seriously! Get a life and stop spamming the chat.
8:12 PM Alexus: I'm sorry for the caps, but i really need to talk to Platimburn. And i cant find him.
I scrolled down until i saw the chat change colors.
10:10 PM ***A man's voice echos in your head***
10:10 PM Gabriel whispers: Hello Alexus, my name is Gabriel. I have reports that you have been spamming General Chat.
10:11 PM Alexus whispers: Im sorry. I didnt mean to spam chat.
10:12 PM Gabriel Whispers: I'm afraid that you have broken the code of conduct. And I will have to ban you from General Chat for 24 hrs.
10:12 PM Alexus whispers: Please, I know you shouldn't... but can you please tell me. Did Platiumburn transfer servers?
10.13 PM Gabriel Whispers: I am sorry I can't provide that information...
10:13 PM Alexus whispers: PLEASE!!! I was suppose to meet up with him tonight! He's the only one that understands! He's the only one i can trust! He was going to help me. Please...
10:14 PM Gabriel Whispers: I shouldn't. I could lose my job for this. But I'll check.
10:14 PM Alexus Whispers: Thank you...
I sigh knowing what I was about to read. I take a deep breath and scroll the chat window down.
10:35 PM Gabriel Whispers: Alexus, Im sorry. But Platiumburn didn't transfer servers.
10:35 PM Alexus Whispers: Oh good I thought he might have. So he's just not logged in yet.
10:36 PM Gabriel Whispers: I'm sorry... I wish that were the case.
10:36 PM Alexus Whispers: What do you mean?
10:37 PM Gabriel Whispers: Platiumburn's account was closed.
10:37 PM Alexus Whispers: ...
10:38 PM Alexus Whispers: What? Why?
10:40 PM Gabriel Whipsers: I shouldn't be telling you this... But the note I have is that the account was closed by his parents. Apparently, Platiumburn died last night. I'm so sorry for your loss.
11:00 PM Gabriel Whispers: Alexus? Are you ok?
11:03 PM Alexus Whispers: Yeah... I'm... ok. Thanks for letting me know. I wont spam chat again.
I sigh as I look at the message still in the chat bar waiting to be sent.
11:03 PM Alexus Whispers: I'm sorry that I bothered you with this. Thanks for all of your
But what he was thankful for we will never know. Behind me I hear the familiar sound of a zipper being pull up. I turn around and see the Sargent squatting on the other side of the boy's bed.
"We got the father in the back of squad 3. The mother, apparently, died a few years back." The Sargent stands up and shakes his head. "Looks like the boy took quiet a beating...huh, detective."
I nod. Not sure what else to say.
"It's too bad... Had he just spoken to someone; anyone. Maybe this wouldn't have happened."
I sigh my longest yet. The Sargent eyes me curiously.
"He did..." I say slowly. "But, unfortunately, it looks like it was game over for both of them..." I turn off the monitor as the coroner comes in to escort the body down stairs. | *RoamingChipmunk09 has logged in.*
JettJ12: Hey man! I've been waiting for you for like thirty minutes. Its time for us to go into the cave and try to take down the main demon.
RoamingChipmunk09: Hi is this, Jay? I believe?
JettJ12: C'mon Chip. Stop playing around, I have work at 4 tonight. I wanna get this done.
RoamingChipmunk09: Hi Jay, my name is Emily. Im Chip's wife. My husband cannot play today, I will tell you why another time. Please text me.. (xxx)-xxx-xxxx
JettJ12: Is everything okay?
*RoamingChipmunk09 has logged off*
| |
[WP] Two people met in an online game on a specific server, and made a habit of playing with each other on it every day. One day, the player logs on to find his friend offline. The admin must break the news to the player that his friend has passed away. | I stared blankly at the screen, not even seeing it anymore. The chat cursor flashed blankly in the chat window. The last message still unsent.
I scroll the chat window up to the first entry.
5:46 PM ***Changed channel to General Chat***
5:57 PM Alexus: Has anyone seen Platiumburn?
6:10 PM Alexus: I'm trying to find Platiumburn... They arent in my friends list anymore...
6:10 PM Rickstone: Maybe they changed servers.
6:12 PM Dash0ss: Have you checked when they last logged in?
6:13 PM Alexus: Yeah I tried but all i get is no player found.
I keep reading and the messages just continue the same way. Hour after hour of chat messages. And with each passing hour the messages get more desperate.
8:10 PM Alexus: HAS ANYONE SEEN PLATIUMBURN!?
8:10 PM Braxus: CAPS!!!!!!
8:10 PM Naffle: DUDE seriously! Get a life and stop spamming the chat.
8:12 PM Alexus: I'm sorry for the caps, but i really need to talk to Platimburn. And i cant find him.
I scrolled down until i saw the chat change colors.
10:10 PM ***A man's voice echos in your head***
10:10 PM Gabriel whispers: Hello Alexus, my name is Gabriel. I have reports that you have been spamming General Chat.
10:11 PM Alexus whispers: Im sorry. I didnt mean to spam chat.
10:12 PM Gabriel Whispers: I'm afraid that you have broken the code of conduct. And I will have to ban you from General Chat for 24 hrs.
10:12 PM Alexus whispers: Please, I know you shouldn't... but can you please tell me. Did Platiumburn transfer servers?
10.13 PM Gabriel Whispers: I am sorry I can't provide that information...
10:13 PM Alexus whispers: PLEASE!!! I was suppose to meet up with him tonight! He's the only one that understands! He's the only one i can trust! He was going to help me. Please...
10:14 PM Gabriel Whispers: I shouldn't. I could lose my job for this. But I'll check.
10:14 PM Alexus Whispers: Thank you...
I sigh knowing what I was about to read. I take a deep breath and scroll the chat window down.
10:35 PM Gabriel Whispers: Alexus, Im sorry. But Platiumburn didn't transfer servers.
10:35 PM Alexus Whispers: Oh good I thought he might have. So he's just not logged in yet.
10:36 PM Gabriel Whispers: I'm sorry... I wish that were the case.
10:36 PM Alexus Whispers: What do you mean?
10:37 PM Gabriel Whispers: Platiumburn's account was closed.
10:37 PM Alexus Whispers: ...
10:38 PM Alexus Whispers: What? Why?
10:40 PM Gabriel Whipsers: I shouldn't be telling you this... But the note I have is that the account was closed by his parents. Apparently, Platiumburn died last night. I'm so sorry for your loss.
11:00 PM Gabriel Whispers: Alexus? Are you ok?
11:03 PM Alexus Whispers: Yeah... I'm... ok. Thanks for letting me know. I wont spam chat again.
I sigh as I look at the message still in the chat bar waiting to be sent.
11:03 PM Alexus Whispers: I'm sorry that I bothered you with this. Thanks for all of your
But what he was thankful for we will never know. Behind me I hear the familiar sound of a zipper being pull up. I turn around and see the Sargent squatting on the other side of the boy's bed.
"We got the father in the back of squad 3. The mother, apparently, died a few years back." The Sargent stands up and shakes his head. "Looks like the boy took quiet a beating...huh, detective."
I nod. Not sure what else to say.
"It's too bad... Had he just spoken to someone; anyone. Maybe this wouldn't have happened."
I sigh my longest yet. The Sargent eyes me curiously.
"He did..." I say slowly. "But, unfortunately, it looks like it was game over for both of them..." I turn off the monitor as the coroner comes in to escort the body down stairs. | I think I'm not alone in having experienced this. Fuck man, the feels right now. | |
This post originated from the IRC chat. Come join us some time! :)
[Link](http://goo.gl/7I566c)
Thanks for reading, and thanks for keraneuology, gmz1023, Xiaeng (aka Wei), and Pmomma2 for participating :D | [WP] Tell me about a dream you had | It was absolutely beautiful.
I walked into the kitchen and there should sat before on that glass dining room table. A sweet, caramel-colored tone all over her, soft to the touch. As I pressed it against my lips, I was filled with that wonderful sugary scent, warm as it took me over.
Beautiful, though I had to admit, bit too full for me though, too rounded around the sides. I knew that if I took another look, I would stand to lose too much. A relationship like that just wasn't healthy. Though staring down then and there, on the cold morning in that tiny little kitchen, I lost my self-control.
Then I woke up, slobbering all over my pillow. I missed that taste so much, the wonderful sweetness.
And now I want another donut, there goes my diet plans. | The last dream I can vividly remember was from two nights ago -- it should be stated i’ve been taking some pain meds, which made it all the more intense.
I was sitting in my room listening to music when my roommates cat jumped up on my bed. THe cat started licking my face (much in the way a dog would). So i started petting it and slowly pushing it away, in doing so, i managed to shove the cat off the bed, but instead of it falling down and to the carpet, it began to slowly drift off and towards my wall.
I watched it, completely and totally enthralled and terrified by the cats movement; it didn’t flail or wiggle or anything, it simply slowly glided backwards, until it finally exploded in a catastrophic explosion and sent my vision spiralling backwards until I suddenly found myself orbiting a planet.
well, orbiting wasn’t quiet what I was doing -- I was moving very, very fast towards its surface. I could see the big round surface of the planet approaching me faster than I’d’ve cared too. Slowly, I became aware that I wasn’t freefalling through space, but instead was falling within a capsule; I could see the controls and dials and interface of the Kerbal Space Program vessels i’d been launching towards their doom for the past week and half. I was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of panic, Suddenly very aware that I knew exactly what was going to happen.
As my vessel crashed into the ground, I saw in big block letters “GAME OVER” before the ‘dream camera’ zoomed out, to show me once more sitting in my room, listening to music. I glanced down at the clock to see that I was late for work.
I rushed out to the living room and asked my roommate for a ride to work -- he said he couldn’t, that he was too busy doing something (I don’t remember this part) -- I started to panic, i began to cry as i begged him to give me a ride.
I must’ve convinced him because the next thing I knew we were very much in his car, driving through snow covered roads as he started ranting and raving as i sat quietly in the side seat. I looked at him once, to see his face was blobby; thick, yellow bubbling globs of flesh clung to his face like curdles of bad milk. He was speaking, though I could not hear or understand him.
He was driving faster. His hands were not on the wheel yet we continued to move in a straight line. I became vaguley aware that we weren’t on the road anymore, weren’t on solid ground. I became vaguely aware of the flashing lights and the intense pressure as I was pushed back into the seat.
I once more looked towards my roommate, who now had become some horrible visage of a man; the thick, yellow skin had begun to fall off, underneath was an odd, black substance was seeping out, it appeared to make up the rest of his body. His tongue had become a serpant-esque entity of its own, big black and phallic like. He was licking his hand and arm, pulling more clumps of skin off his body. He was eating himself. Slowly chewing away at his own skin.
I turned away from him, seeing that we were once more on the ground -- we’d landed in a land that looked like a cross between Scotland and Ohio. I could see farms and what could only loosely be described as cattle.
Surges of adrenaline pumped through me, I felt dread. I felt trapped and hopeless, but there was no where for me to go, no where for me to go or run. I wanted to get away from the man beside me, wanted nothing more than to be back in my room -- listening to music and playing my video games. but That was no longer an option, there was no going back.
The car began to darken, everything around me slipping into night. My roommate was gone -- the only evidence he’d ever been there was the reddish, black ooze he’d left on the seat.
I reached for the steering wheel, but I’ve never driven a car in my life. The panic increased. I wanted to scream, I wanted to wake up… and that’s just what happened.
I jumped to my feet, I was in my room, but not my current room. It was the room i’d grown up in. It was small, blue and cluttered with boyhood wonders -- books, toys, and video games. I started my way towards the bathroom, a small room with a high ceiling and a shower/bath combo. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long moment, only to realize that I wasn’t actually staring at myself and that it wasn’t a mirror. Standing where I should be, was a small girl, her skin mottled with blue and purple smudges, her hair slicked back with dampness. her eyes were dark and her mouth was non existent.
Despite the creepiness of her, I felt no fear. She titled her head and i tilted mine back and smiled. She waved her hand as if to say “Follow me” and started her way out of the bathroom. I followed suite. though i did not see her in the hallway, I knew she’d gone to my sisters room -- knew that she’d be waiting in the mirrors in there. She waved me towards her, towards the full length body mirror and I reached out to touch it. There was no resistance, it was as if i’d touched a open door.
I pressed my way through. And found myself once more in a different location -- not the one i’d seen through the mirror, or one i’d ever seen before in my life. It was a brightly lit forest with trees and ferns taller than myself. I walked through it, dazed and amazed. Wandering through it, i started to jog, moving faster, my feet picked up off the ground, i was gliding through the air -- moving faster and faster. unable to stop.
and then I woke up for good.
|
This post originated from the IRC chat. Come join us some time! :)
[Link](http://goo.gl/7I566c)
Thanks for reading, and thanks for keraneuology, gmz1023, Xiaeng (aka Wei), and Pmomma2 for participating :D | [WP] Tell me about a dream you had | I lie awake in my bed, in a room only illuminated by moon light. The covers and sheets drawn up to my chest, just exposing my shoulders and collar bones. I feel a warm, fuzzy feeling throughout my body. In an instant, this feeling is replaced with one of coldness and dread. A light flicks on in a hallway, I can see the light creeping in from under the door.
I turn my head slightly and see the door knob turn, then stop. I try to say something but I can't seem to summon my voice. My body is frozen from the neck down. I feel heavy and cold. As if a slab of ice were pressing on my torso. My breathing feels labored. The door knob is turning again. I yell but still no sound. The door knob clicks and the door opens but the light from the hall goes out. Who's in the room with me?
The dim moonlight gave me little clarity to see who was there. I could see he or it or whatever, was large in size. It just stood there, in the corner of my room, watching me. No sounds. No movement. It just stared. My feelings of unease had long since disappeared. I was terrified. I tried to shout one more time but as I did the figure made a move.
Right after that I woke up at 4 in the morning on a weekday. My heart pounding in my chest, sweat on my forehead. I remember getting up and watching the last half of adult swim and after that I just decided to stay up for the rest of the day. Also, thought this prompt said bad dream, so yeah.
| The last dream I can vividly remember was from two nights ago -- it should be stated i’ve been taking some pain meds, which made it all the more intense.
I was sitting in my room listening to music when my roommates cat jumped up on my bed. THe cat started licking my face (much in the way a dog would). So i started petting it and slowly pushing it away, in doing so, i managed to shove the cat off the bed, but instead of it falling down and to the carpet, it began to slowly drift off and towards my wall.
I watched it, completely and totally enthralled and terrified by the cats movement; it didn’t flail or wiggle or anything, it simply slowly glided backwards, until it finally exploded in a catastrophic explosion and sent my vision spiralling backwards until I suddenly found myself orbiting a planet.
well, orbiting wasn’t quiet what I was doing -- I was moving very, very fast towards its surface. I could see the big round surface of the planet approaching me faster than I’d’ve cared too. Slowly, I became aware that I wasn’t freefalling through space, but instead was falling within a capsule; I could see the controls and dials and interface of the Kerbal Space Program vessels i’d been launching towards their doom for the past week and half. I was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of panic, Suddenly very aware that I knew exactly what was going to happen.
As my vessel crashed into the ground, I saw in big block letters “GAME OVER” before the ‘dream camera’ zoomed out, to show me once more sitting in my room, listening to music. I glanced down at the clock to see that I was late for work.
I rushed out to the living room and asked my roommate for a ride to work -- he said he couldn’t, that he was too busy doing something (I don’t remember this part) -- I started to panic, i began to cry as i begged him to give me a ride.
I must’ve convinced him because the next thing I knew we were very much in his car, driving through snow covered roads as he started ranting and raving as i sat quietly in the side seat. I looked at him once, to see his face was blobby; thick, yellow bubbling globs of flesh clung to his face like curdles of bad milk. He was speaking, though I could not hear or understand him.
He was driving faster. His hands were not on the wheel yet we continued to move in a straight line. I became vaguley aware that we weren’t on the road anymore, weren’t on solid ground. I became vaguely aware of the flashing lights and the intense pressure as I was pushed back into the seat.
I once more looked towards my roommate, who now had become some horrible visage of a man; the thick, yellow skin had begun to fall off, underneath was an odd, black substance was seeping out, it appeared to make up the rest of his body. His tongue had become a serpant-esque entity of its own, big black and phallic like. He was licking his hand and arm, pulling more clumps of skin off his body. He was eating himself. Slowly chewing away at his own skin.
I turned away from him, seeing that we were once more on the ground -- we’d landed in a land that looked like a cross between Scotland and Ohio. I could see farms and what could only loosely be described as cattle.
Surges of adrenaline pumped through me, I felt dread. I felt trapped and hopeless, but there was no where for me to go, no where for me to go or run. I wanted to get away from the man beside me, wanted nothing more than to be back in my room -- listening to music and playing my video games. but That was no longer an option, there was no going back.
The car began to darken, everything around me slipping into night. My roommate was gone -- the only evidence he’d ever been there was the reddish, black ooze he’d left on the seat.
I reached for the steering wheel, but I’ve never driven a car in my life. The panic increased. I wanted to scream, I wanted to wake up… and that’s just what happened.
I jumped to my feet, I was in my room, but not my current room. It was the room i’d grown up in. It was small, blue and cluttered with boyhood wonders -- books, toys, and video games. I started my way towards the bathroom, a small room with a high ceiling and a shower/bath combo. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long moment, only to realize that I wasn’t actually staring at myself and that it wasn’t a mirror. Standing where I should be, was a small girl, her skin mottled with blue and purple smudges, her hair slicked back with dampness. her eyes were dark and her mouth was non existent.
Despite the creepiness of her, I felt no fear. She titled her head and i tilted mine back and smiled. She waved her hand as if to say “Follow me” and started her way out of the bathroom. I followed suite. though i did not see her in the hallway, I knew she’d gone to my sisters room -- knew that she’d be waiting in the mirrors in there. She waved me towards her, towards the full length body mirror and I reached out to touch it. There was no resistance, it was as if i’d touched a open door.
I pressed my way through. And found myself once more in a different location -- not the one i’d seen through the mirror, or one i’d ever seen before in my life. It was a brightly lit forest with trees and ferns taller than myself. I walked through it, dazed and amazed. Wandering through it, i started to jog, moving faster, my feet picked up off the ground, i was gliding through the air -- moving faster and faster. unable to stop.
and then I woke up for good.
|
This post originated from the IRC chat. Come join us some time! :)
[Link](http://goo.gl/7I566c)
Thanks for reading, and thanks for keraneuology, gmz1023, Xiaeng (aka Wei), and Pmomma2 for participating :D | [WP] Tell me about a dream you had | The project was due at midnight, just 12 hours away. We'd written all evening til the computer labs locked and we'd been forced to prop the doors open with paper. Armed with two bottles of coke and a large bag of candy, we hunched over terminals, staring at tiny numbers until they stopped making sense. Lines of code blurred into ideas, blurred into concepts and hopes, and still nothing worked. By the time clocks struck 4 AM, all thoughts were lost and I'd shuffled off to bed, pinning all my hopes on tomorrow.
Numbers and variables tossed in my brain as I lay down to sleep, my fingers still twitching. Would an if statement work, or was the condition too big, the cases too vague to be used in that way? My sleeping brain knew, quickly sorting through theories on what needed to happen. It all hinged on a quest to find the right function.
Bravely I journeyed through forests of bones and prairies of gold, desperate to find the wisdoms of old. What I had was a tree but I needed a circle. Perhaps in this jungle I'd find what I needed.
By the time I awoke I knew all the answers. It seemed so simple now as I hunted for paper. My alarm clock was playing a familiar old tune and I pulled out my laptop ready to type.
By the time I'd logged in I knew I was in trouble. How was "The Circle of Life" going to fix my code?
| The last dream I can vividly remember was from two nights ago -- it should be stated i’ve been taking some pain meds, which made it all the more intense.
I was sitting in my room listening to music when my roommates cat jumped up on my bed. THe cat started licking my face (much in the way a dog would). So i started petting it and slowly pushing it away, in doing so, i managed to shove the cat off the bed, but instead of it falling down and to the carpet, it began to slowly drift off and towards my wall.
I watched it, completely and totally enthralled and terrified by the cats movement; it didn’t flail or wiggle or anything, it simply slowly glided backwards, until it finally exploded in a catastrophic explosion and sent my vision spiralling backwards until I suddenly found myself orbiting a planet.
well, orbiting wasn’t quiet what I was doing -- I was moving very, very fast towards its surface. I could see the big round surface of the planet approaching me faster than I’d’ve cared too. Slowly, I became aware that I wasn’t freefalling through space, but instead was falling within a capsule; I could see the controls and dials and interface of the Kerbal Space Program vessels i’d been launching towards their doom for the past week and half. I was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of panic, Suddenly very aware that I knew exactly what was going to happen.
As my vessel crashed into the ground, I saw in big block letters “GAME OVER” before the ‘dream camera’ zoomed out, to show me once more sitting in my room, listening to music. I glanced down at the clock to see that I was late for work.
I rushed out to the living room and asked my roommate for a ride to work -- he said he couldn’t, that he was too busy doing something (I don’t remember this part) -- I started to panic, i began to cry as i begged him to give me a ride.
I must’ve convinced him because the next thing I knew we were very much in his car, driving through snow covered roads as he started ranting and raving as i sat quietly in the side seat. I looked at him once, to see his face was blobby; thick, yellow bubbling globs of flesh clung to his face like curdles of bad milk. He was speaking, though I could not hear or understand him.
He was driving faster. His hands were not on the wheel yet we continued to move in a straight line. I became vaguley aware that we weren’t on the road anymore, weren’t on solid ground. I became vaguely aware of the flashing lights and the intense pressure as I was pushed back into the seat.
I once more looked towards my roommate, who now had become some horrible visage of a man; the thick, yellow skin had begun to fall off, underneath was an odd, black substance was seeping out, it appeared to make up the rest of his body. His tongue had become a serpant-esque entity of its own, big black and phallic like. He was licking his hand and arm, pulling more clumps of skin off his body. He was eating himself. Slowly chewing away at his own skin.
I turned away from him, seeing that we were once more on the ground -- we’d landed in a land that looked like a cross between Scotland and Ohio. I could see farms and what could only loosely be described as cattle.
Surges of adrenaline pumped through me, I felt dread. I felt trapped and hopeless, but there was no where for me to go, no where for me to go or run. I wanted to get away from the man beside me, wanted nothing more than to be back in my room -- listening to music and playing my video games. but That was no longer an option, there was no going back.
The car began to darken, everything around me slipping into night. My roommate was gone -- the only evidence he’d ever been there was the reddish, black ooze he’d left on the seat.
I reached for the steering wheel, but I’ve never driven a car in my life. The panic increased. I wanted to scream, I wanted to wake up… and that’s just what happened.
I jumped to my feet, I was in my room, but not my current room. It was the room i’d grown up in. It was small, blue and cluttered with boyhood wonders -- books, toys, and video games. I started my way towards the bathroom, a small room with a high ceiling and a shower/bath combo. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long moment, only to realize that I wasn’t actually staring at myself and that it wasn’t a mirror. Standing where I should be, was a small girl, her skin mottled with blue and purple smudges, her hair slicked back with dampness. her eyes were dark and her mouth was non existent.
Despite the creepiness of her, I felt no fear. She titled her head and i tilted mine back and smiled. She waved her hand as if to say “Follow me” and started her way out of the bathroom. I followed suite. though i did not see her in the hallway, I knew she’d gone to my sisters room -- knew that she’d be waiting in the mirrors in there. She waved me towards her, towards the full length body mirror and I reached out to touch it. There was no resistance, it was as if i’d touched a open door.
I pressed my way through. And found myself once more in a different location -- not the one i’d seen through the mirror, or one i’d ever seen before in my life. It was a brightly lit forest with trees and ferns taller than myself. I walked through it, dazed and amazed. Wandering through it, i started to jog, moving faster, my feet picked up off the ground, i was gliding through the air -- moving faster and faster. unable to stop.
and then I woke up for good.
|
This post originated from the IRC chat. Come join us some time! :)
[Link](http://goo.gl/7I566c)
Thanks for reading, and thanks for keraneuology, gmz1023, Xiaeng (aka Wei), and Pmomma2 for participating :D | [WP] Tell me about a dream you had | We made our way through the tall grass, seems we had been walking for hours through here. Our excellent shoes kept our feet from feeling anything at all.
"Is it still following us?"
I looked back, I had gotten used to it but I still felt my stomach tighten. It was staring at us through the grass, we could see the top of its head and its red wispy hair sticking just above. It never moved while we looked but every time we look back it was still there and always seemed to be the same distance from us.
"Do you think it wants our shoes?"
"Why would it?"
"Just a thought"
We better keep going, I think it might be trying to close the gap. How long does this grass go on for? | The last dream I can vividly remember was from two nights ago -- it should be stated i’ve been taking some pain meds, which made it all the more intense.
I was sitting in my room listening to music when my roommates cat jumped up on my bed. THe cat started licking my face (much in the way a dog would). So i started petting it and slowly pushing it away, in doing so, i managed to shove the cat off the bed, but instead of it falling down and to the carpet, it began to slowly drift off and towards my wall.
I watched it, completely and totally enthralled and terrified by the cats movement; it didn’t flail or wiggle or anything, it simply slowly glided backwards, until it finally exploded in a catastrophic explosion and sent my vision spiralling backwards until I suddenly found myself orbiting a planet.
well, orbiting wasn’t quiet what I was doing -- I was moving very, very fast towards its surface. I could see the big round surface of the planet approaching me faster than I’d’ve cared too. Slowly, I became aware that I wasn’t freefalling through space, but instead was falling within a capsule; I could see the controls and dials and interface of the Kerbal Space Program vessels i’d been launching towards their doom for the past week and half. I was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of panic, Suddenly very aware that I knew exactly what was going to happen.
As my vessel crashed into the ground, I saw in big block letters “GAME OVER” before the ‘dream camera’ zoomed out, to show me once more sitting in my room, listening to music. I glanced down at the clock to see that I was late for work.
I rushed out to the living room and asked my roommate for a ride to work -- he said he couldn’t, that he was too busy doing something (I don’t remember this part) -- I started to panic, i began to cry as i begged him to give me a ride.
I must’ve convinced him because the next thing I knew we were very much in his car, driving through snow covered roads as he started ranting and raving as i sat quietly in the side seat. I looked at him once, to see his face was blobby; thick, yellow bubbling globs of flesh clung to his face like curdles of bad milk. He was speaking, though I could not hear or understand him.
He was driving faster. His hands were not on the wheel yet we continued to move in a straight line. I became vaguley aware that we weren’t on the road anymore, weren’t on solid ground. I became vaguely aware of the flashing lights and the intense pressure as I was pushed back into the seat.
I once more looked towards my roommate, who now had become some horrible visage of a man; the thick, yellow skin had begun to fall off, underneath was an odd, black substance was seeping out, it appeared to make up the rest of his body. His tongue had become a serpant-esque entity of its own, big black and phallic like. He was licking his hand and arm, pulling more clumps of skin off his body. He was eating himself. Slowly chewing away at his own skin.
I turned away from him, seeing that we were once more on the ground -- we’d landed in a land that looked like a cross between Scotland and Ohio. I could see farms and what could only loosely be described as cattle.
Surges of adrenaline pumped through me, I felt dread. I felt trapped and hopeless, but there was no where for me to go, no where for me to go or run. I wanted to get away from the man beside me, wanted nothing more than to be back in my room -- listening to music and playing my video games. but That was no longer an option, there was no going back.
The car began to darken, everything around me slipping into night. My roommate was gone -- the only evidence he’d ever been there was the reddish, black ooze he’d left on the seat.
I reached for the steering wheel, but I’ve never driven a car in my life. The panic increased. I wanted to scream, I wanted to wake up… and that’s just what happened.
I jumped to my feet, I was in my room, but not my current room. It was the room i’d grown up in. It was small, blue and cluttered with boyhood wonders -- books, toys, and video games. I started my way towards the bathroom, a small room with a high ceiling and a shower/bath combo. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long moment, only to realize that I wasn’t actually staring at myself and that it wasn’t a mirror. Standing where I should be, was a small girl, her skin mottled with blue and purple smudges, her hair slicked back with dampness. her eyes were dark and her mouth was non existent.
Despite the creepiness of her, I felt no fear. She titled her head and i tilted mine back and smiled. She waved her hand as if to say “Follow me” and started her way out of the bathroom. I followed suite. though i did not see her in the hallway, I knew she’d gone to my sisters room -- knew that she’d be waiting in the mirrors in there. She waved me towards her, towards the full length body mirror and I reached out to touch it. There was no resistance, it was as if i’d touched a open door.
I pressed my way through. And found myself once more in a different location -- not the one i’d seen through the mirror, or one i’d ever seen before in my life. It was a brightly lit forest with trees and ferns taller than myself. I walked through it, dazed and amazed. Wandering through it, i started to jog, moving faster, my feet picked up off the ground, i was gliding through the air -- moving faster and faster. unable to stop.
and then I woke up for good.
|
This post originated from the IRC chat. Come join us some time! :)
[Link](http://goo.gl/7I566c)
Thanks for reading, and thanks for keraneuology, gmz1023, Xiaeng (aka Wei), and Pmomma2 for participating :D | [WP] Tell me about a dream you had | It was absolutely beautiful.
I walked into the kitchen and there should sat before on that glass dining room table. A sweet, caramel-colored tone all over her, soft to the touch. As I pressed it against my lips, I was filled with that wonderful sugary scent, warm as it took me over.
Beautiful, though I had to admit, bit too full for me though, too rounded around the sides. I knew that if I took another look, I would stand to lose too much. A relationship like that just wasn't healthy. Though staring down then and there, on the cold morning in that tiny little kitchen, I lost my self-control.
Then I woke up, slobbering all over my pillow. I missed that taste so much, the wonderful sweetness.
And now I want another donut, there goes my diet plans. | Dream #2 The Sprint
[Background]
Ok, so when I was in uhh 8th? grade, I was really into the girl named Kelsie. She sat in front of me in one of my classes, and we shared another class. She had blonde hair and a cute nose. I really liked her nose for some reason.
The Dream [Not a Lucid Dream!]
Alright, so to start off I was in class, the one where she sits in front of me. The teacher was talking to one of the students about how good I did on a test for some reason, and Kelsie kept looking back at me, giving me thumbs up and stuff. I was super excited.
After class Kelsie came up to me and congratulated me. I was super hyped up, and in a bout of confidence, asked if she liked me. This part was a little fuzzy, but I think she ended up walking away without answering me.
The next thing I remember was being in the next class. Kelsie skipped out on the class and I remember feeling really sad. I thought I did something wrong. I waited the whole class period without listening to my teacher, just waiting for the bell to ring.
When the class finally ended, I went looking for Kelsie. I searched the last class, the cafeteria, no luck. Finally I ended up going to the bathrooms. I tried to enter the ladie’s room, but as we all know, only girls can go in there. So I patiently waited at the entrance, hoping she’d pop out.
WOULDN’T YOU BELIEVE IT she came out of the BOYS restroom. ABSURD! I just stood there, gawking at her, completely abashed that she would do such a thing. She lifted her chin up and just grinned at me, then walked away with toilet paper still on her shoe. *shudders* I didn’t have a crush on her after that (in the dream, anyway).
The next day (which really passed by in an instant, I basically just appeared in my classroom), Kelsie sat in front of me and wouldn’t stop looking at me. It got really annoying. I yelled at her to stop looking at me and the whole class looked at me like I just kicked a puppy. Then the teacher calmly told me that her parents just died. God what an asshole I felt like.
I started to apologize to her, but she still wouldn’t say anything to me. This whole dream, she wouldn’t say anything to me. Instead of feeling angry, I felt determined to get her to speak. So the next class I was throwing paper airplanes at her that had messages on them. I don’t know what they said. Anyway, one paper airplane flew especially straight, and it hit her straight in the ear. This is where it gets weird, just a warning. The plane stuck in her ear and she started screaming really loud. The whole class started joining her in the screaming and the world started to like... warp around me in a spiral it was really weird. All the voices became distorted and everyone was being sucked into like a vortex, that I was at the center of.
After all the spinning stopped, it was just me and Kelsie in a room that was pitch black. She was sitting in a desk and I was standing up. Think one of the game shows where the stage is completely dark.
She still had the airplane in her ear, but she was completely motionless. I was just looking at her, hoping she would move. Then blood started trickling down her ear and I started to freak out. Her eyes went blank so I started shaking her shoulder, trying to wake her up. Then I actually woke up to my mom shaking my shoulders, heh. Anyway, that was my dream.
