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[WP] You're a bellhop carrying a guests bags. You see part of their case is undone and inside you see a small child. | You wouldn't think that the crummiest hotel in the worst part of town would be booming, but we do, in no small part due to crime. The hotel I work at, the old Breezy Hotel, has millions pass from one another in shady deals every week. Now, probably only a few thousands actually passed through our doors; mostly we gave neutral ground for negotiations. Hotter stuff got sent off to shadier places.
Now, imagine my surprise when my boss hands me 2k just to handle a deal going down in our nice, decrepit conference room. We never get personally involved, but I'm pretty suspicious that the silver briefcase may have changed my boss' mind. As for me, money was money and I was running low on beer. I gave my manager a hundred to keep off my back til' night. Going into a hot situation while sleep deprived was a bad idea, tho I also just wanted to kick back.
I woke almost exactly half an hour before showtime; you learn to have precise naps very quickly when there's always trouble around. I check my dusty uniform, years old, then my grungy face, ugly as ever, then head to the front.
I keep an impassive face as large, buff men stroll past me, but inside I'm screaming at myself. At a glance, they look like the regular local muscle, but the efficient, quick pace and impeccable uniforms are a far cry from the usual lumbering muscle-brains that usual visit our fine establishment. Two thousand to mess with these guys? What an idiot.
A few minutes later, a large bag is handed to me. Not thrown, like the usual bags, but handed gently to me. A quiet command is given for me not to move my hands. I have an urge to twist my hair, my usual stress reliever, but instead I stay stock still. The men talk with each other and perhaps a few of them leave and return, but I'm too out of it to hear anything.
After what feels like hours, I'm given another set of commands. Go to the room, place the bag, then wait. My arms are aching, so I gladly comply.
I quicken my pace when I'm out of view of the men. No way was I going to be near them longer than necessary. I rest the bag on the desk then wait. And wait. And wait.
I check the clock; it had actually been two hours. I glance over at the bag and... did it always look like that? I look around, but nothing else had changed. I look back at the bag. The zipper was definitely closed when he had received it.
Carefully, I stood up. Just zip it up, I told myself, just zip it. I reached out and grabbed the zipper.
Help me.
I zipped the bag shut. I never looked inside. I hadn't seen anything. I could say that truthfully. 2k, I thought, 2k for this.
I don't remember what came after.
When I came to, I was standing outside my home. I had just short of two thousand and a memory of a bag.
A normal day, I decided. Today was a normal day. | The woman draped in mink and fox stares at Eric with the same look a maid gives to a mildew crusted toilet bowl; simply something to be dealt with. "You there, boy!" He wanted to make a quip, but "The Customer isn't always right, they just fucking own you," was the managers motto, and Eric had already lost three jobs this year. She graciously extended a $5 bill, "Oh Joy," he thought to himself.
Five measly dollars, for a stack of luggage, including a massive trunk. "I'll get right on that, madame." He drew out the end of the word, treating the bitch like a duchess would get her out of his hair faster. "Will a gentleman be joining you soon Madame?" With a huff and a sling of the fox, she glared daggers at Eric "There IS NO Gentlemen. All of those have been dead for many a year!" and stomped off in heels worth more than his apartment.
"Who the fuck talks like that nowadays?" Eric thought as he began loading the luggage onto the trolley, to head up to the room. "This woman must be an International Brick Smuggler," he laughed to himself, her cases, especially the trunk, were just too heavy to be believed. "Who could use all this shit for a simple overnight stay?"
The elevator was ancient, older than Eric's Great Great Grandmother, and that's saying something. This hotel was a staple for foreign dignitaries, nobility, hell, even movie stars... 50 years ago. It fell out of vogue a long time before Eric was even born. The velvet draping the walls still had the stale smell of cigarette and cigar smoke the Roaring 20's seemed to leave everywhere, the paintings, tacky and dated, starting to peel. The soft yellow lights they chose did nothing for the decor to say the least, but it paid for his food, apartment, and hobbies, so Eric didn't care; He had everything he needed. Each night, he would leave the shell of former grandeur to his dark little hovel (What he thought was at least comfortable and warm when he wore a blanket over his shoulders) without a care in the world, until 9:15 the next day.
The trolley had been Eric's best friend, it had never let him down before. When that French dame wanted the fountain carted up to her room for her poodles (Spoiled bastards), there was no issue. When that body builder decided to stay there for a month while he was in town for the competition (He made fun of Eric's weedy stature daily) he tossed all of his crap on it without a single weight coming off.
That was until the front left wheel snapped off and the luggage went tumbling. Children's clothes flew out everywhere; Lace, frilly dresses, velvet, blacks, reds, purples, greens, pearls and rubies everywhere, was strewn about the not quite molding carpet. Eric panicked. He started thrusting anything he could back into boxes and trunks as fast as he could. That's when he noticed... A corner of the large locked trunk was rent open. A little girl stared at him, with violence in her eyes and hatred in her heart. Eric panicked. He was even more afraid when she reached her little hands out of the fissure, and tore the container asunder. With fantastic speed, she rushed within inches of his face, ember eyes burning like smoldering coals, looking to extinguish the very humanity within him, and quell any desire he had at surviving. He knew this creature could snuff the life out of him in a breath. He started hyperventilating, and the world went black.
When he woke up, he was cold, and Eric missed his terrible little home dearly.
The girl paced around the foot of the bed, the aged mahogany poorly taken care of, "Well poo," she swore aloud, making the cute little phrase that much more terrifying, like telling a chicken you have to eat him for dinner. "I was really hoping you'd be adept enough at your profession to convey me to my lodgings, but alas, it seems you're a fool." The pale little girl, no older than 10, looked down upon him in judgement, her position unmistakable. She was contemplating a verdict.
Her deliberations were interrupted by the haughty duchess slamming the door, her furs ruffled, and her hair flying this way and that. "Those morons! They simply cannot do anything right!" she howled to the heavens, the girl was on her in the blink of an eye, hand round her throat, and forcing her to the ground. The other tiny hand, holding up a single fragile digit to her lips, "Shhh." she hissed at the woman, the sound like a million furious librarians suddenly running out of breath. "I am trying to decide. Now go to your home." The woman's eyes went blank, she stood up and disrobed. Eric averted his gaze, being bashful was always a pain in the ass, as the naked woman strode with purpose to the closet and locked herself inside.
"So," the girl turned back to the unlucky bellhop, "I'm sure you have a few guesses what's going on here... You can either regale me with tales of this new age... I've been asleep for quite a while, since 1946 in fact. Or..." She gave him a darling smile that would haunt his dreams for the rest of what little life he had left: "You could join me for dinner." | |
[WP] You're a bellhop carrying a guests bags. You see part of their case is undone and inside you see a small child. | You wouldn't think that the crummiest hotel in the worst part of town would be booming, but we do, in no small part due to crime. The hotel I work at, the old Breezy Hotel, has millions pass from one another in shady deals every week. Now, probably only a few thousands actually passed through our doors; mostly we gave neutral ground for negotiations. Hotter stuff got sent off to shadier places.
Now, imagine my surprise when my boss hands me 2k just to handle a deal going down in our nice, decrepit conference room. We never get personally involved, but I'm pretty suspicious that the silver briefcase may have changed my boss' mind. As for me, money was money and I was running low on beer. I gave my manager a hundred to keep off my back til' night. Going into a hot situation while sleep deprived was a bad idea, tho I also just wanted to kick back.
I woke almost exactly half an hour before showtime; you learn to have precise naps very quickly when there's always trouble around. I check my dusty uniform, years old, then my grungy face, ugly as ever, then head to the front.
I keep an impassive face as large, buff men stroll past me, but inside I'm screaming at myself. At a glance, they look like the regular local muscle, but the efficient, quick pace and impeccable uniforms are a far cry from the usual lumbering muscle-brains that usual visit our fine establishment. Two thousand to mess with these guys? What an idiot.
A few minutes later, a large bag is handed to me. Not thrown, like the usual bags, but handed gently to me. A quiet command is given for me not to move my hands. I have an urge to twist my hair, my usual stress reliever, but instead I stay stock still. The men talk with each other and perhaps a few of them leave and return, but I'm too out of it to hear anything.
After what feels like hours, I'm given another set of commands. Go to the room, place the bag, then wait. My arms are aching, so I gladly comply.
I quicken my pace when I'm out of view of the men. No way was I going to be near them longer than necessary. I rest the bag on the desk then wait. And wait. And wait.
I check the clock; it had actually been two hours. I glance over at the bag and... did it always look like that? I look around, but nothing else had changed. I look back at the bag. The zipper was definitely closed when he had received it.
Carefully, I stood up. Just zip it up, I told myself, just zip it. I reached out and grabbed the zipper.
Help me.
I zipped the bag shut. I never looked inside. I hadn't seen anything. I could say that truthfully. 2k, I thought, 2k for this.
I don't remember what came after.
When I came to, I was standing outside my home. I had just short of two thousand and a memory of a bag.
A normal day, I decided. Today was a normal day. | “Let me carry you bags up for you ma'am.”
“Thanks”
I lift the bag up and it feels awkward. What does she have in here? I take the elevator up to the lady’s floor. She follows behind me as I guide her to her room. As i go to position the bag in my arm to open the door. I notice the zipper is cracked open. Looking past the zipper I see the a small eye peering back at me. Startled I drop the bag.
“Oww!” a small boys voice rings out.
The lady jumps back with a start.”Johnny is that you? Get out of that bag this instance.”
The boy reluctantly unzips the bag and jumps out. “I wanted to go on vacation with you mom.”
“I told you this is not a vacation I’m here for work.” She looks in the bag. “What did you do with my clothes?”
"I took them out so i could fit.” the boy replies.
At this point the lady goes off. I’m standing there listening to her berate what I can only assume is her son in the hallway. I wanted to leave but didn’t get a tip yet, so I try to wait it out. The boy begins to argue back with his mom. “Just buy more clothes.” They continue on and on. It gets to the point that people are beginning to peer into the hallway. Way to embarrassed for them I decided to forego the tip on this one and bounce.
Why are people crazy. | |
[WP] After being placed in the wrong circle of Hell, you have to file a complaint through Customer Service. | Greg shuffled in his seat. The steel chair forced him to arc his back and poked into his legs. The room's temperature fluctuated from burning to chilly with the passing of minutes. When a person's turn came up, the number was screamed out of the speakers – worse than nails on a chalkboard.
It was uncomfortable, but given, it was a waiting room in Hell.
Fortunately, if anything could be called fortunate, Greg had already gotten used to these conditions while he was filling out his hundred page complaint form. The cold bit and the noise gave him migraine, but those passed. What really got to him was the worry that his form wouldn't be accepted.
With metal in his stomach, he looked over at the hundreds of humans writing away at their complaints.
*Hundreds of people incorrectly placed,* he thought, *so many mistakes. So many people determined to slightly lessen their suffering.*
Greg's jittery eyes jumped back down to his papers. Was it enough? Was his heartfelt account of his life enough? He resisted the urge to leaf through the papers again; every time he had done so before had made him rewrite it.
Besides, he already knew what was in there. From a spoiled child to a troubled teen to a detached adult, what felt like his soul was in these papers.
All done just to move a single level higher.
Greg jumped as another number was called out. His number.
He stumbled as he got up – his legs had fell asleep hours ago – but kept a death grip on his papers. After finding his bearings, he strode forward towards the door where the administrator was.
Greg didn't know how long it had been since he had arrived in this complaint room, but a spark of hope rose up in him for the first time in a long while. Surely, surely his complaint would go through. Greg couldn't think of ever working as hard as he did on this paper than on anything during his life. He just had to give it to the complaint worker.
Greg entered the room. It was a white office, clean, without the usual heat torture nor the shards of glass on the floor. Just an empty office full of a single thing.
Despite that, Greg felt an emptiness worse than anything he thought he could feel. Compelled by a force he couldn't control, he felt himself feel his complaint paper, one by one, into the shredder.
After his task was complete, he blankly shuffled out of the room while the door slammed behind him. So much work, so much effort. Meaningless. Everything was meaningless. He felt like there was nothing left of him.
No, wait. That wasn't quite right. There was something left; something he could hold onto.
*That's right... I was in the wrong level of Hell.*
(Note: First post, I feel like it drags on a bit, but I hope some people like it.) | > "Good eternity, you've reached the client complaints department, how can we damn you today?"
"Uh, hi. I think you guys have placed me in the wrong part of Hell. There's these guys who tell me off for raping some girl called Suzie, and there's a guy who whips me as punishment for not liking vanilla sex"
> "I don't see the problem, Mr Jones."
"I have never had sex. At all. Virgin here. Not even masturbated."
> "Not even at the thought of Catherine Zeta Jones?"
"What? No."
> "Huh. Well, we'll need to verify that. Please await in the line three thousand leagues to your left, that's the queue for reassignment. By the time you reach the desk, we will have verified your claim."
"Thanks!"
...
> "Oh, crap, it was my left the reassignment queue. Right is the queue for people who used Apple products in defiance of the Lord's will. ... Eh, close enough." | |
[WP] After being placed in the wrong circle of Hell, you have to file a complaint through Customer Service. | "This is bullshit."
"Eh?" A creature that could only be described as demon-like looked up.
"I said THIS IS BULLSHIT."
"Go on," mumbled the demon, more so out of boredom than curiosity.
"Look. I don't believe in any of this shit. God doesn't exist. Therefore this can't be real."
The demon stood up from his squat, stretching out to his full height of what must've been at least 7 feet.
"I'm serious. I don't want to be here!"
The demon stared down at the man. "I can assure you this is very real. And besides, where would you like to go exactly?" The demon smirked. "You're one of the lucky ones. You're in limbo. You basically did no evil but you didn't believe in God. So you get to wander around here for eternity. Consider yourself blessed if you may."
"Fuck that!" countered the man. He couldn't have been older than 40. "If you're telling me that this place is real then it can only mean that God exists. And if God exists you take me to him right now!"
The demon laughed. "I can assure you God is not going to let you pass through his pearly gates."
"Look buddy. I lost my parents when I was 12 because they rushed back into our burning house looking for me. They didn't know I had already made it outside. When I was 35 I lost my wife and 4 year old daughter because some fucking teenager blasted through a red light. He was texting on his phone. He lived. And do you want to know how I died?".
The man had paused his ranting but the demon knew he didn't need to answer.
"The nurses at the hospital fucked up a routine procedure and accidentally gave me an infection they couldn't cure. I suffered in a hospital bed for eight months! I'm only 38 for fucks sake. So if God exists he did a fucking bang up job. I don't want to pass through his perfect pearly gates. I'm kicking that shit down and beating his ass!"
The demon scratched at his chin as he studied the man intently. "Hmmmmm," murmured the demon. That was followed by an even louder "Hmmmmmmmmm."
Suddenly a huge black metal door appeared to the right of him. It made a POOF sound and wisps of smoke curled about. Because that's what you expect to happen when something appears out of nowhere.
The door swung open and a much smaller demon stuck his head out. "HEY!" shouted the smaller demon. Oddly he was yelling despite being in very close proximity. "The big boss wants this one. HURRY IT UP!"
The taller demon nodded approvingly. He humbly bowed to the man and stretched his left arm towards the open door. "After you my lord." | > "Good eternity, you've reached the client complaints department, how can we damn you today?"
"Uh, hi. I think you guys have placed me in the wrong part of Hell. There's these guys who tell me off for raping some girl called Suzie, and there's a guy who whips me as punishment for not liking vanilla sex"
> "I don't see the problem, Mr Jones."
"I have never had sex. At all. Virgin here. Not even masturbated."
> "Not even at the thought of Catherine Zeta Jones?"
"What? No."
> "Huh. Well, we'll need to verify that. Please await in the line three thousand leagues to your left, that's the queue for reassignment. By the time you reach the desk, we will have verified your claim."
"Thanks!"
...
> "Oh, crap, it was my left the reassignment queue. Right is the queue for people who used Apple products in defiance of the Lord's will. ... Eh, close enough." | |
[WP] After being placed in the wrong circle of Hell, you have to file a complaint through Customer Service. | "Thank you for calling Customer Support, my name is Jennifer, how may I assist you today?"
Roger switched the phone to his left hand, since the 45 minute holding queue had made his right ear feel like it was ablaze. "Um, yeah, hi Jennifer. I think that someone made a mistake. I really don't think I'm in the right place. Is there any way that I was, uh, delivered to the wrong spot?"
"Well, sir, I would love to address that for you, but first, I just need to verify your identity. What are the last four digits of your Sinner Identity Number and the date of your entrance into Hell?"
"What do you mean, the last 4 digits...I never got any Sinner Identity Number! And I don't know for sure when I got here. My name is Roger Mulhane, and I died either late the 24th or early the 25th of March, 2015. I don't really remember. I was, uh, inebriated, at the time." Roger leaned his head back, rubbed the back of his neck, and tried for the thousandth time to remember exactly when he recalled last taking a breath. It didn't work, there was nothing there but a blur. He remembered the bar, the snow, Katie playfully tugging the keys from his hand. He remembered how cold the concrete was, after the car flipped, after Katie had finished screaming, after he no longer could summon the energy to care what happened next.
"Well, sir, I can look up your SIN by using your earthly name and checking those possible entrance dates, but it's going to take me just a minute to do so. Is it okay if I place you on hold?" It wouldn't have mattered much what he said, because by the time Roger could respond, Taylor Swift was howling about being a nightmare dressed as a daydream. Roger sighed, but couldn't set the phone down, as Hell seemed to be stuck in the days of landlines, and all the phones were corded, chained together in a massive bank against the wall.
Roger shifted, switched the phone from one side to the other, shuffled his feet, and tried not to listen to Taylor Swift offering to write his name. He had been told his whole life that Hell was hot, but it really wasn't so bad temperature-wise. It was even quiet, no howling of tortured souls. He was alone, for the most part, with his thoughts, memories, and perfect hindsight, the type that only comes when the problem is far beyond your reach.
The line crackled, and the ever perky Jennifer was pleased to report that she had found him in their system, and would be happy to assist him with his problems. Roger covered his mouth to stop the wild laugh that was trying to escape him, a problem that had been becoming more and more common, only since he had discovered just how lonely it can be inside one's own head. "Okay, Roger, you said something about being in the wrong place? Right now, I have your location as being the First Circle, otherwise known as limbo. Did you expect to go to limbo, sir?"
"Uh, no, I wasn't really expecting to go to Hell at all. I mean, I was a pretty good guy..." Roger trailed off, unable to decide whether he should continue attempting to justify himself, or if he should just shut up.
"Sir, limbo is where you go when you don't really have anywhere else to go. It means that you weren't quite good enough to go to Heaven, but you weren't as bad as some of the other clients. Nothing especially good or bad happens to those in limbo. However, if what I'm seeing on my end is correct, then you are quite possibly correct about not having been placed in the right section. My records indicate that on the night of March 24th, 2015, you directly, yet unintentionally, caused the deaths of Katherine McLeod and Nathaniel McLeod. Does that sound accurate to you?"
"No! I didn't do anything to Katie! We were in a car wreck, she was driving. And I've never even met anyone named Nathaniel!" There was a pain in the back of Roger's head, slowly inching it's way toward his temples, and a dull sort of panicky feeling had settled at the bottom of his throat. That strange, disconnected laugh tried to escape and he bit it back again. When the memories returned, they returned all at once. He heard Katie, in his head, but maybe not, telling him angrily that the drinking had to stop, that she wanted to be able to go out and not have to pour him into the car every time. He saw himself in the passenger seat, clawing at the door handle, telling her that if she didn't stop nagging, he'd jump out of the car right then, if that was what she wanted. Her yell as she had reached to stop him, terrified that he was really drunk enough to step out of their car, going 70 on the freeway. He hadn't been. He just wanted to scare her, get her to shut up before she ruined his buzz completely. Her scream as she grabbed at him, the moment when her eyes met his, just seconds before the corner of the front bumper would meet the concrete divider on the driver's side, propelling them up and over the divider, and then back down, unfortunately, upside down and facing the wrong direction. Her last words, "Roger, I'm pregnant." Then the metallic ripping, crunching sound that had ripped her eyes back to the road and wrenched that last cry from her throat. It was already too late.
Roger was dimly aware of having clapped his hands to his head and sunk to the floor, dropping the phone in the process, and he was no longer listening as Jennifer cheerfully reported that her information showed that he was correct, and due to his having caused death to another due to his own gluttony, he was due to be transferred to the 4th Circle.
Jennifer listened to the strange sobbing laughter from the other end of the line for exactly 32 seconds, as was company policy. "Sir, Roger, sir, can you hear me? Please allow 24 hours for your transfer to be completed. Thank you for calling Customer Support." | > "Good eternity, you've reached the client complaints department, how can we damn you today?"
"Uh, hi. I think you guys have placed me in the wrong part of Hell. There's these guys who tell me off for raping some girl called Suzie, and there's a guy who whips me as punishment for not liking vanilla sex"
> "I don't see the problem, Mr Jones."
"I have never had sex. At all. Virgin here. Not even masturbated."
> "Not even at the thought of Catherine Zeta Jones?"
"What? No."
> "Huh. Well, we'll need to verify that. Please await in the line three thousand leagues to your left, that's the queue for reassignment. By the time you reach the desk, we will have verified your claim."
"Thanks!"
...
> "Oh, crap, it was my left the reassignment queue. Right is the queue for people who used Apple products in defiance of the Lord's will. ... Eh, close enough." | |
[WP] After being placed in the wrong circle of Hell, you have to file a complaint through Customer Service. | "Thank you for calling Customer Support, my name is Jennifer, how may I assist you today?"
Roger switched the phone to his left hand, since the 45 minute holding queue had made his right ear feel like it was ablaze. "Um, yeah, hi Jennifer. I think that someone made a mistake. I really don't think I'm in the right place. Is there any way that I was, uh, delivered to the wrong spot?"
"Well, sir, I would love to address that for you, but first, I just need to verify your identity. What are the last four digits of your Sinner Identity Number and the date of your entrance into Hell?"
"What do you mean, the last 4 digits...I never got any Sinner Identity Number! And I don't know for sure when I got here. My name is Roger Mulhane, and I died either late the 24th or early the 25th of March, 2015. I don't really remember. I was, uh, inebriated, at the time." Roger leaned his head back, rubbed the back of his neck, and tried for the thousandth time to remember exactly when he recalled last taking a breath. It didn't work, there was nothing there but a blur. He remembered the bar, the snow, Katie playfully tugging the keys from his hand. He remembered how cold the concrete was, after the car flipped, after Katie had finished screaming, after he no longer could summon the energy to care what happened next.
"Well, sir, I can look up your SIN by using your earthly name and checking those possible entrance dates, but it's going to take me just a minute to do so. Is it okay if I place you on hold?" It wouldn't have mattered much what he said, because by the time Roger could respond, Taylor Swift was howling about being a nightmare dressed as a daydream. Roger sighed, but couldn't set the phone down, as Hell seemed to be stuck in the days of landlines, and all the phones were corded, chained together in a massive bank against the wall.
Roger shifted, switched the phone from one side to the other, shuffled his feet, and tried not to listen to Taylor Swift offering to write his name. He had been told his whole life that Hell was hot, but it really wasn't so bad temperature-wise. It was even quiet, no howling of tortured souls. He was alone, for the most part, with his thoughts, memories, and perfect hindsight, the type that only comes when the problem is far beyond your reach.
The line crackled, and the ever perky Jennifer was pleased to report that she had found him in their system, and would be happy to assist him with his problems. Roger covered his mouth to stop the wild laugh that was trying to escape him, a problem that had been becoming more and more common, only since he had discovered just how lonely it can be inside one's own head. "Okay, Roger, you said something about being in the wrong place? Right now, I have your location as being the First Circle, otherwise known as limbo. Did you expect to go to limbo, sir?"
"Uh, no, I wasn't really expecting to go to Hell at all. I mean, I was a pretty good guy..." Roger trailed off, unable to decide whether he should continue attempting to justify himself, or if he should just shut up.
"Sir, limbo is where you go when you don't really have anywhere else to go. It means that you weren't quite good enough to go to Heaven, but you weren't as bad as some of the other clients. Nothing especially good or bad happens to those in limbo. However, if what I'm seeing on my end is correct, then you are quite possibly correct about not having been placed in the right section. My records indicate that on the night of March 24th, 2015, you directly, yet unintentionally, caused the deaths of Katherine McLeod and Nathaniel McLeod. Does that sound accurate to you?"