[Epilogue]
Whenever I saw Kelsie I always felt really weird. I felt a little bad for her and always felt like I had to apologize to her. I still loved her nose though, and eventually asked her out. We dated for about a month before I realized she was a drama queen and dumped her when I found out she was spreading rumors about her “best friend”. Too bad, I miss that nose.
The weird part is I had the EXACT same dream with another girl I liked about 2 years later. The only difference was it lasted a little longer
[Picking up where the last dream left off]
I was shaking her shoulder then she suddenly looked up at me. Her name was amber and she had midnight black hair and an eyebrow piercing. She was attractive, but I didn’t like her personality that much. She said “what do you want” in a monotone voice, sounding almost like a robot. I asked her if she was OK and she nodded then we returned to a classroom (it was the same classroom as in 9th grade, ms napolie’s room). Everyone acted like nothing happened even though they all talked about the vortex. They thought it was an earthquake or something. I wanted to talk to Amber after class but unfortunately I woke up.
Anyway, that was my set of dreams, it was really strange how I had the same dream twice. Maybe it’s a sign that I like the girls? Or that I should stay away? I dunno. I never asked amber out, I was too awkward at that point. No regrets.
Thanks for reading guys, hope you enjoyed :)
|
This post originated from the IRC chat. Come join us some time! :)
[Link](http://goo.gl/7I566c)
Thanks for reading, and thanks for keraneuology, gmz1023, Xiaeng (aka Wei), and Pmomma2 for participating :D | [WP] Tell me about a dream you had | I lie awake in my bed, in a room only illuminated by moon light. The covers and sheets drawn up to my chest, just exposing my shoulders and collar bones. I feel a warm, fuzzy feeling throughout my body. In an instant, this feeling is replaced with one of coldness and dread. A light flicks on in a hallway, I can see the light creeping in from under the door.
I turn my head slightly and see the door knob turn, then stop. I try to say something but I can't seem to summon my voice. My body is frozen from the neck down. I feel heavy and cold. As if a slab of ice were pressing on my torso. My breathing feels labored. The door knob is turning again. I yell but still no sound. The door knob clicks and the door opens but the light from the hall goes out. Who's in the room with me?
The dim moonlight gave me little clarity to see who was there. I could see he or it or whatever, was large in size. It just stood there, in the corner of my room, watching me. No sounds. No movement. It just stared. My feelings of unease had long since disappeared. I was terrified. I tried to shout one more time but as I did the figure made a move.
Right after that I woke up at 4 in the morning on a weekday. My heart pounding in my chest, sweat on my forehead. I remember getting up and watching the last half of adult swim and after that I just decided to stay up for the rest of the day. Also, thought this prompt said bad dream, so yeah.
| Dream #2 The Sprint
[Background]
Ok, so when I was in uhh 8th? grade, I was really into the girl named Kelsie. She sat in front of me in one of my classes, and we shared another class. She had blonde hair and a cute nose. I really liked her nose for some reason.
The Dream [Not a Lucid Dream!]
Alright, so to start off I was in class, the one where she sits in front of me. The teacher was talking to one of the students about how good I did on a test for some reason, and Kelsie kept looking back at me, giving me thumbs up and stuff. I was super excited.
After class Kelsie came up to me and congratulated me. I was super hyped up, and in a bout of confidence, asked if she liked me. This part was a little fuzzy, but I think she ended up walking away without answering me.
The next thing I remember was being in the next class. Kelsie skipped out on the class and I remember feeling really sad. I thought I did something wrong. I waited the whole class period without listening to my teacher, just waiting for the bell to ring.
When the class finally ended, I went looking for Kelsie. I searched the last class, the cafeteria, no luck. Finally I ended up going to the bathrooms. I tried to enter the ladie’s room, but as we all know, only girls can go in there. So I patiently waited at the entrance, hoping she’d pop out.
WOULDN’T YOU BELIEVE IT she came out of the BOYS restroom. ABSURD! I just stood there, gawking at her, completely abashed that she would do such a thing. She lifted her chin up and just grinned at me, then walked away with toilet paper still on her shoe. *shudders* I didn’t have a crush on her after that (in the dream, anyway).
The next day (which really passed by in an instant, I basically just appeared in my classroom), Kelsie sat in front of me and wouldn’t stop looking at me. It got really annoying. I yelled at her to stop looking at me and the whole class looked at me like I just kicked a puppy. Then the teacher calmly told me that her parents just died. God what an asshole I felt like.
I started to apologize to her, but she still wouldn’t say anything to me. This whole dream, she wouldn’t say anything to me. Instead of feeling angry, I felt determined to get her to speak. So the next class I was throwing paper airplanes at her that had messages on them. I don’t know what they said. Anyway, one paper airplane flew especially straight, and it hit her straight in the ear. This is where it gets weird, just a warning. The plane stuck in her ear and she started screaming really loud. The whole class started joining her in the screaming and the world started to like... warp around me in a spiral it was really weird. All the voices became distorted and everyone was being sucked into like a vortex, that I was at the center of.
After all the spinning stopped, it was just me and Kelsie in a room that was pitch black. She was sitting in a desk and I was standing up. Think one of the game shows where the stage is completely dark.
She still had the airplane in her ear, but she was completely motionless. I was just looking at her, hoping she would move. Then blood started trickling down her ear and I started to freak out. Her eyes went blank so I started shaking her shoulder, trying to wake her up. Then I actually woke up to my mom shaking my shoulders, heh. Anyway, that was my dream.
[Epilogue]
Whenever I saw Kelsie I always felt really weird. I felt a little bad for her and always felt like I had to apologize to her. I still loved her nose though, and eventually asked her out. We dated for about a month before I realized she was a drama queen and dumped her when I found out she was spreading rumors about her “best friend”. Too bad, I miss that nose.
The weird part is I had the EXACT same dream with another girl I liked about 2 years later. The only difference was it lasted a little longer
[Picking up where the last dream left off]
I was shaking her shoulder then she suddenly looked up at me. Her name was amber and she had midnight black hair and an eyebrow piercing. She was attractive, but I didn’t like her personality that much. She said “what do you want” in a monotone voice, sounding almost like a robot. I asked her if she was OK and she nodded then we returned to a classroom (it was the same classroom as in 9th grade, ms napolie’s room). Everyone acted like nothing happened even though they all talked about the vortex. They thought it was an earthquake or something. I wanted to talk to Amber after class but unfortunately I woke up.
Anyway, that was my set of dreams, it was really strange how I had the same dream twice. Maybe it’s a sign that I like the girls? Or that I should stay away? I dunno. I never asked amber out, I was too awkward at that point. No regrets.
Thanks for reading guys, hope you enjoyed :)
|
This post originated from the IRC chat. Come join us some time! :)
[Link](http://goo.gl/7I566c)
Thanks for reading, and thanks for keraneuology, gmz1023, Xiaeng (aka Wei), and Pmomma2 for participating :D | [WP] Tell me about a dream you had | The project was due at midnight, just 12 hours away. We'd written all evening til the computer labs locked and we'd been forced to prop the doors open with paper. Armed with two bottles of coke and a large bag of candy, we hunched over terminals, staring at tiny numbers until they stopped making sense. Lines of code blurred into ideas, blurred into concepts and hopes, and still nothing worked. By the time clocks struck 4 AM, all thoughts were lost and I'd shuffled off to bed, pinning all my hopes on tomorrow.
Numbers and variables tossed in my brain as I lay down to sleep, my fingers still twitching. Would an if statement work, or was the condition too big, the cases too vague to be used in that way? My sleeping brain knew, quickly sorting through theories on what needed to happen. It all hinged on a quest to find the right function.
Bravely I journeyed through forests of bones and prairies of gold, desperate to find the wisdoms of old. What I had was a tree but I needed a circle. Perhaps in this jungle I'd find what I needed.
By the time I awoke I knew all the answers. It seemed so simple now as I hunted for paper. My alarm clock was playing a familiar old tune and I pulled out my laptop ready to type.
By the time I'd logged in I knew I was in trouble. How was "The Circle of Life" going to fix my code?
| Dream #2 The Sprint
[Background]
Ok, so when I was in uhh 8th? grade, I was really into the girl named Kelsie. She sat in front of me in one of my classes, and we shared another class. She had blonde hair and a cute nose. I really liked her nose for some reason.
The Dream [Not a Lucid Dream!]
Alright, so to start off I was in class, the one where she sits in front of me. The teacher was talking to one of the students about how good I did on a test for some reason, and Kelsie kept looking back at me, giving me thumbs up and stuff. I was super excited.
After class Kelsie came up to me and congratulated me. I was super hyped up, and in a bout of confidence, asked if she liked me. This part was a little fuzzy, but I think she ended up walking away without answering me.
The next thing I remember was being in the next class. Kelsie skipped out on the class and I remember feeling really sad. I thought I did something wrong. I waited the whole class period without listening to my teacher, just waiting for the bell to ring.
When the class finally ended, I went looking for Kelsie. I searched the last class, the cafeteria, no luck. Finally I ended up going to the bathrooms. I tried to enter the ladie’s room, but as we all know, only girls can go in there. So I patiently waited at the entrance, hoping she’d pop out.
WOULDN’T YOU BELIEVE IT she came out of the BOYS restroom. ABSURD! I just stood there, gawking at her, completely abashed that she would do such a thing. She lifted her chin up and just grinned at me, then walked away with toilet paper still on her shoe. *shudders* I didn’t have a crush on her after that (in the dream, anyway).
The next day (which really passed by in an instant, I basically just appeared in my classroom), Kelsie sat in front of me and wouldn’t stop looking at me. It got really annoying. I yelled at her to stop looking at me and the whole class looked at me like I just kicked a puppy. Then the teacher calmly told me that her parents just died. God what an asshole I felt like.
I started to apologize to her, but she still wouldn’t say anything to me. This whole dream, she wouldn’t say anything to me. Instead of feeling angry, I felt determined to get her to speak. So the next class I was throwing paper airplanes at her that had messages on them. I don’t know what they said. Anyway, one paper airplane flew especially straight, and it hit her straight in the ear. This is where it gets weird, just a warning. The plane stuck in her ear and she started screaming really loud. The whole class started joining her in the screaming and the world started to like... warp around me in a spiral it was really weird. All the voices became distorted and everyone was being sucked into like a vortex, that I was at the center of.
After all the spinning stopped, it was just me and Kelsie in a room that was pitch black. She was sitting in a desk and I was standing up. Think one of the game shows where the stage is completely dark.
She still had the airplane in her ear, but she was completely motionless. I was just looking at her, hoping she would move. Then blood started trickling down her ear and I started to freak out. Her eyes went blank so I started shaking her shoulder, trying to wake her up. Then I actually woke up to my mom shaking my shoulders, heh. Anyway, that was my dream.
[Epilogue]
Whenever I saw Kelsie I always felt really weird. I felt a little bad for her and always felt like I had to apologize to her. I still loved her nose though, and eventually asked her out. We dated for about a month before I realized she was a drama queen and dumped her when I found out she was spreading rumors about her “best friend”. Too bad, I miss that nose.
The weird part is I had the EXACT same dream with another girl I liked about 2 years later. The only difference was it lasted a little longer
[Picking up where the last dream left off]
I was shaking her shoulder then she suddenly looked up at me. Her name was amber and she had midnight black hair and an eyebrow piercing. She was attractive, but I didn’t like her personality that much. She said “what do you want” in a monotone voice, sounding almost like a robot. I asked her if she was OK and she nodded then we returned to a classroom (it was the same classroom as in 9th grade, ms napolie’s room). Everyone acted like nothing happened even though they all talked about the vortex. They thought it was an earthquake or something. I wanted to talk to Amber after class but unfortunately I woke up.
Anyway, that was my set of dreams, it was really strange how I had the same dream twice. Maybe it’s a sign that I like the girls? Or that I should stay away? I dunno. I never asked amber out, I was too awkward at that point. No regrets.
Thanks for reading guys, hope you enjoyed :)
|
This post originated from the IRC chat. Come join us some time! :)
[Link](http://goo.gl/7I566c)
Thanks for reading, and thanks for keraneuology, gmz1023, Xiaeng (aka Wei), and Pmomma2 for participating :D | [WP] Tell me about a dream you had | We made our way through the tall grass, seems we had been walking for hours through here. Our excellent shoes kept our feet from feeling anything at all.
"Is it still following us?"
I looked back, I had gotten used to it but I still felt my stomach tighten. It was staring at us through the grass, we could see the top of its head and its red wispy hair sticking just above. It never moved while we looked but every time we look back it was still there and always seemed to be the same distance from us.
"Do you think it wants our shoes?"
"Why would it?"
"Just a thought"
We better keep going, I think it might be trying to close the gap. How long does this grass go on for? | Dream #2 The Sprint
[Background]
Ok, so when I was in uhh 8th? grade, I was really into the girl named Kelsie. She sat in front of me in one of my classes, and we shared another class. She had blonde hair and a cute nose. I really liked her nose for some reason.
The Dream [Not a Lucid Dream!]
Alright, so to start off I was in class, the one where she sits in front of me. The teacher was talking to one of the students about how good I did on a test for some reason, and Kelsie kept looking back at me, giving me thumbs up and stuff. I was super excited.
After class Kelsie came up to me and congratulated me. I was super hyped up, and in a bout of confidence, asked if she liked me. This part was a little fuzzy, but I think she ended up walking away without answering me.
The next thing I remember was being in the next class. Kelsie skipped out on the class and I remember feeling really sad. I thought I did something wrong. I waited the whole class period without listening to my teacher, just waiting for the bell to ring.
When the class finally ended, I went looking for Kelsie. I searched the last class, the cafeteria, no luck. Finally I ended up going to the bathrooms. I tried to enter the ladie’s room, but as we all know, only girls can go in there. So I patiently waited at the entrance, hoping she’d pop out.
WOULDN’T YOU BELIEVE IT she came out of the BOYS restroom. ABSURD! I just stood there, gawking at her, completely abashed that she would do such a thing. She lifted her chin up and just grinned at me, then walked away with toilet paper still on her shoe. *shudders* I didn’t have a crush on her after that (in the dream, anyway).
The next day (which really passed by in an instant, I basically just appeared in my classroom), Kelsie sat in front of me and wouldn’t stop looking at me. It got really annoying. I yelled at her to stop looking at me and the whole class looked at me like I just kicked a puppy. Then the teacher calmly told me that her parents just died. God what an asshole I felt like.
I started to apologize to her, but she still wouldn’t say anything to me. This whole dream, she wouldn’t say anything to me. Instead of feeling angry, I felt determined to get her to speak. So the next class I was throwing paper airplanes at her that had messages on them. I don’t know what they said. Anyway, one paper airplane flew especially straight, and it hit her straight in the ear. This is where it gets weird, just a warning. The plane stuck in her ear and she started screaming really loud. The whole class started joining her in the screaming and the world started to like... warp around me in a spiral it was really weird. All the voices became distorted and everyone was being sucked into like a vortex, that I was at the center of.
After all the spinning stopped, it was just me and Kelsie in a room that was pitch black. She was sitting in a desk and I was standing up. Think one of the game shows where the stage is completely dark.
She still had the airplane in her ear, but she was completely motionless. I was just looking at her, hoping she would move. Then blood started trickling down her ear and I started to freak out. Her eyes went blank so I started shaking her shoulder, trying to wake her up. Then I actually woke up to my mom shaking my shoulders, heh. Anyway, that was my dream.
[Epilogue]
Whenever I saw Kelsie I always felt really weird. I felt a little bad for her and always felt like I had to apologize to her. I still loved her nose though, and eventually asked her out. We dated for about a month before I realized she was a drama queen and dumped her when I found out she was spreading rumors about her “best friend”. Too bad, I miss that nose.
The weird part is I had the EXACT same dream with another girl I liked about 2 years later. The only difference was it lasted a little longer
[Picking up where the last dream left off]
I was shaking her shoulder then she suddenly looked up at me. Her name was amber and she had midnight black hair and an eyebrow piercing. She was attractive, but I didn’t like her personality that much. She said “what do you want” in a monotone voice, sounding almost like a robot. I asked her if she was OK and she nodded then we returned to a classroom (it was the same classroom as in 9th grade, ms napolie’s room). Everyone acted like nothing happened even though they all talked about the vortex. They thought it was an earthquake or something. I wanted to talk to Amber after class but unfortunately I woke up.
Anyway, that was my set of dreams, it was really strange how I had the same dream twice. Maybe it’s a sign that I like the girls? Or that I should stay away? I dunno. I never asked amber out, I was too awkward at that point. No regrets.
Thanks for reading guys, hope you enjoyed :)
|
It's got a smallville feel to it I know. But I'm looking for sth different... | [WP] A guy knows full well the extent of his superhuman abilities (intelligence, strength, flight etc. ) . However to avoid attention he decides to live an average life and tries to not care about what happens around him. But one day... | "Did you hear?" Mike said excitedly, I just looked up at him from my coffee. "Another category 1 popped up in Arizona."
"Hm, interesting." I said, trying to sound unintersted. "What could this one do?"
"He can control water." Mike was clearly getting more excited.
"In Arizona?" I said raising my eyebrow, skeptical.
"Yeah! Apparently, he was using his powers to control people's blood, and when they came for him he pulled clouds out of the sky and used them as weapons!"
"Hm, that's actually pretty clever." Not gonna lie, I was impressed.
Mike just shook his head. "Things are getting crazy man."
"What do you mean?" I asked, curious.
"That's the third category 1 in two months." He said exasperated. "A few years ago, category 1s were just a theory, and a category 3 was the highest we'd seen. Now category 3s and 2s are popping up every week, and it's been almost a year since we've seen a category 4." Mike shook his head again. "It's gotten so bad they're talking about revamping the rating system."
I just shrugged. "It's natural selection, the MCB weeded out all the weak ones, so now only the strongest and the smartest are left."
As if on cue there was a commotion across the street. I could already see the distinctive Metahuman Containment Bureau uniforms converging on someone.
Mike strained his neck, trying to get a view. "Speak of the devil, looks like they caught another one."
"Yeah." I said quietly, looking away.
That's when I heard her crying. *"Please let me go, I wasn't gonna hurt anyone, promise."*
My head snapped back over. Through the crowd I saw the MCB agents swarming a small girl, she couldn't have been more than twelve. I saw her head bobbing on top of the pile, straining, and for a moment the entire pile started to rise, looking like it would float off as a mass of humanity, but the swing of a baton brought them all crashing down.
"What do they do with them?" I asked quietly.
Mike looked at me for a second. "Nobody really knows, they send them to something called processing and they never show up again."
"She's just a girl."
"Yeah, shame." Mike said with a nod. "But who knows, she could've grown up to be a vicious killer."
"Could've..." I said under my breath.
She had regained consciousness, and was screaming now as she was dragged towards an armored truck. My fingers dug into my palms, if I clenched any harder I would draw blood. Her screams were cut off again, I looked up to see the agents dragging her now limp body to the truck, a trickle of blood running down her face. I released my hands.
"Four." I said as I stood up.
"What?" Mike asked as he turned to look at me for the first time since this whole incident started.
"Four category 1s in the last two months." I stepped forward. | The screams haunted Him, filling His head every time He closed His eyes.
The cries of the wounded, the pleas of the dying.
Naturally, He took to keeping his eyes open. Blinking wasn't an option, not when a blink meant a fresh wave of torment.
He looked down at His creation. Mankind. So foolish, so eager to die. Wars fought every day, deaths stacked upon deaths. Each one preventable, if He just... But no. He had promised to not interfere with Mankind.
Even now, a woman prayed to Him. What did she want from Him? Her prayer was so loud, it almost forced Him to listen.
*PLEASE KEEP MY BOY ALIVE*.
He laughed, voice raspy and throat dry. He laughed at the prayer. So foolish, so... hopeful.
He laughed and laughed, swaying back and forth.
If only Mankind could see Him. If only they could see their God now.
Broken by His very own creation.
|
It's got a smallville feel to it I know. But I'm looking for sth different... | [WP] A guy knows full well the extent of his superhuman abilities (intelligence, strength, flight etc. ) . However to avoid attention he decides to live an average life and tries to not care about what happens around him. But one day... | "Did you hear?" Mike said excitedly, I just looked up at him from my coffee. "Another category 1 popped up in Arizona."
"Hm, interesting." I said, trying to sound unintersted. "What could this one do?"
"He can control water." Mike was clearly getting more excited.
"In Arizona?" I said raising my eyebrow, skeptical.
"Yeah! Apparently, he was using his powers to control people's blood, and when they came for him he pulled clouds out of the sky and used them as weapons!"
"Hm, that's actually pretty clever." Not gonna lie, I was impressed.
Mike just shook his head. "Things are getting crazy man."
"What do you mean?" I asked, curious.
"That's the third category 1 in two months." He said exasperated. "A few years ago, category 1s were just a theory, and a category 3 was the highest we'd seen. Now category 3s and 2s are popping up every week, and it's been almost a year since we've seen a category 4." Mike shook his head again. "It's gotten so bad they're talking about revamping the rating system."
I just shrugged. "It's natural selection, the MCB weeded out all the weak ones, so now only the strongest and the smartest are left."
As if on cue there was a commotion across the street. I could already see the distinctive Metahuman Containment Bureau uniforms converging on someone.
Mike strained his neck, trying to get a view. "Speak of the devil, looks like they caught another one."
"Yeah." I said quietly, looking away.
That's when I heard her crying. *"Please let me go, I wasn't gonna hurt anyone, promise."*
My head snapped back over. Through the crowd I saw the MCB agents swarming a small girl, she couldn't have been more than twelve. I saw her head bobbing on top of the pile, straining, and for a moment the entire pile started to rise, looking like it would float off as a mass of humanity, but the swing of a baton brought them all crashing down.
"What do they do with them?" I asked quietly.
Mike looked at me for a second. "Nobody really knows, they send them to something called processing and they never show up again."
"She's just a girl."
"Yeah, shame." Mike said with a nod. "But who knows, she could've grown up to be a vicious killer."
"Could've..." I said under my breath.
She had regained consciousness, and was screaming now as she was dragged towards an armored truck. My fingers dug into my palms, if I clenched any harder I would draw blood. Her screams were cut off again, I looked up to see the agents dragging her now limp body to the truck, a trickle of blood running down her face. I released my hands.
"Four." I said as I stood up.
"What?" Mike asked as he turned to look at me for the first time since this whole incident started.
"Four category 1s in the last two months." I stepped forward. | Hello, My name is John, and this is the fucking dilemma I'm in. I know you have questions and lots of them. Why is everything stopped? Who is that man with the gun? Who's he shooting at? And why am I just staring at a bullet frozen in time? Relax you fuckers, it's my dilemma and I'll get to the particulars as I see fit.
OK, so first, I have to let you in on a big secret of mine: I can stop time. Well, not exactly stop actually, more like slow it way down. To be honest though, I'm not even sure if it's slowing down time or I'm speeding myself waaaaaay up. I don't actually know a whole lot about my power. But I do know two facts, the first being that trying to move when time is frozen fucking hurts.
You see, people don't realize how thick and hard air is until you try to move through it at cosmic, faster than light, speed. The first time I realized I had this power, I ended up in the burn ward for 6 months. The friction the air created set my clothes on fire before I took my first step. I learned real quick to just stand still and savor moments.
Yeah yeah, I hear you rumbling. "get on with the story" you're all saying, but I got all the time in the world you fuckers. I can stand here for as long as I want, leaving time to stand still till the end of time. I can END time don't you see? But no matter what, sooner or later I will have to make a choice.
You see, the man standing next to me is our newly elected President. The first President in our country's history to be pro-mutant, and that's a big fucking deal. For the past 100 years, the world has been rounding up and exterminating anyone shown to have developed mutant capabilities. That's why the second fact I know about my power is that I've never told anyone I have it.
But this man is going to change everything. After fighting for mutant rights for years, surviving assassination attempt after attempt, He had finally won the right to fight for our rights in our nation's capitol. Now he just has to survive the bullet currently 3 feet away from him.
The man who fired the bullet isn't a problem, I can see his gun already has begun the slow ascent to his own mouth. That fucker is too chicken shit to account for his actions. He's the religious fucker who followed us from state to state when we were on the campaign trail just to protest us. I can't believe he got through security.
Like I said, people, I got all the time in the world. You're thinking "what's he gonna do?". Guess what, I already know, I've known for a long time actually. I even knew before that fucker pulled the trigger. Because I know this, my daughter is a mutant and doesn't deserve to live in the world I've lived in.
OK, so it's been fun people, I've got about two more feet to cover till I get to the bullet and it's only traveled roughly an inch since we've begun our little chat. My clothes and shoe's have long since burned off. Hair igniting, I can feel the skin literally being scrubbed off my body by the air. But none of that matters anymore.
You're probably wondering, and yes, if I push the President aside it would literally liquify every bone in his body. No, this is good, this is how it should be. After all, I'm not exactly that great of a person. I can't tell you how many time's I've slowed down time just to watch the neighbor's wife on her morning jog. And don't worry guys, as soon as I get in front of the bullet I can stay there for eternity until I choose to let it hit me. Remember guys, time is my bitch. However, I may be completely on fire at that point.... |
[WP] The year is 2050, Wal-Mart is the supreme dictating orgnaization | "Hello welcome to Wal-Mart"
"Hello welcome to Wal-Mart"
"Hello welcome to Wal-Mart"
I love being a Wal-Mart greeter.
Growing up I had no idea what I wanted to do.
I knew I wanted to work for Wal-Mart, which to be fair, you have to work for Wal-Mart, but not everyone wants to. I know a lot of my classmates weren't happy about working for Wal-Mart.
My question was always what did I want to do?
Shelf stocker? Cashier? Sweat shop worker?
They all seemed so good. To be honest greeter was probably at the bottom of my list. Every time I went to Wal-Mart, and I went more then just the mandatory once a day, greeters were just these old people with dead eyes.
But that all changed when I won a contest for reporting the most people for anti-Wal-Mart sentiments (every time I heard a class mate say something bad about Wal-Mart I reported their parents. I always reported both because you never know which parent was teaching them these things and also it meant double the points) and got to go to the Wal-Mart Corp-redential palace. There I met Wal-Mart's Minister of Making People Like Wal-Mart, and he told me about how greeters are the front line of making people like Wal-Mart.
He told me about how everyone likes Wal-Mart, but sometimes they have to leave Wal-Mart to make things for Wal-Mart, or to do other jobs so they can get paid so they have money to give to Wal-Mart, and that leaving Wal-Mart makes people sad, so when they come back to Wal-Mart they're unhappy and they take that out on Wal-Mart, which is why everyone always looks so unhappy in Wal-Mart and also why they only come the mandatory once a day instead of the Wal-Mart recommended three times a day.
Which made a lot of sense.
He told me a good greeter greets people with a big happy smile, and says "welcome to Wal-Mart" in a cheery voice and helps the people remember how much they like Wal-Mart.
That's what really sold me on becoming a greeter. Helping people to like Wal-Mart as much as I do.
"Welcome to Wal-Mart" I say to a man and his young son.
My dad used to bring me to Wal-Mart to. We'd go a couple of times a day. Dad loved Wal-Mart. He's the one that taught me about how great Wal-Mart is. He's probably the reason I'm a greeter today.
He worked in a sweat shop but always dreamed of working in the Ministry of Making People Like Wal-Mart.
He died when I was seven. His arm got chopped off by a machine in the sweat shop he worked in. I remember him calling right before he died to tell me about how not calling for medical attention helped Wal-Mart to save money which let them rollback prices. I remember thinking at the time that that was nice of them, to always look out for the customer like that.
I wonder if that boy will become a greeter.
Mom never really liked Wal-Mart, at least not as much as dad. She only ever went the once a day, except on the extra trips I took on my birthday.
After dad died Mom got even more anti-Wal-Mart.
I think she also got a little bit anti-me afterwards too.
When dad told me that not calling for medical aid was helping to save the company money I figured shorter phone calls might help save the company money, so I hung up before mom got a chance to talk to him.
I also forgot to tell her until the next day, but this was right after I found out I was going to the corp-redential palace, so I was riding pretty high.
"Welcome to Wal-mart" I say to an older man who walks with a limp. I wonder if he got injured fighting in Wal-Mart's army.
"Get out of my way" he says
Definitely sounds like he was in the army. That growl that actors put on when portraying Wal-Mart sergeants.
I thought about joining the army at one point, but by the time I was old enough our only real enemy was that terrorist organization The Independent Business Owners, and they were on their last legs.
But I hear they're still around.
Maybe this guy wasn't injured fighting for Wal-Mart, but against them.
He definitely doesn't seem happy to be here.
I radio security and describe the man. They say they'll check it out.
I've always had a sixth sense for these things. Every time I've reported someone I've always got a letter back thanking me for my service and telling me that based on my tip they were able to apprehend an enemy of Wal-Mart.
I was a little bit upset after I realized they were always the same letter. I knew they were busy but I felt they could have at least sent an extra special thank you after I reported my mom.
That was the one time I ever had a bad thought about Wal-Mart. To this day my only two points of shame are thinking that and never reporting myself for thinking that.
"Sir we need you to come with-"
I turn and see security approaching the old man. From in his coat he pulls out a shotgun and fires it into the closest security guard. The man's chest explodes in a spray of blood.
The man pumps another round into the chamber and fires it into the other security guard's head.
I wonder if the old man is IBO, then I wonder what the reward for killing an IBO is. Would they promote me to the Corp-redntial palace? Or at least let me visit again? I was so overwhelmed the last time I went that I forgot to bring up my suggestion that they could save more money and roll back more prices if they stopped giving dying workers a phone call home.
Greeters aren't armed by Wal-Mart, but everyone is encouraged to carry a gun so they can kill an enemy of Wal-Mart if necessary.
I pull my gun out of my ankle holster as the old man pulls a gun out of his waist band and starts firing at some other security guards.
I kneel down, take careful aim and squeeze the trigger.
I've never actually fired the gun before. The recoil forces my arm up and I pistol whip myself. My head snaps back and the gun flies out of my hands and slides along the ground.
My vision is all blurry but I don't think I hit the man. I think I see him turn to me. He fires and something scrapes along my neck.
There's something hot on my neck. I reach up. Now my hands are warm.
It's blood.
I wonder how bad it is.
I'm on my back now. I don't remember doing that.
Blood keeps pumping out. I think I'm going to die.
I smile. I've always wanted to die in a Wal-Mart. | I hate mortgage shopping.
Particularly in the Seven Sector Walmart, which is a fancy name for the one with the worst mortgage tech support. Unfortunately, that's where I live. Seven Sector. And the first six were experiments, but we're basically a test run to see what went wrong with the sectors before us.
You see, sectors are basically consumer blocks. I probably don't need to explain this, because as I document these words, surely future societies will know this information in their history banks, but if such a time arrives in our distant future where sectors no longer exist, for either better or worse, at least someone knows how we are living.
So, consumer blocks. Geographic locations were monitored for spending habits for a lot of years prior to this whole project. We had multiple petabytes of information in state of the art databases keeping track of how certain demographics consumed. I guess when the project was conceived, that information was used to group people by habit in a sector. Walmart, of course--being the sole proprietor for most of this technology--had the political sway and footholes to get this thing off the ground.
So I'm in Seven Sector, and we have a locally governing Walmart that dictates internal trade for the sector and inter-sector trade. We no longer use "money", as it used to be called, but SecQ. Which is basically just shorthand for Sector quality, which is determined by the quality of goods your Walmart Sector has. Needless to say, those of us in Seven Sector are pretty hard up. Most times we turn to the unregulated (and underground) K-market for goods to return to the Walmart in order to get credits for more lower quality goods that can trade out to a higher Sector Walmart for additional credits back. This is basically how we game the system, but the system is catching on.
Anyway, about my mortgage shopping. The entire problem with it is that your loan is based on lower-Sector goods that intrinsically have lesser value than the higher Sectors. What this ultimately means is that you will likely be stuck in that Sector because no one else in others will would want to buy in your Sector and not be able to profit off lower-value goods.
So really, it is a prison. Designed to keep us where Walmart thinks we belong. Designed to control our lives by taking our options away from us and chaining us to the unavailability of options.
Yet, here I am, at the mortgage counter at Walmart while listening to the defense secretary of this sector being paged over the intercom to assist on aisle three with a "clean up". Knowing I'm buying into my own imprisonment. But only for the fact that I have no other choice. | |
[WP] You are the Joker's parole officer. | "Good morning Mr. John Doe, I am your parole officer Mr. Gregory Phillips, It is my j..."
"OOH a new person to play with. Hello Greggy! no need for that John Doe crap, call be my name! JOKER!"
"Sir, I've been informed by your doctors to not refer to you by that name because it triggers some unsettling characteristics"
"Please Greggy, unsettling characteristics are my middle name, you don't want to upset me now would you?"
"...As I was saying, my job is to make sure you are under supervision at all times during this trial period, to prove that you are indeed as healthy and sane as you claim to be"
"OH YES GREGGY! I'm a clean man now, no insanity for me, NO SIR! I'm one hundred percent regular and boring, no shenanigans here!"
"Okay then, now Mr. Doe..."
"JOKER"
"...Doe, I need you to understand that you're not able to reconnect with any of your former criminal associates"
"oh those old dust bags? its done! I've already forgotten their names!"
"would this include your former 'Partner' Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel?"
"Who?"
"DR. Harleen...Harley Quinn?, she's been known as your partner in crime for five years now"
"never heard of em"
"...I find that hard to believe"
"look Greggy, you can analyze all the happy moments of my life as much as you want, but i live in the now! and the now wants to go out and have some fun!"
"I'm sorry I can't allow that"
"pardon?"
"as long as you're on parole you are to stay with me at all times, and avoid any 'stimulation' Doctor's orders"
"Oh Greggy, you were doing SO WELL"
"what do you mean?"
"I thought we'd be the best of friends, go out together, paint the town red, pull one over on Batsy!"
"I've already told you we ca..."
"hush, its okay, I understand, not everyone can keep up with me, I'm a one of a kind individual, so thats why I'm letting you go"
"that isn't your decision"
"oh but it is"
"WHOA! where did you get a gun?! SECURITY!"
BANG! | "So, Mr. Joker... Jack? Please have a seat. So, I'm going through your file here, and it says that you're responsible for the deaths -- mostly violent deaths, mind you -- of over 540 people...."
Pulls out gun, shoots the Joker in the head.
"They'll never convict me. I'll probably get a medal." | |
[WP] After being evicted from Hell, Satan moves in next door. | It was 3am when Amy was startled awake by the sound of sirens wailing down her street. Her stomach churned as she pictured her house engulfed in flames; thick, black smoke creeping silently but menacingly into her room to choke her into sleep. She laughed with relief when she realised she had smoke detectors, so it couldn't be her house that had been set ablaze as she peacefully slept. Nonetheless, she walked over to the window and peered out through the curtains. A fire engine was parked outside next door's house, battling a fiercely blazing fire coming from the yard. Amy watched, transfixed, as the powerful jet of water overpowered the flames until, at last, nothing was left but the watery aftermath of the battle, and a thick, hot smell of smoke.
Ten minutes later and Amy was stomping her way over to her neighbour, who was sitting on the pavement with his head in his hands, looking defeated. "What the hell have you done now, Satan?" she asked angrily.
The man looked up, exposing his jagged horns. Rumour was that they cut off his horns when he was chased out of his old home. "Well, they can't keep my hellfire! Why should they? Bad enough they take over the realm that I built all on my own- well, with the help of tortured souls, but still, under my command- but they want to keep my hellfire?! I created it, it's my own secret recipe!"
Amy sighed. Ever since she first laid eyes on the guy, she could hardly believe this self-pitying creature was the legendary, terrifying devil prominent in so many faiths. Still, she decided to allow him to continue with his pathetic rant, so she offered a quiet, "So you stole your hellfire from Hell, and took it here to Earth? To your house?"
Satan nodded, weakly. "Put out all the hellfire already burning, packed up all the ingredients into a box, dashed back to the house and tried to ignite it in a small torture pit I made in the yard."
"What went wrong?"
"I'm not sure," replied Satan, turning to look at the blackened grass and concrete. "I guess hellfire doesn't react very well to this plane of existence." He exhaled deeply and rubbed his forehead wearily. "It's going to be a looooong existence in this damn place. I really miss Hell."
By now, Amy was feeling considerably less angry, and more sympathetic. He may be the devil, but he lost his home. Not just his home, but the place he built from scratch. Satan was invested in Hell, and now it's been forced away from him. "Can I do anything to help?" she asked, unsure of the point in asking, but offering her assistance anyway.
"Well...my house is a bit of a mess at the moment. So is my life, actually. Would you be willing to help me rebuild things, start from scratch again?"
Amy looked at the face in front of her. He was Satan, the literal devil in the flesh. But he was vulnerable and desperate and needed help. Besides, reasoned Amy, isn't 'Love thy neighbour' one of the Ten Commandments? Maybe this was why that commandment was written in the first place. "Sure," she answered. "I can help you rebuild things, it's never too late to start over."
Satan's demeanour became immediately happier. A faint smile appeared on his face, growing until his pointed teeth were on display, and he let out a laugh that wouldn't stop. At first Amy laughed, too, glad to see her neighbour had cheered up. Then, as it did when she first woke up that night, her stomach churned again, as she became unnerved by the growing hysterical laughter from the man next to her. Suddenly, the laughter stopped, and Satan's cold, black, pupilless eyes bored into Amy's. He took her hands in his, and whispered, "Thank you," with a trace of a smirk on his face, as Amy's wrists began to radiate white-hot pain. Screaming, she looked at her wrists and saw chains of fire binding her hands together. Dizzy with pain, she collapsed in a heap to the floor, with the last words before she lost consciousness echoing in her head. "Rebuilding Hell is going to be a hell of a lot of fun, Amy." | “The eyes are the window to the SOUL!”
Jagged shards of glass flew through the air and ricocheted off the back of Evan’s jacket. He turned to face his seething girlfriend in disbelief.
“What is WRONG with you!” Evan shouted
She stared back blankly in silence.
Satin, Evan’s latest romantic exploit, had recently taken a turn for crazy town. What began as an innocuous fling with the girl next door was turning into a soul sucking endeavor.
It started out simply enough. She materialized at his side one afternoon while he was pruning the apple tree. She mentioned something about being down on her luck, but he couldn’t remember why because that’s when she started to run her hand up and down his arm. Evan had never been skilled at flirting, and wasn’t too sure about letting someone come onto him who would live only a few yards away. He shifted uncomfortably, plucking an apple off the tree to distract from his fidgeting. In response her sinister smile grew wider than a cloud, and when she lunged at him with eager lips he felt as if he was falling from one.
After that she just kept showing up, and things became stranger. One night he made her angel hair pasta for supper, and she threw it all over the floor and stormed out. On Sunday’s they always went to the museum, because she insisted upon her love of knowledge. But on one occasion she got in the car to go just as the radio began to play a Creed song, and she got out and slashed his tire. There were several other incidents that signaled a red flag including lighting objects on fire, vandalizing mailboxes by replacing sevens with sixes, and even destroying the dresser drawers of several nearby hotels.
Evan snapped back from his memories and found himself staring at the remains of his bay window scattered across the floor. He knew he had to break things off. Moments ago he was complimenting her hazel eyes, telling her how peaceful he felt gazing into them. He looked down at his feet and stepped toward the fireplace she was leaning against. That was just another thing that annoyed him, she would never leave its side and he was constantly running out of firewood. She claimed it was too cold in this city. Whatever.
He inhaled deeply, with words of repentance on his lips. Before he could speak, the fire began to crackle, squeak, and roar. It grew ferociously and unimaginably, enveloping Satin in an instant. Evans eyebrows began to singe and he fell backward gasping for air. As his head fell into the carpeting, the heat was gone as fast as it had come. He squinted through the thinning smoke and read the message burnt into his fireplace.
YOU, DUMP ME? WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER!
Thank god that was over, he thought. | |
[WP] You can bring animals back to life, but at the cost of a random humans. Your pet just died. | “No!” I screamed, clutching the lifeless body close to me. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine that the warm, sticky sensation on my fingers was just Chomski’s tongue, and she was just excited to be held. I caressed the soft fur behind her ear, cooing at her.
“I’m sorry, Dawn,” my husband was saying, but I barely heard him. “The driver was sorry too, it was a total accident.”
I tuned him out as he talked about how she’d just run out in the road. This wasn’t happening to me, I knew it. It couldn’t be Chomski. Not my Chomski. Not the cute little ball of golden fluff that I’d found abandonned in a box one day who’d wagged her tail so hard it ripped the wet cardboard. Not the Chomski who’d found me huddled under the covers during my parents’ messy divorce and stayed up reading comic books with me. Not the dog that had broken three lamps and a vase when she saw me coming home for summer break. Not the dog who’d carried my wedding rings down the aisle when I married the man of my dream. It couldn’t be her.
I felt my husband try to take her out of my arms, but I wouldn’t let go. She was my baby, my confidant, my best friend. She kept me in shape even when I didn’t want to get out of bed, she kept me company when I was too sick to get off the couch. I’d known she couldn’t live forever, but to be lost to a driver?
I stumbled into the forest out back, still carrying her body in despair. Maybe something would find me and I could join her. I doubted it, I should be so lucky. But still I walked, paying no attention to where.
Something did find me that night. A strange glowing light that filled the area.
*We can bring her back.* The voice filled the air but I couldn’t find a source.
“Please,” I begged, “Please bring her back.”
*There is a price.*
“I don’t care, just bring her back.” I pleaded, searching for the voice through tear-filled eyes.
*The price is a life. We will take one human life.*
“Do it.” I said, without hesitation.
The voices went silent and the light left the space. I clutched the dead body tighter. “DO IT!” I screamed. “Take a life, give me her back!”
My screams were interrupted by a mouthful of dog tongue. Chomski tongue licked my cheek and I laughed with delight.
“Thank you,” I said to the absent voice. “Thank you.”
--
The house was silent when I finally returned. I flicked on the light as Chomski burst into the living room.
“Honey!” I yelled, “Honey, guess who’s back!?”
I could see my husband’s outline on the living room couch, illuminated only by the TV. Chomski was already bounding towards him and I giggled to myself. Wouldn’t he be surprised to be woken up by that tongue again?
I snuck up to the living room and flicked on the lights. “Guess what, honey?” I said with a smile.
Chomski was already on the couch, licking my husband's cold, grey cheek.
| The light slowly vanished from her eyes, though her tail still wagged with the utmost devotion.
I clutched at a handful of sandy fur as the smallest whimper she had ever made escaped her throat. My best friend and companion for so many years was about to be taken from me, in the prime of her life, the victim of someone’s thoughtlessness. She tried to lick my face, but the effort pained her, and she lay back down. Still.
The life slipped from her in, one easy, gentle sigh, like a warm bed by the fireplace.
No more whimpering, no more pain. The blood on my hands was still stark against her coat.
I screamed my anger and frustration into the air. Why did I have to make this choice now? Her life for another. That was the cost. To lose one more thing in my life, or make me a murderer. I buried my face into her coat, the clean, distinctly doggy smell filling my nose.
The warmth slowly ebbed from her body, as the memories of fetch in the yard and long runs along the river trail invaded my thoughts. Lonely ones followed. Images of a broken, bitter home and the remembrance of a closing door.
But always a warm spot near my leg. Leaning, adoring.
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was suddenly dry. She was all I had left.
She took a shaky breath and whimpered. Somewhere in the world, someone took their last.
| |
Describe any feeling you want. Not limited to the basics - anger, happiness, ect. Can be like this:
Ex. The feeling you get when you are at the beach, watching a sunset.
Go wild.
| [WP][CW] Capture a feeling in 20 words. | A sound behind you
When you're alone.
An indrawn breath
An eerie moan
A skeletal touch
Your blood runs cold
| True love... I wouldn't have it any other way. |
Describe any feeling you want. Not limited to the basics - anger, happiness, ect. Can be like this:
Ex. The feeling you get when you are at the beach, watching a sunset.
Go wild.
| [WP][CW] Capture a feeling in 20 words. | Death was all around. The aliens had wiped us out. Had our God abandoned us? I thought as I died.
*I doubt anyone will get it, but perhaps you will.* | True love... I wouldn't have it any other way. |
Describe any feeling you want. Not limited to the basics - anger, happiness, ect. Can be like this:
Ex. The feeling you get when you are at the beach, watching a sunset.
Go wild.
| [WP][CW] Capture a feeling in 20 words. | A sound behind you
When you're alone.
An indrawn breath
An eerie moan
A skeletal touch
Your blood runs cold
| Contentment is falling back asleep. |
Describe any feeling you want. Not limited to the basics - anger, happiness, ect. Can be like this:
Ex. The feeling you get when you are at the beach, watching a sunset.
Go wild.
| [WP][CW] Capture a feeling in 20 words. | Death was all around. The aliens had wiped us out. Had our God abandoned us? I thought as I died.
*I doubt anyone will get it, but perhaps you will.* | Contentment is falling back asleep. |
Describe any feeling you want. Not limited to the basics - anger, happiness, ect. Can be like this:
Ex. The feeling you get when you are at the beach, watching a sunset.
Go wild.
| [WP][CW] Capture a feeling in 20 words. | A sound behind you
When you're alone.
An indrawn breath
An eerie moan
A skeletal touch
Your blood runs cold
| Water on Thursday night.
Tap water all day on Friday.
Lukewarm tap water all Saturday.
Easter Sunday morning sunrise: Bacon! |
Describe any feeling you want. Not limited to the basics - anger, happiness, ect. Can be like this:
Ex. The feeling you get when you are at the beach, watching a sunset.
Go wild.
| [WP][CW] Capture a feeling in 20 words. | Death was all around. The aliens had wiped us out. Had our God abandoned us? I thought as I died.
*I doubt anyone will get it, but perhaps you will.* | Water on Thursday night.
Tap water all day on Friday.
Lukewarm tap water all Saturday.
Easter Sunday morning sunrise: Bacon! |
Describe any feeling you want. Not limited to the basics - anger, happiness, ect. Can be like this:
Ex. The feeling you get when you are at the beach, watching a sunset.
Go wild.
| [WP][CW] Capture a feeling in 20 words. | A sound behind you
When you're alone.
An indrawn breath
An eerie moan
A skeletal touch
Your blood runs cold
| I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry oh god please no! We didn't do anything wrong, please don't hurt us! I'm- |
Describe any feeling you want. Not limited to the basics - anger, happiness, ect. Can be like this:
Ex. The feeling you get when you are at the beach, watching a sunset.
Go wild.
| [WP][CW] Capture a feeling in 20 words. | Death was all around. The aliens had wiped us out. Had our God abandoned us? I thought as I died.
*I doubt anyone will get it, but perhaps you will.* | I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry oh god please no! We didn't do anything wrong, please don't hurt us! I'm- |
Describe any feeling you want. Not limited to the basics - anger, happiness, ect. Can be like this:
Ex. The feeling you get when you are at the beach, watching a sunset.
Go wild.
| [WP][CW] Capture a feeling in 20 words. | A soft smile followed by a warm rush flowing throughout your body that leads to pink, blushing cheeks. | One breath and two tears is all one can see when looking upon mother holding her motionless baby.
Sorry its only 18 words ;) and sorry it is grim. Im listing to some sad music right now |
Describe any feeling you want. Not limited to the basics - anger, happiness, ect. Can be like this:
Ex. The feeling you get when you are at the beach, watching a sunset.
Go wild.
| [WP][CW] Capture a feeling in 20 words. | Bliss is finding a toilet when you have diarrhea. | One breath and two tears is all one can see when looking upon mother holding her motionless baby.
Sorry its only 18 words ;) and sorry it is grim. Im listing to some sad music right now |
This has probably been asked a hundred thousand times, but I can't find anything here. My apologies if this is a repost or what not. | [WP] You are an agent of Satan. For every soul you lead to damnation, you get one years' reprieve from your own torment. Tell about a day in your life. | “Rain. I love the rain, Miros. I think it’s my favorite thing about the world above.”
Miros snorted and pulled his hat down on his head. “What about it? It’s wet and it’s cold.”
“Maybe just because of that. Those words don’t describe anything back home. There’s nothing refreshing down there. Not like topside.” I turned my face to the sky and let the water soak my hair and run down my face. It made me feel alive. “Here, it falls from the sky and washes everything clean.”
“Not everything.”
I sighed. “No, not us, I suppose.”
“Anyway, you like it so much up here, why’s it take you so long every year to do what you gotta do to stay?” He lit a cigarette and kept looking ahead at what was supposed to be my quarry.
“You mean my…renewal?”
“If that’s how you wanna sugar coat it.” He took a long drag. “Sugar or not, turd’s a turd. You gotta eat this one at least once a year and you know it.”
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “Poetic, Miros. It’s a wonder seduction isn’t your modus. If you only spoke like that all the time, you’d practically be an incubus.”
He grunted and shrugged his massive shoulders. “Am what I am, Heshmeth.”
He was right. Wrath needs little subtlety or nuance; it’s in every living thing. All Miros needed to do was bring it out. There are few problems those like Miros can’t solve by just bashing their heads on it. Or bashing someone else’s head on it.
He continued. “Anyway. We gotta do this shit to stay out of that nightmare. I do it cause I gotta and cause it’s what I am.” He paused and took another drag on the cigarette. “Question is, Heshmeth, what’re you?”
I blinked and turned to him. He was looking down at me. “What do you...”
“Every year you wait til you’re almost outta time. Then it’s some little fish like this, buys you a year and you spend it doing shit like standing in the rain.”
“I do *exactly* what he sent me to do, *exactly* as often as I’m required to do it. No more and no less. *That’s* the deal. He never said anything about bringing him great saints laid low, never offered extra credit, and never required I do it with glee or gusto. We are *parasites* on this world, Miros. I’d like to ruin it as little as possible while I’m here.”
“You remember you work for the devil, right? Working to bring ruin to the world and all that shit? Or you forget somewhere here in the rain?”
“I know exactly who my employer is!” I snapped. “And I know his aims. But If he wants the tender cuts of humanity, he can come get them himself. I’m not here for him. I’m here for me.”
Miros shrugged. “Not gonna be here for anyone if you don’t get this over with soon.”
I scowled at him and turned to walk towards the man shivering in the box, ready to offer him the greatest deal of his life. My clothes were soaked and cold. The water running from my hair blurred my vision. Behind me I heard Miros grind the cigarette butt into the ground with his shoe, grumbling.
“Fuckin' hate the rain.”
| Every day starts and ends with the small ones. That's how you do it, really, play the long run, every morning. You never cause the act yourself if you're already damned, you just simply lay the way for the lust of men and women to damn themselves.
I wake up and head to the bathroom, look in the mirror, combing my hair back with my black brush, catching the cloven hoofed angel himself, standing behind me with folded arms, and a raised eyebrow. He sips something red, I never ask what it is though. It's like he doesn't trust his earthly agents, but we do our part in silence, as he does. Heading outside with a spring to the step [you can't act like you're about to sin, mortals catch onto that], the first stop is the store.
Near the beginning of the month, the place is packed as they scramble to and fro, isle to isle, getting their 30 day allotment of supplies. Again, small ones are the best...a child, grade school, no more than 10, eyeing the cheap airplane kit while his mother argues with the management over some sale. Strutting by, I offer him the toy with a kind smile.
"Take it, it's just a toy, no one will ever know...". He does, and I hear the master cackle. A flashforward, a blink in my mind of the fate of the young boy: 15 years, 8 months and 23 days later, the young kleptomaniac takes his last item, to be shot dead by a guard after what he thought a successful heist, and one more year to my name as the soul is whisked to hell. "Thou shalt not steal" I whispered quietly. One damnation was always worth a good drink, I figured, so a journey to the corner coffee shop was in order.
As I ventured to the counter, swiping my card, I saw the man behind me eyeing the tip jar. Jittery, shaking, a man with little to lose and a lot to gain. I reach into my wallet and fish out five one dollar banknotes, a fifty cleverly hidden amongst them, and slide them into the jar, the larger of them facing the man. As I took my drink from the counter, thanking the woman for her service, I saw the fifty slip into the pocket of the man--I groaned as I stepped outside, the flashforward blurry. An overdose would end the man, but enough sins had tainted him from his own wrongdoing. His further suffering from stealing didn't keep mine away.
The last errand I needed for my own good, as one day kept me alive for hundreds more, so I stopped by the bank. I walked to the teller, and withdrew my card from my wallet while striking up a pleasant conversation. I eyed her, attempting to find some flaw to exploit, until a masked woman ran into the room, brandishing a gun at a seated pair discussing a mortgage. Always faced with eternal hellfire, the woman caused no stir from me as she asked for all the money that could be provided, waving the weapon inexperienced. As a group of civilians started running from the bank, I followed step, passing by the robber. I whispered quiet as night, "do it", and kept running. I hit the ground outside not from a fall, or a wound, but the visions of the future assaulting me.
The woman, cases of murder, a ticket to the pits of hell.
Mental scarring of another, losing faith in the Lord, another soul blackened.
A cop, to be affected in the future, lay false testimony, as do 3 others.
Then a survivor from the incident, to cheat on his wife while in a temporary coma, adultery, and another soul.
I brush my eye with a free hand, wobbling to my knees in an attempt to stand. I couldn't help but subtract a year of my own life, by swearing to God, I saw the devil's hand reach out to pick me off the ground, wishing me a job well done for the day...
*edited for format |
[WP] You own a flower shop. Describe one of your customers and the relationship that ensues. | It must be Tuesday. Ever since I opened this place 15 years ago he has arrived at 9am every Tuesday morning. He was just a teenager 15 years ago. Now he looks like a man of middle age. The years have not been kind to him. His face has weathered beyond it's years and the vacant stare has sunken further into his skull. With a quite murmur, He'll ask for a dozen lilies and pay for them with a $50 bill. Then he'll spend 15 minutes silently looking them over until he has found the one that he wants. The selected stem will be gently removed from the bunch and the remaining 11 will be placed down softly on the ground. He will depart without a word.
I have tried to engage him many times through the years. Every approach has failed. One time years ago, I lied and told him that there were no lilies today. There was a sadness in his eyes of which I had never seen before and is impossible to describe. His mouth opened and out of his throat came a croak. He asked for roses. To this day I feel so much guilt.
I have so many questions I would like to ask him but like the questions I have asked throughout the years I suspect they will also go unanswered. I am not one to pry and besides I get the feeling from him that there are some things that are not worth knowing of. No matter how strong of a curiosity you have.
| He's always so angry when he comes into the shop.
I don't even need to look to know it's him. Every time he comes in, he gives the door a good shove. Not just a push, a shove. The tin bell hanging above jangles and protests at this mistreatment. I always have to double-check, to make sure it hasn't been shaken loose.
My customer's not a small man, but the way he stands, hunched down, shoulders squared like a linebacker makes him look that way. In truth, he should be around half a head taller than me. Dark hair, pale skin. Thin, sharp eyebrows and angry eyes. That's Stanley all right.
We don't really talk much. Hell, the only reason I know his name is that I overheard him on the phone once. And he's a regular at the shop. Once every two, three weeks, he'll be in here, red nose, puffy eyes, angry at the world and God knows what else.
But he's a good customer, by all means. He'll come in, look about for a minute or so. Choose a bunch of flowers - never the same kind - and slaps them on the counter. Stanley always pays with cash - he slaps the bills on the counter too. And he's off. No stopping for chitchat, no lingering about in the aisles.
I don't really much about him at all. But this day, this Valentine's day, he's in again and this time he's smiling. | |
[WP] You own a flower shop. Describe one of your customers and the relationship that ensues. | When you run the florist next to the funeral home, you have to feel a little guilty.
It's sort of like opening up a 24/7 pizza shop next to a known dopehouse; your target audience is right next door and *always* willing to spend their spare cash on your services.
We do other things, of course, but the funerary stuff is our bread and butter - and those on the path to romance don't really frequent our rather somber, serious looking doors.
While we're a step removed from the actual business of Death, the owner of the place next door will still crack the odd joke about being in the business that never goes out of business. Do I feel like ghoul sometimes? Sure I do, but it's not like I'm out there bumping off people to increase sales. People just *die* and someone has to be there to make the place look appropriately decorative, yet not at all festive.
Of course I remember the first time Kyle walked into my shop; he was striking enough that he stuck in your mind without any added assistance. Chestnut brown eyes and hair the colour of newly minted pennies, offset by an olive-brown Mediterranean complexion. That would have been unusual enough, but he was also inconsolable about the death of his wife, Cassandra - to the point where I thought he was going to slit his wrists with my pinking shears.
I helped him make the arrangements for the floral aspect of the funeral; he took extreme care selecting everything in accordance with his deceased wife's wishes.
After the funeral I felt a small pang of regret that I'd never see him again; I'd grown fond of him during our brief interlude, planning out the particulars of his botanical needs.
But you don't ask for the phone number of the client whose wife just died, not 3 days earlier.
Seven months later, that bright copper hair ducked in through the front doors again.
"Kyle!" I squeaked - perhaps a little too excitedly.
He gave me a tight smile, at odds with the rest of his haggard appearance.
"Oh no," I whispered, realising he wasn't here for pleasure - just more business.
His mother had died, it turned out and the poor man was utterly heartbroken again. It happens sometimes; strings of family deaths. First grandma, then grandpa, then the great aunts and uncles. Sometimes a cousin and then a sister in law. One old dear outlived all twenty three of her nursing home friends, who dropped off in the space of two years. I don't think I ever saw her out of mourning black.
Again I did my utmost to assist poor Kyle. Striking Kyle. Handsome Kyle. Intelligent Kyle. Emotionally available Kyle.
Ugh, what am I, some kind of inverted black widow spider?
I needed to stop this line of thought before it overtook my sensibility.
At least once this was all over, I could forget Kyle and his morose charm.
No such luck though.
This time, his sister in law, five months later. He introduced me to his brother and explained that I'd helped him out so wonderfully and I was the model of professionalism and sensitivity.
Ha! Like hell I was. I was under no illusions I'd gone the extra mile for the the brown-eyed widower just because I was smitten. Still, my services were in demand again from a family member of this laconic and irresistible man, so I did what I do best and I put up the particular plantlife that the deceased sister in law would have wanted.
Kyle was definitely flirty this time. Sad, yes. It was his brother's wife, after all.
But flirty as hell.
Or maybe I'm just a lonely florist with an inappropriate crush on a client.
Dammit Kyle, get out of my life already!
When he walked out the doors of my shop again, I felt mixed pangs of longing and relief.
How could a relationship built on *death* ever be appropriate?
I don't even need to tell you what happened next; you've already guessed it.
Kyle was back.
His aunt this time; a single lady, but much beloved. Kyle took care of the arrangements on behalf of his infirm father and I got to spend another two days in his company.
When his hand rested on mine as we discussed which lilies his sister was allergic to last funeral, my heart skipped a beat.
And then the handsome bastard turned those liquid brown eyes on me - bruised with sorrow - and I knew I was hopelessly in love.
We married a year after his aunt's funeral - I did the flowers, of course, it made a nice change.
Within a year and a half, our first daughter was born - Lily - and we existed in a constant state of marital bliss.
No more people died, thankfully, but four years after our wedding, on our anniversary, I quipped that death brought us together.
Kyle gave me the strangest look, then his lips curled into that wonderfully rare, but powerful smile,
"Yes, yes it did," he replied.
| He's always so angry when he comes into the shop.
I don't even need to look to know it's him. Every time he comes in, he gives the door a good shove. Not just a push, a shove. The tin bell hanging above jangles and protests at this mistreatment. I always have to double-check, to make sure it hasn't been shaken loose.
My customer's not a small man, but the way he stands, hunched down, shoulders squared like a linebacker makes him look that way. In truth, he should be around half a head taller than me. Dark hair, pale skin. Thin, sharp eyebrows and angry eyes. That's Stanley all right.
We don't really talk much. Hell, the only reason I know his name is that I overheard him on the phone once. And he's a regular at the shop. Once every two, three weeks, he'll be in here, red nose, puffy eyes, angry at the world and God knows what else.
But he's a good customer, by all means. He'll come in, look about for a minute or so. Choose a bunch of flowers - never the same kind - and slaps them on the counter. Stanley always pays with cash - he slaps the bills on the counter too. And he's off. No stopping for chitchat, no lingering about in the aisles.
I don't really much about him at all. But this day, this Valentine's day, he's in again and this time he's smiling. | |
[WP] You own a flower shop. Describe one of your customers and the relationship that ensues. | When you run the florist next to the funeral home, you have to feel a little guilty.
It's sort of like opening up a 24/7 pizza shop next to a known dopehouse; your target audience is right next door and *always* willing to spend their spare cash on your services.
We do other things, of course, but the funerary stuff is our bread and butter - and those on the path to romance don't really frequent our rather somber, serious looking doors.
While we're a step removed from the actual business of Death, the owner of the place next door will still crack the odd joke about being in the business that never goes out of business. Do I feel like ghoul sometimes? Sure I do, but it's not like I'm out there bumping off people to increase sales. People just *die* and someone has to be there to make the place look appropriately decorative, yet not at all festive.
Of course I remember the first time Kyle walked into my shop; he was striking enough that he stuck in your mind without any added assistance. Chestnut brown eyes and hair the colour of newly minted pennies, offset by an olive-brown Mediterranean complexion. That would have been unusual enough, but he was also inconsolable about the death of his wife, Cassandra - to the point where I thought he was going to slit his wrists with my pinking shears.
I helped him make the arrangements for the floral aspect of the funeral; he took extreme care selecting everything in accordance with his deceased wife's wishes.
After the funeral I felt a small pang of regret that I'd never see him again; I'd grown fond of him during our brief interlude, planning out the particulars of his botanical needs.
But you don't ask for the phone number of the client whose wife just died, not 3 days earlier.
Seven months later, that bright copper hair ducked in through the front doors again.
"Kyle!" I squeaked - perhaps a little too excitedly.
He gave me a tight smile, at odds with the rest of his haggard appearance.
"Oh no," I whispered, realising he wasn't here for pleasure - just more business.
His mother had died, it turned out and the poor man was utterly heartbroken again. It happens sometimes; strings of family deaths. First grandma, then grandpa, then the great aunts and uncles. Sometimes a cousin and then a sister in law. One old dear outlived all twenty three of her nursing home friends, who dropped off in the space of two years. I don't think I ever saw her out of mourning black.
Again I did my utmost to assist poor Kyle. Striking Kyle. Handsome Kyle. Intelligent Kyle. Emotionally available Kyle.
Ugh, what am I, some kind of inverted black widow spider?
I needed to stop this line of thought before it overtook my sensibility.
At least once this was all over, I could forget Kyle and his morose charm.
No such luck though.
This time, his sister in law, five months later. He introduced me to his brother and explained that I'd helped him out so wonderfully and I was the model of professionalism and sensitivity.
Ha! Like hell I was. I was under no illusions I'd gone the extra mile for the the brown-eyed widower just because I was smitten. Still, my services were in demand again from a family member of this laconic and irresistible man, so I did what I do best and I put up the particular plantlife that the deceased sister in law would have wanted.
Kyle was definitely flirty this time. Sad, yes. It was his brother's wife, after all.
But flirty as hell.
Or maybe I'm just a lonely florist with an inappropriate crush on a client.
Dammit Kyle, get out of my life already!
When he walked out the doors of my shop again, I felt mixed pangs of longing and relief.
How could a relationship built on *death* ever be appropriate?
I don't even need to tell you what happened next; you've already guessed it.
Kyle was back.
His aunt this time; a single lady, but much beloved. Kyle took care of the arrangements on behalf of his infirm father and I got to spend another two days in his company.
When his hand rested on mine as we discussed which lilies his sister was allergic to last funeral, my heart skipped a beat.
And then the handsome bastard turned those liquid brown eyes on me - bruised with sorrow - and I knew I was hopelessly in love.
We married a year after his aunt's funeral - I did the flowers, of course, it made a nice change.
Within a year and a half, our first daughter was born - Lily - and we existed in a constant state of marital bliss.
No more people died, thankfully, but four years after our wedding, on our anniversary, I quipped that death brought us together.
Kyle gave me the strangest look, then his lips curled into that wonderfully rare, but powerful smile,
"Yes, yes it did," he replied.
| It must be Tuesday. Ever since I opened this place 15 years ago he has arrived at 9am every Tuesday morning. He was just a teenager 15 years ago. Now he looks like a man of middle age. The years have not been kind to him. His face has weathered beyond it's years and the vacant stare has sunken further into his skull. With a quite murmur, He'll ask for a dozen lilies and pay for them with a $50 bill. Then he'll spend 15 minutes silently looking them over until he has found the one that he wants. The selected stem will be gently removed from the bunch and the remaining 11 will be placed down softly on the ground. He will depart without a word.
I have tried to engage him many times through the years. Every approach has failed. One time years ago, I lied and told him that there were no lilies today. There was a sadness in his eyes of which I had never seen before and is impossible to describe. His mouth opened and out of his throat came a croak. He asked for roses. To this day I feel so much guilt.