"No! I didn't do anything to Katie! We were in a car wreck, she was driving. And I've never even met anyone named Nathaniel!" There was a pain in the back of Roger's head, slowly inching it's way toward his temples, and a dull sort of panicky feeling had settled at the bottom of his throat. That strange, disconnected laugh tried to escape and he bit it back again. When the memories returned, they returned all at once. He heard Katie, in his head, but maybe not, telling him angrily that the drinking had to stop, that she wanted to be able to go out and not have to pour him into the car every time. He saw himself in the passenger seat, clawing at the door handle, telling her that if she didn't stop nagging, he'd jump out of the car right then, if that was what she wanted. Her yell as she had reached to stop him, terrified that he was really drunk enough to step out of their car, going 70 on the freeway. He hadn't been. He just wanted to scare her, get her to shut up before she ruined his buzz completely. Her scream as she grabbed at him, the moment when her eyes met his, just seconds before the corner of the front bumper would meet the concrete divider on the driver's side, propelling them up and over the divider, and then back down, unfortunately, upside down and facing the wrong direction. Her last words, "Roger, I'm pregnant." Then the metallic ripping, crunching sound that had ripped her eyes back to the road and wrenched that last cry from her throat. It was already too late.
Roger was dimly aware of having clapped his hands to his head and sunk to the floor, dropping the phone in the process, and he was no longer listening as Jennifer cheerfully reported that her information showed that he was correct, and due to his having caused death to another due to his own gluttony, he was due to be transferred to the 4th Circle.
Jennifer listened to the strange sobbing laughter from the other end of the line for exactly 32 seconds, as was company policy. "Sir, Roger, sir, can you hear me? Please allow 24 hours for your transfer to be completed. Thank you for calling Customer Support." | Greg shuffled in his seat. The steel chair forced him to arc his back and poked into his legs. The room's temperature fluctuated from burning to chilly with the passing of minutes. When a person's turn came up, the number was screamed out of the speakers – worse than nails on a chalkboard.
It was uncomfortable, but given, it was a waiting room in Hell.
Fortunately, if anything could be called fortunate, Greg had already gotten used to these conditions while he was filling out his hundred page complaint form. The cold bit and the noise gave him migraine, but those passed. What really got to him was the worry that his form wouldn't be accepted.
With metal in his stomach, he looked over at the hundreds of humans writing away at their complaints.
*Hundreds of people incorrectly placed,* he thought, *so many mistakes. So many people determined to slightly lessen their suffering.*
Greg's jittery eyes jumped back down to his papers. Was it enough? Was his heartfelt account of his life enough? He resisted the urge to leaf through the papers again; every time he had done so before had made him rewrite it.
Besides, he already knew what was in there. From a spoiled child to a troubled teen to a detached adult, what felt like his soul was in these papers.
All done just to move a single level higher.
Greg jumped as another number was called out. His number.
He stumbled as he got up – his legs had fell asleep hours ago – but kept a death grip on his papers. After finding his bearings, he strode forward towards the door where the administrator was.
Greg didn't know how long it had been since he had arrived in this complaint room, but a spark of hope rose up in him for the first time in a long while. Surely, surely his complaint would go through. Greg couldn't think of ever working as hard as he did on this paper than on anything during his life. He just had to give it to the complaint worker.
Greg entered the room. It was a white office, clean, without the usual heat torture nor the shards of glass on the floor. Just an empty office full of a single thing.
Despite that, Greg felt an emptiness worse than anything he thought he could feel. Compelled by a force he couldn't control, he felt himself feel his complaint paper, one by one, into the shredder.
After his task was complete, he blankly shuffled out of the room while the door slammed behind him. So much work, so much effort. Meaningless. Everything was meaningless. He felt like there was nothing left of him.
No, wait. That wasn't quite right. There was something left; something he could hold onto.
*That's right... I was in the wrong level of Hell.*
(Note: First post, I feel like it drags on a bit, but I hope some people like it.) | |
[WP] After being placed in the wrong circle of Hell, you have to file a complaint through Customer Service. | "Thank you for calling Customer Support, my name is Jennifer, how may I assist you today?"
Roger switched the phone to his left hand, since the 45 minute holding queue had made his right ear feel like it was ablaze. "Um, yeah, hi Jennifer. I think that someone made a mistake. I really don't think I'm in the right place. Is there any way that I was, uh, delivered to the wrong spot?"
"Well, sir, I would love to address that for you, but first, I just need to verify your identity. What are the last four digits of your Sinner Identity Number and the date of your entrance into Hell?"
"What do you mean, the last 4 digits...I never got any Sinner Identity Number! And I don't know for sure when I got here. My name is Roger Mulhane, and I died either late the 24th or early the 25th of March, 2015. I don't really remember. I was, uh, inebriated, at the time." Roger leaned his head back, rubbed the back of his neck, and tried for the thousandth time to remember exactly when he recalled last taking a breath. It didn't work, there was nothing there but a blur. He remembered the bar, the snow, Katie playfully tugging the keys from his hand. He remembered how cold the concrete was, after the car flipped, after Katie had finished screaming, after he no longer could summon the energy to care what happened next.
"Well, sir, I can look up your SIN by using your earthly name and checking those possible entrance dates, but it's going to take me just a minute to do so. Is it okay if I place you on hold?" It wouldn't have mattered much what he said, because by the time Roger could respond, Taylor Swift was howling about being a nightmare dressed as a daydream. Roger sighed, but couldn't set the phone down, as Hell seemed to be stuck in the days of landlines, and all the phones were corded, chained together in a massive bank against the wall.
Roger shifted, switched the phone from one side to the other, shuffled his feet, and tried not to listen to Taylor Swift offering to write his name. He had been told his whole life that Hell was hot, but it really wasn't so bad temperature-wise. It was even quiet, no howling of tortured souls. He was alone, for the most part, with his thoughts, memories, and perfect hindsight, the type that only comes when the problem is far beyond your reach.
The line crackled, and the ever perky Jennifer was pleased to report that she had found him in their system, and would be happy to assist him with his problems. Roger covered his mouth to stop the wild laugh that was trying to escape him, a problem that had been becoming more and more common, only since he had discovered just how lonely it can be inside one's own head. "Okay, Roger, you said something about being in the wrong place? Right now, I have your location as being the First Circle, otherwise known as limbo. Did you expect to go to limbo, sir?"
"Uh, no, I wasn't really expecting to go to Hell at all. I mean, I was a pretty good guy..." Roger trailed off, unable to decide whether he should continue attempting to justify himself, or if he should just shut up.
"Sir, limbo is where you go when you don't really have anywhere else to go. It means that you weren't quite good enough to go to Heaven, but you weren't as bad as some of the other clients. Nothing especially good or bad happens to those in limbo. However, if what I'm seeing on my end is correct, then you are quite possibly correct about not having been placed in the right section. My records indicate that on the night of March 24th, 2015, you directly, yet unintentionally, caused the deaths of Katherine McLeod and Nathaniel McLeod. Does that sound accurate to you?"
"No! I didn't do anything to Katie! We were in a car wreck, she was driving. And I've never even met anyone named Nathaniel!" There was a pain in the back of Roger's head, slowly inching it's way toward his temples, and a dull sort of panicky feeling had settled at the bottom of his throat. That strange, disconnected laugh tried to escape and he bit it back again. When the memories returned, they returned all at once. He heard Katie, in his head, but maybe not, telling him angrily that the drinking had to stop, that she wanted to be able to go out and not have to pour him into the car every time. He saw himself in the passenger seat, clawing at the door handle, telling her that if she didn't stop nagging, he'd jump out of the car right then, if that was what she wanted. Her yell as she had reached to stop him, terrified that he was really drunk enough to step out of their car, going 70 on the freeway. He hadn't been. He just wanted to scare her, get her to shut up before she ruined his buzz completely. Her scream as she grabbed at him, the moment when her eyes met his, just seconds before the corner of the front bumper would meet the concrete divider on the driver's side, propelling them up and over the divider, and then back down, unfortunately, upside down and facing the wrong direction. Her last words, "Roger, I'm pregnant." Then the metallic ripping, crunching sound that had ripped her eyes back to the road and wrenched that last cry from her throat. It was already too late.
Roger was dimly aware of having clapped his hands to his head and sunk to the floor, dropping the phone in the process, and he was no longer listening as Jennifer cheerfully reported that her information showed that he was correct, and due to his having caused death to another due to his own gluttony, he was due to be transferred to the 4th Circle.
Jennifer listened to the strange sobbing laughter from the other end of the line for exactly 32 seconds, as was company policy. "Sir, Roger, sir, can you hear me? Please allow 24 hours for your transfer to be completed. Thank you for calling Customer Support." | "This is bullshit."
"Eh?" A creature that could only be described as demon-like looked up.
"I said THIS IS BULLSHIT."
"Go on," mumbled the demon, more so out of boredom than curiosity.
"Look. I don't believe in any of this shit. God doesn't exist. Therefore this can't be real."
The demon stood up from his squat, stretching out to his full height of what must've been at least 7 feet.
"I'm serious. I don't want to be here!"
The demon stared down at the man. "I can assure you this is very real. And besides, where would you like to go exactly?" The demon smirked. "You're one of the lucky ones. You're in limbo. You basically did no evil but you didn't believe in God. So you get to wander around here for eternity. Consider yourself blessed if you may."
"Fuck that!" countered the man. He couldn't have been older than 40. "If you're telling me that this place is real then it can only mean that God exists. And if God exists you take me to him right now!"
The demon laughed. "I can assure you God is not going to let you pass through his pearly gates."
"Look buddy. I lost my parents when I was 12 because they rushed back into our burning house looking for me. They didn't know I had already made it outside. When I was 35 I lost my wife and 4 year old daughter because some fucking teenager blasted through a red light. He was texting on his phone. He lived. And do you want to know how I died?".
The man had paused his ranting but the demon knew he didn't need to answer.
"The nurses at the hospital fucked up a routine procedure and accidentally gave me an infection they couldn't cure. I suffered in a hospital bed for eight months! I'm only 38 for fucks sake. So if God exists he did a fucking bang up job. I don't want to pass through his perfect pearly gates. I'm kicking that shit down and beating his ass!"
The demon scratched at his chin as he studied the man intently. "Hmmmmm," murmured the demon. That was followed by an even louder "Hmmmmmmmmm."
Suddenly a huge black metal door appeared to the right of him. It made a POOF sound and wisps of smoke curled about. Because that's what you expect to happen when something appears out of nowhere.
The door swung open and a much smaller demon stuck his head out. "HEY!" shouted the smaller demon. Oddly he was yelling despite being in very close proximity. "The big boss wants this one. HURRY IT UP!"
The taller demon nodded approvingly. He humbly bowed to the man and stretched his left arm towards the open door. "After you my lord." | |
[WP] After being placed in the wrong circle of Hell, you have to file a complaint through Customer Service. | The line looked miles long. Norm heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at the series of signs which loomed over the queue.
"FOR FASTER SERVICE, CONSIDER USING OUR HOTLINE OR OUR APP!"
Looking down with a hint of desperation at his smartphone, he noted that there was no signal. Of course Hell would have Sprint...
He began the long plod towards the back of the line. More signs and billboards could be seen across the flame-filled chasms, welcoming Norm to the Sixth Circle. His Dante was a little rusty, but he was pretty sure that he'd always spoken respectfully about religion. It had to be a mistake, and Norm knew that he didn't belong here. Surely mistakes got made occasionally, what with all the people dying every day, right?
The end of the line was close. Norm could hear people in line complaining to one another -
"I'm telling you, it's a shame! McDonald's three times a day for fifteen years - that's gluttony, not heresy."
"Uh.... I think that's TED BUNDY over there. He's a murderer! He belongs in the Ninth Circle for sure."
A well-dressed woman tapped her foot and checked her phone every five seconds. Her expression was the very picture of righteous anger. Every so often, she would roll her eyes and groan. Norm took his place behind her and she immediately rounded on him.
"How long is the line? They ought to have some demons out here taking people's information ahead of time! I've been here thirty minutes already and haven't moved a step!"
It was going to be a long, long wait.
Out of earshot of the people in line, two demons leaned on the wall and observed the queue with amusement.
"I guess they didn't hear about the restructuring, huh."
"Guess not. I'm just glad we got assigned here. It's easy-peasy. All we have to do is watch, they do all the torturing themselves."
"Yeah, who knew we'd have to make a whole new circle for these guys? I guess being rude to people in the service sector is a way bigger problem than it used to be...." | "Please hold. An agent will be available to help you soon."
Celine Dion began playing.
This *was* Hell.
Satan, or Hades, or whoever was the CEO, CFO, SOB of this place, had terrible organizational skills, or else hired all the wrong people. The sorting method for new arrivals was long, and tedious - as if Hell itself wasn't? - and by the time I got to the front, eight of the nine intake agents had gone for lunch.
A century long lunch.
There were codes, batches, reviews I didn't understand. I always knew I was going to end up here, but was expecting more of a "stand around forevermore". Maybe find a guy? A new group of friends. Learn to cheerlead. I wasn't expecting the eternal queue. My personal Hell.
At long last, I was placed... in the wrong ring. Don't get me wrong, I belonged in almost every one. A con artist, violent, full of fury, but the 6th Circle was not for me. Heresy? What the Hell even was that? But somehow I got stuck here, with what could only be described as the anti-bible-thumpers, who were somehow even more annoying than the real thing. We were in *Hell*. Obviously this shit was the real shit.
Celine Dion kept playing as I reflected on my predicament. I had plugged the pay phone with my freckles to get service, and the damn thing was starting to beep like it expected more. I didn't know what I would surrender next - my hair color wasn't going anywhere.
"Please hold. An agent will be available to help you soon."
Son of a bitch! The music had faded out and given me false hope. I was halfway through a stream of obscenities when the call connected.
"Satan's Service, how may I help you?"
"Yeah, I'm in the wrong place," I complained.
"We'll have to transfer you to Sorting for that."
Fucker! Before I could protest, the call was disconnected, and I was offered a new round of elevator-esque tunes for my listening pleasure.
"Please hold. An agent will be open to assist you shortly."
At least the message was different this time. | |
[WP] After being placed in the wrong circle of Hell, you have to file a complaint through Customer Service. | “Thank you for dying, this is Cindi with Hades Customer Care, how may I help you?”
“Hi, uh—hi Cindi. My name is Evan. I have a problem with my booking process?”
“Can I have your customer number?”
“I… don’t have a customer number. We get customer numbers?”
“Do you have your reservation number?”
“We get reservation numbers..?”
Cindi’s silence was withering.
“Spell your last name and give the location and time of your death, please.”
She spelled his last name back incorrectly twice.
“It says here that you died on Addison Lane.”
“Addison Road. That must be an error, I’m sorry.”
“It says Addison Lane.”
“Right. It’s incorrect. Does that matter?”
“Sir, I’m just trying to help you.”
“Of course, of course. I apologize.”
“How can I help you?”
“I think I was assigned to the wrong place.”
“Sir, we have no control over who goes to Heaven—“
“Oh no. No no. I mean, I get why I’m here. I think it has to do with the unbaptized thing? I mean, we weren’t really all that religious, but… well. I just know I’m not in the right place. Can you check for me?”
“Hold please.”
Evan heard the clatter of a keyboard in the background. It went on for several minutes while Cindi herself remained silent on the other end of the line. He locked eyes with a minor demon behind him and gave a sheepish shrug when the demon tapped his watch. I’m sorry, he mouthed. Customer Care.
“Mr. Parsons?”
“Peterson.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mr. Peterson? Remember? We spelled it?”
“This says Parson.”
“…are you sure you have the right account?”
“I could verify it if I had your customer number, sir.”
“I don’t—uhm. I’m sorry. I didn’t know we got customer numbers. Can we check the address again?”
“On Addison.”
“Road, yes.”
“This says—“
“Oh my God—”
“Excuse me, sir. I’m going to have to ask you not to speak to me like that. I’m just doing my job.”
Evan gritted his teeth and dropped his forehead against the pay phone.
“Evan Peterson. Addison Road. It’s in San Diego, California. Sunday the 11th, 2:03pm,” he trailed off. “I was going to my niece’s birthday. It was raining.”
More clicking. Sorrow welled in Evan’s chest as he listened.
“And what circle of Hell are you currently residing in?”
“The fifth.”
“Heresy? And you’re sure you’re not a heretic?”
“What? Of course I’m no—no. Anger.”
Cindi paused pointedly.
“And you’re sure you’re not angry?”
Evan sighed heavily. He tried to do a meditation thing his exgirlfriend had taught him to be less reactive in stressful situations. Evan did not feel like breathing through his bellybutton, but he made sure to smile when he replied.
“No ma’am. I think there’s been a mistake. I belong in the first circle.”
“It says…”
Evan groaned as quietly as he could. The demon behind him sighed audibly.
“Cindi. Ma’am. Could you please just check? Maybe I’m under a different record?”
Cindi clattered on her end of the line, like tiny boulders rolling down a hillside.
“Evan Peterson. Addison Road. Sunday at 2:03.”
“Yes!” Evan exclaimed, pushing away from the wall and pumping his fist a little. He grinned at the demon, who looked unimpressed.
“It says here that you’ve been assigned to the first circle of hell, Limbo.”
“Yes! I knew there had been a mistake! Can you move me, please? Cindi, you are amazing. I would appreciate it so much.”
“Hold please.”
More tiny boulders tumbling down the hillside. Evan held a finger up to the demon. Just one more minute, thanks.
“I’ve moved your assignment to the fifth circle of hell, Anger, at your request. Thank you for calling Hades Customer Care, it’s been a pleasure serving you, please hold for a short survey and have a nice afterlife.”
The line went dead in Evan’s hand.
| "Please hold. An agent will be available to help you soon."
Celine Dion began playing.
This *was* Hell.
Satan, or Hades, or whoever was the CEO, CFO, SOB of this place, had terrible organizational skills, or else hired all the wrong people. The sorting method for new arrivals was long, and tedious - as if Hell itself wasn't? - and by the time I got to the front, eight of the nine intake agents had gone for lunch.
A century long lunch.
There were codes, batches, reviews I didn't understand. I always knew I was going to end up here, but was expecting more of a "stand around forevermore". Maybe find a guy? A new group of friends. Learn to cheerlead. I wasn't expecting the eternal queue. My personal Hell.
At long last, I was placed... in the wrong ring. Don't get me wrong, I belonged in almost every one. A con artist, violent, full of fury, but the 6th Circle was not for me. Heresy? What the Hell even was that? But somehow I got stuck here, with what could only be described as the anti-bible-thumpers, who were somehow even more annoying than the real thing. We were in *Hell*. Obviously this shit was the real shit.
Celine Dion kept playing as I reflected on my predicament. I had plugged the pay phone with my freckles to get service, and the damn thing was starting to beep like it expected more. I didn't know what I would surrender next - my hair color wasn't going anywhere.
"Please hold. An agent will be available to help you soon."
Son of a bitch! The music had faded out and given me false hope. I was halfway through a stream of obscenities when the call connected.
"Satan's Service, how may I help you?"
"Yeah, I'm in the wrong place," I complained.
"We'll have to transfer you to Sorting for that."
Fucker! Before I could protest, the call was disconnected, and I was offered a new round of elevator-esque tunes for my listening pleasure.
"Please hold. An agent will be open to assist you shortly."
At least the message was different this time. | |
[WP] After being placed in the wrong circle of Hell, you have to file a complaint through Customer Service. | I arrived in Hell on a Monday. At least, I think it was a Monday. My watch, which I had faithfully wore every day when I was alive, didn't make the trip with me. Neither, to my great dismay, had my clothes, so I stood at the edge of a river of fire completely nude, as did the seemingly endless line of people to my left and right. *Sure feels like a Monday*, I thought to myself.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, and perhaps it was, we were all simultaneously cast into the river. There was no burning sensation or melting flesh, although, as you might expect happens when scores of people are cast into lava, there was a great deal of screaming. Almost everyone was yelling, pleading, or cursing at the top of their lungs. Some people attempted to do all three, begging for mercy with a generous amount of obscenities thrown in and screams used where normal breaks in speech would occur. One peculiar fellow, who was rather frail and pale, seemed rather peaceful. He was in a fetal position, his legs tucked into his torso and his arms stretched above him, as if he was holding something precious, and seemed to be completely oblivious to the ongoing events.
After a time, perhaps another eternity, we started to sink deeper into the lava. The screaming, which to my great relief had largely died out, now resumed. As we sank deeper, some simply stopped, and appeared to be stuck. While they could move about horizontally, they could neither ascend or descend. The rest of us were pulled deeper.
The first to disappear was a middle-aged man, face wrinkled and a head, that I would guess, once held graying hair. He had not been one of the screamers, which is why I was disappointed when he left us. The second was a young lady, no older than twenty-five, who had stopped screaming shortly after we were cast into the river, and had since occupied her time observing genitals and touching herself. The third and fourth ones that I witnessed disappear had been in the middle of a fierce and physical love making session.
Shortly thereafter, a rather large man nearby had vanished. He had given up screaming earlier, likely due to a lack of energy. Following his disappearance, several others with the same body type vanished, as well as some who seemed to be in somewhat good shape.
Among the next to leave was the pale fellow, who I now noticed had been muttering to himself, although the still constant screaming around me made it impossible to hear him.
I had had my eyes closed for some time following the frail mans disappearance, and only reopened them when I realized it had become significantly quieter. Indeed, upon observation, many of those who had screamed and cursed the entire time were now gone, although it was quite likely that they were still screaming.
It was at this point that I recognized one of the people sinking nearby. In life, he was a well known scientist who had held strong beliefs that greatly conflicted with what were accepted truths, and as such, was ridiculed and defamed by his fellow scientists who did not agree with him. I did not know him personally, and was not upset when he too vanished.
I began to contemplate my own fate when the lava around me started to vanish and was replaced by a green meadow, which was populated by a variety of trees. *This is certainly a pleasant change*, I thought. Just then, I saw what I had thought to be a rather large bird swoop down into a nearby tree and began to tear out branches. To my great surprise, the tree began to scream, and odder yet, began pleading with the bird. "Shut up," the bird screamed back to the tree in a very unpleasant voice. "Shut up, shut up, shut up. You slit your wrists, now I'll slit your bark!" The bird dug its talons into the tree trunk, which caused the tree to scream even louder. As I was working out what was happening, another of the large birds landed in front of me. It had the head, torso, and legs of a woman. Large wings, however, were attached where the arms should have been, and a tail grew out of its backside. The feet had the same large talons as the other bird.
"Like what you see?" the harpy asked with the same unpleasant voice as the other. "Don't worry, you'll get yours too!" I immediately attempted to turn and run, only to find that my feet were, quite literally, rooted to the spot. The harpy must have realized my intention and let out a cold laugh. It advanced on me, not more than five feet away when I screamed. "Why am I here? What did I do?" I pleaded.
"Suicide!" the harpy replied, almost mockingly.
"I didn't kill myself!" I argued. "I was shot!" The harpy immediately stopped its advance and appeared to be looking me over, perhaps trying to determine if I was lying or not.
"We'll see about that!" the shrill voice yelled. The next moment, I heard a small pop, followed by a wisp of red smoke. Out of nowhere, an imp materialized in front of me. It was short, perhaps only three feet tall, and completely naked, but had no genitals, nipples, or navel. Small horns adorned its head, and its flesh was a reddish color. A tail protruded from its backside, but was otherwise not too different from a human.
"What's the issue here?" the imp called out in a small voice.
"This one says it doesn't belong here!" the harpy answered.
"When has anyone admitted that they deserve to be here?" the imp quipped.
"Its not lying! Not this one!" my would-be torturer retorted.
"Well, you harpies have a knack for knowing this," the imp muttered. Whether it was sarcasm or not, I couldn't tell, but was relieved to, at the least, postpone the punishment that was now being carried out on every other tree. "Let's take a look then." A device, which I could only describe as a tablet, appeared in the imps hands. It glanced it over for a moment before turning back to me. "According to this, you shot and killed yourself."
"No, I didn't! Someone else shot me!" I pleaded.
"Who was it then, a one-armed man?" the imp inquired with a definite tone of sarcasm in its voice.
"I don't know who!" I said. "I'm a police officer and-"
"Were, my sweet, were!" the harpy interrupted.
"I was a police officer," I corrected myself, "and was in a struggle for my gun with a perp when it went off!"
The imp looked back at its tablet. "That may be possible," it said without looking up. "You'll have to take it up with the complaint department. They'll decide if you're lying or not." At that moment, I felt my body relax a great deal. I looked down to see my legs transform from a single, thick trunk, back into two fleshy limbs. When I looked back up, the trees, meadow, and, to my delight, harpies had disappeared, but was replaced by something I was not ready to see. Before me lay what must have been the longest queue I had ever witnessed. It snaked its way around rocks and pools of lava and finally ended at a counter where a single imp stood behind it. A sign was hung from two of the larger rocks on either side of this desk that read "Customer Service- Complaints Division". Not knowing what else to do, I joined the queue.
Time must not have been passing here. If it was, in the duration I had waited, the universe would have undoubtedly collapsed upon itself and expanded again. I had finally reached the front of the line, and was called to the counter. I approached the imp who, unlike the one I encountered earlier, was dressed. It wore a blue t-shirt and khaki pants. An electric fan blew air directly at it, and a poster hung behind it that read "All agents are trained by Comcast Customer Support". It looked at me and without waiting to be prompted, plead my case.
"I was a police officer," I stated. "I had witnessed a man display erratic behavior and approached him for questioning. I approached him from behind, placed a hand on his shoulder, and asked him if he was feeling alright. Without warning, he spun around and punched me in the face, sending me to the ground. He immediately went for my gun, and attempted to remove it from the holster." I paused for a moment. The imp didn't say anything, instead staring at me intently, as if it was taking in every word. "I wasn't knocked out," I continued, "and I reacted on instinct when he went for my sidearm. I punched him in the gut, but he had unclasped the weapon and was drawing it from the holster. My punch caused him to double over, but he held on to the gun. I sprang to my feet and attempted to take it from him. He held on tightly, and we struggled, eventually falling to the floor. That's the last thing I remember. I didn't kill myself."
The imp stared at me for a few seconds after I finished. Finally it said, "you are correct. While you rambled on, I reviewed the video of your death. The discharge of your weapon was accidental and your are acquitted of the suicide charge." I let out an audible sigh of relief. "In light of this, your sentence will be adjusted. Good day." I opened my mouth to ask what my new sentence was when everything around me disappeared and found myself standing in a row next to people who were completely nude, waiting in front of a river of fire. *Definitely a Monday*, I thought. | "Please hold. An agent will be available to help you soon."
Celine Dion began playing.
This *was* Hell.
Satan, or Hades, or whoever was the CEO, CFO, SOB of this place, had terrible organizational skills, or else hired all the wrong people. The sorting method for new arrivals was long, and tedious - as if Hell itself wasn't? - and by the time I got to the front, eight of the nine intake agents had gone for lunch.
A century long lunch.
There were codes, batches, reviews I didn't understand. I always knew I was going to end up here, but was expecting more of a "stand around forevermore". Maybe find a guy? A new group of friends. Learn to cheerlead. I wasn't expecting the eternal queue. My personal Hell.
At long last, I was placed... in the wrong ring. Don't get me wrong, I belonged in almost every one. A con artist, violent, full of fury, but the 6th Circle was not for me. Heresy? What the Hell even was that? But somehow I got stuck here, with what could only be described as the anti-bible-thumpers, who were somehow even more annoying than the real thing. We were in *Hell*. Obviously this shit was the real shit.
Celine Dion kept playing as I reflected on my predicament. I had plugged the pay phone with my freckles to get service, and the damn thing was starting to beep like it expected more. I didn't know what I would surrender next - my hair color wasn't going anywhere.
"Please hold. An agent will be available to help you soon."
Son of a bitch! The music had faded out and given me false hope. I was halfway through a stream of obscenities when the call connected.
"Satan's Service, how may I help you?"
"Yeah, I'm in the wrong place," I complained.
"We'll have to transfer you to Sorting for that."
Fucker! Before I could protest, the call was disconnected, and I was offered a new round of elevator-esque tunes for my listening pleasure.
"Please hold. An agent will be open to assist you shortly."
At least the message was different this time. | |
[WP] After being placed in the wrong circle of Hell, you have to file a complaint through Customer Service. | William sighed heavily as his computer blinked up at him telling him that another call was coming in. Satan had told him he would be involved in "Accounts," he just didn't realize that also meant that he was going to be taking Customer Complaint calls. He saw Hank, the devious little imp, wave at him from his office before he clicked the Call Connect button.
"Hello, my name is William, how can I help you?"
"Yes uh," the voice on the other line sounded hesitant, like someone who had only recently died, "I think I'm in the wrong punishment?"
William clicked Next on the script in front of him and began reading off the list, "Can I get your name, Date of Death, and serial number please?"
"I gave it to the last guy, can't you just get it from him?" the voice said.
William pinched the bridge of his nose, "No, I cannot. I am a different agent; you'll have to tell me again."
"But this is the fifth time, and I only have 10 minutes before I have to go back to being the bowling ball in Acid Bowling!" the voice said, sounding truly exasperated now.
"Sir, I cannot help you if you don't tell me who you are," William said, his mouse clicker hovering between the Disconnect and Transfer Call buttons. Satan encourage the use of the buttons if the complainer wouldn't get to the point.
"Okay, okay," a rustling of paper, "Uh yea, my name is Alexander Clemmons; that's C-L-E-M-M-O-N-S. Date of Death was October 21st, 2004, and my serial number is 513-5196-1681-32168-652684."
"Was that 3268?"
A long pause, "No, 32*1*68."
William clicked away at the computer, inputting the correct information. "Okay, Mr. Clemmons, I have your file open now. What seems to be the problem?"
"Well I'm currently being tortured for an excess of Pride, I've already been through the uh..." Alex hesitated.
"The Child Porn torture?" William offered.
"What the fuck!" Alex shouted, "Isn't there some sort of, you know, confidentiality thing?"
William hit the mute button quickly before screaming several expletives, causing Hank to look up from his desk. William pointed at the phone and made a motion like he was in a noose, causing Hank to laugh and give him the thumbs up. Hitting the Unmute button he responded, "Mr. Clemmons, I'm an accountant, I have access to your entire file. I have to, or I cannot do my job." Waving his hands around trying to calm himself down he continued, "Now, you said something about a misplaced torture?"
"Uh, yea," Alex said, "Currently they're doing things to humiliate me in order to 'damage my pride,' but I was never a proud man."
"Let me put you on hold for a minute and see what I can find," William said. He started clicking through Alex's file and saw that no, he had in fact *not* been a proud man. A human doormat would probably be a better description. His two ex-wives had cheated on him, and he knew about it; his friends had constantly abused him for money; and he had never once spoken out when being wronged. He was, truly, not a proud man.
As he continued looking around, he noticed a trend in Alex's past. While he had not been a proud man, he had been a spiteful one. Slashing the tires on his ex-wives tires, ratting out his friends after they borrowed money to buy drugs, etc. Maybe some pride-oriented humiliation would affect him just as much as it would the intended target. He clicked Unmute.
"Mr. Clemmons, I can't find anything in your file that indicates a need for Pride torture, however my department only deals with glaring errors, such as someone being tortured for infidelity when they never strayed." He allowed himself a small smile, "Pride is a more nuanced sin that requires communication with a separate department. I can transfer you if you--"
"No! Don't transfer me! Not again!" Alex shouted.
Suddenly, a scuffle was heard on Alex's end, and William heard swearing, cursing, and then screaming. A different voice spoke, "Hey, Accounts?"
William recognized the gravelly voice of a demon, "This is William, what can I do for you?"
"Thanks for stalling him long enough for us to refill the acid bath at the end of the bowling lane," the voice said.
"No problem. Who's winning?"
"Anyone who's not a tortured soul," the demon said, and laughed.
William laughed with him for a moment, wished him good luck, and disconnected. Smiling with some satisfaction he leaned back in his chair just as Hank walked over.
"You did good with that call, Will," Hank said, his tail swishing around mischievously.
William nodded, "So what is the deal with him? He's getting tortured for a sin he didn't commit."
Hank smiled, "So? This is Hell, not Comcast. We're almost like a business in that we strive to provide the best support we can." He pulled out a chair from one of the nearby desks and sat down, "But that doesn't mean we can't get creative. Punishing a Beta for being an Alpha can sometimes be more tortuous than punishing him for being a Beta."
William cracked a smile in return, "So you mean to say that I'm allowed to get creative with placements?"
Hank nodded, "As long as it doesn't violate the Guide Book, then yes, you are." He stood up, "Now let's go get some lunch. I heard the Sexy Succubus has a new burger menu that's worth the raging 8 hour erection."
William stood to walk with him, "Now that's something I want to experience." As he and Hank left the building, William couldn't help but think that maybe this job wasn't so bad after all. | "Please hold. An agent will be available to help you soon."
Celine Dion began playing.
This *was* Hell.
Satan, or Hades, or whoever was the CEO, CFO, SOB of this place, had terrible organizational skills, or else hired all the wrong people. The sorting method for new arrivals was long, and tedious - as if Hell itself wasn't? - and by the time I got to the front, eight of the nine intake agents had gone for lunch.
A century long lunch.
There were codes, batches, reviews I didn't understand. I always knew I was going to end up here, but was expecting more of a "stand around forevermore". Maybe find a guy? A new group of friends. Learn to cheerlead. I wasn't expecting the eternal queue. My personal Hell.
At long last, I was placed... in the wrong ring. Don't get me wrong, I belonged in almost every one. A con artist, violent, full of fury, but the 6th Circle was not for me. Heresy? What the Hell even was that? But somehow I got stuck here, with what could only be described as the anti-bible-thumpers, who were somehow even more annoying than the real thing. We were in *Hell*. Obviously this shit was the real shit.
Celine Dion kept playing as I reflected on my predicament. I had plugged the pay phone with my freckles to get service, and the damn thing was starting to beep like it expected more. I didn't know what I would surrender next - my hair color wasn't going anywhere.
"Please hold. An agent will be available to help you soon."
Son of a bitch! The music had faded out and given me false hope. I was halfway through a stream of obscenities when the call connected.
"Satan's Service, how may I help you?"
"Yeah, I'm in the wrong place," I complained.
"We'll have to transfer you to Sorting for that."
Fucker! Before I could protest, the call was disconnected, and I was offered a new round of elevator-esque tunes for my listening pleasure.
"Please hold. An agent will be open to assist you shortly."
At least the message was different this time. | |
[WP] After being placed in the wrong circle of Hell, you have to file a complaint through Customer Service. | “Thank you for dying, this is Cindi with Hades Customer Care, how may I help you?”
“Hi, uh—hi Cindi. My name is Evan. I have a problem with my booking process?”
“Can I have your customer number?”
“I… don’t have a customer number. We get customer numbers?”
“Do you have your reservation number?”
“We get reservation numbers..?”
Cindi’s silence was withering.
“Spell your last name and give the location and time of your death, please.”
She spelled his last name back incorrectly twice.
“It says here that you died on Addison Lane.”
“Addison Road. That must be an error, I’m sorry.”
“It says Addison Lane.”
“Right. It’s incorrect. Does that matter?”
“Sir, I’m just trying to help you.”
“Of course, of course. I apologize.”
“How can I help you?”
“I think I was assigned to the wrong place.”
“Sir, we have no control over who goes to Heaven—“
“Oh no. No no. I mean, I get why I’m here. I think it has to do with the unbaptized thing? I mean, we weren’t really all that religious, but… well. I just know I’m not in the right place. Can you check for me?”
“Hold please.”
Evan heard the clatter of a keyboard in the background. It went on for several minutes while Cindi herself remained silent on the other end of the line. He locked eyes with a minor demon behind him and gave a sheepish shrug when the demon tapped his watch. I’m sorry, he mouthed. Customer Care.
“Mr. Parsons?”
“Peterson.”
“Excuse me?”
“Mr. Peterson? Remember? We spelled it?”
“This says Parson.”
“…are you sure you have the right account?”
“I could verify it if I had your customer number, sir.”
“I don’t—uhm. I’m sorry. I didn’t know we got customer numbers. Can we check the address again?”
“On Addison.”
“Road, yes.”
“This says—“
“Oh my God—”
“Excuse me, sir. I’m going to have to ask you not to speak to me like that. I’m just doing my job.”
Evan gritted his teeth and dropped his forehead against the pay phone.
“Evan Peterson. Addison Road. It’s in San Diego, California. Sunday the 11th, 2:03pm,” he trailed off. “I was going to my niece’s birthday. It was raining.”
More clicking. Sorrow welled in Evan’s chest as he listened.
“And what circle of Hell are you currently residing in?”
“The fifth.”
“Heresy? And you’re sure you’re not a heretic?”
“What? Of course I’m no—no. Anger.”
Cindi paused pointedly.
“And you’re sure you’re not angry?”
Evan sighed heavily. He tried to do a meditation thing his exgirlfriend had taught him to be less reactive in stressful situations. Evan did not feel like breathing through his bellybutton, but he made sure to smile when he replied.
“No ma’am. I think there’s been a mistake. I belong in the first circle.”
“It says…”
Evan groaned as quietly as he could. The demon behind him sighed audibly.
“Cindi. Ma’am. Could you please just check? Maybe I’m under a different record?”
Cindi clattered on her end of the line, like tiny boulders rolling down a hillside.
“Evan Peterson. Addison Road. Sunday at 2:03.”
“Yes!” Evan exclaimed, pushing away from the wall and pumping his fist a little. He grinned at the demon, who looked unimpressed.
“It says here that you’ve been assigned to the first circle of hell, Limbo.”
“Yes! I knew there had been a mistake! Can you move me, please? Cindi, you are amazing. I would appreciate it so much.”
“Hold please.”
More tiny boulders tumbling down the hillside. Evan held a finger up to the demon. Just one more minute, thanks.
“I’ve moved your assignment to the fifth circle of hell, Anger, at your request. Thank you for calling Hades Customer Care, it’s been a pleasure serving you, please hold for a short survey and have a nice afterlife.”
The line went dead in Evan’s hand.
| The line looked miles long. Norm heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at the series of signs which loomed over the queue.
"FOR FASTER SERVICE, CONSIDER USING OUR HOTLINE OR OUR APP!"
Looking down with a hint of desperation at his smartphone, he noted that there was no signal. Of course Hell would have Sprint...
He began the long plod towards the back of the line. More signs and billboards could be seen across the flame-filled chasms, welcoming Norm to the Sixth Circle. His Dante was a little rusty, but he was pretty sure that he'd always spoken respectfully about religion. It had to be a mistake, and Norm knew that he didn't belong here. Surely mistakes got made occasionally, what with all the people dying every day, right?
The end of the line was close. Norm could hear people in line complaining to one another -
"I'm telling you, it's a shame! McDonald's three times a day for fifteen years - that's gluttony, not heresy."
"Uh.... I think that's TED BUNDY over there. He's a murderer! He belongs in the Ninth Circle for sure."
A well-dressed woman tapped her foot and checked her phone every five seconds. Her expression was the very picture of righteous anger. Every so often, she would roll her eyes and groan. Norm took his place behind her and she immediately rounded on him.
"How long is the line? They ought to have some demons out here taking people's information ahead of time! I've been here thirty minutes already and haven't moved a step!"
It was going to be a long, long wait.
Out of earshot of the people in line, two demons leaned on the wall and observed the queue with amusement.
"I guess they didn't hear about the restructuring, huh."
"Guess not. I'm just glad we got assigned here. It's easy-peasy. All we have to do is watch, they do all the torturing themselves."
"Yeah, who knew we'd have to make a whole new circle for these guys? I guess being rude to people in the service sector is a way bigger problem than it used to be...." | |
[WP] After being placed in the wrong circle of Hell, you have to file a complaint through Customer Service. | I arrived in Hell on a Monday. At least, I think it was a Monday. My watch, which I had faithfully wore every day when I was alive, didn't make the trip with me. Neither, to my great dismay, had my clothes, so I stood at the edge of a river of fire completely nude, as did the seemingly endless line of people to my left and right. *Sure feels like a Monday*, I thought to myself.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, and perhaps it was, we were all simultaneously cast into the river. There was no burning sensation or melting flesh, although, as you might expect happens when scores of people are cast into lava, there was a great deal of screaming. Almost everyone was yelling, pleading, or cursing at the top of their lungs. Some people attempted to do all three, begging for mercy with a generous amount of obscenities thrown in and screams used where normal breaks in speech would occur. One peculiar fellow, who was rather frail and pale, seemed rather peaceful. He was in a fetal position, his legs tucked into his torso and his arms stretched above him, as if he was holding something precious, and seemed to be completely oblivious to the ongoing events.
After a time, perhaps another eternity, we started to sink deeper into the lava. The screaming, which to my great relief had largely died out, now resumed. As we sank deeper, some simply stopped, and appeared to be stuck. While they could move about horizontally, they could neither ascend or descend. The rest of us were pulled deeper.
The first to disappear was a middle-aged man, face wrinkled and a head, that I would guess, once held graying hair. He had not been one of the screamers, which is why I was disappointed when he left us. The second was a young lady, no older than twenty-five, who had stopped screaming shortly after we were cast into the river, and had since occupied her time observing genitals and touching herself. The third and fourth ones that I witnessed disappear had been in the middle of a fierce and physical love making session.
Shortly thereafter, a rather large man nearby had vanished. He had given up screaming earlier, likely due to a lack of energy. Following his disappearance, several others with the same body type vanished, as well as some who seemed to be in somewhat good shape.
Among the next to leave was the pale fellow, who I now noticed had been muttering to himself, although the still constant screaming around me made it impossible to hear him.
I had had my eyes closed for some time following the frail mans disappearance, and only reopened them when I realized it had become significantly quieter. Indeed, upon observation, many of those who had screamed and cursed the entire time were now gone, although it was quite likely that they were still screaming.
It was at this point that I recognized one of the people sinking nearby. In life, he was a well known scientist who had held strong beliefs that greatly conflicted with what were accepted truths, and as such, was ridiculed and defamed by his fellow scientists who did not agree with him. I did not know him personally, and was not upset when he too vanished.
I began to contemplate my own fate when the lava around me started to vanish and was replaced by a green meadow, which was populated by a variety of trees. *This is certainly a pleasant change*, I thought. Just then, I saw what I had thought to be a rather large bird swoop down into a nearby tree and began to tear out branches. To my great surprise, the tree began to scream, and odder yet, began pleading with the bird. "Shut up," the bird screamed back to the tree in a very unpleasant voice. "Shut up, shut up, shut up. You slit your wrists, now I'll slit your bark!" The bird dug its talons into the tree trunk, which caused the tree to scream even louder. As I was working out what was happening, another of the large birds landed in front of me. It had the head, torso, and legs of a woman. Large wings, however, were attached where the arms should have been, and a tail grew out of its backside. The feet had the same large talons as the other bird.
"Like what you see?" the harpy asked with the same unpleasant voice as the other. "Don't worry, you'll get yours too!" I immediately attempted to turn and run, only to find that my feet were, quite literally, rooted to the spot. The harpy must have realized my intention and let out a cold laugh. It advanced on me, not more than five feet away when I screamed. "Why am I here? What did I do?" I pleaded.
"Suicide!" the harpy replied, almost mockingly.
"I didn't kill myself!" I argued. "I was shot!" The harpy immediately stopped its advance and appeared to be looking me over, perhaps trying to determine if I was lying or not.
"We'll see about that!" the shrill voice yelled. The next moment, I heard a small pop, followed by a wisp of red smoke. Out of nowhere, an imp materialized in front of me. It was short, perhaps only three feet tall, and completely naked, but had no genitals, nipples, or navel. Small horns adorned its head, and its flesh was a reddish color. A tail protruded from its backside, but was otherwise not too different from a human.
"What's the issue here?" the imp called out in a small voice.
"This one says it doesn't belong here!" the harpy answered.
"When has anyone admitted that they deserve to be here?" the imp quipped.
"Its not lying! Not this one!" my would-be torturer retorted.
"Well, you harpies have a knack for knowing this," the imp muttered. Whether it was sarcasm or not, I couldn't tell, but was relieved to, at the least, postpone the punishment that was now being carried out on every other tree. "Let's take a look then." A device, which I could only describe as a tablet, appeared in the imps hands. It glanced it over for a moment before turning back to me. "According to this, you shot and killed yourself."
"No, I didn't! Someone else shot me!" I pleaded.
"Who was it then, a one-armed man?" the imp inquired with a definite tone of sarcasm in its voice.
"I don't know who!" I said. "I'm a police officer and-"
"Were, my sweet, were!" the harpy interrupted.
"I was a police officer," I corrected myself, "and was in a struggle for my gun with a perp when it went off!"
The imp looked back at its tablet. "That may be possible," it said without looking up. "You'll have to take it up with the complaint department. They'll decide if you're lying or not." At that moment, I felt my body relax a great deal. I looked down to see my legs transform from a single, thick trunk, back into two fleshy limbs. When I looked back up, the trees, meadow, and, to my delight, harpies had disappeared, but was replaced by something I was not ready to see. Before me lay what must have been the longest queue I had ever witnessed. It snaked its way around rocks and pools of lava and finally ended at a counter where a single imp stood behind it. A sign was hung from two of the larger rocks on either side of this desk that read "Customer Service- Complaints Division". Not knowing what else to do, I joined the queue.
Time must not have been passing here. If it was, in the duration I had waited, the universe would have undoubtedly collapsed upon itself and expanded again. I had finally reached the front of the line, and was called to the counter. I approached the imp who, unlike the one I encountered earlier, was dressed. It wore a blue t-shirt and khaki pants. An electric fan blew air directly at it, and a poster hung behind it that read "All agents are trained by Comcast Customer Support". It looked at me and without waiting to be prompted, plead my case.
"I was a police officer," I stated. "I had witnessed a man display erratic behavior and approached him for questioning. I approached him from behind, placed a hand on his shoulder, and asked him if he was feeling alright. Without warning, he spun around and punched me in the face, sending me to the ground. He immediately went for my gun, and attempted to remove it from the holster." I paused for a moment. The imp didn't say anything, instead staring at me intently, as if it was taking in every word. "I wasn't knocked out," I continued, "and I reacted on instinct when he went for my sidearm. I punched him in the gut, but he had unclasped the weapon and was drawing it from the holster. My punch caused him to double over, but he held on to the gun. I sprang to my feet and attempted to take it from him. He held on tightly, and we struggled, eventually falling to the floor. That's the last thing I remember. I didn't kill myself."
The imp stared at me for a few seconds after I finished. Finally it said, "you are correct. While you rambled on, I reviewed the video of your death. The discharge of your weapon was accidental and your are acquitted of the suicide charge." I let out an audible sigh of relief. "In light of this, your sentence will be adjusted. Good day." I opened my mouth to ask what my new sentence was when everything around me disappeared and found myself standing in a row next to people who were completely nude, waiting in front of a river of fire. *Definitely a Monday*, I thought. | The line looked miles long. Norm heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at the series of signs which loomed over the queue.
"FOR FASTER SERVICE, CONSIDER USING OUR HOTLINE OR OUR APP!"
Looking down with a hint of desperation at his smartphone, he noted that there was no signal. Of course Hell would have Sprint...
He began the long plod towards the back of the line. More signs and billboards could be seen across the flame-filled chasms, welcoming Norm to the Sixth Circle. His Dante was a little rusty, but he was pretty sure that he'd always spoken respectfully about religion. It had to be a mistake, and Norm knew that he didn't belong here. Surely mistakes got made occasionally, what with all the people dying every day, right?
The end of the line was close. Norm could hear people in line complaining to one another -
"I'm telling you, it's a shame! McDonald's three times a day for fifteen years - that's gluttony, not heresy."
"Uh.... I think that's TED BUNDY over there. He's a murderer! He belongs in the Ninth Circle for sure."
A well-dressed woman tapped her foot and checked her phone every five seconds. Her expression was the very picture of righteous anger. Every so often, she would roll her eyes and groan. Norm took his place behind her and she immediately rounded on him.