I have so many questions I would like to ask him but like the questions I have asked throughout the years I suspect they will also go unanswered. I am not one to pry and besides I get the feeling from him that there are some things that are not worth knowing of. No matter how strong of a curiosity you have.
| |
[WP] A person has lost their loved one. In their grief, they visit a medium who tells them the full name of the person the other will be reincarnated in the future. One day, they meet again for the first time. | Charlie pushes in his kitchen chairs nervously and takes a final look around the apartment to ensure that everything is in its proper place. He glances back up at the clock fidgeting with his tie and glasses.
“Why aren’t they here yet? Wasn’t I friendly enough? Didn’t I seem responsible?” He asks himself out loud desperately.
He bites his lip and takes his favorite book from his small collection. He begins to read to distract himself and block out his thoughts; they were probably just running late after all. By the time he gets to page 15 he is already immersed in the story. As he flips a page, the doorbell rings and he jumps off the couch in surprise. He quickly checks himself in the mirror to ensure his hair and appearance is still perfect and practices his smile real quickly; he had to be perfect.
He opens the door with a grin to greet Mrs. Doubt and her daughter, Paris. Mrs. Doubt smiles nervously and pushes her daughter into the apartment.
“Thank you so much Mr. Taylors- especially on such short notice. I have never tried care.com before so I was worried. I’m going to call in an hour to check on you two but if you need me before then Paris has all my phone numbers and there is a list of her allergies in her backpack,” Mrs. Doubt rambles as Paris looks up at all the portraits around the small apartment.
Charlie smiles trying to play normal, “Of course Mrs. Doubt, Have no fears.”
Mrs. Doubt smiles and shouts bye as she rushes off to wherever she was supposed to be. Charlie closes the door slowly and sees Paris still in her coat, hat, scarf, and mittens situated on the couch with his favorite book.
He takes a deep breath and says, “Hi Paris, my name is Mr. Taylors but you can call me Charlie or Char. Whatever you want. So I’ve got Uno and connect four and some movies like Twister, ICarly, or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”
Paris looks up from the book slowly with a lollypop in her mouth and then says, “Do you really think I don’t remember you?”
Charlie’s eyes widen and he apologizes vehemently, “I’m sorry, you’re just so young now- I wasn’t sure.”
Paris smiles, “I decorated this apartment and chose all these portraits. I recognized you as soon as you opened the door.”
Charlie rubs his eyes, “I missed you Lizzy Lizard.”
Paris frowns, “That’s not my name anymore.”
Charlie nods, “Sorry Paris… What nickname can I give you now?”
The young girl rolls her eyes and sits down in front of the movie collection to choose one.
Charlie waits awkwardly, “I made a few changes since the accident…”
Paris looks up and grins, “I noticed, you’re actually wearing your glasses and you don’t look like a bum.”
Charlie laughs, “Very true. I figured you would appreciate it. Do you want to take off your coat?”
Paris looks up for a minute awkwardly, “I’m only eleven years old now.”
Charlie puts his hands in a defensive gesture, “Absolutely! I’m not- I don’t want that anymore! I just wanted to make sure you’re happy. Are your parents nice? Do they buy you nice things?”
Paris smiles, “Yeah nice enough. They gave me a Drocket for my birthday.”
Charlie cocks his head, “A what?”
“A Drocket? A phone,” Paris explains taking out her gift.
Charlie looks at the brightly colored phone with a large touch screen, “What do you watch the wiggles on it?”
“Fuck you,” Paris torts putting it back in her coat.
Charlie laughs and shouts, “Hey! You’re not allowed to say that anymore! I’m going to take your Rocket away if you curse again.”
Paris laughs, “So what are you doing here still? Are you having fun?”
Charlie nods and kneels next to her, “Yeah, I got a whole bunch of promotions. You remember Aaron, the old CEO? Fired! I got his job now and me and Drew and Evan all have offices. It’s great!”
Paris smiles, “What about your life? Do you have a girlfriend or anyone?”
Charlie looks at her shyly and nods, “I’m married now. After the accident, I got things in order and stopped letting my dreams escape. I met a nice girl named Jane from Minnesota and we have a set of twins.”
Paris’s head snaps up, “MINNESOTA? Does she have a silly accent? What about your kids? How old are they?”
Charlie shakes his head, “Jane’s accent is minimal because her dad is from New York. My kids are eight years old.”
“How do you all live in this tiny apartment still?” Paris asks quietly.
Charlie bites his lip, “We actually have a home in Connecticut, I hold onto this apartment in case I ever have to be here in the city for a couple of days. The kids have been by a couple of times, they’re on a tour of the city right now with their mom but I’m sure she’ll drop them off in a bit- she has work in like an hour.”
“So she’s been here too?” Paris asks.
Charlie sees the old flames of jealousy in his ex, “Paris, you’re eleven. Lizzy is dead, you can’t seriously be mad that I moved on.”
Paris rolls her eyes and thinks for a moment before nodding, “Fine Charlie. I’m not mad- I am happy because you’re happy even if Jane stole my apartment.”
Charlie knows better than to argue, “Jane is very grateful for Lizzy’s good taste in decorating. She’s said it many times to me.”
Paris smiles not making eye contact, “Really?”
Charlie nods, “Yes, Lizzy made me the man that I am. I owe you forever which is why I invited you here. If you ever need anything, at all, just call me. Understand?”
Paris nods silently as Charlie hands her a slip of paper with his phone number scrawled on it. She smiles and inputs the number in her Drocket. A single tear begins to fall from her face as the doorbell rings again. Before either one could get up to check, two bundles of energy burst through the door to attack Charlie.
“DADDY! DADDY! Mom told us you would take us out for ice cream!” A little boy screams while hugging his father.
Charlie frowns, “It’s snowing baby boy. Where’s my princess?”
He looks around and catches a baby girl hiding behind the couch and wrestles her into a hug. Paris chuckles as the little boy waves shyly at her.
Charlie carries a small girl wrapped in a puffy pink coat and sits back down beside her, “Isadora, Lance, I want you to meet someone very special. We are babysitting her for the day and need to be friendly.”
Paris extends her hand to the small girl, “I’m Paris.”
The little girl shakes and Paris looks back up to Charlie, “I heard we were getting ice cream?”
Charlie chuckles, “Let’s go get some hot chocolate kids!”
The children applaud and Lance challenges Paris to a race down the flights of stairs. Paris accepts waving to Charlie.
Charlie smiles; Life had taken many twists and turns and as heartbreaking as some of them were, he was happy how things turned out.
| Fourteen miserable years. It has been 14 miserable years without the love of my life. I wish it would have been me in the car accident. It should have been me. She was my everything.
I resorted to becoming a heavy drinker; when I'm drunk I can't feel the pain. It doesn't make it any better, I just can't feel the coldness in my heart when I'm drunk.
I was at the bar by myself a night recently after my wife had passed, and a big black woman came up to me.
"You're Mr. Jacobs. Right? The math teacher up at the high school?"
"Yeah, that's me. What the hell do you want?"
"Well, I'm a medium. I know what happened to your wife. I'm very sorry."
"Leave me alone. I don't want to hear your bullshit."
"No, I promise you. I had a vision, I saw your wife in her next life."
"Her next life? What the fuck are you talking about?"
"She is going to get reincarnated, and I know what her name will be. You can find her and meet her sometime in the future!"
"Get the hell away from me! You just want my money, and I am not giving it to you!"
"Just listen please. She is going to be reincarnated into a girl named Caroline Raines," I didn't care at all for what she had to say, but I remembered that name. Just in case. The woman walked away, and I got another glass of vodka.
Fourteen years later it was the first day of school for the students. In my first period geometry class, a girl that stood out walked in. She had long blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. I looked passed her as if I did with my other students, the bell rang, and it was time to take roll. I looked down the list and I saw the name Caroline Raines. I remembered back to the night a couple weeks after my wife passed at the bar. That woman told me that my wife was going to be reincarnated into a girl named Caroline Raines. I said her name "Caroline Raines," and the girl with the blonde hair looked up at me.
"Here," she said, then turned away to talk to one of her friends. I couldn't believe it. Could it actually be my wife reincarnated? I never believed in God, so I guess it could be a possibility. I did the usual easy first day lesson, and after class I told Caroline to stay after because I needed to talk to her about something.
Ten years later, and nobody has heard anything from either of us. We both went missing they think. I didn't think I could go any longer without the love of my life... | |
[WP] A mermaid with a horrific collection. | There once was a beauty,
Shimmering, rare.
She had a collection
And kept it in there.
...
The deep, dark waters
Where no one would go.
She liked the silence.
Her collection could grow.
...
Once in a while
A man would swim by.
A fire would light
In the depth of her eye.
...
She could out-swim him,
For she had a tail.
And where his would be,
Was her Holy Grail.
...
With the teeth of a shark,
His ankles she gnawed.
Why did he swim here?
O Poseidon, my God!
...
She ripped and she tore
Through ligament, bone.
Her prize was a pair,
Not one on it's own.
...
And when they would ask her,
*"Why, Ariel, why?!"*
She'd tilt her head
And let out this reply:
...
"My father was human
And he fucked a whale.
Now I'm a creature
All covered in scale.
...
"I see them swimming,
All wriggling toes,
And the monster inside me says,
'You deserve those.'"
...
This is my first time posting in this sub so please be kind :) | She swam as fast as she could towards her secret cove, where a collection of wonderful treasures awaited her. Her parents warned her that her hobby was dangerous, and that she should stay away from humans, but they simply fascinated her. The cove was far from home, located in a deep trench. It was inconvenient, but necessary to preserve the secret from her friends and family.
It was absolutely forbidden to be seen by humans, as it would put her whole race in danger. According to her parents, mermaids had been hunted to near extinction almost a hundred years ago. Those that remained swore an oath of secrecy, and mermaids became all but a myth to the mouth-breathers. Even then, pollution caused by the humans still posed a threat to mermaids, and all other forms of life under the sea.
The young mermaid propelled herself forward, rapidly approaching the abyss. It had been a long time since she last gazed at her collection, she needed to make sure it was all still there.
Before she arrived, however, she noticed a burning ship floating at the surface of the water. Burning sailors cried out in agony, and the more fortunate simply gurgled as they drowned. Without hesitation, she changed course for the ship. If she could salvage just one of the men, it would be worth the risk.
By the time she swam all the way to the surface, she could only find one survivor. She swam up to him, and grabbed onto his arms, helping him stay afloat.
"Who... who are you?" he said, entranced by her beauty.
Instead of replying, she simply giggled, and dragged him under the waves, towards her deep abyss. At first he struggled, but the water filled his lungs and he stopped resisting, just like they always did.
She dragged the lifeless body into her secret cove, and the local fish began to nibble on the soggy flesh. Soon, they would pick it clean, and she could add it to her collection. She decided to let them eat in peace, and went to fetch the other corpses. They burned ones would be no good, she decided, but the ones who drowned were pure. | |
[WP] Make me hate the main character. Then make me like him/her. | He lifted the blade and swung. Blood spewed out as a head separated from a body. The body fell with a thunk and he breathed out swiftly. The adrinaline flowed through him. His eyes still filled with fury. He didn't even care it was a child, or even if it was a little girl. Her pink dress soaked through with even more blood. Her own life gone so quickly. He had won though and it felt great. Her parents, chained to the wall looked on horrified. The man walked toward the parents the blade in his hand gripped so tight his knuckles had turned white. When he got close to the pair he swung and his blade met it's target.
The man followed the girl. Only it was no longer the innocent brunette child from before. It was a creature dark and twisted. Her pink dress clung to her soaked through with blood. Moments before the child had almost got away from the demon. The demon he was hunting. The demon would inhabit a child's body and torture the parents. Stealing bits of their soul until there was nothing left. The child who once inhabited the body was no more. The shrill cry that fell from the small girl as the dark being took over made that clear. That was a month ago and he had finally tracked her again. He quickly made his way down the steps and now stood face to face with the girl. The creature growled and jumped toward him. He was able to kick it back with his foot and swung his blade separating the head. That was sadly the only way to ensure the demon was gone. The parents had a look of fear. He understood. Even though that was clearly no longer their loving daughter they knew she looked like it. He had to kill his own son for the same reason. He walked closer and swung the blade breaking the bindings on the two. The woman cried and the husband held her muttering under his breath soothing words that he hardly seemed to believe. Things would not be easy for them, not anymore, but they were alive. His job was far from perfect, but it's what he was good at. | The harsh morning light crept into a room where red solo cups and brown glass bottles laid scattered across white shag carpet. The air smelled strongly of dank weed and vomit. On the nearby brown leather couch, a naked, bruised young woman sat up staring at the wall. She looked focused as she tried to piece together the previous night.
A young man with an unkempt blonde goatee stepped into the room. He wore a faded tank top and Captain America boxers. He lazily looked over at the naked young woman with a smirk.
"You had fun last night," he said. "I enjoyed your sloppy strip show and even sloppier blow job."
He winked at her and licked his lips. The young woman's cheeks darkened and she looked away, her memories of the night were now starting to return.
The young man walked slowly over to a corner of room, picked up her clothes, and promptly threw them at her.
"Now get out."
She quickly threw on her clothes.
"Thank you, Chris," she said softly as she left.
Chris watched the door slam behind her, then started to pick up the bottles and cups. He almost instantly regretted telling her to leave. Now he was left to clean up after the party.
Chris did not throw parties. His work generally kept him busy. Most importantly, work kept his mind from wandering and remembering. He only had one once a year as a distraction from his wife's death. She was his everything. Unfortunately, she suffered from chronic depression and no matter what she tried, she never felt better.
One day, Chris came home to find her dead in their marital bed. She had shot herself in the head, leaving behind a distorted letter, begging him to be happy now that he was free of her.
So every year he threw a big, lavish party to achieve her dream for him. | |
[WP] Make me hate the main character. Then make me like him/her. | Give me that.
> What did you say?
Pudding from your lunch.
> No way.
---
Do you wish a sudden trip?
A fattened lip or broken hip?
Or maybe we could chat all day.
Just give it to me now.
Okay?
---
> This lunch is mine.
> It is divine.
> My mother made it.
That is fine.
---
> And I will eat it.
You will not.
> You are a big mean shouts-a-lot.
---
Do you hang with Beverly?
> Never! She is in grade three.
> I would never ever talk.
> Or play.
> Or sit.
> Or even walk.
---
Well I think that is mean of you.
> Now I am mean?
> Well that makes two!
---
She is not well.
She does not eat.
She lives outside on Shooter street.
Her mother works.
And works.
And sings.
And Beverly does not have things.
---
And still she walks.
And comes to school.
But she has nothing.
Zero cool.
So I will ask you one more time.
> For pudding?
Yes.
> But it is mine!
---
Then I shall go.
With all you know.
To suffer in your after glow.
Of chocolate covered pudding face.
And lack of class and lack of grace.
---
> I feel bad.
And so you should.
I offer you a chance for good.
To comfort one of us in need.
But you have only pudding greed.
---
> Give her this?
That is a fruit.
> It is a ripened raspbaloot.
> Fairest fruit in all the land.
> I will not eat it.
That is bland.
---
So I see.
Will leave you be.
And go to beg for Beverly.
And hope that you run into me.
Outside the school at half past three. | The harsh morning light crept into a room where red solo cups and brown glass bottles laid scattered across white shag carpet. The air smelled strongly of dank weed and vomit. On the nearby brown leather couch, a naked, bruised young woman sat up staring at the wall. She looked focused as she tried to piece together the previous night.
A young man with an unkempt blonde goatee stepped into the room. He wore a faded tank top and Captain America boxers. He lazily looked over at the naked young woman with a smirk.
"You had fun last night," he said. "I enjoyed your sloppy strip show and even sloppier blow job."
He winked at her and licked his lips. The young woman's cheeks darkened and she looked away, her memories of the night were now starting to return.
The young man walked slowly over to a corner of room, picked up her clothes, and promptly threw them at her.
"Now get out."
She quickly threw on her clothes.
"Thank you, Chris," she said softly as she left.
Chris watched the door slam behind her, then started to pick up the bottles and cups. He almost instantly regretted telling her to leave. Now he was left to clean up after the party.
Chris did not throw parties. His work generally kept him busy. Most importantly, work kept his mind from wandering and remembering. He only had one once a year as a distraction from his wife's death. She was his everything. Unfortunately, she suffered from chronic depression and no matter what she tried, she never felt better.
One day, Chris came home to find her dead in their marital bed. She had shot herself in the head, leaving behind a distorted letter, begging him to be happy now that he was free of her.
So every year he threw a big, lavish party to achieve her dream for him. | |
[WP] Make me hate the main character. Then make me like him/her. | *Drip… drip… drip…*
The rain pattered on the roof. The house was freezing cold and the curtains blew in the breeze, the front door swung wide open and a few windows shattered.
The man stepped over the broken glass, a few shards crunching beneath his feet. His hands were bloody, his coat stained with their blood. The woman crawled on her hands and knees into the kitchen, trying to escape him, but she continued to slip on the blood pouring out of her cuts. She slipped and wriggled as she tried to lean herself against the counter and stand up, trying to grab one of the knives, but the knife wound in her stomach made it impossible. She fell back to the ground and a puddle of blood began to form around her.
“Jacob, we’re family, I’m your sister!” the woman screamed. “Please, please…”
He sliced her throat quickly, stepping over her dying body to make his way upstairs. Tears and blood were all that remained on her face, the rest of her life gone completely.
Jacob could see one of the bedroom doors cracked open. He knew exactly what he had to do. The floorboards creaked as he neared the room. He slowly pushed the door open, grabbing a gun tucked behind his shirt. He could hear the panicked breathing, the chattering of the teeth, and he could see the closet. It was cracked open ever so slightly.
Jacob stood still in front of the closet, opened it to reveal the woman’s son standing there, and looked at him for a moment. The child was sobbing, tears and snot running down his face, a fresh black eye from what had happened when Jacob entered the house. A puddle of urine started to form under him as Jacob pulled the trigger.
****
It had been 10 years since Jacob had done what needed to be done. 10 years since he killed his own sister. He sat on the front porch swing and watched the sunset. After that incident, he had quit. He couldn't do it anymore. The agency couldn’t blame him either.
“Hi Mr. Wilson” a teenage girl said. She had run up the long drive on his farm and was standing on the steps, looking up at him with a bright smile.
“Hi Sarah,” Jacob replied. “You can call me Jacob you know.”
“Oh,” she said, blushing. “Listen, is Jimmy around? I was just…”
“Jimmy!” Jacob yelled, too lazy to get up from his porch swing. “He’ll be along in a minute Sarah.”
“Thanks,” Sarah said, her eyes focussed on the ground.
A minute later Jimmy came running out of the house, grabbed Sarah and kissed her, then waved goodbye to his uncle as they ran off down the driveway towards his car.
“Be back by ten!” Jacob shouted.
“Fine,” Jimmy huffed from a distance. “See you later dad!”
Jacob opened the bottle of pills, popped a couple meds into his mouth, then chugged them down with his beer. Jimmy looked so much like Jacob’s sister. The resemblance was uncanny. He still couldn’t believe his sister, trying to kill him to the very last breath. If he hadn’t killed her, the knife she had managed to find would have certainly found its way into himself. But of all the things he regretted, he hated having to kill Jimmy’s father right in front of him. What sort of father uses his own son as bait? But in the end all that mattered was that Jimmy was safe, away from the parents who abused him and hurt him. Even if it cost Jacob his own sanity, even if he had to live with that night replaying itself in his nightmares every night.
| The harsh morning light crept into a room where red solo cups and brown glass bottles laid scattered across white shag carpet. The air smelled strongly of dank weed and vomit. On the nearby brown leather couch, a naked, bruised young woman sat up staring at the wall. She looked focused as she tried to piece together the previous night.
A young man with an unkempt blonde goatee stepped into the room. He wore a faded tank top and Captain America boxers. He lazily looked over at the naked young woman with a smirk.
"You had fun last night," he said. "I enjoyed your sloppy strip show and even sloppier blow job."
He winked at her and licked his lips. The young woman's cheeks darkened and she looked away, her memories of the night were now starting to return.
The young man walked slowly over to a corner of room, picked up her clothes, and promptly threw them at her.
"Now get out."
She quickly threw on her clothes.
"Thank you, Chris," she said softly as she left.
Chris watched the door slam behind her, then started to pick up the bottles and cups. He almost instantly regretted telling her to leave. Now he was left to clean up after the party.
Chris did not throw parties. His work generally kept him busy. Most importantly, work kept his mind from wandering and remembering. He only had one once a year as a distraction from his wife's death. She was his everything. Unfortunately, she suffered from chronic depression and no matter what she tried, she never felt better.
One day, Chris came home to find her dead in their marital bed. She had shot herself in the head, leaving behind a distorted letter, begging him to be happy now that he was free of her.
So every year he threw a big, lavish party to achieve her dream for him. | |
[WP] A scam-artist cult leader's knowingly false rituals start to produce genuine miracles. | My own offering:
Father, I have sinned.
No, sir, never. I've never taken confession before, not even once, 'cause I wasn't raised Catholic. I wasn't even raised Christian, see, 'cause my parents were atheists. I'm an atheist. Or I was. I have absolutely no idea anymore. God, I wish I did.
You've heard of us, almost undoubtedly. I know a Papal Bull was written on the Servants of the Deep because I read it out to my followers. We laughed, 'cause of course we did. We laughed at your pope condemning all the blasphemies and desecrations that we'd perpetrated, 'cause to us it was just funny. We loved the feeling of making the most famous religious leader in the world so very sad and angry, so miserable at the misery of his followers, loved how powerful it made us felt. I was there, in person, on San Cristobal hill when we smeared human shit on the statue of the Virgin Mary - didn't dirty my hands personally, obviously, but I was there. Me and two of my followers smashed open the Reliquary at Westminster Cathedral, and we laughed as we did it.
And no-one was laughing more than me, 'cause not only was I fucking with the most powerful religious institution on the planet, but goddamnit I was screwing over all the mental defectives who were following me. It was all lies. Everything about the Lords of the Deep, I made it up! I swear. I swear to God, *I made it up*. You have to believe me. Tar-Gneth? R'aque'nu? I made those names up. I swear I did. Thithubilalomaquaba? How can you even begin to believe that name is real? The scripture, the artifacts, the hymns, the "magic rituals" - all of it, fake. I made it up. Father, you have to believe me. I made it up. They came to me looking for purpose, and I took their money, sold them bullshit.
But the money, the gifts, the sex... that was only a tiny part of it. Everyone looked up to me, like I was the only one in the world who knew what was real. You know that feeling, father, or at least a small part of it. People turning to you for guidance. How easy it would be to abuse that power. But all of it was a lie, and somehow knowing that made it feel even better. Like I was literally pulling puppet strings with my words.
It wasn't meant to be real.
\* *A pause, and the faint sound of sobbing.*
Please, you have to believe me, father. You have to believe that I made it up.
It started two weeks ago, during the Lesser Invocation of Lur-Amn. One of the fun little touches I have for that particular ritual is these strategically-placed fans concealed throughout the "sacred chamber." Palming a remote control to turn them on and blow out the candles at a dramatically appropriate time really adds some extra oomph to a sermon, you know? But we were only halfway through the second verse that night and I never pull that trick until the fourth verse at the earliest. The candles went out. Everyone acted like they usually do when that happens... 'cept, of course, me. Because that wasn't supposed to happen. I hadn't touched the remote. I mean, fortunately, no-one noticed I was stumbling through the third verse because they were too into it.
I didn't think too much of it until the next night, when we were reciting the Curse of Winnowing against Senator Sullivan. The room suddenly got cold. No, not just chilly, sir, I'm talking Boston-in-midwinter cold. You could see your breath. The room was filled with these whispers. I can't repeat the things they said to us. Just trying to think of the syllables makes me want to throw up. Then there was screaming. Human screaming. And... well, you know how the police found Sullivan the next morning, of course. It was all over the news.
I told them... I can't remember the exact words. But after that I told them the Deep Lords had told me not to invoke any more curses, as our... I think I said our "favour with them had worn thin" and requesting more curses against our "enemies" would turn their ire upon us. They believed me. I think. God, I hope they believed me.
I don't think I can stop the supplicants, though. Not now that they've started to mutate. Every bit of my brain I used to use for coming up with this bullshit I'm now using to work out how to convincingly tell them they can't go out in public like that, how the world isn't ready. The worst thing, though, father? The ones that are really far-gone, they look exactly like I imagined they would, like it shows in the drawings I made. None of that was meant to be real. I don't even know how their organs keep functioning arranged in that way. When they blink their eyes, I want to throw up. When they talk I don't even know where their voices are coming from anymore.
I don't know if the still-human-looking ones are worse, because they can do... things. Make things disappear, but not like a magic trick, *really disappear*. They did it with a human two days ago. An hour later they brought him back and he just laid there screaming, screaming, screaming until he passed the fuck out, then when he woke up he just screamed and screamed and screamed some more until eventually they just made him disappear again. I've seen one conjure lime-green fire from his hands that rots what it touches instead of burns. Another touched a five-year-old boy on the shoulder as he passed, and the boy picked up a stick and started scraping symbols in the dirt. I later discovered those symbols were Linear A, a language that's been dead for over three thousand years.
I'm kind of glad we'll probably never know what he wrote.
Why am I confessing to this? Well, what else can I do, father? I can't tell them it's not real, because... because apparently the fakeness is what wasn't real. Because the stuff I wrote about is really coming true. Because Lur-Amn, Tar-Gneth, R'aque'nu, Thithubilalomaquaba? Because apparently, they're all real. Apparently, they're waiting at the bottom of the ocean, in the lightless depths where man's technology can't see them. Because I wrote that one day soon, they're going to rise up and consume all the peoples of the Earth in a torment that will last a thousand eternities.
My one hope, father, is that if these things I always thought were fake are real, other things that I thought were fake are also real. My hope, father, my one, stupid, tiny hope is that God's real. That God exists, and that He is indeed more powerful than the awful things I wrote into being. My hope is that God can save us from the hell I've spread upon us.
How many Hail Marys do you want me to say? I guarantee it won't be enough. | It happened yesterday. I cured a deaf. Some people may say, that these things usually happen to the head of the Naturerology cult, which has over 2.000 Naturists in the US.
I started this project five years ago, after I have been struggling with my career as an actor in San Francisco. I gathered a couple of buddies, made up some bullshit about the origin of our being, and gave them some of the leading positions in our cult.
Anyways, on our 5 th Nature worship fair, it happened. A deaf man came to the podium, and he was hodling a sign, that he was deaf. We always wanted to do some of this miracle stuff with some actors we knew in front of our believers. But this time, it was different. We have never seen this person before and as he begged us to at least try to summon a miracle, I had to give in.
As I laid my hand upon this kneeling man's forehead and started mumbling the songtext of Cotton eyed Joe, so that only I could understand it, I felt energy dripping out of my hand, filling this man's head with greeen light.
And it happened. He could hear again.
The whole crowd was cheering.
I have always had my letter by my side, which said the whole religion was just made up so that we didn't have to struggle as artists anymore, but I guess that neither of us will need it anymore.
I will have to talk to you tomorrow, fellow Prestor level OH-03.
Ron Harvard, head of Naturerology , Preto level OH-90 | |
[WP] A scam-artist cult leader's knowingly false rituals start to produce genuine miracles. | My own offering:
Father, I have sinned.
No, sir, never. I've never taken confession before, not even once, 'cause I wasn't raised Catholic. I wasn't even raised Christian, see, 'cause my parents were atheists. I'm an atheist. Or I was. I have absolutely no idea anymore. God, I wish I did.
You've heard of us, almost undoubtedly. I know a Papal Bull was written on the Servants of the Deep because I read it out to my followers. We laughed, 'cause of course we did. We laughed at your pope condemning all the blasphemies and desecrations that we'd perpetrated, 'cause to us it was just funny. We loved the feeling of making the most famous religious leader in the world so very sad and angry, so miserable at the misery of his followers, loved how powerful it made us felt. I was there, in person, on San Cristobal hill when we smeared human shit on the statue of the Virgin Mary - didn't dirty my hands personally, obviously, but I was there. Me and two of my followers smashed open the Reliquary at Westminster Cathedral, and we laughed as we did it.
And no-one was laughing more than me, 'cause not only was I fucking with the most powerful religious institution on the planet, but goddamnit I was screwing over all the mental defectives who were following me. It was all lies. Everything about the Lords of the Deep, I made it up! I swear. I swear to God, *I made it up*. You have to believe me. Tar-Gneth? R'aque'nu? I made those names up. I swear I did. Thithubilalomaquaba? How can you even begin to believe that name is real? The scripture, the artifacts, the hymns, the "magic rituals" - all of it, fake. I made it up. Father, you have to believe me. I made it up. They came to me looking for purpose, and I took their money, sold them bullshit.
But the money, the gifts, the sex... that was only a tiny part of it. Everyone looked up to me, like I was the only one in the world who knew what was real. You know that feeling, father, or at least a small part of it. People turning to you for guidance. How easy it would be to abuse that power. But all of it was a lie, and somehow knowing that made it feel even better. Like I was literally pulling puppet strings with my words.
It wasn't meant to be real.
\* *A pause, and the faint sound of sobbing.*
Please, you have to believe me, father. You have to believe that I made it up.
It started two weeks ago, during the Lesser Invocation of Lur-Amn. One of the fun little touches I have for that particular ritual is these strategically-placed fans concealed throughout the "sacred chamber." Palming a remote control to turn them on and blow out the candles at a dramatically appropriate time really adds some extra oomph to a sermon, you know? But we were only halfway through the second verse that night and I never pull that trick until the fourth verse at the earliest. The candles went out. Everyone acted like they usually do when that happens... 'cept, of course, me. Because that wasn't supposed to happen. I hadn't touched the remote. I mean, fortunately, no-one noticed I was stumbling through the third verse because they were too into it.
I didn't think too much of it until the next night, when we were reciting the Curse of Winnowing against Senator Sullivan. The room suddenly got cold. No, not just chilly, sir, I'm talking Boston-in-midwinter cold. You could see your breath. The room was filled with these whispers. I can't repeat the things they said to us. Just trying to think of the syllables makes me want to throw up. Then there was screaming. Human screaming. And... well, you know how the police found Sullivan the next morning, of course. It was all over the news.
I told them... I can't remember the exact words. But after that I told them the Deep Lords had told me not to invoke any more curses, as our... I think I said our "favour with them had worn thin" and requesting more curses against our "enemies" would turn their ire upon us. They believed me. I think. God, I hope they believed me.
I don't think I can stop the supplicants, though. Not now that they've started to mutate. Every bit of my brain I used to use for coming up with this bullshit I'm now using to work out how to convincingly tell them they can't go out in public like that, how the world isn't ready. The worst thing, though, father? The ones that are really far-gone, they look exactly like I imagined they would, like it shows in the drawings I made. None of that was meant to be real. I don't even know how their organs keep functioning arranged in that way. When they blink their eyes, I want to throw up. When they talk I don't even know where their voices are coming from anymore.
I don't know if the still-human-looking ones are worse, because they can do... things. Make things disappear, but not like a magic trick, *really disappear*. They did it with a human two days ago. An hour later they brought him back and he just laid there screaming, screaming, screaming until he passed the fuck out, then when he woke up he just screamed and screamed and screamed some more until eventually they just made him disappear again. I've seen one conjure lime-green fire from his hands that rots what it touches instead of burns. Another touched a five-year-old boy on the shoulder as he passed, and the boy picked up a stick and started scraping symbols in the dirt. I later discovered those symbols were Linear A, a language that's been dead for over three thousand years.
I'm kind of glad we'll probably never know what he wrote.
Why am I confessing to this? Well, what else can I do, father? I can't tell them it's not real, because... because apparently the fakeness is what wasn't real. Because the stuff I wrote about is really coming true. Because Lur-Amn, Tar-Gneth, R'aque'nu, Thithubilalomaquaba? Because apparently, they're all real. Apparently, they're waiting at the bottom of the ocean, in the lightless depths where man's technology can't see them. Because I wrote that one day soon, they're going to rise up and consume all the peoples of the Earth in a torment that will last a thousand eternities.
My one hope, father, is that if these things I always thought were fake are real, other things that I thought were fake are also real. My hope, father, my one, stupid, tiny hope is that God's real. That God exists, and that He is indeed more powerful than the awful things I wrote into being. My hope is that God can save us from the hell I've spread upon us.
How many Hail Marys do you want me to say? I guarantee it won't be enough. | I was essentially a cult leader overnight. It was easy. I replied to the ad on craigslist, and the next day three slick lawyers showed up. We took a chauffeured limo to the mayor's office. After a few hours of lawyer-talk, paperwork, and bribery, I was a tax exempt leader of the newest church in town, The church of the Big Blue Square.