"How long is the line? They ought to have some demons out here taking people's information ahead of time! I've been here thirty minutes already and haven't moved a step!"
It was going to be a long, long wait.
Out of earshot of the people in line, two demons leaned on the wall and observed the queue with amusement.
"I guess they didn't hear about the restructuring, huh."
"Guess not. I'm just glad we got assigned here. It's easy-peasy. All we have to do is watch, they do all the torturing themselves."
"Yeah, who knew we'd have to make a whole new circle for these guys? I guess being rude to people in the service sector is a way bigger problem than it used to be...." | |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | Dogs, Tails, Somebody's a Waggin Somebody.
Lets get the easy stuff out of the way, I am or well was a boring go-along to get along person. Pure breed Yankee Mainer, never really wanted much more than to run the shop I inherited from my Great Uncle, raise a couple of dogs and maybe marry a nice girl, have a couple of kids.
Than people started trying to kill me.
The first idiot tried to run me off the road while I was visiting Augusta . He also took some potshots at me with some kind of shotgun. This doesn't happen here, even in the drug trade. Now Maine roads are treacherous and my Pop taught me to drive pretty well so I managed to escape the jackass.
A tedious afternoon with the police led to nothing but questions I didn't have answers for and a glaring eye of suspicion on me.
Didn't effect my business though so when I got home I followed my gut hunch and bought myself a pair of Ruger SR9's , some training and started packing, legally of course. Maine is shall issue.
Good thing I did too since two weeks later, someone tried to shoot me. I was walking home from a little cafe when the first shot went off. It missed and my training both from my time on the Army and from the training that secret service guy I went to kicked in. When I shot him though, he must have had some kind of body armor as he shrugged off the shots. We went back in forth exchanging shots right on the streets of South Portland like it was Dodge City till , his aim I finally after maybe a dozen rounds managed to drop him with a head shot.
The police interview took several hours and they seized my guns of course. Didn't bother me, I had a spare I'd bought and I still had my carry permit I didn't let them interview me without a lawyer though or without me searching the house in case someone left a cache of drugs or something . The extra caution turned out to be a good thing when I found the gizmo.
It was I think some kind of old fashioned GPS beacon maybe but I'm not a tech guy. I cleaned it off and threw it in the dumpster near the police station.
Next morning I did my interview, talked a cousin into lawyering for it pro-bono and the cops has a look around and left and life went on.
Exactly four weeks later, two killers showed up. Covered in trash and pissed off. They walked terminator style to the reinforced front door knocked it down with some kind of weird liquid battering ram and started shooting.
I got a few second warning from my alarm, a few more from the door and my dogs before they barged in. I was more or less ready for them,
The first one had an honest to goodness laser pistol, looked like a cross between a dust buster and an old school camcorder. It had a green spotting beam than the guy's pull the trigger and foosh, there would be a massive pulse. The other guy had a kind of rifle that folded out. Very cool.
Me? I had a cheap Mossberg shotgun with steel cored slugs, a Hi-Point 9mm and a Mosin rifle. I'm not made of money.
I took cover as the laser guy scythed his beam around the room, starting fires and cutting my ugly old puke green sofa in half. Never liked the thing anyway.
we were firing at each other, the dogs showing enough sense not to run into the fight when the damnedest thing happened. Folding rifle guy pointed his gun at me and it talked. "Invalid Target. Deactivating."
During the distraction I shot laser guy in the face with the Mosin and he went down.
Rocket guy went for his partners laser and tried to grab it but I stepped on his hand. "You've got some explaining to do."
He looked at me grimaced and said "No." as he bit down on a poison tooth and was deader than a door nail.
You're supposed to leave the bodies alone at a crime scene but I was having none of that, nobody has talking rifles or laser pistols. I carefully searched the dead guys and found a pair of devices labelled, Re-Call. The timer said two weeks so that gave me two weeks to prepare.
I hid one of the devices and called the cops.
After about 3 days in county lockup , probably for annoying the police more than anything I as released without charges or an apology but that was OK.
I was going to put an end to this problem once and for all. I got new gear together, picked up from a shady friend of mine, some weapons, ammo and such AR15 rifle, another 9mm pistol, and some homemade pipe bombs that kind of thing. As soon as gizmo turned green . I pushed the button.
There was a flash of light and I appeared inside a booth. I was jumped up on adrenaline and felling crazy so I threw the door opened and yelled "Hi Honey I'm Home"
They turned to me terrified drew weapons and than I started shooting, chucking bombs and Molotov . They went down fast, half the weapons didn't work and I was half crazy, mad and bad,
By the time I was out of bullets every body was dead except for a pretty doe eyed girl with luscious red hair. She was sobbing and maybe I was softhearted by I didn't want to kill her so I knocked her down and cuffed her
About three minutes after I opened the door, a scary looking many armed combat robot came up "High Lord. You are Safe and the insurrection has been eliminated. Do you wish me to eliminate the girl, prepare her for interog or send her to the pleasure camp."
I took a breath. The robot evidently knew me "Place her in secure custody, I will decide later."
"As you command." It said wheeling off .
In about an hour robots took care of everything and I was at my palace. My throne was waiting and as I saw it I kind of laughed, it looked a bit like a Barcalounger with extra Star Trek.
I sat down and damned it it wasn't comfy. After I got moved in, a robot brought me a drink and a snack which tasted just like the Breakfast Squares I had as a little kid. I view screen folded over and I saw, well myself. Very very old.
"If you are seeing this, I am dead. I am also you but do to the miracles of time travel, I, well we get a second chance. "
And the other me explained, turned out I had at the ripe old age of 85 ,managed to conquer most of the world and had ruled it as cruel despot for 5 centuries. Eventually though an 85 year old body even one with stopped aging will wear out and so he died.
After interrogating the red head It turns out the guys trying to kill me, a group unimaginatively called Prevent wanted to prevent this future from happening but in so doing brought me ahead even earlier.
I'm no tech guy but I think this stabilized the time line or something but since I'm here and apparently in charge of everything I might as well go with the proverbial flow.
And while I could go back any time , I think I'll stay my ne'er–do–well brother wasn't that bad at running the store and maybe even a bit better than me . let him have it
And sure iIt may be that uneasy is the head that wears the crown but hey world peace, a global despotism with me in charge and pretty red haired plaything, no to mention being in good health and functionally immortal, well life is good . More or less.
| It had gone so well early on.
They'd slowed as soon as you rose to power and kept slowing as you pursued your agenda. The outbreak of the war cut down on them dramatically, and each country that fell to your might cut down on them further. A few years into the war, they'd slowed to a trickle, though they'd never completely stopped. Once the war started turning against you, though, you'd realized they must have infiltrated your very inner circle. You knew they'd be coming back regardless.
They all wanted to end the war. You knew what would happen if they did. Every single moment for so much of your life you'd had to fight them off. They kept coming, relentlessly, without a break. No matter how much you tried to hide, they still managed to find you. Your parents had told you they had had to fight them off as well, and once you were born they turned all their attention to you. No one else seemed to have this problem, and they seemed rather schizophrenic about it - sometimes they actually seemed to be trying to help you in that art career. But when it all fell apart you knew there would be no escape. You realized that if you wanted to shake them off, you'd have to force the issue yourself.
Every success, every drop-off in their numbers, made you all the more certain you'd taken the right path. You'd identified certain patterns in who they were and launched a two-prong plan to make sure they could never bother you, or your family again. It was so successful you almost started to get a sense of that thing other people could call security, but you never felt completely able to let down your guard. How could you, after all you'd been through your entire life?
The shots were getting closer. You loaded your gun. You weren't sure what was going to come through the door. This was the most secure place in the city - you'd made sure of that - but you knew that hadn't stopped them in the past and it wasn't going to stop them now. Your new bride was getting anxious. You'd married her just yesterday. Then you'd gotten together with the only people left you could trust and made out your will. You'd managed to beat them off your whole life to this point, but you were older now. You'd defend yourself as best you can, but you knew it might not be successful. But whoever walked through that door wasn't going down without a fight.
There was a noise at the door. You grabbed and aimed your shotgun. The door opened, and he walked in. At that moment something struck you, something that had been niggling in the back of your mind for years now but only now fell into place. He had the strange fashions all the people who had been targeting you your whole life had, but it only now occurred to you that for all the attempts on your life that came during the war, it had been several years since you'd seen anyone try to do it in those sorts of clothes. You hadn't thought that much of them before, but now you started to wonder if they were a clue all along. The ones that came during the war were your run-of-the-mill would-be assassins. The rest were something... else. Your hand trembled on the gun. He should have been dead already, but you hadn't brought yourself to pull the trigger.
"There you are," he said, holding on to his hat as he stepped in. The plain black hat was the one thing that wasn't out of place, though even ignoring that he wasn't exactly dressed for a war zone. He seemed... disinterested, almost relieved, like this was a job for him, not even one he was particularly interested in. He couldn't have been with the Allies; he probably wasn't even particularly trained, or else *he'd* have pulled the trigger already himself. You might have thought someone in your inner circle had hired him, but that idea had gone by the wayside. You wondered if he had realized he was too late. Late. That was the key. Was it possible they were trying to *prevent* everything you had done all along? Your hands shook as you tried to keep a grip on your gun.
He closed the door behind him, and another sense of relief came over him. It couldn't have been getting away from the shooting going on outside - after all, you still had your gun trained on him, trying not to betray your growing doubts - perhaps it was just the fact the noise was a lot quieter now, even if it was still loud. Then all of a sudden he pulled a knife and lunged at you.
She screamed. You swung the gun and knocked the knife out of his hand, but your hands were shaking so much you dropped the gun. You went for the gun, but he grabbed it first. You tried to grab it away from him, and the two of you tugged on the gun as hard as you can for a few seconds. Your hands were still trembling, slowly moving down the barrel of the gun, as you continued to be distracted as you tried to make sense of everything. The barrel slowly tilted towards you - you weren't sure if you were winning the fight despite your nerves or if he was trying to aim the gun even as you were tugging at it. In a better state of mind you might have tried to swing the barrel of the gun back away from you and tried to grab it on the butt end.
A shot rang out. No one in the room would quite be able to tell if it was you or him that hit the trigger. Your consciousness was already fading, he would probably take credit no matter what the truth was, and she was too hysterical to notice or care. The gun fell to the floor as she started weeping and reaching for the pill you had given her. You never had a chance to think about what you would have done if you had managed to fight him off. He held on to his hat as he left the bunker, and as the door opened you could dimly perceive the sound of troops moving towards it, attracted by the sound of the gun, as the last traces of life fell from your eyes. | |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | It was almost cute. He probably thought he was being so seeky. The delicate clicks of pins moving inside the tumbler. He had just one more pin to go.
I sighed, sitting up in my bed. Why couldn't they just do this during the day? I looked over at my desk. Knife? Suriken? I glanced at the sword by me bed. Nah, I'm too tired.
Clink! He got that last pin.
I made my decision. Suriken it would be. In one motion I reached over to my night stand, grabbed a suriken delicately in my fingers, and flicked it towards my front door. A studio apartment really is great for thwarting assassinations.
The door was barely open before I heard that slightly sickening, somewhat pleasurable thunk as the suriken split his heart in two. I sighed. Too easy. I had a guy catch one once. He was a good fight. Got a scar on my hand to remember him by.
I dragged the body inside. I pulled a nice black body bag put of the box of them next to my door. It was getting a bit low. I zipped him up and went back to bed. I'll dispose of the body tomorrow, it's not worth losing sleep over disposal. Besides, he might not even be my last visitor tonight.
It's funny, but if it wasn't for these assassination attempts, I wouldn't be half as good at my job as I today. I wouldn't know martial arts, I wouldn't be a weapons master, I wouldn't be a dead shot, or a security expert, and I'd probably be working some dead-end job in an office building. Wetwork was much more fun. Pays better too. I should be thanking these idiots.
Now I've got to get to sleep. I've got to be on my game tomorrow. I don't pay much attention to politics, but that Russian won't be making it to his meeting at the UN tomorrow. He's probably not that important anyway, some jerk no one will miss, like all the others were, right? | It had gone so well early on.
They'd slowed as soon as you rose to power and kept slowing as you pursued your agenda. The outbreak of the war cut down on them dramatically, and each country that fell to your might cut down on them further. A few years into the war, they'd slowed to a trickle, though they'd never completely stopped. Once the war started turning against you, though, you'd realized they must have infiltrated your very inner circle. You knew they'd be coming back regardless.
They all wanted to end the war. You knew what would happen if they did. Every single moment for so much of your life you'd had to fight them off. They kept coming, relentlessly, without a break. No matter how much you tried to hide, they still managed to find you. Your parents had told you they had had to fight them off as well, and once you were born they turned all their attention to you. No one else seemed to have this problem, and they seemed rather schizophrenic about it - sometimes they actually seemed to be trying to help you in that art career. But when it all fell apart you knew there would be no escape. You realized that if you wanted to shake them off, you'd have to force the issue yourself.
Every success, every drop-off in their numbers, made you all the more certain you'd taken the right path. You'd identified certain patterns in who they were and launched a two-prong plan to make sure they could never bother you, or your family again. It was so successful you almost started to get a sense of that thing other people could call security, but you never felt completely able to let down your guard. How could you, after all you'd been through your entire life?
The shots were getting closer. You loaded your gun. You weren't sure what was going to come through the door. This was the most secure place in the city - you'd made sure of that - but you knew that hadn't stopped them in the past and it wasn't going to stop them now. Your new bride was getting anxious. You'd married her just yesterday. Then you'd gotten together with the only people left you could trust and made out your will. You'd managed to beat them off your whole life to this point, but you were older now. You'd defend yourself as best you can, but you knew it might not be successful. But whoever walked through that door wasn't going down without a fight.
There was a noise at the door. You grabbed and aimed your shotgun. The door opened, and he walked in. At that moment something struck you, something that had been niggling in the back of your mind for years now but only now fell into place. He had the strange fashions all the people who had been targeting you your whole life had, but it only now occurred to you that for all the attempts on your life that came during the war, it had been several years since you'd seen anyone try to do it in those sorts of clothes. You hadn't thought that much of them before, but now you started to wonder if they were a clue all along. The ones that came during the war were your run-of-the-mill would-be assassins. The rest were something... else. Your hand trembled on the gun. He should have been dead already, but you hadn't brought yourself to pull the trigger.
"There you are," he said, holding on to his hat as he stepped in. The plain black hat was the one thing that wasn't out of place, though even ignoring that he wasn't exactly dressed for a war zone. He seemed... disinterested, almost relieved, like this was a job for him, not even one he was particularly interested in. He couldn't have been with the Allies; he probably wasn't even particularly trained, or else *he'd* have pulled the trigger already himself. You might have thought someone in your inner circle had hired him, but that idea had gone by the wayside. You wondered if he had realized he was too late. Late. That was the key. Was it possible they were trying to *prevent* everything you had done all along? Your hands shook as you tried to keep a grip on your gun.
He closed the door behind him, and another sense of relief came over him. It couldn't have been getting away from the shooting going on outside - after all, you still had your gun trained on him, trying not to betray your growing doubts - perhaps it was just the fact the noise was a lot quieter now, even if it was still loud. Then all of a sudden he pulled a knife and lunged at you.
She screamed. You swung the gun and knocked the knife out of his hand, but your hands were shaking so much you dropped the gun. You went for the gun, but he grabbed it first. You tried to grab it away from him, and the two of you tugged on the gun as hard as you can for a few seconds. Your hands were still trembling, slowly moving down the barrel of the gun, as you continued to be distracted as you tried to make sense of everything. The barrel slowly tilted towards you - you weren't sure if you were winning the fight despite your nerves or if he was trying to aim the gun even as you were tugging at it. In a better state of mind you might have tried to swing the barrel of the gun back away from you and tried to grab it on the butt end.
A shot rang out. No one in the room would quite be able to tell if it was you or him that hit the trigger. Your consciousness was already fading, he would probably take credit no matter what the truth was, and she was too hysterical to notice or care. The gun fell to the floor as she started weeping and reaching for the pill you had given her. You never had a chance to think about what you would have done if you had managed to fight him off. He held on to his hat as he left the bunker, and as the door opened you could dimly perceive the sound of troops moving towards it, attracted by the sound of the gun, as the last traces of life fell from your eyes. | |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | "You sent 500 people into the past to try and kill me. You then shoot my dog, drag me into this dark shed, all because you want to tell me your master plan? I have no idea what the fuck is going on. I don't want anything to do with you or your crazy future. I just want to finish writing my novel and get on with my life."
"That is the problem." The man shakes his head. "We cannot let you finish that book, Stephanie. If you do... well, people are going to get dumb. Then they are going to start reproducing. In the future there are 2 billion Edwards. It passed Muhammad as the most popular name. We only have 4 billion people. It stop now."
"I just..."
The blade came down. | It's 2258 and we're told we live in a Golden Age. There's no poverty, crime or war. We live augmented lives approaching four centuries. Sophisticated Ai-bots do all the work and so everything is geared towards leisure. And how do we spend our time? By living in the past.
This isn't just a large industry, it's the only industry, where the only law is 'Do not reveal yourself'. People now spend more of their time in the past than the present. Which isn't a great endorsement for our 'golden age' but I keep that opinion to myself. I know now that I should have kept another thought to myself. I haven't told anyone else yet but I will. I must have done because they're already hunting me down for it.
I suppose anyone could have worked it out: just looking at the present population figure across all worlds would have done it. But people don't look for anything now, they only look to the past. Which doesn't help at all because the only people they'll meet then are the people they've just left.
| |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | "You sent 500 people into the past to try and kill me. You then shoot my dog, drag me into this dark shed, all because you want to tell me your master plan? I have no idea what the fuck is going on. I don't want anything to do with you or your crazy future. I just want to finish writing my novel and get on with my life."
"That is the problem." The man shakes his head. "We cannot let you finish that book, Stephanie. If you do... well, people are going to get dumb. Then they are going to start reproducing. In the future there are 2 billion Edwards. It passed Muhammad as the most popular name. We only have 4 billion people. It stop now."
"I just..."
The blade came down. | It was all too easy.
years upon years of fighting for my life, of struggling to survive trained me, hardened me, turned me into the monster i am today.
Once, a man told me that the apex predator comes about not due to its upbringing, but due to its environment forcing it to survive.
for years i fought against these time travelers, their devices of death and torment etched into my mind as they hounded me, day in, day out, never granting me a moment's rest.
I fought them constantly and became stronger, more knowledgeable of what they were capable of.
and more narcissistic and dismissive of the society that refused to help me, calling me crazy, despite the clear evidence surrounding me.
killing one of them for the first time had been an enlightening experience, it felt great to finally take vengeance, to stop fleeing and start fighting, though i knew all too well how to flee, to change the ground of battle, despite them knowing where i would be and when.
once, in my childhood i aspired to become a hero, thwarting the villains, stopping evil.
what a fool i was.
now? seated upon this throne, these same "assassins" i'd sent back in time to harden myself into the demon i am today surrounding me, bowing to me, not even realizing who i would inevitably become or why, I cannot help but to smile cruelly.
I craved this fate, craved to become the monster that dominated, that destroyed.
with the world of the present and the future arrayed against me i fought back, and i proved the victor.
thus writing history, not from the perspective of history, but from the seat of my own memories of how it went.
history is written by the victors.
and despite all odds, I now rule the world with an iron fist, and cement that rule by condemning my servants to their death at my own hands as a reward for their long servitude.
I shape my past and rule the future unopposed.
such is the fairness of ruling history. | |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | My son was born today, I couldn't be happier. Ann went through 7 hours of labor to deliver this perfect bundle of joy into our lives.
I'm so happy i can barely breathe. However, I do have to bring up the question do infants laugh when they're born? I always thought they were supposed to cry, however my son let out the heartiest laugh his body could muster as he breathed for the first time.
Journal Entry 6/06/06.
Fuck. These religious assassin nut jobs. They were never trying to kill me. They were after Marty. I just found one of their "memory devices" I'm guessing it is. I'm going to figure out how to make this work. This one was different, It tried to convince me to let it kill my son. Fuck these things.
Journal Entry 12/29/15.
So I finally got it to work, actually It started working by itself. I didn't think holographic technology without prisms was available yet. Though this does confirm my suspicions that they might actually be backed by a first world government with ties to the some religious sect, because every time I kill one of them they always go out with some sort of prayer....do robots pray?
The actual data was sort of confusing, almost imaginary. It was like a little mini movie depicting a future full of war. It was a collage of propaganda posters. All of them had what looked like older versions of Marty with phrases like: "Renounce religion for the future of our human race.", "Join our troops to guarantee our future in the stars!", "Religion is what holds us back, take control of your own life and the future of humanity.".
All of them seemed to be some sort of agenda against religion. I'm going to have to review this and figure out who is actually sending these......things after us.
Journal entry 01/03/16.
Was watching BBC today, seems like another war is about to break out between Israel and Palestine. Border conflicts are turning into full on skirmishes, deaths in the hundreds. The usual result of a conflict based on ideals of civilizations that existed long ago.
These quarrels are so stupid, all the wasted potential of the innocents. Who knows one of them that died could have changed the world for the better. Now, that's impossible. All because of the archaic ideals still used as an excuse by those in power to gain.....more power.
Reminds me of those posters from that things hard drive thing. I'm going to call it the holo drive from now on (note to self: remember to copyright that). The world would probably be a better place without religion, or at least religion that hasn't been updated with the times.
I'm going to go review that holo drive one more time.
Journal Entry 03/28/16.
Shit, today was a bad day. Woke up to something moving in the house, like an idiot I went and checked. Good thing I'm not a complete idiot, I sent Ann and Marty away to stay with a distant relative for....fresh air. I also happened to have my Glock 19 with those handy 9mm AP rounds on me when I checked on the noise.
Turned out to be some sort of drone that had arm like appendages and it was searching around my work area, I shot it's rotor to take it down. Surprisingly the thing started to relay a voice, which actually threatened to kill Ann and I both instead of only killing Marty.
"Jason Krevill, I demand you give up the holo drive. If you refuse to comply in 24 hours we will have to update the priority list with you and your wife Annie Krevill."
Heh, try me bitch. There's a reason I sent Ann and Marty away and it wasn't only for their saftey. She hates weapons, and a closet full of guns isn't exactly something to romance her with.
Journal entry 04/03/2016.
I kinda lost steam due to the enormity of the story i'm trying to write. Going into this would be delving into my own personal opinions of religion, etc. And I don't think this WP really needs to see that. If interested in more, let me know.
Edit: Aite doing some more.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
I'm hurt bad. I can't let Ann know, otherwise she'd come running and put herself and Marty in danger. She's seen these assassins she knows its for the better of all three of us. No contact until I initiate it first. I couldn't go to the hospital, too many questions. I don't need the law on my case. I know they're busy dealing with realistic business. My situation sounds like the ramblings of a deranged person even to myself. If I didn't have a chunk of my right arm missing right now I would turn myself into a mental asylum.
I need to make a note here and now, just in case things don't work out and I don't make it back. I made some wrong assumptions.
1) They are not backed by a current government.
2) They are not robots...more like cyborgs. Part human part machine.
3) The technology they have can't exist.....yet. They fired at me with lasers? It could have been plasma. It definitely wasn't a projectile. When they were shooting me at first, I thought they were strobing me. Not until one of those flashes hit my arm and took a piece of me with it did I realize how deep in shit I was.
Being a Navy N.U.K.E I made some friends in experimental weapon divisions. The most advanced thing I was ever privy information to was a rail gun. Something like a thermal weapon that could efficiently fit in a personal package is years, if not decades away.
shit........I might just have figured it out. Will provide more detail after I tinker with the "Holo Drive" a little more.
On that note, that voice from the drone also called it a holo drive....
Journal Entry 04/06/2016
____________________________________________________________________________________________
This is some crazy shit, I'm not one for conspiracy theories but how else can I explain this? Robots, sorry cyborgs with future tech trying to pull off covert kill missions against my son? However, I know this can't be a conspiracy. I'm not important enough to spend this much capitol on missions against.
I'm fighting with myself here. I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but these things, these machines must be from the future. The posters from the first holo drive had pictures of someone that looked like an older version of my son. Marty is only 10 now, but that scar under his left eye that he got running into a pole is definitely his. There is no doubt in my mind that the man from those posters is the future version of my son.