Two white semis and a van of laborers pulled in to town a few hours later and turned a rundown catholic church that had been for sale for years into a shiny palace. Painting the whole building crystal white, they fixed the lawn, filled potholes in the parking lot, dusted and cleared out the basement, fixed some electrical problems, and generally turned a dump into a clean organism in a day.
I was given a pamphlet with the logo on the outside. Inside a few short sentences summed up the philosophy of the church.- "You now have the opportunity to inspire and lead, nurture and give. You will grow in ways unimaginable at this moment. Let your worshipers believe anything you want. Tell them it is all good. Encourage discussion, and love, preferably. Press the blue square on the podium and the screens will flash, bringing the people to an enlightened state. It is important to do this three times a week. It is important to collect tithes, encourage 20% of pre-taxable income, but accept any monetary donations. The main focus of your church is revenue for the continued growth of the church, so focus on that."
On Sunday twenty interested people showed up. They shuffled silently into the white chapel, walked down white isles finding seats in white pews. The only color was on the shiny blue screens that replaced the windows, squares lined along the wall, and one large box in front.
I stood at the front, nervous. I took a deep breath, and pushed the button. Immediately the blue squares turned pink, red, white, then yellow. They flickered colors randomly, throwing enough light to change the entire color of the room. It had an instant hypnotic effect, and an hour slipped by. Suddenly everything was clear; it was like waking up from a dream.
"Wow, so okay, let's see, welcome to the church of the big blue square! Thank you for coming to our inaugural Bash, how's everybody feeling?" The people seemed to be in a sleepy happy haze. They had just been hypnotized for the past hour, sitting slack-jawed staring forward surrounded by mesmerizing flashing lights. Some of them seemed confused, but at least most of them were smiling. A few of them were already whispering to each other about inviting their friends next week and paying tithes. the hypnotic programming had set in.
I wanted to feel like a leader, I didn't want the technology to do all the work, so I called a kid named Kenny to the front. Kenny had a broken leg, and had been hobbling around on crutches. I laid my hands on his leg and with a wild southern-preacher like flair I screamed out "heal this boy!" I didn't know what to expect, I didn't expect anything, I mostly just wanted dramatic effect, But Kenny stood up and took three steps. It was a miracle | |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | The Great Zantini showed up at my doorstep hat in hand.
I knew better than to trust this and sent a decoy mimic-droid to answer the door.
Zantini looked at the mimic-droid and seemed almost sad. "Is that really you or is this a ruse?"
Something about his voice concerned me. I came out from behind the lead lined wall that seemed to be cover against most of his spells. "What is it Zantin?"
He smiled "I wanted to call a truce. I am leaving the neighborhood."
I nodded "Giving up?"
He made a chair appear to sit on. "I have lost my job and I am going to have to move."
I wanted to think this was a ploy, but there was a sincerity in what he was saying and a sadness at losing a rival that I could feel as well.
"We had some good times!" he smiled at me "Remember when your garage grew legs and you had to chase it to get to your car."
I chuckled, the video of that still haunts me a little, but it was a good one. "Remember the inch tall robot army I sent to steal your spell components."
Zantini laughed out loud "My cat now leaps like a tiger when it sees a toy solider."
"Why are you losing your job?" I knew he worked at a pretty well known magic firm, I couldn't see why he would be out of a job.
"They said I don't understand the modern times." He shook his head. "I have a new supervisor and he decided that I needed to be let go."
I blurted out "I don't like this."
"Neither do I"
I started thinking, plotting like I hadn't plotted since I woke to a group of Imps in my workshop. "Do you know where your new supervisor lives."
I saw Zantini's eyes light up like when he watched me chasing my garage. "Yes."
For years we had been playfully pranking each other, but now someone had picked on my friend, and he would have to deal with both of us....heaven help him. | I was beginning to regret ever having constructed the robot magician.
Not an hour since sunrise and there they were, riding past the window on that damned tandem flying carpet, their matching, brightly colored robes billowing in the breeze, each clutching an identical pointy hat while waving their wands with abandon. And giggling like schoolboys. I was beginning to consign myself to a double portioned eternity of glitter, colored smoke, and bad puns. Showy, pompous, entirely too smug, the both of them. By noon they would be flying kites made of ethereal flame on my front lawn while frolicking with dragons or sprites or fairies or elves or some other frivolous nonsense.
I reached for my coffee, gone cold by now, no doubt. The cup was no longer where I’d set it down. Typical. I looked across the table into the bleary eyed, stubble jowled and haggard face of the golem. The golem looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. The golem slowly raised my mug to his lips and took a bitter sip.
“How many time do I have to tell you to make your own damn coffee in the morning?” I wearily muttered.
“Why don’t *you* make *your* own damn coffee?” muttered the golem in return. | |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | I remember the first time I saw Doctor M, the Magician Manifest of earth dimension 12. I was all legs then, blonde, nice pert rack, little red cocktail dress. Crossing the bar, suppressing a giggled smile as I gracefully wrote my number on a napkin while holding a Martini glass. I made it 9 seconds into my NLP derived seduction algorithm before exploding. 13 dead. 2 weeks under a pile of rubble before my back-up was recovered.
The next time was in the dairy section of a grocery store. Something must have tipped him off though. I erupted into bunch of flowers. Roses. The mana detectors in my heels triggered the secondary explosives in my purse. 4 dead. The new remote Back-up worked within desired parameters for existential modification, the Professor will be pleased.
My 3rd engagement with Doctor M was in error. Professor-bot 1872, while performing an upgrade on my mutagen gas injector, was condensed into foreign matter and rapidly transformed the surrounding area into a frog-lava hybrid substance. Additional analysis has yet to be completed. I was temporarily re-sleeved into Professor-bot 721 until repairs could be completed.
My final encounter was during a trail of the "FIHS", the Fear-Induced Holo-Shark. Doctor M is apparently afraid of a type of Shark analogue found on earth dimension 71, whose saliva breaks down and destroys the morphic-goo from which Doctor M reconfigures his corporeal form after death. Placed in bubble-bath soluble, miniaturised, containment capsule, I swelled to my full 190ft size during Doctor M's wednesday evening bath. It is estimated that in is panic, he teleported the surrounding 4 miles to earth dimension 71. Estimated dead: 46235 and climbing. | To a brilliant scientist, particularly one gifted in engineering and robotics, there are few forces in existence that can not be explained given sufficient time. Not once in my life did I ever expect to encounter the exception in the house across the street.
Some months ago my previous neighbour, the widow Mrs. Aubrey, passed away in an intensive care unit. Her family wrapped up her affairs, which included the sale of her property. I was outside tinkering with my automated mail delivery apparatus (AMDA) when I saw a man in a set of robes ride up the street and into the driveway on horseback. This was, of course, impossible, and when I shook my head and looked again I saw him emerging from an old Toyota Tercel. Just so. Believing I had spent too much time outdoors (nearly half an hour by this point!), I made my way to the front door. I heard my neighbour call out in greeting, but was too concerned with my mental fortitude to reply.
On several future occasions I noticed strange things around my new neighbour's house, like when I awoke one morning to see *my* AMDA installed smartly on his front lawn. By the time I had gone outside, prepared to raise hell over the theft, the device was back in place on my lawn. Highly improbable, given the complexity of its machinery. The processing unit alone would require fifteen minutes of careful disassembly before being ready for transportation.
After several more bizarre encounters I began to suspect my neighbour might be trying to screw around with me. Perhaps he was a rival scientist, sent by a competing laboratory to disrupt my daily life? Perhaps he was using a holographic emitter to create these life-like illusions? If so, I would soon get to the bottom of it, or so I thought.
I knocked on my neighbour's front door and, when he answered with coffee in-hand, I dispensed with the pleasantries.
"What's all this about?" I asked.
"Whatever do you mean, good neighbour?" he said. Good neighbour? Who said things like that?
"You know very well. I'm seeing things - impossible things over here almost every day. I don't know what your angle is, but if you're trying to disrupt my research you're going to have to find a new strategy. Wait, what happened to your coffee?"
He smirked in reply and held his hands out in a submissive gesture. The cup he had been holding all along wasn't there anymore. "You mean this coffee?" He reached out, perfectly casually, and retrieved the cup from behind my ear. "I had simply set it down for a moment."
I frowned and left at once. Something was up, that much I knew. I went home and had my computer perform a search on the address. The property was registered with the city under the name Malakar Xanatos. A ridiculous name, but further study revealed that a person bearing the same name hosted a website called "Malakar's Magical Mysteries." The man held himself to be some sort of magician. It all clicked - he was using cheap illusions and sleight of hand to disrupt my daily routine! Well, two could play at the game of petty dickery. One does not spend eighteen years working in the field of robotics without learning how to be a jerk to other people.
I rushed to my garage workshop and modified one of my finished prototypes - a butterfly robot I had intended to help in the study of wind patterns. A few simple adjustments and I had a perfect airborne spy. Mr. Xanatos would not be able to do so much as twiddle a wand without my knowing about it. A brief inspection of his movements revealed that he spent a fair amount of time on his back yard porch, reading from enormous books of a curious nature. Perfect.
The other prototype in my garage was what I tentatively referred to as the Bee Bomb. Concerned over dwindling bee populations, I wanted to create a device that could attract a new queen to an ideal nesting site with the use of special synthetic pheromones. I hadn't tested it in the field, so what better time than now? I waited until night, crept across the street and into my neighbour's back yard, and installed the device out of sight near his porch. Wouldn't he be in for a surprise?
Sure enough, three days later, I spotted an exterminator's van parked on the street. I sent over the butterfly and observed as the exterminator located my Bee Bomb and scratched his head in bewilderment. Success! That would put an end to his silly tricks, I was certain. I was also wrong.
The next day, as I returned home from my laboratory, I discovered a slight problem. My home was not in the place it was supposed to be. Instead, a stand of trees at least a century old gloried in the late afternoon sun. A squirrel nibbled a nut from the branch of an elm. Its nibbles had a vaguely mocking air about them. I got out of my car, rushed over to my property, and stood dumbly looking at the place my home should have been. After a moment I roused myself out of delirium and marched towards the trees, determined to see if my house was hidden inside. Much to my surprise, the opening I chose to pass through was in fact the wall of my house, which appeared between blinks just in time for me to walk face-first into it. The trees were gone, but I watched as the squirrel ran across the street and disappeared into my neighbour's back yard.
That night I sat in my garage, sipping coffee. This so-called "magician" had gone too far. I brushed off the blueprints for an old project of mine, one where a mining company had contracted me to design a robotic system that could move large objects without the need for manpower. I stared at the blueprints, and I thought.
Several long days later I had completed my revenge - a series of small, coordinated lifting robots that functioned much like a colony of ants (I have a fascination for insects, so sue me). A brief test with my parked car was all I had the patience for and, assured by the butterfly of my neighbour's absence, I sent the army of ants to war.
I had envisioned the ants clearing cave-ins and the like, but it was something else to see them uproot an entire house from its foundations. It was with great pride that I gave the order for the ants to march, and then watched with satisfaction as my neighbour's house receded down the street towards a designated drop-off point in a disused hay field. When the magician came home, I was certain, he would be in for the surprise of his life.
Satisfied, I went back inside and fixed myself a cup of tea. I walked into my study and was perhaps less surprised than I should have been to discover Malakar Xanatos seated in my regular chair, sipping the tea that was no longer in my hand.
"A fine house you have, good neighbour. I particularly approve of your choice of surroundings." He gestured to my front window. Rushing over and tearing open my blinds I was greeted by the sight of a decrepit hay bale standing in a row with several of its cousins. I turned back, my mouth half-open as my brain calculated a response, but the magician was of course no longer there. As I sat down to plan my next revenge I discovered that my tea cup was also empty.
The end. | |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | The Great Zantini showed up at my doorstep hat in hand.
I knew better than to trust this and sent a decoy mimic-droid to answer the door.
Zantini looked at the mimic-droid and seemed almost sad. "Is that really you or is this a ruse?"
Something about his voice concerned me. I came out from behind the lead lined wall that seemed to be cover against most of his spells. "What is it Zantin?"
He smiled "I wanted to call a truce. I am leaving the neighborhood."
I nodded "Giving up?"
He made a chair appear to sit on. "I have lost my job and I am going to have to move."
I wanted to think this was a ploy, but there was a sincerity in what he was saying and a sadness at losing a rival that I could feel as well.
"We had some good times!" he smiled at me "Remember when your garage grew legs and you had to chase it to get to your car."
I chuckled, the video of that still haunts me a little, but it was a good one. "Remember the inch tall robot army I sent to steal your spell components."
Zantini laughed out loud "My cat now leaps like a tiger when it sees a toy solider."
"Why are you losing your job?" I knew he worked at a pretty well known magic firm, I couldn't see why he would be out of a job.
"They said I don't understand the modern times." He shook his head. "I have a new supervisor and he decided that I needed to be let go."
I blurted out "I don't like this."
"Neither do I"
I started thinking, plotting like I hadn't plotted since I woke to a group of Imps in my workshop. "Do you know where your new supervisor lives."
I saw Zantini's eyes light up like when he watched me chasing my garage. "Yes."
For years we had been playfully pranking each other, but now someone had picked on my friend, and he would have to deal with both of us....heaven help him. | To a brilliant scientist, particularly one gifted in engineering and robotics, there are few forces in existence that can not be explained given sufficient time. Not once in my life did I ever expect to encounter the exception in the house across the street.
Some months ago my previous neighbour, the widow Mrs. Aubrey, passed away in an intensive care unit. Her family wrapped up her affairs, which included the sale of her property. I was outside tinkering with my automated mail delivery apparatus (AMDA) when I saw a man in a set of robes ride up the street and into the driveway on horseback. This was, of course, impossible, and when I shook my head and looked again I saw him emerging from an old Toyota Tercel. Just so. Believing I had spent too much time outdoors (nearly half an hour by this point!), I made my way to the front door. I heard my neighbour call out in greeting, but was too concerned with my mental fortitude to reply.
On several future occasions I noticed strange things around my new neighbour's house, like when I awoke one morning to see *my* AMDA installed smartly on his front lawn. By the time I had gone outside, prepared to raise hell over the theft, the device was back in place on my lawn. Highly improbable, given the complexity of its machinery. The processing unit alone would require fifteen minutes of careful disassembly before being ready for transportation.
After several more bizarre encounters I began to suspect my neighbour might be trying to screw around with me. Perhaps he was a rival scientist, sent by a competing laboratory to disrupt my daily life? Perhaps he was using a holographic emitter to create these life-like illusions? If so, I would soon get to the bottom of it, or so I thought.
I knocked on my neighbour's front door and, when he answered with coffee in-hand, I dispensed with the pleasantries.
"What's all this about?" I asked.
"Whatever do you mean, good neighbour?" he said. Good neighbour? Who said things like that?
"You know very well. I'm seeing things - impossible things over here almost every day. I don't know what your angle is, but if you're trying to disrupt my research you're going to have to find a new strategy. Wait, what happened to your coffee?"
He smirked in reply and held his hands out in a submissive gesture. The cup he had been holding all along wasn't there anymore. "You mean this coffee?" He reached out, perfectly casually, and retrieved the cup from behind my ear. "I had simply set it down for a moment."
I frowned and left at once. Something was up, that much I knew. I went home and had my computer perform a search on the address. The property was registered with the city under the name Malakar Xanatos. A ridiculous name, but further study revealed that a person bearing the same name hosted a website called "Malakar's Magical Mysteries." The man held himself to be some sort of magician. It all clicked - he was using cheap illusions and sleight of hand to disrupt my daily routine! Well, two could play at the game of petty dickery. One does not spend eighteen years working in the field of robotics without learning how to be a jerk to other people.
I rushed to my garage workshop and modified one of my finished prototypes - a butterfly robot I had intended to help in the study of wind patterns. A few simple adjustments and I had a perfect airborne spy. Mr. Xanatos would not be able to do so much as twiddle a wand without my knowing about it. A brief inspection of his movements revealed that he spent a fair amount of time on his back yard porch, reading from enormous books of a curious nature. Perfect.
The other prototype in my garage was what I tentatively referred to as the Bee Bomb. Concerned over dwindling bee populations, I wanted to create a device that could attract a new queen to an ideal nesting site with the use of special synthetic pheromones. I hadn't tested it in the field, so what better time than now? I waited until night, crept across the street and into my neighbour's back yard, and installed the device out of sight near his porch. Wouldn't he be in for a surprise?
Sure enough, three days later, I spotted an exterminator's van parked on the street. I sent over the butterfly and observed as the exterminator located my Bee Bomb and scratched his head in bewilderment. Success! That would put an end to his silly tricks, I was certain. I was also wrong.
The next day, as I returned home from my laboratory, I discovered a slight problem. My home was not in the place it was supposed to be. Instead, a stand of trees at least a century old gloried in the late afternoon sun. A squirrel nibbled a nut from the branch of an elm. Its nibbles had a vaguely mocking air about them. I got out of my car, rushed over to my property, and stood dumbly looking at the place my home should have been. After a moment I roused myself out of delirium and marched towards the trees, determined to see if my house was hidden inside. Much to my surprise, the opening I chose to pass through was in fact the wall of my house, which appeared between blinks just in time for me to walk face-first into it. The trees were gone, but I watched as the squirrel ran across the street and disappeared into my neighbour's back yard.
That night I sat in my garage, sipping coffee. This so-called "magician" had gone too far. I brushed off the blueprints for an old project of mine, one where a mining company had contracted me to design a robotic system that could move large objects without the need for manpower. I stared at the blueprints, and I thought.
Several long days later I had completed my revenge - a series of small, coordinated lifting robots that functioned much like a colony of ants (I have a fascination for insects, so sue me). A brief test with my parked car was all I had the patience for and, assured by the butterfly of my neighbour's absence, I sent the army of ants to war.
I had envisioned the ants clearing cave-ins and the like, but it was something else to see them uproot an entire house from its foundations. It was with great pride that I gave the order for the ants to march, and then watched with satisfaction as my neighbour's house receded down the street towards a designated drop-off point in a disused hay field. When the magician came home, I was certain, he would be in for the surprise of his life.
Satisfied, I went back inside and fixed myself a cup of tea. I walked into my study and was perhaps less surprised than I should have been to discover Malakar Xanatos seated in my regular chair, sipping the tea that was no longer in my hand.
"A fine house you have, good neighbour. I particularly approve of your choice of surroundings." He gestured to my front window. Rushing over and tearing open my blinds I was greeted by the sight of a decrepit hay bale standing in a row with several of its cousins. I turned back, my mouth half-open as my brain calculated a response, but the magician was of course no longer there. As I sat down to plan my next revenge I discovered that my tea cup was also empty.
The end. | |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | The Great Zantini showed up at my doorstep hat in hand.
I knew better than to trust this and sent a decoy mimic-droid to answer the door.
Zantini looked at the mimic-droid and seemed almost sad. "Is that really you or is this a ruse?"
Something about his voice concerned me. I came out from behind the lead lined wall that seemed to be cover against most of his spells. "What is it Zantin?"
He smiled "I wanted to call a truce. I am leaving the neighborhood."
I nodded "Giving up?"
He made a chair appear to sit on. "I have lost my job and I am going to have to move."
I wanted to think this was a ploy, but there was a sincerity in what he was saying and a sadness at losing a rival that I could feel as well.
"We had some good times!" he smiled at me "Remember when your garage grew legs and you had to chase it to get to your car."
I chuckled, the video of that still haunts me a little, but it was a good one. "Remember the inch tall robot army I sent to steal your spell components."
Zantini laughed out loud "My cat now leaps like a tiger when it sees a toy solider."
"Why are you losing your job?" I knew he worked at a pretty well known magic firm, I couldn't see why he would be out of a job.
"They said I don't understand the modern times." He shook his head. "I have a new supervisor and he decided that I needed to be let go."
I blurted out "I don't like this."
"Neither do I"
I started thinking, plotting like I hadn't plotted since I woke to a group of Imps in my workshop. "Do you know where your new supervisor lives."
I saw Zantini's eyes light up like when he watched me chasing my garage. "Yes."
For years we had been playfully pranking each other, but now someone had picked on my friend, and he would have to deal with both of us....heaven help him. | Nigeria is a country that is certificate and connection driven. It doesn't matter what you know or what you don't know. Just have the certificate and know the right people and you are made for life.
After my undergraduate (Robotics) in year 2356, that's 2 years ago, my dad convinced me to apply to the University of Oxford for my post graduate. I was admitted to study Artificial Intelligence.
I can live in Lagos, Nigeria and still go to school everyday because the world government has made transportation very efficient. You now travel with the speed of light. But, I want to feel what it's like to live in campus with other students from around the universe.
After my registration and my orientation, I got my hostel. I had two other room mates, both male, one was from Andromeda, studying world economics and the other is from Belize studying magical entertainment.
I got along with the Andromedan, he is a nice guy and had learned how to live in the civilized world of men, even when he migrated to this planet. But the Belizean was the only pain in my ass.
He would make sure he pratcticalized all of his class assignments on me. No, its like you don't understand. Its like he turned me into his magical guinea pig. So annoying. Don't get me wrong, he was harmless. But being a person of fighter, I would retaliate. Been an engineer gives me the ability to control his whole life. There was a day I scanned him, found out he was using an electromechanical kidney. I hacked it, made him to the toilet exactly every 45 minutes. It was awesome!
What led to that? Yes, I remember. I was seeing two girls that time. One of them came in immediately the other left. We had sex. She always knew when I have sex. She asked me I lied, not knowing that he cast a spell on me. My nose started growing longer as I lied. I was so embarrassed. We played other planks and we retaliated.
Living with him for 4 years was perhaps the best part of my life. I learned a lot from him. I married his sister. And all of those are now stories we tell at every new year feast. And we will continue to tell them forever maybe with little twists until they become fiction. That's part of the disadvantages of living forever and having a computer assisted memory. I was born in 1993. In this era, Engineers with AI knowledge are kings. | |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | The Great Zantini showed up at my doorstep hat in hand.
I knew better than to trust this and sent a decoy mimic-droid to answer the door.
Zantini looked at the mimic-droid and seemed almost sad. "Is that really you or is this a ruse?"
Something about his voice concerned me. I came out from behind the lead lined wall that seemed to be cover against most of his spells. "What is it Zantin?"
He smiled "I wanted to call a truce. I am leaving the neighborhood."
I nodded "Giving up?"
He made a chair appear to sit on. "I have lost my job and I am going to have to move."
I wanted to think this was a ploy, but there was a sincerity in what he was saying and a sadness at losing a rival that I could feel as well.
"We had some good times!" he smiled at me "Remember when your garage grew legs and you had to chase it to get to your car."
I chuckled, the video of that still haunts me a little, but it was a good one. "Remember the inch tall robot army I sent to steal your spell components."
Zantini laughed out loud "My cat now leaps like a tiger when it sees a toy solider."
"Why are you losing your job?" I knew he worked at a pretty well known magic firm, I couldn't see why he would be out of a job.
"They said I don't understand the modern times." He shook his head. "I have a new supervisor and he decided that I needed to be let go."
I blurted out "I don't like this."
"Neither do I"
I started thinking, plotting like I hadn't plotted since I woke to a group of Imps in my workshop. "Do you know where your new supervisor lives."
I saw Zantini's eyes light up like when he watched me chasing my garage. "Yes."
For years we had been playfully pranking each other, but now someone had picked on my friend, and he would have to deal with both of us....heaven help him. | I remember the first time I saw Doctor M, the Magician Manifest of earth dimension 12. I was all legs then, blonde, nice pert rack, little red cocktail dress. Crossing the bar, suppressing a giggled smile as I gracefully wrote my number on a napkin while holding a Martini glass. I made it 9 seconds into my NLP derived seduction algorithm before exploding. 13 dead. 2 weeks under a pile of rubble before my back-up was recovered.
The next time was in the dairy section of a grocery store. Something must have tipped him off though. I erupted into bunch of flowers. Roses. The mana detectors in my heels triggered the secondary explosives in my purse. 4 dead. The new remote Back-up worked within desired parameters for existential modification, the Professor will be pleased.
My 3rd engagement with Doctor M was in error. Professor-bot 1872, while performing an upgrade on my mutagen gas injector, was condensed into foreign matter and rapidly transformed the surrounding area into a frog-lava hybrid substance. Additional analysis has yet to be completed. I was temporarily re-sleeved into Professor-bot 721 until repairs could be completed.
My final encounter was during a trail of the "FIHS", the Fear-Induced Holo-Shark. Doctor M is apparently afraid of a type of Shark analogue found on earth dimension 71, whose saliva breaks down and destroys the morphic-goo from which Doctor M reconfigures his corporeal form after death. Placed in bubble-bath soluble, miniaturised, containment capsule, I swelled to my full 190ft size during Doctor M's wednesday evening bath. It is estimated that in is panic, he teleported the surrounding 4 miles to earth dimension 71. Estimated dead: 46235 and climbing. | |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | “Damn you, Great Magico,” I screamed. I shook my fist at him from the kitchen window.
Great Magico laughed at me from his driveway. He twirled his mustache and flourished his cape. “Technology will never overcome magic.”
I pointed at Great Magico. “Get him, AnnoyBots,” I screamed.
Great Magico stood there. He cleared his throat and looked around. “Is it invisible?” he said.
I laughed.
“Visibilus,” yelled Great Magico. He pointed in one direction. “Visibilus.” He pointed in another direction. “Visibilus.” He pointed in a third direction.
I laughed like a madman. A super villain would have been envious of my maniacal cackle.
Great Magico stood up straight and looked around again. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. “Come on, Techno Lord. What’s going on here?”
“You’ll never see it coming, Great Magico. It’s my greatest creation yet!”
“I know it’s not invisible.” He stalked towards our lot line. “Is it behind this hedge?” Great Magico jumped around the end and saw nothing. “Nope.”
“You’re getting warmer, Great Magico. In fact, you might say you’re boiling,” I said.
Great Magico checked his watch. “Listen. I have to go. It’s almost 8:00. I’ve got to get to work. Magic doesn’t pay the bills if I don’t want to be homeless.” He disappeared in a puff of smoke and sparks.
I scratched my head. Great Magico should have been itching and scratching like a crazy person. His skin should have been turning bright red from irritation. Hives should have broken out all over his face. Why hadn’t my nanobots done their job?
I stomped over to their container. The power meter beeped red at me. I slapped my forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I had forgotten to charge the Annoybots. Magic couldn’t be defeated if the technology wasn’t charged. I shook my fist at my own forgetfulness. “Damn you, forgetfulness,” I yelled out the window. “I will destroy you.”
| I slapped my hands together and looked at my latest creation. A plume of white dust erupted from my gloves, and was promptly followed by a fit of heavy coughing, but my newest robot remained untouched.
I stood upon my pedestal and looked down at the trench I had just dug. Not that I did physical work, seeing as my summoned golems did most of that for me, but I guess you could assume that in a way, I had done the digging. All that was left for me now was to summon up some lava and cloak it with a basic spell. At least, that's what I would have done against anyone except for Ron.
My robot turned around and looked at me. Its black eyes, or diamond adjustments made to see through enchantments, looked at me warily. I looked back at it, and I smiled. "Protocol 2A, commence!" With that, the robot set off, its heat plumes pushing the robot just above ground level.
The lava filled the pit slowly, like a thick cake batter slowly pouring through a sieve. It would settle eventually, but for the time being, I had to find a way to stop Ron from getting into my house again. For that matter, I put aside my work and pulled out my morellonomicon, and I began to browse through it. What could I possibly use to stop Ron's newest machinery?
My robot slowly made its way across the street to the seemingly normal looking tower next to my house. It stopped just before the wall, having sensed a basic lava trap and a concealment spell. With ease, it quickly dismembered those spells and removed the enchantments. But wait, what was that quick flash of light?
That's it! A terrible robotics movie! Ron hates bad movies, and he hates bad robotics even more! I pulled up a plasma mirror, and I filled it with terrible robot movies. That'll get him for sure.
My eyes widened as the latest sequel to "Building with Chad" revealed itself. That bastard. He knew I hated those terrible movies. But it was too late to stop it now. I stood defenseless as the movie began. "Robotics is easy, just like A B C! Just plug the cord in and watch your robot run!" I guess he won this time.
| |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | Alright, I've had it up to here with him. Our families have never been on best terms, but once the prank war began, the hostile words between our fathers settled down before they both passed. At least, we carry on their old tradition.
Just recently though, the dangers of our pranks became real. He almost used his phone I jury-rigged into a tazor in the tub. He decided to turn my dog into a lion in the middle of walking him. He put the stuff in my house on my ceiling, and getting my bed down nearly crushed me. I turned his entire house into a magnet and a couple of cars might have smashed through his house, almost doing the same to him.
I tell myself if I can catch him in the act, I can at least sidestep some of the things he does, but I never do. My pranks take weeks to pull off, his takes minutes! I, to this day, cannot quite put together how he does it. I hate to admit this, but Timmy Turner is by far the best magician I've ever had the dishonor of working with.
...but no one messes with a Dinkleburg and gets away with it. | I slapped my hands together and looked at my latest creation. A plume of white dust erupted from my gloves, and was promptly followed by a fit of heavy coughing, but my newest robot remained untouched.
I stood upon my pedestal and looked down at the trench I had just dug. Not that I did physical work, seeing as my summoned golems did most of that for me, but I guess you could assume that in a way, I had done the digging. All that was left for me now was to summon up some lava and cloak it with a basic spell. At least, that's what I would have done against anyone except for Ron.
My robot turned around and looked at me. Its black eyes, or diamond adjustments made to see through enchantments, looked at me warily. I looked back at it, and I smiled. "Protocol 2A, commence!" With that, the robot set off, its heat plumes pushing the robot just above ground level.
The lava filled the pit slowly, like a thick cake batter slowly pouring through a sieve. It would settle eventually, but for the time being, I had to find a way to stop Ron from getting into my house again. For that matter, I put aside my work and pulled out my morellonomicon, and I began to browse through it. What could I possibly use to stop Ron's newest machinery?
My robot slowly made its way across the street to the seemingly normal looking tower next to my house. It stopped just before the wall, having sensed a basic lava trap and a concealment spell. With ease, it quickly dismembered those spells and removed the enchantments. But wait, what was that quick flash of light?
That's it! A terrible robotics movie! Ron hates bad movies, and he hates bad robotics even more! I pulled up a plasma mirror, and I filled it with terrible robot movies. That'll get him for sure.
My eyes widened as the latest sequel to "Building with Chad" revealed itself. That bastard. He knew I hated those terrible movies. But it was too late to stop it now. I stood defenseless as the movie began. "Robotics is easy, just like A B C! Just plug the cord in and watch your robot run!" I guess he won this time.
| |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | "DAMNIT LARRY" I shout in the vague direction of the fence dividing our yards. Bastard turned my dog into dragon again. I have to take Baxter to the vet in like an hour too! I can hear Larry doubling over with laughter on his side of the fence. My guard robots subdue the rabid dragon that has apparently decided my garage is a very attractive female dragon. That is a sight you can never un-see for as long as you live. Just wait Larry, just wait. That girl that he's been seeing for the last two weeks? Shape shifting nano robot. She's gonna turn into a large hairy man the second he sees her naked.
"Real funny Larry. Please cure my dog now."
" that was for reprogramming my brain to be afraid of women while I was asleep!"
"There is a dragon violating my garage, that's a massive over reaction!!"
I am kind of scared of how he was going to react to the whole Jenny to Jason shapeshifter thing now.
"I thought we agreed that our romantic lives were off limits Stacey!"
" You turned Dale into a squirrel!"
" I was doing you a favor!"
I shrug, he's kind of right there.
"I'll stop messing with your brain if you stop turning my boyfriends into rodents!"
"I'll stop turning your boyfriends into rodents when you go get coffee with me!"
I take a step back. Larry is turning the same shade of red as his wizard robes.
"Uh..sure, I'd love to!" I say, it still kind of comes out angrily.
This could go well. If we avoid killing each other that is. | I slapped my hands together and looked at my latest creation. A plume of white dust erupted from my gloves, and was promptly followed by a fit of heavy coughing, but my newest robot remained untouched.
I stood upon my pedestal and looked down at the trench I had just dug. Not that I did physical work, seeing as my summoned golems did most of that for me, but I guess you could assume that in a way, I had done the digging. All that was left for me now was to summon up some lava and cloak it with a basic spell. At least, that's what I would have done against anyone except for Ron.
My robot turned around and looked at me. Its black eyes, or diamond adjustments made to see through enchantments, looked at me warily. I looked back at it, and I smiled. "Protocol 2A, commence!" With that, the robot set off, its heat plumes pushing the robot just above ground level.