If I'm talking about the future, I'm going way past my education. I've skimmed through theories before, and the idea of time travel means they could have gone way into the past, and eliminated my bloodline before I was born. Wouldn't that have been common sense?
Let's say these cyborgs are here to prevent this....version of the future from happening. Why now? Why not go back far enough to ensure my wife and I don't even exist?
I need more information. I've been on the run from the "drone voice". I don't know what sort of tracking ability it has, I can't rely on anything I know anymore. I'm deep off the grid, I don't even know if Ann and Marty are safe. But Fuck if I let this go, If they are dead, I'm going to make sure I finish what these fucking murderers started.
Journal Entry 04/14/2016.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Bad news first, The Voice found me. Good news, I know Ann and Marty are okay. Seems to be getting mighty desperate in getting this holo drive back. I wasn't hearing things either, this device is actually called a holo drive. If I get out of this mess I am definitely reverse engineering this thing.
Anyway, another thing I "discovered" is that there is definitely more memory in the drive. The Voice was probing at me trying to figure out how much I actually knew. On that note I have no idea how he found me in that cabin, I haven't been anywhere in public for at least 3 weeks. This journal.....log, that sounds more fitting. This log is the only reason why I haven't lost track of time.
I know for sure whatever tech it's using can manipulate our surveillance systems. It probably has access to our military grade surveillance satellites with my shitty luck. Unless the future where my son is a major threat to whatever organizations these freaks belong to got some part on 00parts, I doubt they can do anything magical to found my whereabouts.
I've literally caked myself in mud, even in the woods I need to make sure I'm not emitting a heat signature. If the voice finds me again I'll know he's got some way to find me without use of conventional tech.
I'm also running out of ammo, I have 3 mags of 5.56 for that m4 left, I used the last of the 7.62 rounds on the last wave of drones so I had to get rid of the HK 417. God I loved that weapon......heh "God".
Journal Entry 05/10/2016.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
I saw the mud thing in some survival show, I thought it would be a good idea. It wasn't.
It's so itchy, and I don't know if it really works. The one thing I do know, is that the asshole doesn't have many drones left. I've heard them making some ruckus north of me, and sometimes south of me. I'm guessing the Voice just has these things checking the fringes of this forest constantly looking for something to poke its head out.
The holo drive isn't giving me any more information. I don't have the tools to try and poke deeper into it. I'm sure it's low on power, I mean I haven't figured out anyway to charge it. I'll have to leave this forest soon, I'm tired of living like some hermit, I need to take action when he doesn't suspect it.
There's going to be a storm soon, I can feel it. I'll make my move then.
Journal Entry 05/12/2016.
__________________________________________________________________________________________ | "You seriously sent assassins back in time to kill me in order to prevent me from... knocking over your precious vase?" Jenkins stared, dumbfounded, at the toothpick of a man, with fine silks draped upon his bony frame.
"Yes." Was all the man said before he snapped his fingers.
Two seconds later, Jenkins' world went black and never lit up again. | |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | Fingers pressed against the confines of the stone box -- blood stained the space between my nose and lips, continuing to drip down past a stubbled chin. I did not have much time - within minutes the next /wave/ of attempts on my life would begin. As they always had.
It had taken so long to realise why.
The earth shook underneath my feet, threatening to crack open with each second that I remained in the weaponised cube. It felt invigorating - green sparks flew from between my fingertips and the runes engraved on the insides of the make-shift tomb. I could practically feel the world crumbling at my feet.
To think that people had spent so long trying to stop this -- spent so long trying to stop me. It was bordering on ridiculous, though I could not deny that they'd been rather determined; most people did get a little competitive when they were trying to stop something from destroying their world.
[I have no idea of what this even is.] | "You seriously sent assassins back in time to kill me in order to prevent me from... knocking over your precious vase?" Jenkins stared, dumbfounded, at the toothpick of a man, with fine silks draped upon his bony frame.
"Yes." Was all the man said before he snapped his fingers.
Two seconds later, Jenkins' world went black and never lit up again. | |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | "A training regiment?"
There we all sat around a long, suspended table in a building that, officially, didn't exist. Behind us, out the window, was a beautiful view of the coastal solar farms and beyond that, the local Pacific fusion plant, slowly converting tiny amounts of salt water into energy. And, in the process, creating minute rifts - gaps in space and time just large enough to fit a person through, if you managed to catch them and hold them open before they disappeared.
"That's right." I told them. A couple were looking at me like I was a joke, but they knew better to speak out - my judgement was paramount, and no one, not even my second-in-command, was going to try and talk me out of this gross waste of resources.
I stood up from my grand chair at the end of the table and took a walk to the window at the other end of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, I recognize your faces - each of you, individually, has tried to kill me in the past, long before you fell into my new world as one of my Travelers." There was surprised muttering among them - this was new information, and finding a way to surprise a Traveler was no easy task. "And now I see why."
"The Paradox states that time is an endless series of loops, each one formed by a Traveler's actions. The Nazis lost World War 2 because I went back in time to stop them - and I went back in time to stop them, because I knew I made them lose World War 2."
"But without this training," I continued, "I would not be standing in front of you today. When mankind first achieved fusion and I was pulled through time, smack into the middle of the first American civil war, I wouldn't have lasted 5 minutes if I hadn't been trained like I had. Your assassination attempts gave me the reflexes, the knowhow, the speed and strength to survive. When the rifts finally pulled me back through, I had helped to end it."
"Now," he said, "I must ask you all to do what you have been training for since I hired you. You will go back in time, and, with every fiber of your being, attempt to kill me. You'll find your sets of dates and times already programmed at the plant. And when you return, you will be released from your contracts and free to live out the remainder of your lives with a portion of my own wealth."
The men around the table murmured assent. There was something not quite right about this, and they knew it. And they were right to think so. Of the 12 in front of him, only 3 would remain in just a few hours. The other 9, I had killed personally.
The thought would have bothered me, once, but it no longer does. Now, I know. Cassandra, who would appear to me approximately 10 years ago in the night, holding a small, poisoned knife, would die by her own blade. Richards would find himself underneath the tires of a car. Michelle, a woman who I once had made love to on my own desk, would find her end at the bottom of a 200 foot drop off of one of the steepest faces in the world. That event is one of the last clear moments in my mind - a single drop of light in hundreds of years of hazy memory. She had hesitated when she'd attempted to kill me... and I had taken no such second thoughts.
It will happen because it must - because it already has, and because I've made it so. | "You seriously sent assassins back in time to kill me in order to prevent me from... knocking over your precious vase?" Jenkins stared, dumbfounded, at the toothpick of a man, with fine silks draped upon his bony frame.
"Yes." Was all the man said before he snapped his fingers.
Two seconds later, Jenkins' world went black and never lit up again. | |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | **S**am was holding a small wooden stool in his hands. It was a warm and sunny day in spring. A perfect day to get some answers, Sam thought, as he looked at the body in front of him.
The body was that of a man in his forties lying face down: tall, with long dirty hair and clothes that Sam knew far too well even though they were not yet invented in his own time - far-too-tight jeans, dark jacket and a transparent hood which glistened in the light falling through the window.
Sam had no idea how the man found him, or, for that matter, how he got into the house. Perhaps that would forever remain a mystery, rather like the question of the meaning of life or of how one was supposed to work in Windows Vista. All Sam cared about at the moment was that the man would wake up and give him some answers. That, and perhaps a cup of tea.
He put the stool down and sat on it, watching the man of the floor closely. It was by pure luck that he had managed to come downstairs just as the man appeared in front of his couch, and it was by pure luck that Sam, thinking that a burglar had somehow gotten in, decided to thrown a small wooden stool in the general direction of the now motionless body. It was only after the *thud!* that followed that Sam realized why the man looked so familiar.
He had seen people like that before in his childhood nightmares.
They would come at night, stand next to his bed. Some of them had guns, others had knives, and yet others fancied pillows. They would try and attack him, and Sam would scream, waking up his parents. They would run up to his room to ask why Sam was sitting in his bed crying, but by that time the masked assassins would be long gone in the night.
For a while, Sam thought these dreams to be exactly that, dreams. Nightmares so common with every small child. It was not until today that he had finally realized that he may have been right at the age of four, when he was trying to tell his mother that "a clawed man" has been in his room.
He got up and poked the body with a stool. Nothing. The man was still laying on the floor like a pile of rags. Sam got a little bit closer. Nothing. Another step closer. Still nothing. Another...
The man jumped up, lunging himself upwards towards Sam. The latter tried swinging the stool back at the intruder, but suddenly felt his arms grow weak. He was staring himself in the face.
The man looked much like Sam, if by much you mean "an older, wild-haired, hobo-looking" sort of thing. His hands clasped around Sam's neck, and he felt the world grow dark and distant as the man screamed something on top of his lungs, something... Sam couldn't quite hear it as the life was leaving his eyes.
________________________________________
The older Sam stood up looking at his younger self's body.
"This will teach you how to invest into Bitcoin", he spat furiously. "And that is my stool you're holding, faggot." | "You seriously sent assassins back in time to kill me in order to prevent me from... knocking over your precious vase?" Jenkins stared, dumbfounded, at the toothpick of a man, with fine silks draped upon his bony frame.
"Yes." Was all the man said before he snapped his fingers.
Two seconds later, Jenkins' world went black and never lit up again. | |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | Downstairs, on the patio, a half-rotted floorboard whined under someone’s weight.
I kept my eyes squeezed closed. Fuck him. I probably still had another two, maybe three minutes. Depends how cautious this one was. Depends if he tries to go through the patio door, or scales the wall to the bedroom window. They rarely came up with new tricks.
*Clnk.*
The grating sound of metal hooks scratching against my terracotta window frame.
*Shff.*
Okay. A climber.
Refusing to acquiesce and open my eyes like a normal murder-ee, I reached under the bed. Scrabbled blindly for a moment. My fingers scraped against the long, cool barrel of my Remington.
*Shff.*
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, blinking stickily. I directed the shotgun at the bay window and sighed. Probably another five seconds or so.
*Shff.*
Four.
*Shff.*
Three.
*Shff.*
Two.
*Shff.*
One.
A dark silhouette emerged behind the window panes; not noticing me waiting in the oily blackness of my room, he brought out a long, softly humming device rimmed with faint lights. A second’s serene whirr and a perfect disc of glass fell back into the bedroom.
“Hey,” I said, watching the figure poke his head through the fresh hole.
He froze.
“My assassination target hours are nine-to-five,” I said, sleepily. “It’s outside of business hours, buddy.”
"Y- "
I pulled the trigger.
I’d deal with the body tomorrow.
***
My mother had abandoned me at birth, practically still steaming from the warmth of the womb. I don’t know who she is, what she looked like, or even what her name is; I do, however, know why she left me.
I wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t.
The tome she left with me explained everything. Dating back to the 16th century, it detailed my family’s plight: hiding in the shadows, out-assassinating the assassins, living in isolated, hard-to-pronounce villages in isolated, hard-to-pronounce countries. Competing against time.
It’s a trope, yes. “Go back in time and kill his mother.” Everyone always says that’s what they’d do, with Hitler, with –
Well, really, it’s just with Hitler.
The problem emerges when they can’t find his mother. When they have no idea where his mother is. When mother dearest has spent so many years dodging her own would-be assassins that she has earned her own bounty; and her mother before her; and her mother before her.
I don’t know who the target is in our lineage. He or she might not bother being born for another hundred, two hundred, three hundred years. All I know is that said asshole had made life seriously hard for me.
***
Gingerly, I stepped over the traveller. Rigor mortis had already set in, so no point in dealing with it now. Let it soak for a while, loosen up first.
I wandered downstairs, pausing to disable the security grid. I glanced through the tiny window of the Trap Room; a moat-like room hidden just below the patio entrance, capturing overeager travellers who assumed I wouldn’t be seriously used to their shit by now. No one fresh. I’d forgotten about the girl in the black turtleneck, though. She was starting to look messy.
I wondered what JKrel23 had come back with.
JKrel23 was an internet weirdo I’d been ‘chatting’ with for a while now. There was this one forum, you see, that believed in time travel. Of course, they were right, but not for the right reasons. They were right in the same way the subway guy bleating about the apocalypse will be right on the day the apocalypse actually, you know, happens. Broken clocks, yada, yada.
I flipped open my laptop. I will admit to enjoying winding the forum up, a bit. There was something terribly delicious about having this knowledge, this intimate familiarity, and keeping it from them; taking up the counter-offense, actually, and calling them insane, schizophrenic, delusional. I couldn’t actually tell anyone; if I did, the trickle of would-be assassins would become a flood. I suppose this was my way of ‘talking’ about it.
*They wouldn’t stand a chance,* JKrel23 wrote. *They would kill them in utero. The second they become a target, they cease to exist. Why do you think we’re not already post-apocalyptic? Despite all the close calls in the ‘50s? We’re not aware of any time travel assassinations because the targets never got a chance to exist.*
I stretched. This old gem.
*So, what about Hitler? Why hasn’t he ‘ceased to exist’?* I replied.
*Hitler wasn’t a big enough target.* An immediate answer. This sad fuck was wired in to the forums night and day. *The protocol probably doesn’t allow for it. He probably falls just under the minimum requirements – so, obviously, thinking relatively, he’s the absolute worst for us. Because we haven’t seen anything beyond him.*
*More like, if there is time travel, the travellers are laughably useless,* I replied. *Incompetent fucks who can’t even take out an infant.*
*They could take you out before you could even blink.*
I laughed.
*Bring it.* Send.
A loud wail.
The upstairs security system triggered.
I sighed, sliding my kukri out of its sheath. For the umpteenth time, cursed the asshole who brought this on my family. Better be worth it. Can’t get one day’s fucking peace.
| "You seriously sent assassins back in time to kill me in order to prevent me from... knocking over your precious vase?" Jenkins stared, dumbfounded, at the toothpick of a man, with fine silks draped upon his bony frame.
"Yes." Was all the man said before he snapped his fingers.
Two seconds later, Jenkins' world went black and never lit up again. | |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | "A training regiment?"
There we all sat around a long, suspended table in a building that, officially, didn't exist. Behind us, out the window, was a beautiful view of the coastal solar farms and beyond that, the local Pacific fusion plant, slowly converting tiny amounts of salt water into energy. And, in the process, creating minute rifts - gaps in space and time just large enough to fit a person through, if you managed to catch them and hold them open before they disappeared.
"That's right." I told them. A couple were looking at me like I was a joke, but they knew better to speak out - my judgement was paramount, and no one, not even my second-in-command, was going to try and talk me out of this gross waste of resources.
I stood up from my grand chair at the end of the table and took a walk to the window at the other end of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, I recognize your faces - each of you, individually, has tried to kill me in the past, long before you fell into my new world as one of my Travelers." There was surprised muttering among them - this was new information, and finding a way to surprise a Traveler was no easy task. "And now I see why."
"The Paradox states that time is an endless series of loops, each one formed by a Traveler's actions. The Nazis lost World War 2 because I went back in time to stop them - and I went back in time to stop them, because I knew I made them lose World War 2."
"But without this training," I continued, "I would not be standing in front of you today. When mankind first achieved fusion and I was pulled through time, smack into the middle of the first American civil war, I wouldn't have lasted 5 minutes if I hadn't been trained like I had. Your assassination attempts gave me the reflexes, the knowhow, the speed and strength to survive. When the rifts finally pulled me back through, I had helped to end it."
"Now," he said, "I must ask you all to do what you have been training for since I hired you. You will go back in time, and, with every fiber of your being, attempt to kill me. You'll find your sets of dates and times already programmed at the plant. And when you return, you will be released from your contracts and free to live out the remainder of your lives with a portion of my own wealth."
The men around the table murmured assent. There was something not quite right about this, and they knew it. And they were right to think so. Of the 12 in front of him, only 3 would remain in just a few hours. The other 9, I had killed personally.
The thought would have bothered me, once, but it no longer does. Now, I know. Cassandra, who would appear to me approximately 10 years ago in the night, holding a small, poisoned knife, would die by her own blade. Richards would find himself underneath the tires of a car. Michelle, a woman who I once had made love to on my own desk, would find her end at the bottom of a 200 foot drop off of one of the steepest faces in the world. That event is one of the last clear moments in my mind - a single drop of light in hundreds of years of hazy memory. She had hesitated when she'd attempted to kill me... and I had taken no such second thoughts.
It will happen because it must - because it already has, and because I've made it so. | My son was born today, I couldn't be happier. Ann went through 7 hours of labor to deliver this perfect bundle of joy into our lives.
I'm so happy i can barely breathe. However, I do have to bring up the question do infants laugh when they're born? I always thought they were supposed to cry, however my son let out the heartiest laugh his body could muster as he breathed for the first time.
Journal Entry 6/06/06.
Fuck. These religious assassin nut jobs. They were never trying to kill me. They were after Marty. I just found one of their "memory devices" I'm guessing it is. I'm going to figure out how to make this work. This one was different, It tried to convince me to let it kill my son. Fuck these things.
Journal Entry 12/29/15.
So I finally got it to work, actually It started working by itself. I didn't think holographic technology without prisms was available yet. Though this does confirm my suspicions that they might actually be backed by a first world government with ties to the some religious sect, because every time I kill one of them they always go out with some sort of prayer....do robots pray?
The actual data was sort of confusing, almost imaginary. It was like a little mini movie depicting a future full of war. It was a collage of propaganda posters. All of them had what looked like older versions of Marty with phrases like: "Renounce religion for the future of our human race.", "Join our troops to guarantee our future in the stars!", "Religion is what holds us back, take control of your own life and the future of humanity.".
All of them seemed to be some sort of agenda against religion. I'm going to have to review this and figure out who is actually sending these......things after us.
Journal entry 01/03/16.
Was watching BBC today, seems like another war is about to break out between Israel and Palestine. Border conflicts are turning into full on skirmishes, deaths in the hundreds. The usual result of a conflict based on ideals of civilizations that existed long ago.
These quarrels are so stupid, all the wasted potential of the innocents. Who knows one of them that died could have changed the world for the better. Now, that's impossible. All because of the archaic ideals still used as an excuse by those in power to gain.....more power.
Reminds me of those posters from that things hard drive thing. I'm going to call it the holo drive from now on (note to self: remember to copyright that). The world would probably be a better place without religion, or at least religion that hasn't been updated with the times.
I'm going to go review that holo drive one more time.
Journal Entry 03/28/16.
Shit, today was a bad day. Woke up to something moving in the house, like an idiot I went and checked. Good thing I'm not a complete idiot, I sent Ann and Marty away to stay with a distant relative for....fresh air. I also happened to have my Glock 19 with those handy 9mm AP rounds on me when I checked on the noise.
Turned out to be some sort of drone that had arm like appendages and it was searching around my work area, I shot it's rotor to take it down. Surprisingly the thing started to relay a voice, which actually threatened to kill Ann and I both instead of only killing Marty.
"Jason Krevill, I demand you give up the holo drive. If you refuse to comply in 24 hours we will have to update the priority list with you and your wife Annie Krevill."
Heh, try me bitch. There's a reason I sent Ann and Marty away and it wasn't only for their saftey. She hates weapons, and a closet full of guns isn't exactly something to romance her with.
Journal entry 04/03/2016.
I kinda lost steam due to the enormity of the story i'm trying to write. Going into this would be delving into my own personal opinions of religion, etc. And I don't think this WP really needs to see that. If interested in more, let me know.
Edit: Aite doing some more.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
I'm hurt bad. I can't let Ann know, otherwise she'd come running and put herself and Marty in danger. She's seen these assassins she knows its for the better of all three of us. No contact until I initiate it first. I couldn't go to the hospital, too many questions. I don't need the law on my case. I know they're busy dealing with realistic business. My situation sounds like the ramblings of a deranged person even to myself. If I didn't have a chunk of my right arm missing right now I would turn myself into a mental asylum.
I need to make a note here and now, just in case things don't work out and I don't make it back. I made some wrong assumptions.
1) They are not backed by a current government.
2) They are not robots...more like cyborgs. Part human part machine.
3) The technology they have can't exist.....yet. They fired at me with lasers? It could have been plasma. It definitely wasn't a projectile. When they were shooting me at first, I thought they were strobing me. Not until one of those flashes hit my arm and took a piece of me with it did I realize how deep in shit I was.
Being a Navy N.U.K.E I made some friends in experimental weapon divisions. The most advanced thing I was ever privy information to was a rail gun. Something like a thermal weapon that could efficiently fit in a personal package is years, if not decades away.
shit........I might just have figured it out. Will provide more detail after I tinker with the "Holo Drive" a little more.
On that note, that voice from the drone also called it a holo drive....
Journal Entry 04/06/2016
____________________________________________________________________________________________
This is some crazy shit, I'm not one for conspiracy theories but how else can I explain this? Robots, sorry cyborgs with future tech trying to pull off covert kill missions against my son? However, I know this can't be a conspiracy. I'm not important enough to spend this much capitol on missions against.
I'm fighting with myself here. I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but these things, these machines must be from the future. The posters from the first holo drive had pictures of someone that looked like an older version of my son. Marty is only 10 now, but that scar under his left eye that he got running into a pole is definitely his. There is no doubt in my mind that the man from those posters is the future version of my son.
If I'm talking about the future, I'm going way past my education. I've skimmed through theories before, and the idea of time travel means they could have gone way into the past, and eliminated my bloodline before I was born. Wouldn't that have been common sense?
Let's say these cyborgs are here to prevent this....version of the future from happening. Why now? Why not go back far enough to ensure my wife and I don't even exist?
I need more information. I've been on the run from the "drone voice". I don't know what sort of tracking ability it has, I can't rely on anything I know anymore. I'm deep off the grid, I don't even know if Ann and Marty are safe. But Fuck if I let this go, If they are dead, I'm going to make sure I finish what these fucking murderers started.
Journal Entry 04/14/2016.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Bad news first, The Voice found me. Good news, I know Ann and Marty are okay. Seems to be getting mighty desperate in getting this holo drive back. I wasn't hearing things either, this device is actually called a holo drive. If I get out of this mess I am definitely reverse engineering this thing.
Anyway, another thing I "discovered" is that there is definitely more memory in the drive. The Voice was probing at me trying to figure out how much I actually knew. On that note I have no idea how he found me in that cabin, I haven't been anywhere in public for at least 3 weeks. This journal.....log, that sounds more fitting. This log is the only reason why I haven't lost track of time.
I know for sure whatever tech it's using can manipulate our surveillance systems. It probably has access to our military grade surveillance satellites with my shitty luck. Unless the future where my son is a major threat to whatever organizations these freaks belong to got some part on 00parts, I doubt they can do anything magical to found my whereabouts.
I've literally caked myself in mud, even in the woods I need to make sure I'm not emitting a heat signature. If the voice finds me again I'll know he's got some way to find me without use of conventional tech.
I'm also running out of ammo, I have 3 mags of 5.56 for that m4 left, I used the last of the 7.62 rounds on the last wave of drones so I had to get rid of the HK 417. God I loved that weapon......heh "God".
Journal Entry 05/10/2016.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
I saw the mud thing in some survival show, I thought it would be a good idea. It wasn't.
It's so itchy, and I don't know if it really works. The one thing I do know, is that the asshole doesn't have many drones left. I've heard them making some ruckus north of me, and sometimes south of me. I'm guessing the Voice just has these things checking the fringes of this forest constantly looking for something to poke its head out.
The holo drive isn't giving me any more information. I don't have the tools to try and poke deeper into it. I'm sure it's low on power, I mean I haven't figured out anyway to charge it. I'll have to leave this forest soon, I'm tired of living like some hermit, I need to take action when he doesn't suspect it.
There's going to be a storm soon, I can feel it. I'll make my move then.
Journal Entry 05/12/2016.
__________________________________________________________________________________________ | |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | "A training regiment?"
There we all sat around a long, suspended table in a building that, officially, didn't exist. Behind us, out the window, was a beautiful view of the coastal solar farms and beyond that, the local Pacific fusion plant, slowly converting tiny amounts of salt water into energy. And, in the process, creating minute rifts - gaps in space and time just large enough to fit a person through, if you managed to catch them and hold them open before they disappeared.
"That's right." I told them. A couple were looking at me like I was a joke, but they knew better to speak out - my judgement was paramount, and no one, not even my second-in-command, was going to try and talk me out of this gross waste of resources.