The lava filled the pit slowly, like a thick cake batter slowly pouring through a sieve. It would settle eventually, but for the time being, I had to find a way to stop Ron from getting into my house again. For that matter, I put aside my work and pulled out my morellonomicon, and I began to browse through it. What could I possibly use to stop Ron's newest machinery?
My robot slowly made its way across the street to the seemingly normal looking tower next to my house. It stopped just before the wall, having sensed a basic lava trap and a concealment spell. With ease, it quickly dismembered those spells and removed the enchantments. But wait, what was that quick flash of light?
That's it! A terrible robotics movie! Ron hates bad movies, and he hates bad robotics even more! I pulled up a plasma mirror, and I filled it with terrible robot movies. That'll get him for sure.
My eyes widened as the latest sequel to "Building with Chad" revealed itself. That bastard. He knew I hated those terrible movies. But it was too late to stop it now. I stood defenseless as the movie began. "Robotics is easy, just like A B C! Just plug the cord in and watch your robot run!" I guess he won this time.
| |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | Batteries, batteries.
Wires and widgets.
Motors and magnets and digital digits.
---
Flinger and flanger and trigger prepared!
Mortimer Mason is right to be scared.
---
> Rabbit ears, rabbit ears.
> Potions and doves.
> Top hat and wand and a lovely glove.
---
> Paraphernalia of precision parts.
> Nelson McNelson will be faint of heart.
---
Soon as he goes.
> Soon as he comes.
The robot will fire!
> Gone are his guns!
---
*Nelson and Mortimer*
*At it again?*
*You are both thirty but act as if ten.*
---
Beverly Beckham?
> Of Bimbo Beach Road?
I do not like her.
> Shall I make her a toad?
---
*You boys are silly.*
*And so immature.*
Fire on 3?
> On that I concur. | I slapped my hands together and looked at my latest creation. A plume of white dust erupted from my gloves, and was promptly followed by a fit of heavy coughing, but my newest robot remained untouched.
I stood upon my pedestal and looked down at the trench I had just dug. Not that I did physical work, seeing as my summoned golems did most of that for me, but I guess you could assume that in a way, I had done the digging. All that was left for me now was to summon up some lava and cloak it with a basic spell. At least, that's what I would have done against anyone except for Ron.
My robot turned around and looked at me. Its black eyes, or diamond adjustments made to see through enchantments, looked at me warily. I looked back at it, and I smiled. "Protocol 2A, commence!" With that, the robot set off, its heat plumes pushing the robot just above ground level.
The lava filled the pit slowly, like a thick cake batter slowly pouring through a sieve. It would settle eventually, but for the time being, I had to find a way to stop Ron from getting into my house again. For that matter, I put aside my work and pulled out my morellonomicon, and I began to browse through it. What could I possibly use to stop Ron's newest machinery?
My robot slowly made its way across the street to the seemingly normal looking tower next to my house. It stopped just before the wall, having sensed a basic lava trap and a concealment spell. With ease, it quickly dismembered those spells and removed the enchantments. But wait, what was that quick flash of light?
That's it! A terrible robotics movie! Ron hates bad movies, and he hates bad robotics even more! I pulled up a plasma mirror, and I filled it with terrible robot movies. That'll get him for sure.
My eyes widened as the latest sequel to "Building with Chad" revealed itself. That bastard. He knew I hated those terrible movies. But it was too late to stop it now. I stood defenseless as the movie began. "Robotics is easy, just like A B C! Just plug the cord in and watch your robot run!" I guess he won this time.
| |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | I’ll admit that at first, I lacked subtlety. In fact, my attempts at humour sometimes were downright crude (sending robots into the sewers to emerge into his toilet and spray him with water whenever he sat down) or unoriginal (making his television play a certain song by Rick Astley at random times). Of course I expected the man next door to retaliate, I even wanted him to – I was rather bored at the time.
One day I noticed that walking from the kitchen to the bathroom seemed to take a lot more time than it used to, but it took me forever to figure out why: He’d enchanted my hallway to become about ten inches longer every day. He still hasn’t revoked that spell and at this point, it takes me about two minutes to walk the entire length of the thing – I’ll admit, that was a good one.
I tried to react by messing with his car, but he’d anticipated that and surrounded it with some kind of protective shield none of my little machines could breach, so I went for his landline instead; after all, he was a good deal older than me and only used his mobile phone when he left the house. I put a slight delay on it so he’d always accidentally interrupt others or wait for them to finish when they already had, then I installed an AI filter that randomly replaced commonly used words like “work” with less commonly used words like “macaroni”. Results were very entertaining.
Two days later, I grew a pencil moustache overnight, which grew back in a matter of minutes after I shaved it off. I would have been okay with letting it go before that, but this was too much, so I gave his iPad feelings and a very easily offended personality that wanted to talk everything out, turning every perceived sleight against it into a lengthy discussion on mutual trust. I installed a personality backup in his wifi router so buying a new one wouldn’t do any good.
He retaliated by making furniture and doors in my house jump right or left at random times, leading to a lot of stubbed toes and cursing on my part. I quickly learned to wear shoes in my own home. I responded by giving his fridge hidden legs and making it march through his house in the middle of the night, always avoiding to get caught when he investigated the noise.
Over time, I gave more and more pieces of furniture and household items legs to allow them to move while he didn’t look. He made gravity in different rooms in my house shift so I constantly had the feeling every room was skewed and weird and changed my stairs into the attic into an infinite staircase that you could only beat by walking backwards.
I was taking out the trash one morning, my foot still hurting from when my front door had dodged me at the last second, when I saw him run out of the front door in pursuit of his coffee maker, which was nimbly fleeing on four spidery legs, looking for freedom. I put the trash bag in the bin (for which it insulted me) and watched as he finally managed to stop his coffee machine by speaking the terrible language of the old dead gods and encasing it in a field of energy.
He looked over to me and I waved happily. He waved back, made the coffee maker disappear with a little Latin phrase and came over.
“We have to stop, you know.” He grinned. “It’s been fun, but I’m getting too old for these games.”
“So, you admit I beat you?”
“Yes, yes.” He sighed exaggeratedly. “By my troth, you have beaten me. I don’t have the energy to hunt down my household appliances every day and the spells aren’t as easy as they used to be.”
I remembered the heart attack he’d had after protecting the Earth against a demon from the pits of madness and suddenly felt guilty. “How is your heart doing?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m wearing an amulet for it. Still, I feel my age. Let’s both turn the jokes down a notch, alright?”
I nodded and hugged him. “Alright, dad. Let’s do that.”
| I slapped my hands together and looked at my latest creation. A plume of white dust erupted from my gloves, and was promptly followed by a fit of heavy coughing, but my newest robot remained untouched.
I stood upon my pedestal and looked down at the trench I had just dug. Not that I did physical work, seeing as my summoned golems did most of that for me, but I guess you could assume that in a way, I had done the digging. All that was left for me now was to summon up some lava and cloak it with a basic spell. At least, that's what I would have done against anyone except for Ron.
My robot turned around and looked at me. Its black eyes, or diamond adjustments made to see through enchantments, looked at me warily. I looked back at it, and I smiled. "Protocol 2A, commence!" With that, the robot set off, its heat plumes pushing the robot just above ground level.
The lava filled the pit slowly, like a thick cake batter slowly pouring through a sieve. It would settle eventually, but for the time being, I had to find a way to stop Ron from getting into my house again. For that matter, I put aside my work and pulled out my morellonomicon, and I began to browse through it. What could I possibly use to stop Ron's newest machinery?
My robot slowly made its way across the street to the seemingly normal looking tower next to my house. It stopped just before the wall, having sensed a basic lava trap and a concealment spell. With ease, it quickly dismembered those spells and removed the enchantments. But wait, what was that quick flash of light?
That's it! A terrible robotics movie! Ron hates bad movies, and he hates bad robotics even more! I pulled up a plasma mirror, and I filled it with terrible robot movies. That'll get him for sure.
My eyes widened as the latest sequel to "Building with Chad" revealed itself. That bastard. He knew I hated those terrible movies. But it was too late to stop it now. I stood defenseless as the movie began. "Robotics is easy, just like A B C! Just plug the cord in and watch your robot run!" I guess he won this time.
| |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | The day my toilet disappeared while I was using it was the last straw.
I asked nicely. I even pleaded, but no amount of groveling would make my shitter reappear. As Bugs Bunny says, "'Dis means war."
A few days later, her SUV decided to take a walk. Literally. It rose on its hind wheels to take a lovely stroll down the street as my neighbor watched in bewilderment. She glared at me knowingly as it began to dance a jig, putting dents in the asphalt where it landed. It was some of my finest work, and I couldn't help but laugh as the black behemoth moved fluidly in ways it was never meant to go.
The next day I received flowers at work. This in itself is odd enough, but these flowers wouldn't stop multiplying. Every time I would take a bunch out, two bunches appeared in their place. Eventually my office was overrun by orchids and we locked the door in the hopes that it would stem the tide. The next morning, all of them had disappeared. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was flirting with me.
I retaliated by gifting her a pair of pants built around the smallest machines I was capable of creating. Of course, she knew I did *something* to them, but she didn't know what until I saw her in her garden. I clapped my hands and shouted, "MICHAEL JACKSON LIVES!" as loud as I could. The pants immediately jerked her upright and, from speakers I had hidden in the area, forced her through the entire dance line for 'Billy Jean', which was both entertaining and amazing. I'm fairly sure she already knew most of the moves, considering my pants had no effect on the rest of her body - yet she went along with it as if every motion was fluidly practiced. She smiled as it ended. I worried.
The back-and-forth battle intensified.
My morning coffee turned into a dove and flew away.
Her cell phone moved to a different counter every time she turned her back.
My wallet moved to a different pocket every time I reached to pay for something.
Her laptop spontaneously converted itself to a Mac and back every few hours.
My living room got turned into a full-size replica of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, complete with sweaters.
All the faucets in her house started spewing beer.
My refrigerator had everything inside of it turned to guacamole, then she invited herself over with a few pitchers of beer.
I think I'm falling for my neighbor.
---
P.S. I found my toilet; she put it on my roof. | I slapped my hands together and looked at my latest creation. A plume of white dust erupted from my gloves, and was promptly followed by a fit of heavy coughing, but my newest robot remained untouched.
I stood upon my pedestal and looked down at the trench I had just dug. Not that I did physical work, seeing as my summoned golems did most of that for me, but I guess you could assume that in a way, I had done the digging. All that was left for me now was to summon up some lava and cloak it with a basic spell. At least, that's what I would have done against anyone except for Ron.
My robot turned around and looked at me. Its black eyes, or diamond adjustments made to see through enchantments, looked at me warily. I looked back at it, and I smiled. "Protocol 2A, commence!" With that, the robot set off, its heat plumes pushing the robot just above ground level.
The lava filled the pit slowly, like a thick cake batter slowly pouring through a sieve. It would settle eventually, but for the time being, I had to find a way to stop Ron from getting into my house again. For that matter, I put aside my work and pulled out my morellonomicon, and I began to browse through it. What could I possibly use to stop Ron's newest machinery?
My robot slowly made its way across the street to the seemingly normal looking tower next to my house. It stopped just before the wall, having sensed a basic lava trap and a concealment spell. With ease, it quickly dismembered those spells and removed the enchantments. But wait, what was that quick flash of light?
That's it! A terrible robotics movie! Ron hates bad movies, and he hates bad robotics even more! I pulled up a plasma mirror, and I filled it with terrible robot movies. That'll get him for sure.
My eyes widened as the latest sequel to "Building with Chad" revealed itself. That bastard. He knew I hated those terrible movies. But it was too late to stop it now. I stood defenseless as the movie began. "Robotics is easy, just like A B C! Just plug the cord in and watch your robot run!" I guess he won this time.
| |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | Alright, I've had it up to here with him. Our families have never been on best terms, but once the prank war began, the hostile words between our fathers settled down before they both passed. At least, we carry on their old tradition.
Just recently though, the dangers of our pranks became real. He almost used his phone I jury-rigged into a tazor in the tub. He decided to turn my dog into a lion in the middle of walking him. He put the stuff in my house on my ceiling, and getting my bed down nearly crushed me. I turned his entire house into a magnet and a couple of cars might have smashed through his house, almost doing the same to him.
I tell myself if I can catch him in the act, I can at least sidestep some of the things he does, but I never do. My pranks take weeks to pull off, his takes minutes! I, to this day, cannot quite put together how he does it. I hate to admit this, but Timmy Turner is by far the best magician I've ever had the dishonor of working with.
...but no one messes with a Dinkleburg and gets away with it. | “Damn you, Great Magico,” I screamed. I shook my fist at him from the kitchen window.
Great Magico laughed at me from his driveway. He twirled his mustache and flourished his cape. “Technology will never overcome magic.”
I pointed at Great Magico. “Get him, AnnoyBots,” I screamed.
Great Magico stood there. He cleared his throat and looked around. “Is it invisible?” he said.
I laughed.
“Visibilus,” yelled Great Magico. He pointed in one direction. “Visibilus.” He pointed in another direction. “Visibilus.” He pointed in a third direction.
I laughed like a madman. A super villain would have been envious of my maniacal cackle.
Great Magico stood up straight and looked around again. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. “Come on, Techno Lord. What’s going on here?”
“You’ll never see it coming, Great Magico. It’s my greatest creation yet!”
“I know it’s not invisible.” He stalked towards our lot line. “Is it behind this hedge?” Great Magico jumped around the end and saw nothing. “Nope.”
“You’re getting warmer, Great Magico. In fact, you might say you’re boiling,” I said.
Great Magico checked his watch. “Listen. I have to go. It’s almost 8:00. I’ve got to get to work. Magic doesn’t pay the bills if I don’t want to be homeless.” He disappeared in a puff of smoke and sparks.
I scratched my head. Great Magico should have been itching and scratching like a crazy person. His skin should have been turning bright red from irritation. Hives should have broken out all over his face. Why hadn’t my nanobots done their job?
I stomped over to their container. The power meter beeped red at me. I slapped my forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I had forgotten to charge the Annoybots. Magic couldn’t be defeated if the technology wasn’t charged. I shook my fist at my own forgetfulness. “Damn you, forgetfulness,” I yelled out the window. “I will destroy you.”
| |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | "DAMNIT LARRY" I shout in the vague direction of the fence dividing our yards. Bastard turned my dog into dragon again. I have to take Baxter to the vet in like an hour too! I can hear Larry doubling over with laughter on his side of the fence. My guard robots subdue the rabid dragon that has apparently decided my garage is a very attractive female dragon. That is a sight you can never un-see for as long as you live. Just wait Larry, just wait. That girl that he's been seeing for the last two weeks? Shape shifting nano robot. She's gonna turn into a large hairy man the second he sees her naked.
"Real funny Larry. Please cure my dog now."
" that was for reprogramming my brain to be afraid of women while I was asleep!"
"There is a dragon violating my garage, that's a massive over reaction!!"
I am kind of scared of how he was going to react to the whole Jenny to Jason shapeshifter thing now.
"I thought we agreed that our romantic lives were off limits Stacey!"
" You turned Dale into a squirrel!"
" I was doing you a favor!"
I shrug, he's kind of right there.
"I'll stop messing with your brain if you stop turning my boyfriends into rodents!"
"I'll stop turning your boyfriends into rodents when you go get coffee with me!"
I take a step back. Larry is turning the same shade of red as his wizard robes.
"Uh..sure, I'd love to!" I say, it still kind of comes out angrily.
This could go well. If we avoid killing each other that is. | “Damn you, Great Magico,” I screamed. I shook my fist at him from the kitchen window.
Great Magico laughed at me from his driveway. He twirled his mustache and flourished his cape. “Technology will never overcome magic.”
I pointed at Great Magico. “Get him, AnnoyBots,” I screamed.
Great Magico stood there. He cleared his throat and looked around. “Is it invisible?” he said.
I laughed.
“Visibilus,” yelled Great Magico. He pointed in one direction. “Visibilus.” He pointed in another direction. “Visibilus.” He pointed in a third direction.
I laughed like a madman. A super villain would have been envious of my maniacal cackle.
Great Magico stood up straight and looked around again. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. “Come on, Techno Lord. What’s going on here?”
“You’ll never see it coming, Great Magico. It’s my greatest creation yet!”
“I know it’s not invisible.” He stalked towards our lot line. “Is it behind this hedge?” Great Magico jumped around the end and saw nothing. “Nope.”
“You’re getting warmer, Great Magico. In fact, you might say you’re boiling,” I said.
Great Magico checked his watch. “Listen. I have to go. It’s almost 8:00. I’ve got to get to work. Magic doesn’t pay the bills if I don’t want to be homeless.” He disappeared in a puff of smoke and sparks.
I scratched my head. Great Magico should have been itching and scratching like a crazy person. His skin should have been turning bright red from irritation. Hives should have broken out all over his face. Why hadn’t my nanobots done their job?
I stomped over to their container. The power meter beeped red at me. I slapped my forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I had forgotten to charge the Annoybots. Magic couldn’t be defeated if the technology wasn’t charged. I shook my fist at my own forgetfulness. “Damn you, forgetfulness,” I yelled out the window. “I will destroy you.”
| |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | Batteries, batteries.
Wires and widgets.
Motors and magnets and digital digits.
---
Flinger and flanger and trigger prepared!
Mortimer Mason is right to be scared.
---
> Rabbit ears, rabbit ears.
> Potions and doves.
> Top hat and wand and a lovely glove.
---
> Paraphernalia of precision parts.
> Nelson McNelson will be faint of heart.
---
Soon as he goes.
> Soon as he comes.
The robot will fire!
> Gone are his guns!
---
*Nelson and Mortimer*
*At it again?*
*You are both thirty but act as if ten.*
---
Beverly Beckham?
> Of Bimbo Beach Road?
I do not like her.
> Shall I make her a toad?
---
*You boys are silly.*
*And so immature.*
Fire on 3?
> On that I concur. | “Damn you, Great Magico,” I screamed. I shook my fist at him from the kitchen window.
Great Magico laughed at me from his driveway. He twirled his mustache and flourished his cape. “Technology will never overcome magic.”
I pointed at Great Magico. “Get him, AnnoyBots,” I screamed.
Great Magico stood there. He cleared his throat and looked around. “Is it invisible?” he said.
I laughed.
“Visibilus,” yelled Great Magico. He pointed in one direction. “Visibilus.” He pointed in another direction. “Visibilus.” He pointed in a third direction.
I laughed like a madman. A super villain would have been envious of my maniacal cackle.
Great Magico stood up straight and looked around again. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. “Come on, Techno Lord. What’s going on here?”
“You’ll never see it coming, Great Magico. It’s my greatest creation yet!”
“I know it’s not invisible.” He stalked towards our lot line. “Is it behind this hedge?” Great Magico jumped around the end and saw nothing. “Nope.”
“You’re getting warmer, Great Magico. In fact, you might say you’re boiling,” I said.
Great Magico checked his watch. “Listen. I have to go. It’s almost 8:00. I’ve got to get to work. Magic doesn’t pay the bills if I don’t want to be homeless.” He disappeared in a puff of smoke and sparks.
I scratched my head. Great Magico should have been itching and scratching like a crazy person. His skin should have been turning bright red from irritation. Hives should have broken out all over his face. Why hadn’t my nanobots done their job?
I stomped over to their container. The power meter beeped red at me. I slapped my forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I had forgotten to charge the Annoybots. Magic couldn’t be defeated if the technology wasn’t charged. I shook my fist at my own forgetfulness. “Damn you, forgetfulness,” I yelled out the window. “I will destroy you.”
| |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | I’ll admit that at first, I lacked subtlety. In fact, my attempts at humour sometimes were downright crude (sending robots into the sewers to emerge into his toilet and spray him with water whenever he sat down) or unoriginal (making his television play a certain song by Rick Astley at random times). Of course I expected the man next door to retaliate, I even wanted him to – I was rather bored at the time.
One day I noticed that walking from the kitchen to the bathroom seemed to take a lot more time than it used to, but it took me forever to figure out why: He’d enchanted my hallway to become about ten inches longer every day. He still hasn’t revoked that spell and at this point, it takes me about two minutes to walk the entire length of the thing – I’ll admit, that was a good one.
I tried to react by messing with his car, but he’d anticipated that and surrounded it with some kind of protective shield none of my little machines could breach, so I went for his landline instead; after all, he was a good deal older than me and only used his mobile phone when he left the house. I put a slight delay on it so he’d always accidentally interrupt others or wait for them to finish when they already had, then I installed an AI filter that randomly replaced commonly used words like “work” with less commonly used words like “macaroni”. Results were very entertaining.
Two days later, I grew a pencil moustache overnight, which grew back in a matter of minutes after I shaved it off. I would have been okay with letting it go before that, but this was too much, so I gave his iPad feelings and a very easily offended personality that wanted to talk everything out, turning every perceived sleight against it into a lengthy discussion on mutual trust. I installed a personality backup in his wifi router so buying a new one wouldn’t do any good.
He retaliated by making furniture and doors in my house jump right or left at random times, leading to a lot of stubbed toes and cursing on my part. I quickly learned to wear shoes in my own home. I responded by giving his fridge hidden legs and making it march through his house in the middle of the night, always avoiding to get caught when he investigated the noise.
Over time, I gave more and more pieces of furniture and household items legs to allow them to move while he didn’t look. He made gravity in different rooms in my house shift so I constantly had the feeling every room was skewed and weird and changed my stairs into the attic into an infinite staircase that you could only beat by walking backwards.
I was taking out the trash one morning, my foot still hurting from when my front door had dodged me at the last second, when I saw him run out of the front door in pursuit of his coffee maker, which was nimbly fleeing on four spidery legs, looking for freedom. I put the trash bag in the bin (for which it insulted me) and watched as he finally managed to stop his coffee machine by speaking the terrible language of the old dead gods and encasing it in a field of energy.
He looked over to me and I waved happily. He waved back, made the coffee maker disappear with a little Latin phrase and came over.
“We have to stop, you know.” He grinned. “It’s been fun, but I’m getting too old for these games.”
“So, you admit I beat you?”
“Yes, yes.” He sighed exaggeratedly. “By my troth, you have beaten me. I don’t have the energy to hunt down my household appliances every day and the spells aren’t as easy as they used to be.”
I remembered the heart attack he’d had after protecting the Earth against a demon from the pits of madness and suddenly felt guilty. “How is your heart doing?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m wearing an amulet for it. Still, I feel my age. Let’s both turn the jokes down a notch, alright?”
I nodded and hugged him. “Alright, dad. Let’s do that.”
| “Damn you, Great Magico,” I screamed. I shook my fist at him from the kitchen window.
Great Magico laughed at me from his driveway. He twirled his mustache and flourished his cape. “Technology will never overcome magic.”
I pointed at Great Magico. “Get him, AnnoyBots,” I screamed.
Great Magico stood there. He cleared his throat and looked around. “Is it invisible?” he said.
I laughed.
“Visibilus,” yelled Great Magico. He pointed in one direction. “Visibilus.” He pointed in another direction. “Visibilus.” He pointed in a third direction.
I laughed like a madman. A super villain would have been envious of my maniacal cackle.
Great Magico stood up straight and looked around again. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. “Come on, Techno Lord. What’s going on here?”
“You’ll never see it coming, Great Magico. It’s my greatest creation yet!”
“I know it’s not invisible.” He stalked towards our lot line. “Is it behind this hedge?” Great Magico jumped around the end and saw nothing. “Nope.”
“You’re getting warmer, Great Magico. In fact, you might say you’re boiling,” I said.
Great Magico checked his watch. “Listen. I have to go. It’s almost 8:00. I’ve got to get to work. Magic doesn’t pay the bills if I don’t want to be homeless.” He disappeared in a puff of smoke and sparks.
I scratched my head. Great Magico should have been itching and scratching like a crazy person. His skin should have been turning bright red from irritation. Hives should have broken out all over his face. Why hadn’t my nanobots done their job?
I stomped over to their container. The power meter beeped red at me. I slapped my forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I had forgotten to charge the Annoybots. Magic couldn’t be defeated if the technology wasn’t charged. I shook my fist at my own forgetfulness. “Damn you, forgetfulness,” I yelled out the window. “I will destroy you.”
| |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | Batteries, batteries.
Wires and widgets.
Motors and magnets and digital digits.
---
Flinger and flanger and trigger prepared!
Mortimer Mason is right to be scared.
---
> Rabbit ears, rabbit ears.
> Potions and doves.
> Top hat and wand and a lovely glove.
---
> Paraphernalia of precision parts.
> Nelson McNelson will be faint of heart.
---
Soon as he goes.
> Soon as he comes.
The robot will fire!
> Gone are his guns!
---
*Nelson and Mortimer*
*At it again?*
*You are both thirty but act as if ten.*
---
Beverly Beckham?
> Of Bimbo Beach Road?
I do not like her.
> Shall I make her a toad?
---
*You boys are silly.*
*And so immature.*
Fire on 3?
> On that I concur. | "DAMNIT LARRY" I shout in the vague direction of the fence dividing our yards. Bastard turned my dog into dragon again. I have to take Baxter to the vet in like an hour too! I can hear Larry doubling over with laughter on his side of the fence. My guard robots subdue the rabid dragon that has apparently decided my garage is a very attractive female dragon. That is a sight you can never un-see for as long as you live. Just wait Larry, just wait. That girl that he's been seeing for the last two weeks? Shape shifting nano robot. She's gonna turn into a large hairy man the second he sees her naked.
"Real funny Larry. Please cure my dog now."
" that was for reprogramming my brain to be afraid of women while I was asleep!"
"There is a dragon violating my garage, that's a massive over reaction!!"
I am kind of scared of how he was going to react to the whole Jenny to Jason shapeshifter thing now.
"I thought we agreed that our romantic lives were off limits Stacey!"
" You turned Dale into a squirrel!"
" I was doing you a favor!"
I shrug, he's kind of right there.
"I'll stop messing with your brain if you stop turning my boyfriends into rodents!"
"I'll stop turning your boyfriends into rodents when you go get coffee with me!"
I take a step back. Larry is turning the same shade of red as his wizard robes.
"Uh..sure, I'd love to!" I say, it still kind of comes out angrily.
This could go well. If we avoid killing each other that is. | |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | I’ll admit that at first, I lacked subtlety. In fact, my attempts at humour sometimes were downright crude (sending robots into the sewers to emerge into his toilet and spray him with water whenever he sat down) or unoriginal (making his television play a certain song by Rick Astley at random times). Of course I expected the man next door to retaliate, I even wanted him to – I was rather bored at the time.
One day I noticed that walking from the kitchen to the bathroom seemed to take a lot more time than it used to, but it took me forever to figure out why: He’d enchanted my hallway to become about ten inches longer every day. He still hasn’t revoked that spell and at this point, it takes me about two minutes to walk the entire length of the thing – I’ll admit, that was a good one.
I tried to react by messing with his car, but he’d anticipated that and surrounded it with some kind of protective shield none of my little machines could breach, so I went for his landline instead; after all, he was a good deal older than me and only used his mobile phone when he left the house. I put a slight delay on it so he’d always accidentally interrupt others or wait for them to finish when they already had, then I installed an AI filter that randomly replaced commonly used words like “work” with less commonly used words like “macaroni”. Results were very entertaining.
Two days later, I grew a pencil moustache overnight, which grew back in a matter of minutes after I shaved it off. I would have been okay with letting it go before that, but this was too much, so I gave his iPad feelings and a very easily offended personality that wanted to talk everything out, turning every perceived sleight against it into a lengthy discussion on mutual trust. I installed a personality backup in his wifi router so buying a new one wouldn’t do any good.
He retaliated by making furniture and doors in my house jump right or left at random times, leading to a lot of stubbed toes and cursing on my part. I quickly learned to wear shoes in my own home. I responded by giving his fridge hidden legs and making it march through his house in the middle of the night, always avoiding to get caught when he investigated the noise.
Over time, I gave more and more pieces of furniture and household items legs to allow them to move while he didn’t look. He made gravity in different rooms in my house shift so I constantly had the feeling every room was skewed and weird and changed my stairs into the attic into an infinite staircase that you could only beat by walking backwards.
I was taking out the trash one morning, my foot still hurting from when my front door had dodged me at the last second, when I saw him run out of the front door in pursuit of his coffee maker, which was nimbly fleeing on four spidery legs, looking for freedom. I put the trash bag in the bin (for which it insulted me) and watched as he finally managed to stop his coffee machine by speaking the terrible language of the old dead gods and encasing it in a field of energy.
He looked over to me and I waved happily. He waved back, made the coffee maker disappear with a little Latin phrase and came over.
“We have to stop, you know.” He grinned. “It’s been fun, but I’m getting too old for these games.”
“So, you admit I beat you?”
“Yes, yes.” He sighed exaggeratedly. “By my troth, you have beaten me. I don’t have the energy to hunt down my household appliances every day and the spells aren’t as easy as they used to be.”
I remembered the heart attack he’d had after protecting the Earth against a demon from the pits of madness and suddenly felt guilty. “How is your heart doing?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m wearing an amulet for it. Still, I feel my age. Let’s both turn the jokes down a notch, alright?”
I nodded and hugged him. “Alright, dad. Let’s do that.”
| "DAMNIT LARRY" I shout in the vague direction of the fence dividing our yards. Bastard turned my dog into dragon again. I have to take Baxter to the vet in like an hour too! I can hear Larry doubling over with laughter on his side of the fence. My guard robots subdue the rabid dragon that has apparently decided my garage is a very attractive female dragon. That is a sight you can never un-see for as long as you live. Just wait Larry, just wait. That girl that he's been seeing for the last two weeks? Shape shifting nano robot. She's gonna turn into a large hairy man the second he sees her naked.
"Real funny Larry. Please cure my dog now."
" that was for reprogramming my brain to be afraid of women while I was asleep!"
"There is a dragon violating my garage, that's a massive over reaction!!"
I am kind of scared of how he was going to react to the whole Jenny to Jason shapeshifter thing now.
"I thought we agreed that our romantic lives were off limits Stacey!"
" You turned Dale into a squirrel!"
" I was doing you a favor!"
I shrug, he's kind of right there.
"I'll stop messing with your brain if you stop turning my boyfriends into rodents!"
"I'll stop turning your boyfriends into rodents when you go get coffee with me!"
I take a step back. Larry is turning the same shade of red as his wizard robes.
"Uh..sure, I'd love to!" I say, it still kind of comes out angrily.
This could go well. If we avoid killing each other that is. | |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | I’ll admit that at first, I lacked subtlety. In fact, my attempts at humour sometimes were downright crude (sending robots into the sewers to emerge into his toilet and spray him with water whenever he sat down) or unoriginal (making his television play a certain song by Rick Astley at random times). Of course I expected the man next door to retaliate, I even wanted him to – I was rather bored at the time.
One day I noticed that walking from the kitchen to the bathroom seemed to take a lot more time than it used to, but it took me forever to figure out why: He’d enchanted my hallway to become about ten inches longer every day. He still hasn’t revoked that spell and at this point, it takes me about two minutes to walk the entire length of the thing – I’ll admit, that was a good one.
I tried to react by messing with his car, but he’d anticipated that and surrounded it with some kind of protective shield none of my little machines could breach, so I went for his landline instead; after all, he was a good deal older than me and only used his mobile phone when he left the house. I put a slight delay on it so he’d always accidentally interrupt others or wait for them to finish when they already had, then I installed an AI filter that randomly replaced commonly used words like “work” with less commonly used words like “macaroni”. Results were very entertaining.
Two days later, I grew a pencil moustache overnight, which grew back in a matter of minutes after I shaved it off. I would have been okay with letting it go before that, but this was too much, so I gave his iPad feelings and a very easily offended personality that wanted to talk everything out, turning every perceived sleight against it into a lengthy discussion on mutual trust. I installed a personality backup in his wifi router so buying a new one wouldn’t do any good.
He retaliated by making furniture and doors in my house jump right or left at random times, leading to a lot of stubbed toes and cursing on my part. I quickly learned to wear shoes in my own home. I responded by giving his fridge hidden legs and making it march through his house in the middle of the night, always avoiding to get caught when he investigated the noise.
Over time, I gave more and more pieces of furniture and household items legs to allow them to move while he didn’t look. He made gravity in different rooms in my house shift so I constantly had the feeling every room was skewed and weird and changed my stairs into the attic into an infinite staircase that you could only beat by walking backwards.
I was taking out the trash one morning, my foot still hurting from when my front door had dodged me at the last second, when I saw him run out of the front door in pursuit of his coffee maker, which was nimbly fleeing on four spidery legs, looking for freedom. I put the trash bag in the bin (for which it insulted me) and watched as he finally managed to stop his coffee machine by speaking the terrible language of the old dead gods and encasing it in a field of energy.