I stood up from my grand chair at the end of the table and took a walk to the window at the other end of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, I recognize your faces - each of you, individually, has tried to kill me in the past, long before you fell into my new world as one of my Travelers." There was surprised muttering among them - this was new information, and finding a way to surprise a Traveler was no easy task. "And now I see why."
"The Paradox states that time is an endless series of loops, each one formed by a Traveler's actions. The Nazis lost World War 2 because I went back in time to stop them - and I went back in time to stop them, because I knew I made them lose World War 2."
"But without this training," I continued, "I would not be standing in front of you today. When mankind first achieved fusion and I was pulled through time, smack into the middle of the first American civil war, I wouldn't have lasted 5 minutes if I hadn't been trained like I had. Your assassination attempts gave me the reflexes, the knowhow, the speed and strength to survive. When the rifts finally pulled me back through, I had helped to end it."
"Now," he said, "I must ask you all to do what you have been training for since I hired you. You will go back in time, and, with every fiber of your being, attempt to kill me. You'll find your sets of dates and times already programmed at the plant. And when you return, you will be released from your contracts and free to live out the remainder of your lives with a portion of my own wealth."
The men around the table murmured assent. There was something not quite right about this, and they knew it. And they were right to think so. Of the 12 in front of him, only 3 would remain in just a few hours. The other 9, I had killed personally.
The thought would have bothered me, once, but it no longer does. Now, I know. Cassandra, who would appear to me approximately 10 years ago in the night, holding a small, poisoned knife, would die by her own blade. Richards would find himself underneath the tires of a car. Michelle, a woman who I once had made love to on my own desk, would find her end at the bottom of a 200 foot drop off of one of the steepest faces in the world. That event is one of the last clear moments in my mind - a single drop of light in hundreds of years of hazy memory. She had hesitated when she'd attempted to kill me... and I had taken no such second thoughts.
It will happen because it must - because it already has, and because I've made it so. | Fingers pressed against the confines of the stone box -- blood stained the space between my nose and lips, continuing to drip down past a stubbled chin. I did not have much time - within minutes the next /wave/ of attempts on my life would begin. As they always had.
It had taken so long to realise why.
The earth shook underneath my feet, threatening to crack open with each second that I remained in the weaponised cube. It felt invigorating - green sparks flew from between my fingertips and the runes engraved on the insides of the make-shift tomb. I could practically feel the world crumbling at my feet.
To think that people had spent so long trying to stop this -- spent so long trying to stop me. It was bordering on ridiculous, though I could not deny that they'd been rather determined; most people did get a little competitive when they were trying to stop something from destroying their world.
[I have no idea of what this even is.] | |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | Downstairs, on the patio, a half-rotted floorboard whined under someone’s weight.
I kept my eyes squeezed closed. Fuck him. I probably still had another two, maybe three minutes. Depends how cautious this one was. Depends if he tries to go through the patio door, or scales the wall to the bedroom window. They rarely came up with new tricks.
*Clnk.*
The grating sound of metal hooks scratching against my terracotta window frame.
*Shff.*
Okay. A climber.
Refusing to acquiesce and open my eyes like a normal murder-ee, I reached under the bed. Scrabbled blindly for a moment. My fingers scraped against the long, cool barrel of my Remington.
*Shff.*
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, blinking stickily. I directed the shotgun at the bay window and sighed. Probably another five seconds or so.
*Shff.*
Four.
*Shff.*
Three.
*Shff.*
Two.
*Shff.*
One.
A dark silhouette emerged behind the window panes; not noticing me waiting in the oily blackness of my room, he brought out a long, softly humming device rimmed with faint lights. A second’s serene whirr and a perfect disc of glass fell back into the bedroom.
“Hey,” I said, watching the figure poke his head through the fresh hole.
He froze.
“My assassination target hours are nine-to-five,” I said, sleepily. “It’s outside of business hours, buddy.”
"Y- "
I pulled the trigger.
I’d deal with the body tomorrow.
***
My mother had abandoned me at birth, practically still steaming from the warmth of the womb. I don’t know who she is, what she looked like, or even what her name is; I do, however, know why she left me.
I wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t.
The tome she left with me explained everything. Dating back to the 16th century, it detailed my family’s plight: hiding in the shadows, out-assassinating the assassins, living in isolated, hard-to-pronounce villages in isolated, hard-to-pronounce countries. Competing against time.
It’s a trope, yes. “Go back in time and kill his mother.” Everyone always says that’s what they’d do, with Hitler, with –
Well, really, it’s just with Hitler.
The problem emerges when they can’t find his mother. When they have no idea where his mother is. When mother dearest has spent so many years dodging her own would-be assassins that she has earned her own bounty; and her mother before her; and her mother before her.
I don’t know who the target is in our lineage. He or she might not bother being born for another hundred, two hundred, three hundred years. All I know is that said asshole had made life seriously hard for me.
***
Gingerly, I stepped over the traveller. Rigor mortis had already set in, so no point in dealing with it now. Let it soak for a while, loosen up first.
I wandered downstairs, pausing to disable the security grid. I glanced through the tiny window of the Trap Room; a moat-like room hidden just below the patio entrance, capturing overeager travellers who assumed I wouldn’t be seriously used to their shit by now. No one fresh. I’d forgotten about the girl in the black turtleneck, though. She was starting to look messy.
I wondered what JKrel23 had come back with.
JKrel23 was an internet weirdo I’d been ‘chatting’ with for a while now. There was this one forum, you see, that believed in time travel. Of course, they were right, but not for the right reasons. They were right in the same way the subway guy bleating about the apocalypse will be right on the day the apocalypse actually, you know, happens. Broken clocks, yada, yada.
I flipped open my laptop. I will admit to enjoying winding the forum up, a bit. There was something terribly delicious about having this knowledge, this intimate familiarity, and keeping it from them; taking up the counter-offense, actually, and calling them insane, schizophrenic, delusional. I couldn’t actually tell anyone; if I did, the trickle of would-be assassins would become a flood. I suppose this was my way of ‘talking’ about it.
*They wouldn’t stand a chance,* JKrel23 wrote. *They would kill them in utero. The second they become a target, they cease to exist. Why do you think we’re not already post-apocalyptic? Despite all the close calls in the ‘50s? We’re not aware of any time travel assassinations because the targets never got a chance to exist.*
I stretched. This old gem.
*So, what about Hitler? Why hasn’t he ‘ceased to exist’?* I replied.
*Hitler wasn’t a big enough target.* An immediate answer. This sad fuck was wired in to the forums night and day. *The protocol probably doesn’t allow for it. He probably falls just under the minimum requirements – so, obviously, thinking relatively, he’s the absolute worst for us. Because we haven’t seen anything beyond him.*
*More like, if there is time travel, the travellers are laughably useless,* I replied. *Incompetent fucks who can’t even take out an infant.*
*They could take you out before you could even blink.*
I laughed.
*Bring it.* Send.
A loud wail.
The upstairs security system triggered.
I sighed, sliding my kukri out of its sheath. For the umpteenth time, cursed the asshole who brought this on my family. Better be worth it. Can’t get one day’s fucking peace.
| Fingers pressed against the confines of the stone box -- blood stained the space between my nose and lips, continuing to drip down past a stubbled chin. I did not have much time - within minutes the next /wave/ of attempts on my life would begin. As they always had.
It had taken so long to realise why.
The earth shook underneath my feet, threatening to crack open with each second that I remained in the weaponised cube. It felt invigorating - green sparks flew from between my fingertips and the runes engraved on the insides of the make-shift tomb. I could practically feel the world crumbling at my feet.
To think that people had spent so long trying to stop this -- spent so long trying to stop me. It was bordering on ridiculous, though I could not deny that they'd been rather determined; most people did get a little competitive when they were trying to stop something from destroying their world.
[I have no idea of what this even is.] | |
[WP] After a treacherous upbringing of dodging the assassination attempts of time travelers you learn why they were all trying to kill you. | Downstairs, on the patio, a half-rotted floorboard whined under someone’s weight.
I kept my eyes squeezed closed. Fuck him. I probably still had another two, maybe three minutes. Depends how cautious this one was. Depends if he tries to go through the patio door, or scales the wall to the bedroom window. They rarely came up with new tricks.
*Clnk.*
The grating sound of metal hooks scratching against my terracotta window frame.
*Shff.*
Okay. A climber.
Refusing to acquiesce and open my eyes like a normal murder-ee, I reached under the bed. Scrabbled blindly for a moment. My fingers scraped against the long, cool barrel of my Remington.
*Shff.*
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, blinking stickily. I directed the shotgun at the bay window and sighed. Probably another five seconds or so.
*Shff.*
Four.
*Shff.*
Three.
*Shff.*
Two.
*Shff.*
One.
A dark silhouette emerged behind the window panes; not noticing me waiting in the oily blackness of my room, he brought out a long, softly humming device rimmed with faint lights. A second’s serene whirr and a perfect disc of glass fell back into the bedroom.
“Hey,” I said, watching the figure poke his head through the fresh hole.
He froze.
“My assassination target hours are nine-to-five,” I said, sleepily. “It’s outside of business hours, buddy.”
"Y- "
I pulled the trigger.
I’d deal with the body tomorrow.
***
My mother had abandoned me at birth, practically still steaming from the warmth of the womb. I don’t know who she is, what she looked like, or even what her name is; I do, however, know why she left me.
I wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t.
The tome she left with me explained everything. Dating back to the 16th century, it detailed my family’s plight: hiding in the shadows, out-assassinating the assassins, living in isolated, hard-to-pronounce villages in isolated, hard-to-pronounce countries. Competing against time.
It’s a trope, yes. “Go back in time and kill his mother.” Everyone always says that’s what they’d do, with Hitler, with –
Well, really, it’s just with Hitler.
The problem emerges when they can’t find his mother. When they have no idea where his mother is. When mother dearest has spent so many years dodging her own would-be assassins that she has earned her own bounty; and her mother before her; and her mother before her.
I don’t know who the target is in our lineage. He or she might not bother being born for another hundred, two hundred, three hundred years. All I know is that said asshole had made life seriously hard for me.
***
Gingerly, I stepped over the traveller. Rigor mortis had already set in, so no point in dealing with it now. Let it soak for a while, loosen up first.
I wandered downstairs, pausing to disable the security grid. I glanced through the tiny window of the Trap Room; a moat-like room hidden just below the patio entrance, capturing overeager travellers who assumed I wouldn’t be seriously used to their shit by now. No one fresh. I’d forgotten about the girl in the black turtleneck, though. She was starting to look messy.
I wondered what JKrel23 had come back with.
JKrel23 was an internet weirdo I’d been ‘chatting’ with for a while now. There was this one forum, you see, that believed in time travel. Of course, they were right, but not for the right reasons. They were right in the same way the subway guy bleating about the apocalypse will be right on the day the apocalypse actually, you know, happens. Broken clocks, yada, yada.
I flipped open my laptop. I will admit to enjoying winding the forum up, a bit. There was something terribly delicious about having this knowledge, this intimate familiarity, and keeping it from them; taking up the counter-offense, actually, and calling them insane, schizophrenic, delusional. I couldn’t actually tell anyone; if I did, the trickle of would-be assassins would become a flood. I suppose this was my way of ‘talking’ about it.
*They wouldn’t stand a chance,* JKrel23 wrote. *They would kill them in utero. The second they become a target, they cease to exist. Why do you think we’re not already post-apocalyptic? Despite all the close calls in the ‘50s? We’re not aware of any time travel assassinations because the targets never got a chance to exist.*
I stretched. This old gem.
*So, what about Hitler? Why hasn’t he ‘ceased to exist’?* I replied.
*Hitler wasn’t a big enough target.* An immediate answer. This sad fuck was wired in to the forums night and day. *The protocol probably doesn’t allow for it. He probably falls just under the minimum requirements – so, obviously, thinking relatively, he’s the absolute worst for us. Because we haven’t seen anything beyond him.*
*More like, if there is time travel, the travellers are laughably useless,* I replied. *Incompetent fucks who can’t even take out an infant.*
*They could take you out before you could even blink.*
I laughed.
*Bring it.* Send.
A loud wail.
The upstairs security system triggered.
I sighed, sliding my kukri out of its sheath. For the umpteenth time, cursed the asshole who brought this on my family. Better be worth it. Can’t get one day’s fucking peace.
| **S**am was holding a small wooden stool in his hands. It was a warm and sunny day in spring. A perfect day to get some answers, Sam thought, as he looked at the body in front of him.
The body was that of a man in his forties lying face down: tall, with long dirty hair and clothes that Sam knew far too well even though they were not yet invented in his own time - far-too-tight jeans, dark jacket and a transparent hood which glistened in the light falling through the window.
Sam had no idea how the man found him, or, for that matter, how he got into the house. Perhaps that would forever remain a mystery, rather like the question of the meaning of life or of how one was supposed to work in Windows Vista. All Sam cared about at the moment was that the man would wake up and give him some answers. That, and perhaps a cup of tea.
He put the stool down and sat on it, watching the man of the floor closely. It was by pure luck that he had managed to come downstairs just as the man appeared in front of his couch, and it was by pure luck that Sam, thinking that a burglar had somehow gotten in, decided to thrown a small wooden stool in the general direction of the now motionless body. It was only after the *thud!* that followed that Sam realized why the man looked so familiar.
He had seen people like that before in his childhood nightmares.
They would come at night, stand next to his bed. Some of them had guns, others had knives, and yet others fancied pillows. They would try and attack him, and Sam would scream, waking up his parents. They would run up to his room to ask why Sam was sitting in his bed crying, but by that time the masked assassins would be long gone in the night.
For a while, Sam thought these dreams to be exactly that, dreams. Nightmares so common with every small child. It was not until today that he had finally realized that he may have been right at the age of four, when he was trying to tell his mother that "a clawed man" has been in his room.
He got up and poked the body with a stool. Nothing. The man was still laying on the floor like a pile of rags. Sam got a little bit closer. Nothing. Another step closer. Still nothing. Another...
The man jumped up, lunging himself upwards towards Sam. The latter tried swinging the stool back at the intruder, but suddenly felt his arms grow weak. He was staring himself in the face.
The man looked much like Sam, if by much you mean "an older, wild-haired, hobo-looking" sort of thing. His hands clasped around Sam's neck, and he felt the world grow dark and distant as the man screamed something on top of his lungs, something... Sam couldn't quite hear it as the life was leaving his eyes.
________________________________________
The older Sam stood up looking at his younger self's body.
"This will teach you how to invest into Bitcoin", he spat furiously. "And that is my stool you're holding, faggot." | |
[WP] Only musicians are born with emotions, and can distribute them temporarily for the duration of the song they play. | "This one is a Musician." The placid observation clipped through the air like gentle shears, amongst the noise of shuffled papers and the clicking of the background computer. The Musician's mother blinked, not startled; neither joyed or dismayed by the otherwise startling news.
When the Catharsis - *the fall of humanity? The resolution for world peace?* - had begun, the Musician would have been hailed as a savior. But with the Catharsis having overtaken nearly the entire world, there was no reason to be emotionally moved - nor emotional at all. Humans were sustained no longer by the autonomous duties of their amygdala and endocrine responses. Or more poetically, no longer slaves to the whim of their emotions; tempestuous rage, heart-aching sorrow, and buoyant joy were muted; expressions of surprise and disgust and fear were smoothed from all facial muscles. Without impulse there was calm. The catalyst of the Catharsis had been, after all, just another neurotoxin engineered to placate the irritated and ever-needy masses. But it had gone all so wrongly, or perhaps rightly *(For who could judge?)*; mass-distribution rendered humanity as emotionless as the earth. There were "moods," yes, enduring states of placid calm, placid content, placid dissatisfaction; unchanging and without need or impetus to change. And for the rare, chemical imbalance in which a mood slid from dissatisfaction to sorrow, there was a quick fix. Ah, necessity had become the goal and basis for all interaction, and there was always an unsaid uncertainty about the necessity of Music. For *Music* held the key for unleashing emotion exuberantly for the duration of resonance.
And so the Musicians were certainly a rare statistic, anomalies born with an inexplicable immunity to the neurotoxin; born to grace the otherwise-silent world with their presence: loud or soft, raucous or melodious, carried by their own voice or the spine of an instrument they were guaranteed to discover. Their lives would often be anachronistically short (another anomaly to a human race blessed by engineering for longevity), but long enough to bring about waves of color and sound to the barren world. What they could offer was a reprieve to the Catharsis, and no one could logically explain why.
Inexplicably too, the rest of humanity would uncuriously but predictably come to listen, as if the often-haphazardly put-together, and impromptu concerts, were scheduled in their organized work lives. As natural as making time to eat or sleep, but with the urgency of any reason for hospitalization - if a local Musician (boldly or shyly) proclaimed that they would play, the crowds would come. Inordinately, their steps picking up with a little, inexplicable speed as they gathered to hear; their breaths resounding and their chests rising and falling more quickly. Pupils dilated and color gathering to cheeks. But no one would notice or vocalize these extraordinary signs in one another, for the music - the sounds of *emotion* - would soon come forth, and there should be silence and rapt attention to honor it.
The experience - *transformative, ephemeral, beautiful, riveting, raw* - would yield an outburst of vitality in the listeners. *Tears* would pour, laughter would ring out, disgust and anger would jostle momentarily with the surrounding festivities; applause and *dancing* would move otherwise-languid limbs. Intense moments of human bonding would occur in this outpour of hormones and neurotransmiters - adrenaline, dopamine, serotonin, and even more complex - oxytocin - would glitter behind wild and wet eyes, expressed in the flash of teeth and arch of eyebrows, raised hands and irrepressible feet.
Hours pass from the concert's beginning until the Musician is exhausted of their talent, physically and emotionally, for they have given (no listener could deny) their all. But moments later, no one in the crowd would be able to empathize or even guess at the emotional thoughts of that lone, statistical anomaly standing on the battered stage. Mild confusion would be quickly eliminated by the return of the Calm, just as expected, just as normal. Tears would be gingerly wiped away, hair arranged, dirt brushed off of clothing. They would applaud, to be polite, for they supposed that the Musician had performed a public service. And so they would return home, to their ordinary and ordered lives - to silence and serenity.
But many Musicians would often illogically remain on stage after the crowds had dispersed, knees threatening to give out. Who could say what emotions warred behind their bleary eyes, what desires stirred in their tired fingers, what hoarse but meaningful whispers could be said from their dry throats? They alone could testify to the enormity of what had just occurred, but their words would instill nothing that their talent could not better explain. How did they ascribe their own experiences? Some Musicians, after hesitance and renewed conviction, wrote *peaceful, "worth it," beautiful* - to have given humanity what they could of a "gift." Others scrawled, *bittersweet*, and a few scratched out, *lonely* or *"I want to die."* But many, many accounts finished with this: *"I hope they come again."*
So when the doctor imparted the phenomenal news and left, the unperturbed mother continued to digest the news and conceive what she could of her newborn daughter's life. Music was something that the mother had unknowingly rendered a necessity, despite not knowing quite why. Perhaps a Musician as a child would not be so bad. She listened to the heartbeat monitor and watched the nutrition feed, calmly registering the reports of good health as good news.
She sighed; she was tired, as to be expected from the long pregnancy and fruits childbirth, but feeling a little... "odd." Delivery might have contributed though; a quick chemical check-up would fix this unorthodox mood. She closed her heavy eyes and thought forward to meeting her daughter, this Musician. She began to doze. Her fingers began to casually tap to the beat of her daughter's heart. The corners of her lips lifted, just a little. | The Great Day, video recording:
*The recording buzzes in on a newscaster.*
"Hello, people of Greensboro. Millions clamor today to squeeze a spot into the Grand Musical Distribution Center. A world-renowned composer will be playing. He will be starting soon.
"I will not attend today, and if you are watching this broadcast, neither shall you. I lacked the necessary funds, and by rule of likelihood, you did as well. Perhaps in the future we will all acquire a glimpse of feeling.
"The performance shall be starting right... now. This news report is now finished. Goodbye, citizens of Greens...
"Citizens of Greensboro. Y-Yes, goodbye. Perhaps in the future we will all acquire a glimpse of feeling--*cough*. What? *What?*
"Citizens of Greensboro, please, do not turn off your televisions. I... Holy shit, I can *feel.* People, do not turn-- Claire, Claire, can you, too? I don't hear any music. Do you? No?
"We aren't hearing any music over here at Channel XXI. But we can *feel.* Citizens, if you are feeling any sort of emotion *at all*, please, call our news station number: (NUMBER OMITTED). Call it if you feel anything.
*Ring.* *Ring.* *Ring.*
"Oh, the phones are flying off the hook! Can-- can everyone feel? Everybody?
"What? Josh, what did you say? I can't hear you over the ringing. God, I can't even see you. I think I'm crying. Is this what crying is like? Wait, wait, Josh, tell me, what did you say?
"... The musician is no longer performing. Yet, I can feel. E-Everyone here at the news station can feel... Can we get somebody live at the Musical Center? My God..."
*The video fades to static for a moment. It returns to a reporter standing outside the Musical Distribution Center.*
"Y-Yes, thank you, Matt. We all still have emotions over here. None of us have a clue what is happening. The musician-- the musician just disappeared after his performance. He went offstage, and now nobody can find him.
"Matt, Matt. I-I think this is the greatest thing to ever happen. We can all feel. Everybody in Greensboro can, I know it. People are outside their houses, cheering, crying, screaming, what-have-you. God.
"Run a check, somebody look up another town's news station number and call them... Something has happened... I can't believe..."
*The recording cuts to black.* | |
[WP] Only musicians are born with emotions, and can distribute them temporarily for the duration of the song they play. | "This one is a Musician." The placid observation clipped through the air like gentle shears, amongst the noise of shuffled papers and the clicking of the background computer. The Musician's mother blinked, not startled; neither joyed or dismayed by the otherwise startling news.
When the Catharsis - *the fall of humanity? The resolution for world peace?* - had begun, the Musician would have been hailed as a savior. But with the Catharsis having overtaken nearly the entire world, there was no reason to be emotionally moved - nor emotional at all. Humans were sustained no longer by the autonomous duties of their amygdala and endocrine responses. Or more poetically, no longer slaves to the whim of their emotions; tempestuous rage, heart-aching sorrow, and buoyant joy were muted; expressions of surprise and disgust and fear were smoothed from all facial muscles. Without impulse there was calm. The catalyst of the Catharsis had been, after all, just another neurotoxin engineered to placate the irritated and ever-needy masses. But it had gone all so wrongly, or perhaps rightly *(For who could judge?)*; mass-distribution rendered humanity as emotionless as the earth. There were "moods," yes, enduring states of placid calm, placid content, placid dissatisfaction; unchanging and without need or impetus to change. And for the rare, chemical imbalance in which a mood slid from dissatisfaction to sorrow, there was a quick fix. Ah, necessity had become the goal and basis for all interaction, and there was always an unsaid uncertainty about the necessity of Music. For *Music* held the key for unleashing emotion exuberantly for the duration of resonance.
And so the Musicians were certainly a rare statistic, anomalies born with an inexplicable immunity to the neurotoxin; born to grace the otherwise-silent world with their presence: loud or soft, raucous or melodious, carried by their own voice or the spine of an instrument they were guaranteed to discover. Their lives would often be anachronistically short (another anomaly to a human race blessed by engineering for longevity), but long enough to bring about waves of color and sound to the barren world. What they could offer was a reprieve to the Catharsis, and no one could logically explain why.
Inexplicably too, the rest of humanity would uncuriously but predictably come to listen, as if the often-haphazardly put-together, and impromptu concerts, were scheduled in their organized work lives. As natural as making time to eat or sleep, but with the urgency of any reason for hospitalization - if a local Musician (boldly or shyly) proclaimed that they would play, the crowds would come. Inordinately, their steps picking up with a little, inexplicable speed as they gathered to hear; their breaths resounding and their chests rising and falling more quickly. Pupils dilated and color gathering to cheeks. But no one would notice or vocalize these extraordinary signs in one another, for the music - the sounds of *emotion* - would soon come forth, and there should be silence and rapt attention to honor it.