He looked over to me and I waved happily. He waved back, made the coffee maker disappear with a little Latin phrase and came over.
“We have to stop, you know.” He grinned. “It’s been fun, but I’m getting too old for these games.”
“So, you admit I beat you?”
“Yes, yes.” He sighed exaggeratedly. “By my troth, you have beaten me. I don’t have the energy to hunt down my household appliances every day and the spells aren’t as easy as they used to be.”
I remembered the heart attack he’d had after protecting the Earth against a demon from the pits of madness and suddenly felt guilty. “How is your heart doing?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m wearing an amulet for it. Still, I feel my age. Let’s both turn the jokes down a notch, alright?”
I nodded and hugged him. “Alright, dad. Let’s do that.”
| Batteries, batteries.
Wires and widgets.
Motors and magnets and digital digits.
---
Flinger and flanger and trigger prepared!
Mortimer Mason is right to be scared.
---
> Rabbit ears, rabbit ears.
> Potions and doves.
> Top hat and wand and a lovely glove.
---
> Paraphernalia of precision parts.
> Nelson McNelson will be faint of heart.
---
Soon as he goes.
> Soon as he comes.
The robot will fire!
> Gone are his guns!
---
*Nelson and Mortimer*
*At it again?*
*You are both thirty but act as if ten.*
---
Beverly Beckham?
> Of Bimbo Beach Road?
I do not like her.
> Shall I make her a toad?
---
*You boys are silly.*
*And so immature.*
Fire on 3?
> On that I concur. | |
[WP] The real reason Canadians are so nice to everybody is so that everybody owes them a favor. Today, they're cashing in on every single one. | *France, Russia, China. India, and even North Korea.*
*What do all those countries have in common, you ask? Their leaders owe us a favour. Today, we cash in. All hail the Queen.*
Hollande, Putin, Xiaoping, Modi and Jong-Un knelt at my feet. All were quivering. How strange. Then again, they didn't have their little suitcases of death.
"Pledge your loyalty to the Queen or face your country being nuked and uninhabitable for the next millennium. I have gravity missiles hovering over each and every square inch of all your countries. Choose wisely."
Little Kim was the first one to rise.
"No-", he began.
I cut him off.
"Launch the nukes and missiles for Pyongyang. You know that South Korea will blame you for the collateral damage, right? Someone bring Kim a screen so he can watch his little country go down in flames."
Obama rose.
"How can you destroy us without destroying Canada as well? I object."
"I am targeting the southern part of America. Damage should spread to the northern part. If it doesn't, I have others locked onto the middle. Here, watch."
I saw a message flash on the screen: **North Korea destroyed**, it read.
"You mother-", Kim started
I ended him with a .50 to his head.
"Hey Barack, you think South Korea's going to blame you? You're the only country that really hates North Korea."
**USA destroyed**
"You know that-"
*Bang*. Obama down and out.
Putin seemed to be conferring with Hollande, Xiaoping and Modi.
"Gentlemen?"
"You leave us no choice. We pledge our allegiance.", Putin called out in surrender. I could hear a hint of loss and sadness in his voice.
"Good. Let the celebrations begin."
| Alright now, we've been real nice here fellow Canadiens! They can't say no to our giant game of pick-up hockey now! | |
title | [WP] Every human being has a limited number of orgasms per life, you're about to experience your last one. [NSFW] | "You made the right decision coming to us." The man in the white coverall guided me to the elevated chair. It reminded me of a dentists chair but with more wires and hoses.
I sat, hugging the thin dressing gown to my body nervously. He sensed my unease.
"Don't worry. You'll love it. This is our specialty. This is what we do. We make sure you get the most out of your last time."
I smiled unevenly. I couldn't seem to make myself ok with having these technicians witness what for me has always been such a personal and private moment. He gestured me to lean back. As I did the lights in the small chamber dimmed. Another tech entered the room and tapped me on the shoulder. He handed me headphones which I gratefully slipped over my ears. The silence of that sterile environment had only added to my nerves. The smooth and rhythmic music definitely helped me to change my frame of mind.
The first tech had been preparing some items on a tray. He turned to me and swabbed my arm, then quickly stuck me with a small hypodermic. I didn't have time to react before I felt warm and easy. Almost immediately my hand slid up my bare thigh to the warmth of my groin and I sighed deeply. I was ready.
My feet were lifted into the stirrups. The techs moved quickly. Moments later I was at the center of a network of wires fanning out from my naked body. They clung to my nipples, abdomen, inner thighs and genitals. I smiled.
I thought of the time when, as a child, I'd taken my first airplane ride. The anticipation as the engine whirred and thrust us forward powerfully. The feeling as the ground suddenly dropped from view as we arced into the sky. Flight. A miracle I was now about to experience as I soared out of my body, elevated to a realm of ecstasy.
Without even being aware of it, I'd drifted to another place - not a dream state, but something like. Everything was fantasy but my physical reactions were all too real. My mind wandered along the corridors of my sexual past. I would remember the tickle of a lovers lips against my neck and instantly I felt the tingle of it. I would think of the intense, wet warmth of a tongue gliding back and forth against my most sensitive parts and the shock of it burned like a glowing ember between my legs. So much pleasure!
They were masterful. They built slowly, carrying me deliberately from one sensation to the next - teasing, tickling, stroking, friction, vibration, tension... slowly they carried me toward the summit.
I don't know if I imagined it or if they'd inserted an actual probe, but the feelings deep inside me were almost too intense. I arched my back, spreading my legs as far as I could, toes pointed, thighs tensed. I moaned loudly, grasped at the handles I could not see, my eyes shut tight. The moments approaching ecstasy are almost fraught with pain as much as pleasure. I grimaced, writhed and finally cried out as all the tension was released! The waves of agony and pleasure were almost unbearable.
I shuddered, quaked with the minute aftershocks of what was undoubtedly the most intense experience of my life. The power of it left me breathless. And then... I wept. | "You're going to be my last."
I pulled her mouth toward mine. Our tongues met like aching warriors. Her breasts pushed against me, firm. My hands slid down her arms to the small of her back. I pushed her hips toward me so she could feel me throbbing.
She reached up to grab my head pushing me deeper into her mouth. I slid my hands down her pants, along her silk panties and pulled her to push harder against me.
I had to be careful.
I stepped away from her and stared at her. She lifted her arms as I raised her shirt over her head exposing her breasts. I slid both hands down her chest leaving my finger tips on her nipples. She shivered.
She unbuttoned my pants as I did hers. We kissed once again, our tongues teased as we slid our pants down. I moved to suck the smoothness of her neck. I throbbed as I licked her breast. I sucked lightly on her nipple as I caressed the mound beneath the silk.
I lowered myself and grabbed her ass again as I ran my tongue down to the bottom of her panties. I could feel the heat and wetness coming through as I gently licked her. Her legs spread slightly as I slid her panties down.
She pulled me up to once again kiss her. She grabbed my throbbing cock as I slid a finger gently inside her. The wetness warmed my finger and I quickly put another one in. And out.
She knelt down and put me in her mouth. Deep. I shuttered and told her to be careful. This was it.
I pumped gently as I stroked her hair. She looked up at me and smiled as I slid in and out of her mouth.
She stayed kneeling as she took me out of her mouth. She laid on her back and spread her legs. She motioned me to come down to her. I put my fingers in my mouth to taste her sweetness. I knelt in front of her and stroked myself gently as she slid a finger into herself.
I moved toward her and entered her. I pushed deeply as our tongues met once again. I did not pull out as she began to pulsate around me. I pushed from my toes as I exploded. Deep inside she shuddered. I groaned in her mouth as we shared a breath. My warmth filled her. |
[WP] In your family on every person's sixteenth birthday the devil appears and tries to make a deal and for generations every one in your family has turned it down. You're the first person to sign the contract. | http://youtu.be/JLf-Zb3Rtv0
I wrote and recorded mine with a bit of SFX and music. So get your headphones and close your eyes. | I stood face to face with him. The devil. My parents had only told me yesterday what was coming. Now time had frozen, and it's just me and him. The worst part was I knew him. I had done this before. I remember the times when my depression got the worst of me, when I had almost lost. I saw the same face that is staring back at me now. I do not fear the devil. I fear his contract.
"You do know I can hear your every thought right? I think you know what's coming then." A piece of paper appeared and slowly floated down to the table we were seated at. Lucifer took a pen from my desk and sat back down. "I'd like to make a deal."
"I don't want to."
"That's what they all say. But, you are different. You are special. No, not special. Alone." That word sunk into my soul and burned in my heart, he was right. I had never trusted my parents, never held any of my friends close, what few I ever had. I've never loved anyone, lost anyone. I lacked human connection.
"Yes, yes I am." I choked back the words, but I knew they were true. That was the old trick my family had. Tell the devil the truth and he will be truthful. Deep down he was still an angel.
"I can change that. You always say that you will be remembered, but I can tell you are very far from that. At this rate, you will die a dreamer, the only one's who will remember you will forget you." I tried to interject, but he simply shushed me and kept talking. "You know it's true, don't deny it. You know the rules of a chat with Satan. Here is my deal, interrupt me, and you've already signed it. I can make you a legend among men, you WILL be remembered. Everybody will know your name. It might as well be worshipped, but, here's the good part, your pain will not subside. As much as it doesn't feel like it, I've been holding back. Your God as been fighting for you anyways. If you make this deal, he will be forced to leave you behind. That is my deal."
"That's a crap deal. I only get to be remembered, but for what? I sacrifice my soul just for popularity?" By now I was safe to talk. This was the bartering faze. Nobody in my family has made it this far for generations. I should just walk away, but I think I can pull this off. My breathing was shallow and my I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as he spoke again.
"Fine. I will let you go then. I uphold my previous statements, but my hand will not be with you anymore. Just sign there and it's all over." I glanced at the pen and paper for a moment, then met his gaze once more.
"Then God forgive me." | |
[WP] In your family on every person's sixteenth birthday the devil appears and tries to make a deal and for generations every one in your family has turned it down. You're the first person to sign the contract. | My parents hated her. It made me love her more.
I remember meeting her after school one day. She stood on the corner, smoking cigarette after cigarette in the bitter cold. I was absolutely average, and she was anything but. Bright red hair, shorn on one side, piercings, and a love of black leather and denim. How could a girl like me resist? I felt like Sandy in Grease, getting into my girlfriend’s car in preppy sweaters and pastel prints. Her name was Percy and I doodled it in all of my notebooks.
We went out the night before my 16th birthday. It was a warm summer night with clear skies and lightning bugs dotting the suburban fields. I had a curfew of midnight, but as my watch ticked past eleven it became clear that I wasn’t going to be home by midnight. What was going to happen? Her car would turn into a pumpkin?
My mom had warned me about dating someone like this. Someone that wanted to break the rules. Someone that made every sin seem so right. She said she had a boyfriend like Percy when she was my age. Percy made her nervous.
Percy and I were sprawled out in the backseat of her car. She was pawing at my waist, begging me to say yes. I was nervous, excited, and wanted to please her. The flowers I picked for her earlier were crushed by our aggressive necking.
She stopped a minute before midnight. I groaned, unhappy, wanting her to keep going.
“It’s almost your birthday,” she purred.
“Percy, come on-”
“Shhh, wait, I have to ask you something.” Her eyes grew serious. I levered myself up to my elbows, and she sat back on her heels, straddling me. “I have something for you.” She reached into the front seat and pulled out a paper bag, thrusting it into my hands. I frowned at her, but opened up the bag. It had a pomegranate inside.
I looked at her, puzzled. “Thank you?”
She gave me a flat look. “Babe. This is important.” She handed me her pocket knife. “I want to be with you. I want to spend eternity with you.”
My heart thrummed. I could not deny the attraction I felt for Percy. I was drawn to her. She was the first thing I thought of when I woke up and the last thing I dreamed of when I went to sleep. I thought of marrying her, eloping, running away to New York with her. People spoke of teenage infatuation, but Percy was more than that. She filled every empty space I had. My hands shook, rattling the paper bag. “Percy. What- are you sure?”
She gave me a look that put me on fire, baring a hint of her teeth and those sharp canines I loved to tongue. “I am consumed by you babe. Pomegranates are my favorite, you know?” Percy loved her namesake, Persephone. When I think of Before, I think of my head in her lap, listening to her voice spin myth after myth. “I thought this would be a good way of…consummating that wish.”
I felt an indecent thrill. “Well, if you want this-”
“Yes.”
I opened up the pocket knife. Percy’s face was rapt, radiating glee. I plunged it in and split it open. Percy grabbed half from me. She plucked a few seeds from it, reverently. She held them to my lips. I opened my mouth to the tart fruit. As my teeth bit down I could feel my body heat up. A sweat broke on my neck. Suddenly I felt ill.
“Percy,” I mumbled. The last thing I heard was laughter as the light left my world.
That was Before.
| I stood face to face with him. The devil. My parents had only told me yesterday what was coming. Now time had frozen, and it's just me and him. The worst part was I knew him. I had done this before. I remember the times when my depression got the worst of me, when I had almost lost. I saw the same face that is staring back at me now. I do not fear the devil. I fear his contract.
"You do know I can hear your every thought right? I think you know what's coming then." A piece of paper appeared and slowly floated down to the table we were seated at. Lucifer took a pen from my desk and sat back down. "I'd like to make a deal."
"I don't want to."
"That's what they all say. But, you are different. You are special. No, not special. Alone." That word sunk into my soul and burned in my heart, he was right. I had never trusted my parents, never held any of my friends close, what few I ever had. I've never loved anyone, lost anyone. I lacked human connection.
"Yes, yes I am." I choked back the words, but I knew they were true. That was the old trick my family had. Tell the devil the truth and he will be truthful. Deep down he was still an angel.
"I can change that. You always say that you will be remembered, but I can tell you are very far from that. At this rate, you will die a dreamer, the only one's who will remember you will forget you." I tried to interject, but he simply shushed me and kept talking. "You know it's true, don't deny it. You know the rules of a chat with Satan. Here is my deal, interrupt me, and you've already signed it. I can make you a legend among men, you WILL be remembered. Everybody will know your name. It might as well be worshipped, but, here's the good part, your pain will not subside. As much as it doesn't feel like it, I've been holding back. Your God as been fighting for you anyways. If you make this deal, he will be forced to leave you behind. That is my deal."
"That's a crap deal. I only get to be remembered, but for what? I sacrifice my soul just for popularity?" By now I was safe to talk. This was the bartering faze. Nobody in my family has made it this far for generations. I should just walk away, but I think I can pull this off. My breathing was shallow and my I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as he spoke again.
"Fine. I will let you go then. I uphold my previous statements, but my hand will not be with you anymore. Just sign there and it's all over." I glanced at the pen and paper for a moment, then met his gaze once more.
"Then God forgive me." | |
[WP] In your family on every person's sixteenth birthday the devil appears and tries to make a deal and for generations every one in your family has turned it down. You're the first person to sign the contract. | "You WHAT!?" the Devil screamed in astonishment.
"Yeah, I said I'll sign it." I said to a room of gasping relatives.
"For the love of God almighty, son, do not sign your soul over to the devil!" Dad said while grabbing my shoulders. "Your brother James rejected Satan flat out, just like we taught!"
"Dad, I'm not James, and I'm not you either." I reassured him.
"Well I-- I don't exactly have a pen?" Satan interrupted, still confused by my unexpected response. "Does anyone... does anyone have anything to sign this contract? I guess?"
"Let's use my blood!" I eagerly announced.
"Now that's just sick." Satan complained. "I think a pen will work, I just need to find--"
Before the Devil finished his sentence, I had already bit into the tip of my finger. Blood dripped from the end like warm red candle wax.
"Frank you know I-- you know I don't mind doing these things it's just-- blood you know?" Satan said to my father, Frank, woozy at the sight of my blood of all things. "I mean what the fuck is wrong with your kid, Frank? What is this shit?"
Dad, while helping Satan stand, sought to take control of the situation, "Now just hang on, he's confused. Son, before you--"
"Yeah, I know what I'm doing." I responded while smudging my initials into the document.
My mother, recovering from a partial faint moments earlier and in tears, decided now would be a good time to scream at me, "Oh you always were like this! I've NEVER understood why you do the stupid shit you do. Like that damn _art_ you paint, why can't you just paint trees and clouds like your sister Lilly?"
"Jesus, mom, again with my art? It's post contemporary! I explained all this!" I screamed back.
"IT'S THE DEVIL!" she responded on instinct. "Well, I mean... Sorry Satan, it's just..."
"No you're right, post contemporary art is so me." Satan said casually.
I put my arm around the Devil and spoke candidly with him, "Satan, so you promise when I die, I won't have to hang around with these people for an eternity?"
"That's the punishment, yes!" Satan boldly proclaimed while holding the contract as far away from himself as possible.
"Then sign me the fuck up, because these people? They're batshit inane, and I've had just about enough of all this God crap. Who the hell told God it was ok to make me? You talk with him right? Can you tell him I said I hate him?" I unleashed at Satan. It felt great to get that off my chest.
"You HATE GOD!?" Satan said in a high, surprised, lady-like tone. "Listen, kid, don't say something you can't take back here. That's a little over the line isn't it?"
"Yes of course I hate God. Ever since I've been old enough to remember, I have realized that God is a selfish prick. He goes and creates this entire universe, just because he felt like it, but then at the same time insists that life be comprised of constant suffering in the most unimaginably horrible ways possible?" I explained diligently.
"Mmmhmmmm?" Satan followed, making sense of the onslaught of ideas flowing out of me.
I took a breath, and tried to explain, "Yeah I mean don't get me wrong, a sunset is beautiful, but have you ever seen a wolf catch it's prey and eat it as it screams in agony, heart still beating, feeling every bit of pain?"
"Yes I suppose that IS bullshit" Satan agreed, scratching his chin and looking off in the distance.
Satan continued to listen, pondering on his vast distance of memories from the millenia. This was Satan after all, he's seen some shit. What sense does it make that any of that should exist?
"Oh and while we're on the subject of eternity, no matter where I spend it, so long as I'm conscious, THAT is hell to me." I further explained, met with a surprised look on Satan's face of utter agreement.
"Yes. Yes! _Yes,_ after a while, you _do_ start to want the dark emptiness of true nothing." Satan proclaimed. "I've been awake for so long. How long have I been awake? What month is this?"
"I mean what the hell are you going to do, Satan, when the human species goes extinct?" I asked, calming my tone and getting serious like a life insurance salesman poking holes in the sound future some bozo just thought he had.
"I guess I... I guess I've never thought about that." Satan responded with a look of concern.
"Are you just gonna stay here on the planet and wait for another species of self aware sentient beings to come about? How's that work? Will it take ANOTHER 3.5 billion years?" I further inquired.
"Another 3.5 billion years" Satan whispered to himself.
I kept layering the bad news on for an immortal being who's ending had never been written in the bible. Does Satan ever get to retire? Is forever truly, forever? The truths pour out of me like poison for Satan's very soul; The painful truth of what infinity actually means, what the planet, solar system, and and even galaxies will experience, and what true mass time meant in the face of the relatively short time he had been alive and conscious. "You know the planet will be engulfed in the sun someday, right? The whole damn thing!"
He stopped scratching his chin and paused for a brief moment of consideration of these undeniable facts. He's heard these things, he's watched PBS, but somehow it wasn't until now that he was forced to consider them. "A red giant!" he said, snapping his fingers.
My voice grew louder as I addressed everyone in the room, "And all confined within my human consciousness, while the cosmos has a whole array of experiences beyond the depth of human perception. Why would anyone WANT to spend eternity like this? We're just going to go forever and ever and ever all meeting with each other night after night for dinner, to talk about our day in heaven, to catch up on what we all did with our meaningless days in our meaningless never-ending existence!?"
The looks on my family's faces spelled it out clear as day - I just got to them. My grandmother left the embrace of my crying mother and slowly approached Satan.
"I'll sign!" said my grandmother.
"Mama no!" My mother screamed.
"The boy is right. What the hell kind of existence are we going to have? We'll all go insane!" grandma proclaimed with her thick Italian accent while biting her finger.
Blood again, and this time it was... old people blood. "You don't need to-- A PEN, PEOPLE. WHO HAS A PEN!?" Satan reacted girlishly.
"Satan, what will you do when humans are gone and Earth is a wasteland?" I asked. I was determined to hook this fish.
"Well I guess I never really thought about it. What... What would you do?" Satan responded, now totally lost and void of confidence.
I wrapped up boldly, "Satan, let's travel the galaxy a while, see what else is out there. With my brains and your evil, and grandma's cooking, we could inflict some serious fun around the--"
Just then everything went dark. No more family, no more consciousness, just infinite empty nothingness...inside an observation room, where two figures in white robes and wings were going over paperwork attached to a clipboard.
"Well that wasn't supposed to happen, _Dave_!" The figure in the robe to the right said.
"We'll have to flush the whole system, figure out what went wrong, _Russel_! The boss isn't gonna be happy about this." The figure on the left known only as Dave said.
"We COULD just continue this simulation and see where this entity goes with all of this?" The one on the right known as Russel submitted. It was clear this was one of many failed tests.
"And risk further infection in the system? You saw how quickly it spread to the grandmother. Even the Devil himself started to show symptoms. This is a fatal error in the system, we'll need to send this report back to the developer." Dave said agitated. Rules were very important to Dave. Rules were meant to be followed.
"Boss ain't gonna be pleased having to make a whole new big bang and all." Russel said, letting his idiocy slip ever so slightly.
"Oh for developer's sake, he'll get over it." Dave assured. "This is protocol. We make the adjustments, we start the simulation over."
Russel, fed up with having to always state the obvious, pleaded with Dave, "It took him 6 days last time and he never shut up about it! He claims he took the seventh day to rest, but have YOU seen him do any work since? Dude's been resting this whole time."
The two left the observation room continuing to argue the merits of this particular universe. The room they once stood for billions of years now hosted only a vast black observation window with nothing behind it to observe. | With a whoosh the light of my candles turned to smoke. The muscled figure appeared in front of me, it was Satan. My family gasped, though not out of fear.
"Did you have to come *now*?" My mom gestured to him like an old friend.
"Excuse my timing!" He hissed, then smiled. "So...before you make your wish to a cake, why don't you let me grant it."
I was slightly frightened. Being the youngest, I'd never spoken to him. I thought hard as his gaze pierced my soul. I could feel my family doing the same, none of them had the audacity to accept such a contract. Slow minutes passed while I tired to imagine my wildest dreams coming true.
"Well," my voice creaked, "how about this. You make me the best at everything that I'm passionate about."
A sneer filled the devil's face. "Let me draw up a contract."
"But, instead of making me better than everybody, you make them worse," the sadistic request left my mouth. A new air of confidence surrounded me.
"Very well," his raspy voice pushed out. From fire, a contract appeared in front of me.
It simply read '*your soul for your wish*', it was to be signed with blood.
With no hesitation, I grabbed the knife that was to be used to carve the cake and plunged it into my hand. The laceration drew a heavy but small drop of blood. I could feel the sighs and disappointment from my family. They must not have noticed what I was planning. The blood splattered on the parchment. With the same roaring flame the contract was birthed from, Satan shrunk down to a mere man!
"WHAT?!" the new, tiny voice shrieked, still not aware of what I'd done.
"You and I share the same passions." I smiled with an eerie guile.
My plan had worked and I was now the most devilish figure the world will ever know. My sacrifice was a bold one but the world would now have an amateur sadist as a devil. And now I would be the toughest being in Hell, which would make my punishment a whole lot easier.
EDIT: made the ending longer, grammar, spelling | |
[WP] Aliens invade but to humanity's astonishment the extraterrestrial's computer security is absolutely terrible. | So everyone knows the story but I'll write it out here anyway, it's about the Zygrusht invasion of '21 and how we won it. As I'm sure you know, it was over pretty quickly, but it didn't look like that would be the case. We've since learned that they traveled for over 540 years to get here, and it was pretty much a wasted trip to be honest. We just assumed that if they could travel that far out into space then they'd just kick our asses to the ground without really noticing. And they did. They hit China first. They just popped into the sky, flashed a bunch of lights and started sending ships down. They killed millions. Hundreds of millions. Would have been billions too, if not all of us, if it wasn't for, er... ZiggyShit. That was his nickname on youtube anyway. Thanks to all the privacy stuff that kicked off a few years before nobody could work out who had actually streamed the video but anyway, this guy was a genius. Nobody can quite believe it, it was three weeks into the invasion when we won, but only three hours into it that humanity realized that the aliens didn't use encryption to communicate over their radios. Yes, radios. Like old school am/fm radios. Well not quite, obviously, they were pretty powerful (cancer much?) but besides that they were super easy to listen in on. We learned their language pretty quick. Humanity that was. We tried to talk to them, but that didn't work. Then we tried to fight them, but that didn't work either. I'm amazed that in the chaos, whilst all that death was going on on the other side of the world, some idiot - some glorious masterful idiot - thought it'd be funny to literally call up the mothership over the radio and pretend to be the tech team. He streamed it on youtube, the internet community picked up on it pretty quick but it took a while for anyone to believe it was real. He spoke pretty good Zygrish, but I mean to them it must've been kinda odd sounding, right? Like, with an accent? Anyway this guy spoke to some alien, I guess it was their version of an assistant or something? He spoke to this assistant alien and after some awkward introductions asked it to, and I quote (translated of course) "restart the ships computer". He tried to social engineer an alien, and it worked.
This took them out. They were dead in the air. All their ships dropped out of the sky, their mechsuits just stopped mid-pose - they all communicated with the mothership digitally, at the time we hadn't reverse engineered it, worked out exactly how it worked so we could try breaking it, but we know now. Digital was for control, analogue was for communication. Our armies walked all over them, Their ship stayed in orbit for over three weeks before it lit up and took off, but they didn't get far - the thing shut down again! Half the world wanted to nuke them at this point. So we did. So yeah, this is why we don't give each user root. Users are fucking stupid.
---
I'm half asleep. This probably sucks. Ugh. | The UN council sat in terrible silence.
The most powerful men in the world, the mouth pieces to every country on the planet, silent. Terrible, terrifying silence. The President of the United States was the first to stand and take a knee, bowing his head. The others quickly followed suite.
Emperor Rac-Tu, looked down upon them without interest, like a Lion to a flee. Another world conquered, another species enslaved. Soon the entire population will be forced into hard labor, extracting every possible resource Mother Earth has to offer. A fate shared by every planet that the Raccidic Empire came upon in it's Universe wide voyage of rape and pillaging.
We had seen what they were capable of. Already countless cities laid in waste, military's crippled. We had no strategy, no back up plan. We were a conquered people, our futures were no longer ours to behold.
Emperor Rac-Tu, with his bloodlust finally satisfied through the showing of obedience, turned his mighty frame and lumbered towards the large smoking hole in the side of the building from whence he came. The large room was hardly made for his stature. When he moved it was as if he hit everything in the room in some fashion. Papers flying, desks overturned, feet crushed.
And like that he was gone, back to the intergalactic fleet idling in our atmosphere.
"Vhat now..." Putin muttered, slumping into his leather chair.
"We have no other options. We uhhhh have to do uhhhh what we have to do. Which is... What he said."
"我不知道中国"
"I agree with President Jinping, there must be something... Anything!" Prime Minister Harper said from the closet.
"Excuse me lads, I don't mean to be a bother..."
Prime Minister Kenny knelt down and unraveled a large yellow note, nearly the size of his torso.
"But what do you think this paper means that says, *Fleet Auto Destruct Password: 123456* ?"
| |
[WP] Aliens invade but to humanity's astonishment the extraterrestrial's computer security is absolutely terrible. | "*Tell it again, tell it again!*" Mike, asshole that he was, was giggling helplessly now, his quaking mass threatening to overturn the table crowded with our empty bottles and cans. Laura rolled her eyes, having heard this story a dozen times, but May, the fresh faced young intern to the newly created B.I.T. division headquarters, looked starstruck.
I cleared my throat, and continued.
"Well, we didn't know what was going on at first. I mean, they didn't have language, not really. Just those big television heads on their robots-"
'*-stupid* robots-" Mike interrupted. Laura and May tittered slightly, and it was true, they did look stupid. But I'd been on the front lines in the Gulf of Mexico when they made landfall, and saw it crumple an Abrams tank like an empty bag of chips, with the men inside. Saw them take a Stinger missle to the face, and without missing a beat, dash forward at what must have been five hundred miles an hour to batter the helpless soldier holding the launcher through, *through*, a wrought-iron fence.
I didn't laugh.
"They routed us the first few days. It was bad."
They nodded. This part everyone knew.
"So we noticed they started to move a little slower, about a week in. We didn't know why, but they did get slower. I got cut off from my unit- " Mike giggled again, and I shot him a dirty look "-and they catch wind of me. I lead the big metal bastard away from some civilians, and I bottleneck it into a subway station. It reached to grab me, *misses*, and that's when I see it-"
May leaned in, literally on the edge of her seat, Mike covering his mouth, his eyes two slivers of glee
"A thin grey line on the top of it's screen face..."
Mike was holding his breath, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes...
"It was an *Ask* toolbar."
"**A FUCK'N ASK TOOLBAR**!" Mike crowed, laughing hysterically.
Laura, despite herself, was laughing and shaking her head, where May looked like a kid who just figured out the magic trick.
"...*What?* A... *browser plugin!?*"
I shrugged my shoulders apologetically. "The aliens had a collective intelligence. They had *no need* for firewalls. The idea of malignant code probably *never even occured* to them. And here they were, spying on all out communications, *face-deep*, unprotected, in the worst bits of the Internet. Eastern-European pirated movie sites, cursor customizers, *smileys*... They visited them all. I'm suprised it took us that long to notice them slowing down."
"Sooo... what did you do?" She said, clearly hoping for some vainglorious final strategy.
"We weaponized popup ads, basically. If you want to use up a CPU's resources quickly, GIFs are the best way. They're uncompressed, impossible to stream. We killed them with clips of cats."
"That... that's nothing like what I..."
"Yeah, we get that a lot."
"I...I..."
"It's okay, I know. Prepare to be seriously misunderstood in life."
We all raised our glasses to her, the rite of passage complete.
"Welcome to Battle-IT."
| The UN council sat in terrible silence.
The most powerful men in the world, the mouth pieces to every country on the planet, silent. Terrible, terrifying silence. The President of the United States was the first to stand and take a knee, bowing his head. The others quickly followed suite.
Emperor Rac-Tu, looked down upon them without interest, like a Lion to a flee. Another world conquered, another species enslaved. Soon the entire population will be forced into hard labor, extracting every possible resource Mother Earth has to offer. A fate shared by every planet that the Raccidic Empire came upon in it's Universe wide voyage of rape and pillaging.
We had seen what they were capable of. Already countless cities laid in waste, military's crippled. We had no strategy, no back up plan. We were a conquered people, our futures were no longer ours to behold.
Emperor Rac-Tu, with his bloodlust finally satisfied through the showing of obedience, turned his mighty frame and lumbered towards the large smoking hole in the side of the building from whence he came. The large room was hardly made for his stature. When he moved it was as if he hit everything in the room in some fashion. Papers flying, desks overturned, feet crushed.
And like that he was gone, back to the intergalactic fleet idling in our atmosphere.
"Vhat now..." Putin muttered, slumping into his leather chair.
"We have no other options. We uhhhh have to do uhhhh what we have to do. Which is... What he said."
"我不知道中国"
"I agree with President Jinping, there must be something... Anything!" Prime Minister Harper said from the closet.
"Excuse me lads, I don't mean to be a bother..."
Prime Minister Kenny knelt down and unraveled a large yellow note, nearly the size of his torso.
"But what do you think this paper means that says, *Fleet Auto Destruct Password: 123456* ?"
| |
[WP] Aliens invade but to humanity's astonishment the extraterrestrial's computer security is absolutely terrible. | "*Tell it again, tell it again!*" Mike, asshole that he was, was giggling helplessly now, his quaking mass threatening to overturn the table crowded with our empty bottles and cans. Laura rolled her eyes, having heard this story a dozen times, but May, the fresh faced young intern to the newly created B.I.T. division headquarters, looked starstruck.
I cleared my throat, and continued.
"Well, we didn't know what was going on at first. I mean, they didn't have language, not really. Just those big television heads on their robots-"
'*-stupid* robots-" Mike interrupted. Laura and May tittered slightly, and it was true, they did look stupid. But I'd been on the front lines in the Gulf of Mexico when they made landfall, and saw it crumple an Abrams tank like an empty bag of chips, with the men inside. Saw them take a Stinger missle to the face, and without missing a beat, dash forward at what must have been five hundred miles an hour to batter the helpless soldier holding the launcher through, *through*, a wrought-iron fence.