The experience - *transformative, ephemeral, beautiful, riveting, raw* - would yield an outburst of vitality in the listeners. *Tears* would pour, laughter would ring out, disgust and anger would jostle momentarily with the surrounding festivities; applause and *dancing* would move otherwise-languid limbs. Intense moments of human bonding would occur in this outpour of hormones and neurotransmiters - adrenaline, dopamine, serotonin, and even more complex - oxytocin - would glitter behind wild and wet eyes, expressed in the flash of teeth and arch of eyebrows, raised hands and irrepressible feet.
Hours pass from the concert's beginning until the Musician is exhausted of their talent, physically and emotionally, for they have given (no listener could deny) their all. But moments later, no one in the crowd would be able to empathize or even guess at the emotional thoughts of that lone, statistical anomaly standing on the battered stage. Mild confusion would be quickly eliminated by the return of the Calm, just as expected, just as normal. Tears would be gingerly wiped away, hair arranged, dirt brushed off of clothing. They would applaud, to be polite, for they supposed that the Musician had performed a public service. And so they would return home, to their ordinary and ordered lives - to silence and serenity.
But many Musicians would often illogically remain on stage after the crowds had dispersed, knees threatening to give out. Who could say what emotions warred behind their bleary eyes, what desires stirred in their tired fingers, what hoarse but meaningful whispers could be said from their dry throats? They alone could testify to the enormity of what had just occurred, but their words would instill nothing that their talent could not better explain. How did they ascribe their own experiences? Some Musicians, after hesitance and renewed conviction, wrote *peaceful, "worth it," beautiful* - to have given humanity what they could of a "gift." Others scrawled, *bittersweet*, and a few scratched out, *lonely* or *"I want to die."* But many, many accounts finished with this: *"I hope they come again."*
So when the doctor imparted the phenomenal news and left, the unperturbed mother continued to digest the news and conceive what she could of her newborn daughter's life. Music was something that the mother had unknowingly rendered a necessity, despite not knowing quite why. Perhaps a Musician as a child would not be so bad. She listened to the heartbeat monitor and watched the nutrition feed, calmly registering the reports of good health as good news.
She sighed; she was tired, as to be expected from the long pregnancy and fruits childbirth, but feeling a little... "odd." Delivery might have contributed though; a quick chemical check-up would fix this unorthodox mood. She closed her heavy eyes and thought forward to meeting her daughter, this Musician. She began to doze. Her fingers began to casually tap to the beat of her daughter's heart. The corners of her lips lifted, just a little. | The world was abuzz with the news: Gypsy Rose was going to be doing her final gig and then retire from music forever. Or so the rumors went.
People were not excited. No, they couldn't be excited. Or sad. Or happy. It was through music that emotions were delivered these days. At some point, emotions were ruled something only specialized groups needed, and they mostly had faded away, choosing to have children with people who had no emotions. That was their choice.
The woman known as Gypsy Rose was an enigma. She appeared on the musical scene as part of a band, the Gypsy Bouquet. They were a group of five stunningly beautiful men and women, each able to sing and play an instrument. The other Gypsy Flowers had, to the best of common knowledge, left the music scene. And nobody particularly cared. Caring would require emotions that they had been so lucky to be freed from.
There had been questions arising on the internet as to the exclusivity of the event. It was free, but when registering, if you were a known musician you were not allowed to attend. Again, the lack of emotion made few care save the musicians who were refused access, to which the Gypsy Rose answered simply, "I want the attention on me on my last show, and I don't want any musicians trying to sing along."
Gypsy Rose was known for her theatrics, her dancing, her fiddle-playing, and her voice. Her voice was best known, though when she would take out her fiddle and start to play, the crowd couldn't help but dance along.
Cameras rolling.
The stadium's lights were out.
A loud BOOM, followed by a red rose appearing in the sky; a firework. The crowd looked up, the background music playing allowing them to gasp in awe. Their attention returned to the stage, and there was Gypsy Rose, the light focused on her.
She went through each of her hit songs, belting them out with such loudness and intensity that the effects were felt for several moments afterward. Tears of joy and laughter filled the stadium, two hundred fifty thousand people enjoying themselves.
A smile curved her lips as she announced, "I have a special surprise for everyone tonight, the last song of the evening!" The crowd cheered in anticipation, basically bouncing. The stage next to her rose, revealing her violin, Thorn. As she began to play, the crowd silenced, listening, enraptured by the new melody. A cage began to be lowered down onto her. Suddenly, she began to sing along with the violin.
*You took us,*
The cage lowered down to the ground with a soft clink.
*You enslaved us,*
The crowd murmured, feeling anger they had never felt rise up within them coming forth.
*You* ***bred*** *us...*
Someone in the crowd cried out, "WHO!" Echoes came forth of "NAME THEM!" "WHO DID IT!"
*And now... it's time... for...*
The lights all went out, the violin playing stopped, and Gypsy Rose's voice wailed a single word:
***Revenge!***
Rough, unfamiliar music began to play in the background. The crowd got pumped at the sound of the heavy drums and guitar, throwing their heads. As it creeped in, people asked each other if that might have been Gypsy Crocus playing. Their initial excitement and confusion was tuned by the music to anger and hatred none had ever felt in their lives. The lights turned on.
In the cage was no longer Gypsy Rose, but a rotund man, in chains. A middle-aged man, balding, with a bionic eye. "Please," he begged. "Please don't do this to me." He shifted around, barefoot, in his torn, dirtied clothing: a business suit that had seen far better days.
Attention was quickly drawn away from the man as a holo appeared of the four other members of the Gypsy Bouquet, with Gypsy Crocus on the guitar, the other three Gypsy Flowers clapping, in their festive getups.
People cheered. Gypsy Rose grinned and simply responded, "I'd hate to deny a crowd what it so clearly wants, Vadim." With that, Gypsy Rose resumed playing her violin once more. Hatred the crowd couldn't place fueled them to cheer on Gypsy Rose as she played her tune, facing the man known as Vadim. He struggled in his chains, trying to move away, but he began to move his feet. "Come on, Vadim, dance! You wouldn't want to disappoint all these good people!"
The cage lifted, and the man known as Vadim began to dance. His chains clink-clanked with each movement, and he danced after Gypsy Rose, who began to dance around the stage, facing him as she played her violin. The clapping got louder, and the crowd joined in. The man began to sob as he danced, feet turning pink, and then red. He begged, "Gypsy Rose! Please! Gypsy Rose, I'm sorry! I'm sorry for what I did to you and to your family!"
She spoke, though it did not interrupt the furious rage the crowd was in nor the violin she played, "Perhaps you should have thought of that before you bred my people for generations like dogs to make the perfect musicians. Before you took my son from me when I was just a child, you filth."
For hours, she played. For hours, the crowd continued in their reverie, drunk on the madness of her music. The man began to slow, unable to keep up. His feet were bleeding, and his blood had tracked across the stage in a circle. He finally came to a stop and fell, dead. She played a sharp note on her violin, and the holo responded and the music along with it to give a final few slams of the drum, before the crowd cheered wildly, screaming in joy.
It wasn't until the next day that the criminal cloning and eugenics program run by the late Vadim Vorobyov hit the news, the cyborg who was just human enough to dance himself to death. Children were found en masse, all looking nearly identical, of varying ages. Not all those uncovered were found. Music played during the videos for this news, telling people they should be disgusted. Similar music played during the video explaining that Gypsy Rose had compelled a man to dance to his death, that they should be disgusted.
And for a time, people were disgusted. But then they returned to the monotony of life. Gypsy Rose?... it's impossible to say where she went after that. The world outside of the big cities was nearly uninhabitable, and chances were she died. Despite this, to this very day, whispers on the wind speak of a chance that the Gypsy Bouquet had survived and squirreled off to parts unknown, and with them, Gypsy Rose's son. | |
[WP] Only musicians are born with emotions, and can distribute them temporarily for the duration of the song they play. | "This one is a Musician." The placid observation clipped through the air like gentle shears, amongst the noise of shuffled papers and the clicking of the background computer. The Musician's mother blinked, not startled; neither joyed or dismayed by the otherwise startling news.
When the Catharsis - *the fall of humanity? The resolution for world peace?* - had begun, the Musician would have been hailed as a savior. But with the Catharsis having overtaken nearly the entire world, there was no reason to be emotionally moved - nor emotional at all. Humans were sustained no longer by the autonomous duties of their amygdala and endocrine responses. Or more poetically, no longer slaves to the whim of their emotions; tempestuous rage, heart-aching sorrow, and buoyant joy were muted; expressions of surprise and disgust and fear were smoothed from all facial muscles. Without impulse there was calm. The catalyst of the Catharsis had been, after all, just another neurotoxin engineered to placate the irritated and ever-needy masses. But it had gone all so wrongly, or perhaps rightly *(For who could judge?)*; mass-distribution rendered humanity as emotionless as the earth. There were "moods," yes, enduring states of placid calm, placid content, placid dissatisfaction; unchanging and without need or impetus to change. And for the rare, chemical imbalance in which a mood slid from dissatisfaction to sorrow, there was a quick fix. Ah, necessity had become the goal and basis for all interaction, and there was always an unsaid uncertainty about the necessity of Music. For *Music* held the key for unleashing emotion exuberantly for the duration of resonance.
And so the Musicians were certainly a rare statistic, anomalies born with an inexplicable immunity to the neurotoxin; born to grace the otherwise-silent world with their presence: loud or soft, raucous or melodious, carried by their own voice or the spine of an instrument they were guaranteed to discover. Their lives would often be anachronistically short (another anomaly to a human race blessed by engineering for longevity), but long enough to bring about waves of color and sound to the barren world. What they could offer was a reprieve to the Catharsis, and no one could logically explain why.
Inexplicably too, the rest of humanity would uncuriously but predictably come to listen, as if the often-haphazardly put-together, and impromptu concerts, were scheduled in their organized work lives. As natural as making time to eat or sleep, but with the urgency of any reason for hospitalization - if a local Musician (boldly or shyly) proclaimed that they would play, the crowds would come. Inordinately, their steps picking up with a little, inexplicable speed as they gathered to hear; their breaths resounding and their chests rising and falling more quickly. Pupils dilated and color gathering to cheeks. But no one would notice or vocalize these extraordinary signs in one another, for the music - the sounds of *emotion* - would soon come forth, and there should be silence and rapt attention to honor it.
The experience - *transformative, ephemeral, beautiful, riveting, raw* - would yield an outburst of vitality in the listeners. *Tears* would pour, laughter would ring out, disgust and anger would jostle momentarily with the surrounding festivities; applause and *dancing* would move otherwise-languid limbs. Intense moments of human bonding would occur in this outpour of hormones and neurotransmiters - adrenaline, dopamine, serotonin, and even more complex - oxytocin - would glitter behind wild and wet eyes, expressed in the flash of teeth and arch of eyebrows, raised hands and irrepressible feet.
Hours pass from the concert's beginning until the Musician is exhausted of their talent, physically and emotionally, for they have given (no listener could deny) their all. But moments later, no one in the crowd would be able to empathize or even guess at the emotional thoughts of that lone, statistical anomaly standing on the battered stage. Mild confusion would be quickly eliminated by the return of the Calm, just as expected, just as normal. Tears would be gingerly wiped away, hair arranged, dirt brushed off of clothing. They would applaud, to be polite, for they supposed that the Musician had performed a public service. And so they would return home, to their ordinary and ordered lives - to silence and serenity.
But many Musicians would often illogically remain on stage after the crowds had dispersed, knees threatening to give out. Who could say what emotions warred behind their bleary eyes, what desires stirred in their tired fingers, what hoarse but meaningful whispers could be said from their dry throats? They alone could testify to the enormity of what had just occurred, but their words would instill nothing that their talent could not better explain. How did they ascribe their own experiences? Some Musicians, after hesitance and renewed conviction, wrote *peaceful, "worth it," beautiful* - to have given humanity what they could of a "gift." Others scrawled, *bittersweet*, and a few scratched out, *lonely* or *"I want to die."* But many, many accounts finished with this: *"I hope they come again."*
So when the doctor imparted the phenomenal news and left, the unperturbed mother continued to digest the news and conceive what she could of her newborn daughter's life. Music was something that the mother had unknowingly rendered a necessity, despite not knowing quite why. Perhaps a Musician as a child would not be so bad. She listened to the heartbeat monitor and watched the nutrition feed, calmly registering the reports of good health as good news.
She sighed; she was tired, as to be expected from the long pregnancy and fruits childbirth, but feeling a little... "odd." Delivery might have contributed though; a quick chemical check-up would fix this unorthodox mood. She closed her heavy eyes and thought forward to meeting her daughter, this Musician. She began to doze. Her fingers began to casually tap to the beat of her daughter's heart. The corners of her lips lifted, just a little. | You want to feel what is real.
You want to feel what I feel.
Please, take them away from me.
I don't need them anymore.
I've always hated Ferris wheel rides.
The pain they make me feel inside,
my stomach turns, I cry at night.
I'd rather be dull then this alive.
Can you believe you asked for this!
Can you feel your world spin?
Is this the freedom you were looking for?
Are you sure you're ready for some more?
I can tell you it's not always this scary.
Days will be dreary, they will make you weary.
But through the navy pillows you will see yellow.
The sun will bring you to a bellow.
A day will come, you'll meet someone.
You'll get sweaty palms even though it's December.
She'll make you feel the thing that's real.
The feeling you've read about but could never feel.
This is why I continue playing.
Mary loves you and you love her.
Marry her, your heart belongs to her.
This is what we're fighting for.
Good, now that's an F chord.
edit:format | |
[WP] Only musicians are born with emotions, and can distribute them temporarily for the duration of the song they play. | The last notes of my final composition roll slowly down to silence.
I press stop on the tape recorder and rewind it. Hopefully they will understand, if only for three minutes and fifteen seconds.
I walk to the edge, and jump off. | On Earth people used music to express all manner of things. Little girls sang songs to express their collective glee for anything and everything they saw. Teenagers struggling with new found emotions often found camaraderie in shared experience with the angst ridden thirty year old's who moaned at them on the radio. The stern commanders of Earth’s armies used music, or rather the rhythm of collective drumming, to order their men into rows, to shut down their minds.
On Earth this was common practice. On Earth one couldn't walk down the street without hearing a beat or a bass-line or a melody.
On the clear crystalline world of Traxxix, however, there were no melodious beat driven streets to saunter down. There were no playground rhymes. There were no angsty waves for someone to ride out their tough teenage years on. The army had a hell of a time keeping order at all, each Traxxian soldier moved at his own rhythm and gait which lead to fumbled marches and utterly disastrous parades.
Traxxix did have music however but it was a precious thing and only a few privileged Traxxians were able to hear it. Incidentally the music sounded like the tinkling rattling of chandeliers. Upon hearing a few notes of the wondrous music the grey crystal of a Traxxians body would emote with beautiful colours. This was the only time emotion could be observed in the cold Traxxian form.
Every Traxxian was told at birth that music was an innate talent that couldn’t be learnt. That this emotive power was something that God gave to his chosen, and chosen they were; to lead, to conquer, to rule.
At rallies the leader of the musicians would stand before his people, beaming in proud purple, and speak and corral his crowd into a frenzy of red bodies glinting before Traxxix’s twin Suns. What he said didn't matter; all that mattered was the harsh crashing music which accompanied him. He directed them; screaming and seething at his opponent, some upstart tone-deaf stone-skin who only wished to represent his fellow musically challenged brothers.
And so it went on. For generations of Traxxians, generations of musical elites and tone-deaf upstarts until one day.
One day something crashed down onto the shining surface of Traxxix. When it was found it was little more than a small capsule surrounded by scraps of broken wire and antennae. Curious to see if there was a pilot to be helped, or gawped at, the Traxxians pried open the capsule. They found no pilot, no body either, only a solid gold plague inscribed with a message they couldn’t read.
In Earthling it read:
“Greetings from Earth”
As they reached down to touch it the circular rimmed plague began to spin and the soft overtures of Mozart’s concerto began to play. The Traxxians closest to the speakers began to glow in the soft light of the overture and each one became incredibly engrossed in not just their own bodies but the shifting beauty the music was causing in their fellow Traxxians.
Each Traxxian’s body resonated differently to the music and soon those who found the colourful cascades of each other’s bodies particularly engrossing began to pair off. Not in a purely reproductive way, although they did still reproduce, but in a way none of them had a name for yet.
Soon the group surrounding the crashed probe became a crowd, which became a movement which became, as many do, a religion. The gold record and its player were removed from its capsule and placed upon a podium surrounded by speakers so that all could hear and light up and love.
When the musicians came to face down these upstart heathens coursing in deep violent red, with backing music to match they were struck dumb by what they witnessed. Each and every Traxxian was simply lying on the ground, eyes shut, allowing the music to pass over and through them. Some lay alone, some hand in hand, some had little baby Traxxian’s lying sleeping on their chests. Each one a different vibrant mix of colours forming a rainbow blanket across the crystal earth.
One by one the red began to drain out of each musician and one by one they lay down, closed their eyes, and wept crystalline tears of joy. No one knew what was going to happen next. No one really cared. All anyone on Traxxix cared about now was what the next melody would be.
| |
[WP] You have been elected US President in 2016, but have secret plans to turn the country that has been a democracy for 300 years into a dictatorship. You have a 5 minute speech to convince everyone. | My fellow Americans.
My dear brothers and sisters.
Late last year, you elected me the Commander in Chief of your great United States. You voted for me, out of all the other potential candidates, as the leader of this nation. Of this beautiful, wonderful, ancient, and cherished experiment which ascended as the world's leader in democracy, freedom, and independence.
However, your noble duty to this nation has proven a humiliating and ironic disaster for a myriad of years. You cast your votes as the year dies into the heart of winter in the hopes of finding the perfect leader to lead you. You pray to your Gods that this next one will be different. That this one will be strong. That this one will grip the horns of tyranny and bring his people to freedom and justice. Yet, the instant your leader makes a strong decision, you criticize his judgement. You call him a fool and jeer at his "poor leadership". Your fickle minds switch and twist and turn and churn in your approval of his counsel. You want to be lead by a powerful, yet noble figure. But, you fail to let him do his own job.
THe people are not smart nor stupid. They only fail to come together and make a solid decision. And for these reasons, you experiment has failed.
By the time the sun sets tonight, your Congress wiil dissolve voluntarily. Your opponents will suffer the cruelest of ends. Your allies will submit to your supreme authority. Your citizens will support and love their leader as he were Christ himself.
Do not weep, for freedom still stands. And soon all of her enemies, foreign or domestic, will die unholy deaths. | Good people of America, today will be a day that will go down in history. I promised you an America without fear.
By the end of my presidency, no longer will we fear war. No longer will we fear terrorists. No longer will we fear poverty.
Our nation boasts the greatest military the world has ever seen. Despite this, we have been in a constant stalemate with the middle east for decades. I say it is time to break this stalemate and finally declare "checkmate!"
We will unleash our military might upon our enemies! Once we have routed all opposition, we must take steps to ensure none shall rise against us. The United States will control the countries in question with an iron fist. To keep our freedom, we must deprive them of theirs.
Once we have eliminated all threats, I plan to begin a new era of peace. I will declare the Monroe Doctrine null and void to all countries in the western hemisphere who choose not to assimilate into the United States. My main objective in this is to take control of Mexico. Millions of illegal aliens flood into our country each year. If we declare absorb all the citizens of Mexico and provide them with jobs, just think at all the tax money we will receive!
These are just a few of my plans to elevate this country to new heights. Eventually, we must venture on to new planets. How can we do this if the human race is not unified?
However, I realize that some of you disagree with me. Some of you, blinded by your pride, will try to disrupt my plan. Which is why I now declare Congress permanently disbanded. USA does not need a house full of bickering men! USA needs a nation full of men who dare do to what is necessary to ensure liberty and justice for all! Anyone who seeks to prevent the destruction of Congress will be arrested!
To make room in the jails for those who wish to deprive us our freedom, I have declared all drugs legal! The government will now regulate them, tax them, and make sure they are as free as possible from all the toxic chemicals placed into them by the underground manufacturers.
That is all for today.
| |
[WP] You have been elected US President in 2016, but have secret plans to turn the country that has been a democracy for 300 years into a dictatorship. You have a 5 minute speech to convince everyone. | My fellow Americans.
My dear brothers and sisters.
Late last year, you elected me the Commander in Chief of your great United States. You voted for me, out of all the other potential candidates, as the leader of this nation. Of this beautiful, wonderful, ancient, and cherished experiment which ascended as the world's leader in democracy, freedom, and independence.
However, your noble duty to this nation has proven a humiliating and ironic disaster for a myriad of years. You cast your votes as the year dies into the heart of winter in the hopes of finding the perfect leader to lead you. You pray to your Gods that this next one will be different. That this one will be strong. That this one will grip the horns of tyranny and bring his people to freedom and justice. Yet, the instant your leader makes a strong decision, you criticize his judgement. You call him a fool and jeer at his "poor leadership". Your fickle minds switch and twist and turn and churn in your approval of his counsel. You want to be lead by a powerful, yet noble figure. But, you fail to let him do his own job.
THe people are not smart nor stupid. They only fail to come together and make a solid decision. And for these reasons, you experiment has failed.
By the time the sun sets tonight, your Congress wiil dissolve voluntarily. Your opponents will suffer the cruelest of ends. Your allies will submit to your supreme authority. Your citizens will support and love their leader as he were Christ himself.
Do not weep, for freedom still stands. And soon all of her enemies, foreign or domestic, will die unholy deaths. | Hello Everyone. I'd like you all to consider some simple concepts.
A home that is yours, not the banks.
A guaranteed income. No worrying about food and essentials, even if you are between jobs or disabled.
A powerful military to ensure that complications of the world, never reach home, without breaking the bank.
True equality for all, not just worthless words on paper for political motives.
100 years from now, our grandchildren will learn we didn't have these basics and be appalled.
100 years from now, our grandchildren won't have grown up in a society obsessed with greed. Our grandchildren won't have grown up with government officials who only care about the future two, four, or six years ahead.
It's time for you all to take a stand, rid the world of greed and excess. We will never accomplish this as long as the country is run by pockets hungry for money. You can make the world be about you, the individual, not corporations. When we cut out the middle man the savings go back into your life.
We see commercials claiming capitalism is the only way a country can advance. But do you think those commercials were made and paid for by a textile worker who can't put his children through college? Or by the CEO who has a $290,000,000 retirement package waiting for him and wants to keep it that way. Capitalism is simply greed. Unfortunately this greed leaks into every aspect of your life. Slowly poisoning it, but assuring you it's okay.
We must act now, As your leader, I can carry the torch, but you, the people must be my light. Follow where I point and you'll find yourself in a world everyone can be proud of. | |
[WP] You have been elected US President in 2016, but have secret plans to turn the country that has been a democracy for 300 years into a dictatorship. You have a 5 minute speech to convince everyone. | My fellow Americans.
My dear brothers and sisters.
Late last year, you elected me the Commander in Chief of your great United States. You voted for me, out of all the other potential candidates, as the leader of this nation. Of this beautiful, wonderful, ancient, and cherished experiment which ascended as the world's leader in democracy, freedom, and independence.
However, your noble duty to this nation has proven a humiliating and ironic disaster for a myriad of years. You cast your votes as the year dies into the heart of winter in the hopes of finding the perfect leader to lead you. You pray to your Gods that this next one will be different. That this one will be strong. That this one will grip the horns of tyranny and bring his people to freedom and justice. Yet, the instant your leader makes a strong decision, you criticize his judgement. You call him a fool and jeer at his "poor leadership". Your fickle minds switch and twist and turn and churn in your approval of his counsel. You want to be lead by a powerful, yet noble figure. But, you fail to let him do his own job.
THe people are not smart nor stupid. They only fail to come together and make a solid decision. And for these reasons, you experiment has failed.
By the time the sun sets tonight, your Congress wiil dissolve voluntarily. Your opponents will suffer the cruelest of ends. Your allies will submit to your supreme authority. Your citizens will support and love their leader as he were Christ himself.
Do not weep, for freedom still stands. And soon all of her enemies, foreign or domestic, will die unholy deaths. | It is with great honor that I stand before you today, to take my turn to lead this great nation. I stand on the shoulders of giants and without your support, I could not have made it this far.