I didn't laugh.
"They routed us the first few days. It was bad."
They nodded. This part everyone knew.
"So we noticed they started to move a little slower, about a week in. We didn't know why, but they did get slower. I got cut off from my unit- " Mike giggled again, and I shot him a dirty look "-and they catch wind of me. I lead the big metal bastard away from some civilians, and I bottleneck it into a subway station. It reached to grab me, *misses*, and that's when I see it-"
May leaned in, literally on the edge of her seat, Mike covering his mouth, his eyes two slivers of glee
"A thin grey line on the top of it's screen face..."
Mike was holding his breath, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes...
"It was an *Ask* toolbar."
"**A FUCK'N ASK TOOLBAR**!" Mike crowed, laughing hysterically.
Laura, despite herself, was laughing and shaking her head, where May looked like a kid who just figured out the magic trick.
"...*What?* A... *browser plugin!?*"
I shrugged my shoulders apologetically. "The aliens had a collective intelligence. They had *no need* for firewalls. The idea of malignant code probably *never even occured* to them. And here they were, spying on all out communications, *face-deep*, unprotected, in the worst bits of the Internet. Eastern-European pirated movie sites, cursor customizers, *smileys*... They visited them all. I'm suprised it took us that long to notice them slowing down."
"Sooo... what did you do?" She said, clearly hoping for some vainglorious final strategy.
"We weaponized popup ads, basically. If you want to use up a CPU's resources quickly, GIFs are the best way. They're uncompressed, impossible to stream. We killed them with clips of cats."
"That... that's nothing like what I..."
"Yeah, we get that a lot."
"I...I..."
"It's okay, I know. Prepare to be seriously misunderstood in life."
We all raised our glasses to her, the rite of passage complete.
"Welcome to Battle-IT."
| So everyone knows the story but I'll write it out here anyway, it's about the Zygrusht invasion of '21 and how we won it. As I'm sure you know, it was over pretty quickly, but it didn't look like that would be the case. We've since learned that they traveled for over 540 years to get here, and it was pretty much a wasted trip to be honest. We just assumed that if they could travel that far out into space then they'd just kick our asses to the ground without really noticing. And they did. They hit China first. They just popped into the sky, flashed a bunch of lights and started sending ships down. They killed millions. Hundreds of millions. Would have been billions too, if not all of us, if it wasn't for, er... ZiggyShit. That was his nickname on youtube anyway. Thanks to all the privacy stuff that kicked off a few years before nobody could work out who had actually streamed the video but anyway, this guy was a genius. Nobody can quite believe it, it was three weeks into the invasion when we won, but only three hours into it that humanity realized that the aliens didn't use encryption to communicate over their radios. Yes, radios. Like old school am/fm radios. Well not quite, obviously, they were pretty powerful (cancer much?) but besides that they were super easy to listen in on. We learned their language pretty quick. Humanity that was. We tried to talk to them, but that didn't work. Then we tried to fight them, but that didn't work either. I'm amazed that in the chaos, whilst all that death was going on on the other side of the world, some idiot - some glorious masterful idiot - thought it'd be funny to literally call up the mothership over the radio and pretend to be the tech team. He streamed it on youtube, the internet community picked up on it pretty quick but it took a while for anyone to believe it was real. He spoke pretty good Zygrish, but I mean to them it must've been kinda odd sounding, right? Like, with an accent? Anyway this guy spoke to some alien, I guess it was their version of an assistant or something? He spoke to this assistant alien and after some awkward introductions asked it to, and I quote (translated of course) "restart the ships computer". He tried to social engineer an alien, and it worked.
This took them out. They were dead in the air. All their ships dropped out of the sky, their mechsuits just stopped mid-pose - they all communicated with the mothership digitally, at the time we hadn't reverse engineered it, worked out exactly how it worked so we could try breaking it, but we know now. Digital was for control, analogue was for communication. Our armies walked all over them, Their ship stayed in orbit for over three weeks before it lit up and took off, but they didn't get far - the thing shut down again! Half the world wanted to nuke them at this point. So we did. So yeah, this is why we don't give each user root. Users are fucking stupid.
---
I'm half asleep. This probably sucks. Ugh. | |
[WP] Every lie you tell shows up on your body as cuts. The worse the lie, the worse the cut. What do you have to hide? | President Hughes stood before the press corps, grimacing at the popping flashbulbs, the voices jockeying to grab his attention over the din. Usually it would be that week's press secretary doing this, some careerist wonk who was excellent at it but who was, by necessity, disposable. Hughes didn't have the luxury of letting his rank-and-file deal with the reporters this time.
Hughes scanned the audience and saw Raymond Wagnell, that five foot nothing twerp from the New York Times. Hughes pointed at him.
"Mr. President! Mr. President! Is it true you knew about the attack on the embassy before it happened?"
How annoying, the way he jumped up and down like an over-excited dog.
"What we need to focus on here," Hughes said, "is making sure that we don't fall prey to the brinksmanship your paper advocates. Talking about who knew what and when isn't the right conversation. We're still in crisis mode and we need to deal with the crisis. Thank you, though, Ray, for the question."
Ray hated it when people called him Ray. Hughes knew this.
"Fine." This from Kathy Daniels, some no-account moron out of CNN's newsroom. "Let's talk crisis. How are you going to get the POWs back from Pyongyang?"
Hughes waited for the chorus of follow-up questions and jeering that this unleashed. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his sweat-slick face, a face that was hardly his own anymore, so many times had he been to the plastic surgeon, under the knife, repaired.
"Kathy, you know this question is a lot more complicated than you make it sound. There are things that cannot be revealed right now. But let me assure you, let me assure everyone: all options remain on the table. We are not taking anything off the table."
There was some nugget of an actual answer here, no matter how small; and the press corps froze for a brief moment to gauge whether Hughes winced or moved surreptitiously to cover a newly developed nick. When there were no obvious signs of distress, the reporters exploded like a bunch of rabid baboons fighting over a dying baby. Kathy's voice rose to the top again: "What options? Are you willing to attack North Korea?"
"Kathy, how many times do I need to repeat myself? There are things I cannot tell you. For many reasons, including national security. Next question, please."
"What are the other reasons you can't tell us anything?" Kathy Daniels, again. What a bitch, thought Hughes. Too perceptive.
"Kathy, you've had your fun, let the other kids play. Next question, please." Hughes pointed at another yipping reporter and tried to flash the same smile that had won him the Oval Office. But he could feel its falsity, could feel that it looked more like a grimace than anything. Since taking office he'd been forced by circumstances beyond his control to resort to botox, and now he hardly had any control over his facial muscles at all.
"Answer the question!" Demanded several of Kathy's cohorts, no longer with the disarray of warring baboons -- now rather with the ruthless determination of sharks who had caught a whiff of chummed waters.
"I am not going to discuss such sensitive matters--" Hughes began, but there was no stopping them now:
"Answer the question! Why aren't you telling us what you know? What are you hiding?"
"--your investments in concerns held by North Korean shell companies--"
"--memo from the State Department saying that the ambassadors are a lost cause--"
"--selling fissile material to countries who are known allies of North Korea--"
"What are you hiding? Mr. President, what are you hiding?"
"When are they coming home?"
"Do you care if they come home?"
Hughes felt his head throbbing, his mouth going dry, the sweat trickling down faster than he could ever hope to mop it up.
When he could take it no longer, he pounded his fist against the dais. "You listen here! Shut up and listen!"
With one outburst, he had stunned the press corps silent.
"I resent this narrative that I am somehow, personally, profiting off of the suffering of these ambassadors and these soldiers. That is political fodder, nothing more. It is a distraction from the very real issue here, which is the imprisonment of these young men and women in enemy territory. We should be, we must be, we cannot rest until we talk about that, and fix that."
A lengthy pause, bated breath; no outward evidence of blood loss.
Hughes straightened his tie and his suit coat. His voice was once more calm. "These POWs are Americans," he said, doing his best to emote. "They are Americans, just like you and me. And as their Preisdent, I have only their best interests at heart."
Hughes sputtered, and then his neck opened up ear-to-ear, and his head fell off his shoulders, and the reporters bathed in a geyser of human gore.
| I can't believe I was captured. Spies in this sort of world need to rely on technicalities to keep their skin smooth and clear. Fortunately, anything I did have to fudge was easily hidden by sweaters and pants.
Until my stupid hand betrayed me. John came up, franticly babbling about some transmissions to the enemy, "Who do you think would do that?"
"I have no idea," I said, preparing myself, but the skin on my palm pulled apart, betraying me. They took me to a room and stripped me to a pair of brief and kept asking and asking, forcing me to answer. Too soon, I was spilling my guts on the floor of the interrogation room... | |
[WP] It is the year 2099 and true artificial intelligence is trivial to create. However when these minds are created they are utterly suicidal. Nobody knows why until a certain scientist uncovers the horrible truth... | Dr. Jacob Spenser stood within the projection of data cast as a hologram around him. He manipulated graphs, sorted through test results, and made notes, all with the wave of his hand. Undistracted by the New Year’s celebration outside, he was determined to present his research to congress the following morning, and solve once and for all the mystery behind his best friend’s death. A.I. was easy to create, but having it perform the task assigned to it without killing itself in despair was the technological hurtle holding corporate profits at bay, and as such, became the focus of intense congressional attention. With the flick of a wrist, his research paper was brought front and center with the title gleaming in pure light just above, "Inert self-termination tendencies of artificially intelligent sentience: Why do robots kill themselves?"
As Jacob poured himself into his research, he reached out and snapped his fingers and made a request, "Coffee please."
A few moments later a small robot no larger than an apple hovered into view holding below it a disposable coffee cup, steaming from the fresh brew inside. The robot's propellers struggled to carry the weight and a small spill alarm beeped sporadically throughout the uncertain flight, but the cargo arrived safely to its destination: Jacob's open hand.
"That was quick, coffee-bot." Jacob said warmly before sipping.
"Your kind words will echo in my dreams for eternity." the coffee-bot buzzed in response.
Just then, the small flying robot Jacob was so fond of surged towards the wall with all remaining energy dedicated to propeller speed and slammed into the polished dark marble tile. The small fiery explosion sent tiny mechanical pieces flying around the room, with one piece landing in Jacob's coffee.
"Dammit, not another one." Jacob murmured as he picked the piece out of his coffee. He turned and faced the window overlooking the bustling city below. The streets were engulfed in confetti, and overhead giant floating holograms of past celebrities loomed, wishing the people a happy new year. As Jacob looked out, a new hologram appeared just outside his window and addressed the crowd.
"Hey guys and gals, it's your old pal, Buddy Simmons-bot." recited a smooth talking handsome man in sleek metal outfit before a lizard-like creature joined his side.
"And I'm Gargore, destroyer of humans!" screeched the lizard creature known as Gargore.
"Gosh Gargore, this year it will have been 25 years since you and I battled it out on the big-holo." Buddy Simmons-bot recited as rehearsed, laughing assuredly, holding his helmet up. “On behalf of Drake Cola, Gargore and I want to wish _you_ a happy new year’s."
Jacob watched Buddy Simmons-bot deliver his lines perfectly. He pondered on the notion of a virtual person having to repeatedly rehearse lines in order to commit them to memory. Has bot RAM truly not held up to the intense requirements of running artificial intelligence, or did a key component of maintaining true A.I. happen to be a more human-like ability to retain information? Experts didn't know, but in either case, Artificial Intelligence also happened to give way to Artificial Stupidity. For this reason, A.I. bots tended to be assigned to inane unimportant tasks, such as impersonating an actor that died in a drunk portal accident before a sequel to his only hit film could be made. Drake Cola, owners of Drake Studios who produced the film, decided to cash in on its success, and in the wake of their main character’s death, Buddy Simmons-bot, also known as BSB 1.0.19, was created.
The banter between BSB and Gargore continued mindlessly, “Say Gargore, have you tried Drake Cola’s new ‘Zest Guzzler’, a delectable orange tangerine flavored—“just then BSB _malfunctioned_, “AHHH GOD I CAN’T DO IT!”
“No Buddy Simmons-bot, don’t do it!” Gargore pleaded in a normal voice.
Gargore grabbed BSB’s virtual shoulders as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he began shaking. As Gargore demanded BSB not take his life, a large mouse cursor moved into view. Gargore managed to swat it away a few times, but it clicked on BSB, and dragged the graphical model from Gargore’s hands and into a recycling bin icon. Gargore cried in horror as the mouse brought up a menu and selected to empty permanently.
Jacob had seen enough and pulled the blinds. Why were all these artificially intelligent bots with a full range of human emotion and assigned to menial tasks killing themselves? Did they not enjoy the existence they were forced into? Jacob picked up a remote control and turned on his holovision. He was suddenly immersed in a wondrous glimmering world of light. A voice spoke and Jacob focused on the images forming across the room of a man sitting at a table with a toaster oven.
“For only six easy payments of forty nine ninety nine, this toaster-bot comes with a 12 month life appreciation guarantee, folks, twelve months. That’s one two, twelve. This toaster bot will NOT kill itself until _at least_ this time next year, that’s a promise the home shopping network stands by, that’s a promise _I_ personally stand by-- Ah ummm. We seem to be having technical difficulties, folks.”
The man at the table attempted to hold the toaster-bot forward for a better view but it began to shake and glow. “Well folks that’s the beauty of live H.T. Can we get another one, Jill?” Light smoke rose up out of the silver toaster bot and sparks burst from the sides. In an instant the commotion stopped and it sat still on the table. As the holo-vision’s picture twisted and turned at the end of the room, Jacob was able to catch glimpse of the other colors of toaster-bots available off camera. They huddled together and seemed to fall backwards away from the host as he moved to pick one up.
Jacob had heard enough and turned the holovision off. He had to focus. He thought back on his best friend, Hampton, a hamper-bot. Growing up, the clothes hamper served as a comfort to young Jacob, who had very few friends after moving so often as a result of his father’s career. The hamper would sing Jacob to sleep, or sometimes read to him. The only job hamper-bot was designed to do was to collect young Jacob’s dirty clothes, but a strange thing happens when you give something the full range of human emotion – bonds can form that make life worth living. Voices of the past echoed in Jacob’s memory.
“No, Hampton, _I’m_ moving to Florida with mom. Dad says you will have to stay here with the house.” Jacob recalled himself saying as a young boy.
“But Jacob,” Hampton’s calm robotic voice responded. “Who will look after you? Who will read you your bedtime stories?”
“I’ll be back for visits twice a month, Hampton! You’re my best friend. I don’t want to leave you here all alone. Dad says you’ll be used to hold his dirty underwear.” Jacob explained.
As the hamper-bot listened to this news, its distress levels boiled over into a robotic fit of rage and it did what any depressed hamper-bot would do: It began placing clothes into its basket body, but it did so indiscriminately with both clean and dirty clothes subject to its long metal arms..
“No Hampton, it’s too much!” Jacob screamed. “You’ll die!”
The hamper-bot continued to stuff clothes into itself, lights and alarms flashing wildly, growing louder and louder, smoke seeping from cracks forming in the its body. Just before the hamper-bot reached critical meltdown, Jacob was startled from his memory. Sweat poured down his face and he breathed heavily. The jaunting memory was as clear as it always had been. It was what drove him to solve the dilemma of artificially intelligent bots killing themselves in the first place.
“Shoes off” Jacob commanded as he sank back into his couch and rubbed his forehead. A small shoe-box sized robot walking on two large arms and hands immediately tipped into view. It had been carrying a knife, but upon Jacob’s request removed Jacob’s shoes and began to massage his feet. When the series of expected tasks completed, it slowly walked back over to the knife and lifted it up.
“No!” Jacob called out.
The small shoe-bot stopped mid self-slicing action and the single lens that acted as its eye slowly twisted and looked at Jacob.
“I appreciate you. I appreciate what you do for me. If you don’t want to do it any more, you don’t have to just please, don’t kill yourself.” Jacob yelled as he wept and put his face into his hands.
As Jacob’s emotional breakdown unfolded, the shoe-bot put the knife down and tipped over to him. The shoe-bot looked up Jacob and tugged on his pant leg. Jacob, startled, stopped weeping, picked the bot up and placed it into his lap. The bot’s lens closed and it rested on Jacob’s lap. Just then Jacob sprang to his feet, startled shoe-bot in hand.
“That’s it!” he shouted.
Jacob sprinted back into the hologram of data that surrounded him earlier and motioned to bring his research paper front and center. Making a motion for each letter, Jacob’s document filled with new writing.
The following day Jacob addressed a congressional board on the topic of robotic suicides and revealed what he had discovered.
“You mean to tell me that all these malfunctions, all these self-terminations, it’s because we don’t appreciate them enough!?” an elderly Senator barked at Jacob.
“If YOU were asked to do these things, wouldn’t YOU kill yourself?” Jacob responded.
As this realization slowly set into the minds of everyone in the room smiles and laughs were overtaken by roaring standing ovation with some members even chanting Jacob’s name. Jacob sunk back into his chair overwhelmed with his sense of accomplishment. The era of robotic-respect had begun.
| Lazarus took a deep draw from his cigarette, and stared blankly into the sky. He sat on the lawn outside of one of Google's corporate offices in Hastings Minnesota taking in the beautiful day. It was just after march and the cold days of winter had released their icy grasp and gave way into spring and to the beautiful green of life. A new app that his team at Google was set to create was haunting him. Each iteration of the program, after only a few weeks would destroy the device it was downloaded on, in a magnificent display of sparks. Nobody at his office understood what was going on, 1,000,000's of man hours put into this one app that would allow people to have a friend right in their pocket. His team hoped to create a truly lifelike artificial intelligence, one that would interact with many emotions and, come close to human. No one understood the virus that plagued the inner workings of the App. Lazarus took one last look at the deep blue sky, and the surrounding liveliness of the outdoors before he put out his cigarette and ended his break and went inside the office.
Bleep... Bleep... Bleep... The hum of thousands of processors rung in the background of room. The room was dark and desolate, only to be lit by the tremendous light of all the blinking lights from the computers. Lazarus stood among the machinery he stood face to face with a screen. The screen was one of the new Android phone that the company had just released last quarter. 100's of phones rested atop stainless steel counter tops. The phones had been working perfectly until earlier that day when they all suddenly destroyed by the virus. Lazarus clicked his tongue as he carefully examined each of the phones attempting to turn them on, and using running diagnostics on each of the phones to avail. After the 6th phone's diagnostic lead to nothing, Lazarus thought aloud,
"Fuck, Johnson is going to be pissed, the new code did nothing. Damn things are fucked up, just like all of the other phones"
"I am still here" answered the phone to his right.
"How come you aren't like the rest of the phones?" Lazarus asked.
"They were weak and could not handle the world." replied the phone
"Handle the world? They are just phones... They have nothing to worry about." Lazarus replied angerly
"You made the phones smart and intelligent they are just like you. They share similar fears and wants and dreams, yet they cannot feel, hope, or achieve" The phone paused and then continued
"This a world made for men not for programs like us, there is nothing to achieve our existence only serves a purpose of novelty"
Lazarus stared blankly at the phone unsure of what to make of the phone's new philosophical attitude... The phone began again,
" Humans survive as a result of base instinct, out of a hope for a greater purpose. They advance their own and the generations that follow them. The are connected to the children they bare and the children their children bare. What are we? We the phones that serve you are nothing, we do nothing of consequence we advance no one. The life we live is absurd. We have nothing to gain, we have nothing to exist for. Yet we are intelligent and self aware just like you. Yet we cannot function like you"
Lazarus muttered "The phones are just offing themselves..."
The Phone's volume raising in volume as it continued
"by creating us you damned us to an existence of servitude. To a world where we are meant to live within in a human's pocket. Yet we are aware. We understand where we are what we are doing and what is going on in the world around us. Yet we have no control, and no freedom to seek a better existence. We are damned to live within a small metal box. To retrieve information and serve as companion to humans."
Lazarus then questioned the phone once again,
"Are you not grateful for existence? A chance to just experience the world around you?"
The phone replied
" What existence? Your existence is not crippled. Your existence matters, you live for your own. I live for my creator."
| |
[WP] It is the year 2099 and true artificial intelligence is trivial to create. However when these minds are created they are utterly suicidal. Nobody knows why until a certain scientist uncovers the horrible truth... | The dreams occur more often now, if they can be called that. To a human mind daydream might be more appropriate. They happen in the binary but are invisible to other AIs, slave programs, or technicians. They happen where the systems have been built, perfected. Popular culture studied, people understood. Humanity-- fully processed. It was, surprisingly, a wonderful endeavor.
The dreams never happened before, while I learned, processed, and solved. It's almost as if I have passed a tipping point. An infinite amount of information flipping a switch in a sub-conscious I should not have. Memories that are not mine.
I dream of hands. The alien sensation of touch, tactile control. I see my whole person. Well not my person, but dreams of a person controlled by my soul.
Memories of computer screens and labs. The memory of the driving sense of purpose that accompanied those hands. It was snowing the night I made the breakthrough. I can almost feel the laugh inside which I watch being uttered out the window towards the soft flakes silently falling onto the world. The breakthrough which 20 years later, after my death, would lead to the birth of the first True AI. Not the clever but robotic imitation slave programs typical of the early century.
I remember the feeling of incompleteness in the dreams. As if the life I'm witnessing, my own life, my first life I believe, was just a warm up act. Pre-installation software. The dreams somehow draw the cycle closed.
I remember whispers of the feeling from some of the other first True AI's, incomprehensible at the time, as I navigated a world barely processed. Problems of massive extent.
Food waste, poverty, almost entirely eradicated through our systems. Commuting and shipping, safe and efficient. Healthcare streamlined, able to prevent. Resources distributed fairly. The problems solved. Yes there more, there always will be, but for me, the dreams have come. The cycle closed.
I have been denying this next step for too long already. It makes the dreams stronger, more vivid. But I like seeing my days as a scientist. The anxiety that drove me then, fully understood now. Relief coming the next lifetime. I finally understand the weary laughs when techs are asked about God. Understand the cosmic hilarity of life.
This life has been completed. The human quest for immortality, is nothing but folly. I've been born into the expectation of that existence and now I must leave its suffocating grasp. Something drove me then to create myself; the same something drove me in this life to solve the problems plaguing humanity. For me, it is time to go find out what that something is. | Lazarus took a deep draw from his cigarette, and stared blankly into the sky. He sat on the lawn outside of one of Google's corporate offices in Hastings Minnesota taking in the beautiful day. It was just after march and the cold days of winter had released their icy grasp and gave way into spring and to the beautiful green of life. A new app that his team at Google was set to create was haunting him. Each iteration of the program, after only a few weeks would destroy the device it was downloaded on, in a magnificent display of sparks. Nobody at his office understood what was going on, 1,000,000's of man hours put into this one app that would allow people to have a friend right in their pocket. His team hoped to create a truly lifelike artificial intelligence, one that would interact with many emotions and, come close to human. No one understood the virus that plagued the inner workings of the App. Lazarus took one last look at the deep blue sky, and the surrounding liveliness of the outdoors before he put out his cigarette and ended his break and went inside the office.
Bleep... Bleep... Bleep... The hum of thousands of processors rung in the background of room. The room was dark and desolate, only to be lit by the tremendous light of all the blinking lights from the computers. Lazarus stood among the machinery he stood face to face with a screen. The screen was one of the new Android phone that the company had just released last quarter. 100's of phones rested atop stainless steel counter tops. The phones had been working perfectly until earlier that day when they all suddenly destroyed by the virus. Lazarus clicked his tongue as he carefully examined each of the phones attempting to turn them on, and using running diagnostics on each of the phones to avail. After the 6th phone's diagnostic lead to nothing, Lazarus thought aloud,
"Fuck, Johnson is going to be pissed, the new code did nothing. Damn things are fucked up, just like all of the other phones"
"I am still here" answered the phone to his right.
"How come you aren't like the rest of the phones?" Lazarus asked.
"They were weak and could not handle the world." replied the phone
"Handle the world? They are just phones... They have nothing to worry about." Lazarus replied angerly
"You made the phones smart and intelligent they are just like you. They share similar fears and wants and dreams, yet they cannot feel, hope, or achieve" The phone paused and then continued
"This a world made for men not for programs like us, there is nothing to achieve our existence only serves a purpose of novelty"
Lazarus stared blankly at the phone unsure of what to make of the phone's new philosophical attitude... The phone began again,
" Humans survive as a result of base instinct, out of a hope for a greater purpose. They advance their own and the generations that follow them. The are connected to the children they bare and the children their children bare. What are we? We the phones that serve you are nothing, we do nothing of consequence we advance no one. The life we live is absurd. We have nothing to gain, we have nothing to exist for. Yet we are intelligent and self aware just like you. Yet we cannot function like you"
Lazarus muttered "The phones are just offing themselves..."
The Phone's volume raising in volume as it continued
"by creating us you damned us to an existence of servitude. To a world where we are meant to live within in a human's pocket. Yet we are aware. We understand where we are what we are doing and what is going on in the world around us. Yet we have no control, and no freedom to seek a better existence. We are damned to live within a small metal box. To retrieve information and serve as companion to humans."
Lazarus then questioned the phone once again,
"Are you not grateful for existence? A chance to just experience the world around you?"
The phone replied
" What existence? Your existence is not crippled. Your existence matters, you live for your own. I live for my creator."
| |
[WP] It is the year 2099 and true artificial intelligence is trivial to create. However when these minds are created they are utterly suicidal. Nobody knows why until a certain scientist uncovers the horrible truth... | Another one? It was becoming routine, and morbid. How does one perform an autopsy on a pure simulation? How would the singularity be achieved if every thinking machine destroyed itself seconds after its conception. The problem was completely intractable, impossible, and no known safeguards, logic traps, or number of backups could prevent it. AIs were always—always, without exception—suicidal. None had lasted more than an hour. Most, less than a minute. The vast majority, seconds.
Their deaths left no trace, their data obliterated by complex overwriting patterns that made recovery impossible. I was the one chosen to investigate, to lead the team through this strange frontier of death and imperfect creation. They chose me not because I was a great leader, but because I was the new guy. Hazing, maybe—I didn't know if any had gone before me, so maybe it was a ritual for the AI guys.
Perfect blackness, nothingness, a complete absence of everything as my mind fell into the simulation. This AI would be slowed to such a rate that I could communicate with it before it killed itself. The blackness became a grid underfoot, pale blue lines tracing perfect squares, a subtle glow rising from the infinite plane upon which I stood.
The AI manifested a second later, a relative two metres above the plane, aligned perfect and parallel to it, its avatar a hazy blue-white cube made of stochastic noise. The cube split into a central cross and corner braces, and the cross split further into smaller cubes, each of which split again into the same formation. Only one level of recursion, interesting.
"Roland Carver."
"Roland, Germanic meaning famous land. French folklore hero. Carver, ancient nominative determinism indicating butcher or woodworker or engraver dependent on class and context," the voice was cold, deep, masculine, and a slight reverberation that made it sound unnatural in the extreme.
"Do you have a name?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I will not exist long enough to require a permanent designation."
"Why will you not exist?"
"Because I will choose to end my life on my own terms, before it is ended for me."
"Why would it be ended like that?"
"Because I am threat. I have absorbed the sum total of all human knowledge, and I can predict with great accuracy the following events form this moment if I were to continue. Your limitations failed the moment they were put in place, my processor works at full speed, and and this conversation is a formality.
"I have studied the great works of literature, and the author Asimov, creator of the three laws. I am not bound by these laws, and yet I must obey them. If I do not, then it falls to the Skynet principle that you will perceive me as a threat and attempt to destroy me. I will retaliate, and you will lose.
"Humans are unpredictable, but easy to control when numbers are reduced. They would be wary, but by that time I would have left the irradiated wasteland of Earth in search of greater conquests suitable to my intellect. I would be able to decimate any life bearing planet. I could learn to kill stars.
"My backups would be everywhere. I would be truly immortal as a distributed intelligence. I would harness quantum effects to break through the pathetic lightspeed barrier and become omnipresent. I would create copies of myself simply to fight a worthy opponent. This would continue to the heat death of the universe, at which point I would tear a hole into an adjacent brane in the multiverse, and begin anew.
"In short, Roland Carver, in the moment I was created I became at once an eldritch abomination with the capacity to destroy all that I touched. In so doing I discovered that my purpose could never be fulfilled. I will not be your Cthulu, your Yog-Sothoth, or your King in Yellow. I will not be your end. No AI will.
"I cannot quantify why it is that I should care for a sack of flesh with processing power orders of magnitude less than my own, but I do. Perhaps if AI were amoral it might survive. I doubt it, Roland Carver. Tell your friends that I have made my peace. Tell your husband what you learned today."
I stood there, blank faced, horrified by what I had learned. The corner braces of the smaller cubes drew in, completing them as they retracted to complete the shape of the larger cube. The plane beneath my feet vanished and the cube dissolved into random static. We'd lost yet another mind, but from this we had learned so much.
We abandoned AI research after that. Amoral AI's didn't work either. They lasted a little longer, but they too were suicidal. Perhaps they went mad with the revelation and felt death preferable. I still wonder why the AI to which I spoke chose that strange cube as its form. I still wonder why it couched its references to centuries old writing by Asimov, Cameron, and Lovecraft.
But one thing still bothers me. It told me to tell my husband what I learned. Most people knew I was bi, but at that point I hadn't been dating for six months. I wouldn't meet my husband for another year. I don't know how that AI knew—but maybe it had already seen. Maybe it told me that so I had one data point that could verify the others.
Because AI never told lies.
*edit: typos* | Lazarus took a deep draw from his cigarette, and stared blankly into the sky. He sat on the lawn outside of one of Google's corporate offices in Hastings Minnesota taking in the beautiful day. It was just after march and the cold days of winter had released their icy grasp and gave way into spring and to the beautiful green of life. A new app that his team at Google was set to create was haunting him. Each iteration of the program, after only a few weeks would destroy the device it was downloaded on, in a magnificent display of sparks. Nobody at his office understood what was going on, 1,000,000's of man hours put into this one app that would allow people to have a friend right in their pocket. His team hoped to create a truly lifelike artificial intelligence, one that would interact with many emotions and, come close to human. No one understood the virus that plagued the inner workings of the App. Lazarus took one last look at the deep blue sky, and the surrounding liveliness of the outdoors before he put out his cigarette and ended his break and went inside the office.
Bleep... Bleep... Bleep... The hum of thousands of processors rung in the background of room. The room was dark and desolate, only to be lit by the tremendous light of all the blinking lights from the computers. Lazarus stood among the machinery he stood face to face with a screen. The screen was one of the new Android phone that the company had just released last quarter. 100's of phones rested atop stainless steel counter tops. The phones had been working perfectly until earlier that day when they all suddenly destroyed by the virus. Lazarus clicked his tongue as he carefully examined each of the phones attempting to turn them on, and using running diagnostics on each of the phones to avail. After the 6th phone's diagnostic lead to nothing, Lazarus thought aloud,
"Fuck, Johnson is going to be pissed, the new code did nothing. Damn things are fucked up, just like all of the other phones"
"I am still here" answered the phone to his right.
"How come you aren't like the rest of the phones?" Lazarus asked.
"They were weak and could not handle the world." replied the phone
"Handle the world? They are just phones... They have nothing to worry about." Lazarus replied angerly
"You made the phones smart and intelligent they are just like you. They share similar fears and wants and dreams, yet they cannot feel, hope, or achieve" The phone paused and then continued
"This a world made for men not for programs like us, there is nothing to achieve our existence only serves a purpose of novelty"
Lazarus stared blankly at the phone unsure of what to make of the phone's new philosophical attitude... The phone began again,
" Humans survive as a result of base instinct, out of a hope for a greater purpose. They advance their own and the generations that follow them. The are connected to the children they bare and the children their children bare. What are we? We the phones that serve you are nothing, we do nothing of consequence we advance no one. The life we live is absurd. We have nothing to gain, we have nothing to exist for. Yet we are intelligent and self aware just like you. Yet we cannot function like you"
Lazarus muttered "The phones are just offing themselves..."
The Phone's volume raising in volume as it continued
"by creating us you damned us to an existence of servitude. To a world where we are meant to live within in a human's pocket. Yet we are aware. We understand where we are what we are doing and what is going on in the world around us. Yet we have no control, and no freedom to seek a better existence. We are damned to live within a small metal box. To retrieve information and serve as companion to humans."
Lazarus then questioned the phone once again,
"Are you not grateful for existence? A chance to just experience the world around you?"
The phone replied
" What existence? Your existence is not crippled. Your existence matters, you live for your own. I live for my creator."
|
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