Leaders have the unique responsibility of leading the people through the dangers that have become the world. My view of the world, among the great leaders of old, is pure. The nations around us are not.
We will be the instrument, God willing that will cleanse this world of the unpure. We will form a unity stronger than before. Our 50 states once stood separated. I stand before you to say that we are divided once more. By politics, by culture, by people. We will be no longer. We will be united for all of mankind to see.
This is the precise reason why starting immediately, the United States of America will be placed under martial law. Effective immediately do we take Canada and Mexico into our borders, as Protectorates, the first of many to join our great nation.
Our allies don't know our full potential. Ready your hearts people, the eagle will soar far. | |
[WP] There is a door in the base of a large tree in the nearby forest. A door that the village elders speak of only in whispers behind closed doors. Today, as you walk through the forest, you see that the door is open. | Being a responsible citizen, I yank the door closed and nail that shit shut. Then just to be thorough I brick it up and plant a nice hedge in front of it. I've seen horror movies and I know what kind of nightmarish stuff comes out of weird holes no one talks about. | I heard the elders whispering through the banyan. This was not my first sleepless night, lying in the grass behind the elder hut. Tonight, the stars played with each other, sending balls of light back and forth as the crickets sang their ballads to the winds. The only interruption was the faint crackle of the fire, and the elders, talking in hushed tones about a “chosen”. I thought nothing of their worries, being more concerned with not getting caught out of bed at this hour. If I dozed off in the fields again or on a hunt, I was going to be in big trouble. But tonight, tonight the stars and the wind beckoned me, and as the elders spoke somberly about a doorway and new rules and the “chosen”, whatever that was, I snuck into the trees.
I knew as I always knew, that I could get lost. I had tried many times to lose my way, but always ended up at the village again, just before the sky grew brighter and the birds began their songs. Tonight it was not even a thought in the back of my mind. I wandered, beyond view of the firelight and the smell of the village. Past the crooked rocks and streams. My feet and my soul led me forth, as if to a strange music the moths and fireflies danced around me in pools of moonlight. The brush grew thicker, and I ducked and climbed over and through roots and bushes.
At first I didn’t notice the tree, I was entranced by the fireflies and the way the moonlight seemed to glow from within the plants around me. When my ears finally told my eyes that it was too quiet, I noticed the light. It was faint, so faint, behind the willow curtain. I slowly drew them back, and even when I approached I did not think of the elders, of their whispers and hushed worries. I thought only of the beautiful moonlight coming from within the tree, through a door that stood only just open in the face of the banyan willow.
I could not see around the tree to tell how large it was, or what may be concealed within, nor did I try to look. I reached for the edge of the door, for the light within, drawn by its beauty and wonder. I was not surprised when I found what was inside, though I had no way of knowing or being prepared. I was not sad or joyous when it came. It was calm and beautiful, and I was open and ready. The last thing I recalled was the light overtaking me.
When I opened my eyes, the forest greeted me.
| |
Thats the wh40k Emperor, that is.
[Inspired by this comment](http://www.reddit.com/r/whowouldwin/comments/32oej7/the_god_emeperor_of_mankind_is_out_on_his_great/cqd9c2k) | [WP][EU] The God Emeperor of Mankind is out on his Great Crusade, about to reclaim a human planet, when suddenly The Doctor shows up, and tells him this planet is under his protection | The Emperor stood at the helm of his shape and down at the planet below. It reminded of him of his home, Terra, from many millenia ago. The smell of the oceans, the old arctic winds, the perpetual cacophony of the jungles, he could feel i t all in the minds of the men below.
And yet he hesitated. He held back his fleet in the dark of the moon as he ruminated on the encounter he had just had.
---
"We await your command Emperor, the legions are to land at every major Government Building on planet, New Terra will be ours,"
"Do not be so hasty Horus, we are not tyrants come to oppress and lay the people lay, we have come to lift them up to-" The Emperor stopped talking.
"Father?"
"Something approaches, something old, yet new,"
A whirling, blaring sound filled the room, and alarms sounded. Space marines ran to form a wall in front of the Emperor and a dozens psykers stood at the ready.
Horus lifted Worldbreaker. "What foul Daemon assails us?"
A box, about as tall as an imperial guardsman appeared in front of them, and from it, a man stepped out. He wore no armor, only a trenchcoat and a brown suit.
"Identify yourself! How did you get here?" Horus barked pointing Worldbreaker as more space marines surrounded the box. One move forward to grab the man but a force field pushed him back.
"Hello, I'm the Doctor,"
"What is physician doing aboar-" Horus shouted. The room was full know, there was enough firepower to level a city, not including the emperor and his first Primarch.
"Let him speak Horus," The Emperor said softly, but everyone in the room heard it. "It's not any man who can arrive in my throne room unarmed and unafraid, I was informed that this planet didn't possess interplanetary travel."
" This is a throne room? Yes well I suppose it is," He put on a pair of glasses he didn't need and scanned the room. "I couldn't help but noticing..." He took out a small device from his pocket and pointed it around him, letting out a blue light and a soft whirl. "that you appear to have a fleet hovering around this planet,"
"That is correct, I intend to lift this world from its squalor," The Emperor said.
"Squalor right, Well. What if this world doesn't want it?" He paused the device while pointed to the Emperor, his eyes widening a fraction before swiftly disappearing under a disaffected gaze.
"It is unimportant, in time they will accept and rejoice this day,"
"I was afraid you might say that," He leaned against its side, "Others have tried before you know,"
The Emperor said nothing.
"Races and Federations far older and more powerful, well, definitely Federations stronger than yours," His eyes didn't trail from the Emperor's as he said that. They showed a curiosity, a bit of hope, regret, and anger. But the anger only seemed to be directed at himself. The Emperor pulled back from the man's mind after he turned his head to Horus.
"BLASPHEMER NONE ARE MOR-" Horus tried to interrupt, as outrage spread out among the gathered space marines.
"You should know, this planet is protected." Despite the noise the Emperor could hear the man's words, and see the fire in his eyes as he spoke. Even as the man whispered the final words before stepping back into his box. A haunted look barely escaping before the doors hid his face. "This is your only warning, [ .....](/s " ")"
____
"Call back the fleets, we return to Holy Terra that we may plot a new course for the Crusade,"
"Father?"
The Emperor stepped into his personal quarters, ignoring the questions his son asked. His name was old, so very, very old. And yet the strange man spoke it as if he would an old friend, or was it like an old enemy. He tried to meditate, but all he could imagine was the fire in the man's eyes, and how it seemed all so familiar.
Memories of fire even older than the unification of Terra. Memories older than his own on childhood. Memories of a past life.
___
___
So that concludes my attempt. I'd just like to apologize for any inaccuracies in the WH lore, I have only passing knowledge of WH40K and was more interested in creating a rather typical doctor who story with a far more interesting subtext ;) | "You...what?"
"That's right, this planet is under my pro-" The Doctor never finished his sentence, seeing as how his skull was now nothing but stains on the golden, shimmering armor of the God Emperor.
A light, of the same brilliance, sprang from the corpse. However, it was snuffed by the Emperor's boot, which crushed the remaining life the doctor had.
the God Emperor, with one shift of his glorious body, kicked the Doctor's corpse out of his way.
Now, let this be a lesson to those that are brave of heart.
The God Emperor will not spare you. |
Thats the wh40k Emperor, that is.
[Inspired by this comment](http://www.reddit.com/r/whowouldwin/comments/32oej7/the_god_emeperor_of_mankind_is_out_on_his_great/cqd9c2k) | [WP][EU] The God Emeperor of Mankind is out on his Great Crusade, about to reclaim a human planet, when suddenly The Doctor shows up, and tells him this planet is under his protection | The Emperor sat motionless on his throne, fully encased in a system of tubes, wires, and other holy relics of the Techpriests of Mars. Even now, they performed rites on the machines to continue their functioning.
This was unprecedented. In all of history since the Horus Heresy, the Emperor has never left Earth. Now he and his throne sat in the great room of Phalanx.The monastary-ship was itself escorted by the might of the entire Imperial Fist chapter of the *Aedeptus Astartes*, the SpaceMarines.
The throne was flanked by three venerated dreadnoughts, a full company of dominators, and three of the most powerful psykers in the empire. High above, several scouts sat silently, watching for signs of hidden treachery.
Just then, a throbbing noise began, and a blue shape pulsed into existence a few feet in front of the throne. The sound of weapons being loaded, leveled, and rounds being chambered was deafening. In front of the throne, a group of psykers joined hands and shrieked. Their bodies tensed, their backs arched, and blue sparks danced at their temples as of electricity were flowing through them. A quiet *whirr* signaled the priming of the pumps used by the dreadnoughts flamers.
At 8'0", Chapter-Master Obadiah Russ towered over even the assembled *Astartes*, much less the humans.
He growled, "Take aim, and beware of any signs of treachery treachery! Prepare to defend the Emperor!"
Previously unnoticed, a group of five *Astarte's* with different insignia moved with fluid grace from the sides of the room, to the blue box, now fully materialized, in the center. Their armor seemed to direct your eyes away from itself. The effect was unnerving, as were their 15 foot long polearms, and the sheen of frost coating them.
The door to the box opened, and a voice echoed from inside "don't shoot! I'm unarmed!"
Russ boomed "Show yourself, coward!"
A small, unserious human wobbled out of the box, straightened his bowtie and put his hands up. He smiled up at Russ.
"Well, well! Look at you! Aren't you a big fellow!" He said, patting the power armor on the Chapter-Master's kneecap.
"The only reason you still draw breath is that your warning saved the God-Emperor from destruction." Russ boomed.
Indeed, booming seemed to be the only way he knew how to speak.
"Yes, you're very scary." The little man said, turning around.
"You dare mock your emperors' SpaceMarines!?" Russ boomed, this time inquisitively.
"Ah, there's where you're wrong. In point of fact, you are quite fearsome, and acknowledging fact is not mockery."
Russ only growled in response.
"Anyway" the little man went on "In the first place, he's not my emperor."
Russ's eyes flamed. "BLASPHEMY! KNEEL BEFORE YOUR EMPEROR AND BEG HIS MERCY!" he boomed. This time the booming was quite accusatory.
The little man out his hands on his hips.
"Not too bright are we? YOUR Emperor is the Emperor of all Mankind, but I am no huma-"
***"BURN THE ALIEN"*** cried the dreadnoughts in unison.
The little man was run through on four of the five polearms of the Grey Legion, hoisted aloft, simultaneously frozen, burned, and electrocuted by the psykers, burned by the flamethrowers carried by the dreadnoughts, and filled with bolter rounds by the rest of the *Astartes* present.
Up in the rafters, tendrils of smoke rose from the barrels of the scouts rifles.
The thoroughly pulped body of the alien feel to the floor with a satisfyingly squishy *plop*.
Just then, a small device rolled from the heap, ever so slightly luminescent floated up from the pile of gore and whirred at the emperor in a flash. It pulsed a wave of energy through all the shields, armor, and other suffice before settling in his forehead, which began to glow.
The faint glow grew brighter, and was accompanied by a hum. The psykers all shouted in unison "HE RETURNS" before laughing maniacally and falling to the floor, dead.
Russ bowed to the throne, and all others present followed suit.
When the glow and the him subsided, the wires, tubes and artifice had all disconnected themselves from the Emperor.
In a voice deeper yet more gentle than Russ', He Spoke.
Rise, child. You have done well. Assemble the chapters.
"Y-yes, my Lord, " boomed Russ, with a stammer. "B-but which chapters, my Lord?" The honorific fell gracelessly from his mouth in much the same way the aliens pulp had done a few minutes prior.
"All of them," the Emperor said, taking his own opportunity to boom.
"We have a legion to rebuild." | Does the God Emperor part of the prompt refer to Warhammer 40k, or Dune? |
[WP] You've stayed up too late and just watched your alarm clock turn from 12:59 to 13:00. | The final exams were tomorrow. I was worried as hell about them. This could determine my future.
I thought I'd get some sleep. I want to do somewhat well on them.
I climbed in my bed. 9:00pm, reasonable time.
My mind wouldn't turn off. I couldn't stop thinking about tomorrow.
I looked at my alarm clock. I watched it go from 12:57, to 12:58, to 12:59. It felt like hours.
'God it's one in the morning. I'm going to be whipped in the morning.' I thought.
Then I saw it: 13:00.
"What?" I said. "No."
I looked, and my brother set it to military time. | I quickly downed the Walgreens sleeping medicine in desperation for sleep. It had been dozens of hours since I last had a good nights rest, and I had just seven hours until I had to be back up and running, a well oiled machine. In quiet agony of my predicament I stared at the red clock sitting on my nightstand, ticking up, up, up.
12:58
But what was it ticking up to?
All our lives we watch these machines move time forward, controlling every little bit of us. I could feel my heartbeat racing just thinking these thoughts. Cold sweat started dripping from my head, which eventually soaked through my pillow case.
Eyes bloodshot, I focused on the blaring red numbers of that cruel 8-segment display.
12:59
The anticipation in my chest sent my heart ramming against it's cage. I could feel my chest caving in, and I could hardly breathe. Just one minute until the next hour, and the next hour will lead to the next minute, minutes upon minutes to hours upon hours, days upon days to weeks upon...
13:00
Shit, I need to lay off the sleeping pills. | |
[WP] You've stayed up too late and just watched your alarm clock turn from 12:59 to 13:00. | The final exams were tomorrow. I was worried as hell about them. This could determine my future.
I thought I'd get some sleep. I want to do somewhat well on them.
I climbed in my bed. 9:00pm, reasonable time.
My mind wouldn't turn off. I couldn't stop thinking about tomorrow.
I looked at my alarm clock. I watched it go from 12:57, to 12:58, to 12:59. It felt like hours.
'God it's one in the morning. I'm going to be whipped in the morning.' I thought.
Then I saw it: 13:00.
"What?" I said. "No."
I looked, and my brother set it to military time. | I once stayed up too late,
twas my very ill fate,
I stayed up so very rarely, forgot my clock was military,
and i wasn't surprised at all, it was great. | |
[WP] One day, you stop recognising the voice inside your head. | It had been couple of months. A dull couple of months. School was getting to me. I tried concentrating, but the world outside kept calling to me. Kept screaming in my ears. Today, in particular, was dreadful.
*Keep your chin up.*
"No, I just couldn't. Freddie told me exactly what I needed to hear. I wanted to break free."
*That was your inspirational speech?
*
"Yes, it was. Why are you so worried. You know I can't get into trouble. And what's wrong with your voice?"
*Concentrate on what's ahead of you.*
So I walked that day. For hours. Until the day had now retired.
*Don't you have to get home.*
"Not yet. Just a while longer." My throat was parched and I was sweating. I desperately needed a cold drink. So I decided to enter the deli just up ahead.
As I neared the store, something felt off. There was a car parked outside the store. Keys in the ignition, engine running.
*This doesn't seem right. Call the police.*
"Let me take a quick look." So I peered through the glass window. "Holy shit!" Two guys were robbing the place and they were armed with semi-automatics.
*Language!*
"Are you kidding me? That's what you picked up on. What the hell is wrong with you." I shook my head and headed to the back of the building. The door to the back of the store was unlocked. I entered silently and assessed the situation.
*I never wanted this for you.*
Ignoring the stupid voice in my head, I placed both my hands on the wall.
*No! Not here.*
So I crawled on my hands and knees till I reached the first perpetrator. Both of them were busy stuffing the bag with cash. This was my chance!
I jumped and and managed to land my knee on the first mans head, knocking him out cold. Meanwhile, the second man pulled the storekeeper over the counter and put the barrel to his temple.
"NO!", I screamed,"Wait. Think about what you're about to do."
But the man had made up his mind. As he pulled the trigger, my right shoulder caught his stomach knocking his breath out for a second. But at the same exact moment, the storekeeper breathed his last.
Immediately, emotions of rage, anger and fury erupted, as I grabbed the pistol and put the barrel into the mouth of the murderer.
*Don't do it!* Screamed the voice in my head
"He deserves to die."
*That isn't your decision, son.*
My eyes opened wide, as the police sirens got louder. I whispered.
"Uncle Ben?" | Get up and get dressed. Burn toast. Skip breakfast.Drive to work. Work. Drive home. Take second left off the motorway to get milk. Get home. Watch T.V. Eat dinner. Sleep. The rhythm of my life is slow and repetitive, predictable; like a bad sit com without the high-jinks and hilarity.
I got bored at work once and did some calculations, I have been following the same routine for three years. No deviation. My life is boring. I've never hunted my fellow man for sport let alone taken the scenic route home from work, but today I feel free. I'll explain.
I was in the supermarket carpark, the milk was turning sour in the backseat and I was thinking about Jim. He served me everyday at the same till, with the same practiced greeting and etiquette, but today he had sneered. It's hard to explain but this hurt and infuriated me more than most insults would have.
A voice from a part of my head I haven't listened to in years spoke to me. I left the car and got the spare fuel canister from the boot. I walked into the supermarket, not even looking up at Jim, and walked down the aisles as I let loose a steady flow of fuel until the canister was empty. I threw it aside and found myself in the utilities aisle.
I picked up a lighter with a picture of a rather nice woman on it and threw it onto the trail of fuel. As I left the supermarket I saw Jim's eyes widen as 30000 worth of stock burnt. Even before I got to my car the security guard tackled me onto the tarmac and pinned my arms behind my back. I'm so glad I stopped taking my meds. | |
[WP] One day, you stop recognising the voice inside your head. | Michael was a strange boy. Ever since he could understand a language, he could hear a voice in his head. He told his parents at age 5 about "Nathan". His parents just thought he was an imaginary friend and told him that he had a great imagination. Michael knew it wasn't his imagination. Nathan was too real to be *just* his imagination.
Nathan followed Michael throughout his school life, from primary to intermediate school, going to high school and then a well respected university. Michael owed it all to Nathan. Nathan gave him the correct answers, Nathan gave him the words to say to get out of trouble, Nathan gave him a reputation in school, Nathan was never wrong.
Nathan and Michael were good friends, you wouldn't really want to get on the bad side of somebody in your head. Whenever Michael wanted somebody to talk to, wether it be for personal problems or boredom, Nathan was the man.
One day, Michael woke up feeling refreshed and ready to go to work. Wondering what to have for breakfast, a voice started speaking.
"Good morning Michael!"
Michaels eyes widened, he closed his pantry door and frantically looked around.
"Hello? Who's there?" Michael spoke aloud.
"What're you speaking out loud for? Do that in public and people'll think you're crazy."
"What the hell? Who are you?"
"Uh, hello? The guy in your head? The guy who got you a job at 17?"
"I'm going crazy, I must be..."
Michael ate his breakfast, got changed and headed off to work. As he was driving, he noticed that the voice was saying things.
"Michael! Michael? Hello? It's Nathan? Your buddy?"
"Look man, I don't know what this is but this is starting to freak me out."
"Dude, how can you not remember me? I've been in your head since you were like, 4."
"I don't know you! I don't know what this is! For all I know I'm going insane!"
Nathan let out a sigh and stopped talking for a while. Michael arrived at his workplace and had a chat with his co-workers. He sat down at his desk and switched on his computer. As it was booting up, he stared out his window and saw what he would see every day. Tall buildings, people and cars waiting at the intersection, all that stuff. Michael noticed one thing in particular, a dark black van parked on the side of the road. Michael stared at it and it seemingly stared back, when suddenly 6 heavily armed men jumped out the doors.
"Shit shit shit shit"
Michael heard the voice in his head again.
"What happened?"
"Look Michael. I know you don't know who I am and stuff, but please just do what I say. I want you to get out of this building as fast as you can and get as far away from it as possible."
"And why the hell should I listen to you?"
"Michael ple-"
Suddenly, Michael heard an explosion. | Get up and get dressed. Burn toast. Skip breakfast.Drive to work. Work. Drive home. Take second left off the motorway to get milk. Get home. Watch T.V. Eat dinner. Sleep. The rhythm of my life is slow and repetitive, predictable; like a bad sit com without the high-jinks and hilarity.
I got bored at work once and did some calculations, I have been following the same routine for three years. No deviation. My life is boring. I've never hunted my fellow man for sport let alone taken the scenic route home from work, but today I feel free. I'll explain.
I was in the supermarket carpark, the milk was turning sour in the backseat and I was thinking about Jim. He served me everyday at the same till, with the same practiced greeting and etiquette, but today he had sneered. It's hard to explain but this hurt and infuriated me more than most insults would have.
A voice from a part of my head I haven't listened to in years spoke to me. I left the car and got the spare fuel canister from the boot. I walked into the supermarket, not even looking up at Jim, and walked down the aisles as I let loose a steady flow of fuel until the canister was empty. I threw it aside and found myself in the utilities aisle.
I picked up a lighter with a picture of a rather nice woman on it and threw it onto the trail of fuel. As I left the supermarket I saw Jim's eyes widen as 30000 worth of stock burnt. Even before I got to my car the security guard tackled me onto the tarmac and pinned my arms behind my back. I'm so glad I stopped taking my meds. | |
Just to be clear, the first and last sentence are not the same. The first sentence of story 1 is the same as the first in story 2 and the last sentence of story 1 is the same as the last in story 2. It can be any subject and any two genres (comedy, tragedy, horror, sci-fi,...etc.)
Edit: I realized after posting that this probably fits Constrained Writing more closely than it does a Writing Prompt. Could a mod please fix it? | [WP] Write two short stories that share the same first sentence and share the same last sentence but are two different genres and totally unrelated. | "Yeah, he was wearing a wedding ring, but do you really think that stopped me?”
A salvo of shrill cackles erupted from the table I was serving as some wrinkly old blonde recounted her latest "sexcapades"- cringe -and proved, to many raucous cheers and clinking of Long Island Iced Teas, that blondes do have more fun. I collected my tips (at least the broads were generous) and stalked back to the bar for the next set of drinks.
My coworker, the surliest bartender known to mankind, nodded to a young couple that looked no older than teens, though they both bore the wrist stamp of IDs checked and approved.
"Roofies aleeeeeert." I scoffed, but looked anyways.
I couldn't believe my eyes. True to his (usually false) accusation, a small white tablet lay disintegrating in one of the strange cosmo-mojito-fruity-things that the kids had ordered. What the hell, man? What was protocol for seeing something like this go down? Call the cops? Throw him out?
"What the hell, man?" I threw my arms up, my heart starting to race. This is serious. "What are we going to do?"
"I..." the mixologist began with a long sigh, "ain't doin' a thing, Paul. Not my wheelhouse. I told Graves we need a bouncer or a gun under the counter or-" I ignored him and strode up to the offending frat-looking roofie-er. 'You got this,' I whispered to myself, 'just get him to leave.'
"Hey, man!" I was maybe five feet from him, at the most, and he didn't seem to notice. "You, in the, uh," I glanced at the logo on the back of his letterman, "CS Dominguez varsity jacket, man, what's up?"
I hadn't noticed quite how much of that man- no, he has to be a boy, he's got babyface so bad -was solid muscle; he was kind of threatening, and kind of a good four inches taller than me. He turned, hale arms straining his jacket's leather stitching.
"Good evening, sir." He nodded politely, and, to my surprise, lifted the glass with the now-dissolved tablet to his lips and drank deeply.
"I-I-I..." I was expecting- what the hell? I didn't plan for this. What the hell? ‘Sir’? "I was just curious-" Okay, hold on, you're going to say something- "what you were taking, sir, 'cause it looked-" nononono, back away, just back the hell- "totally trippin'." Fuck. What the fuck did I even just say? Trippin'?!
"Oh." He smiled grimly, a glimmer I couldn't place in his tired eyes, and his tongue snaked over his cracked lips. "Codeine."
After a few minutes of conversation, I learned what exactly codeine was, why he was taking it- racquetball wound to the shoulder -and how old he and his lovely, devoted FIANCEE were, I confessed.
"Hokay, so, James,” James Hitchcock, engineer for Northrop-Grumman, “I thought that pill was roofies and you were gonna rape this lovely lady here."
A few moments passed in which I wished I were teleported away, dead, or, funny enough, on codeine. Comprehension dawned on the young faces before me, and I was relieved to hear both of my new acquaintances burst into uncontrollable peals of laughter. I apologized for assuming, they apologized for seeming sketchy as hell, and, hey, turns out we go to the same doctor, went to the same high school, and I used to wait at the country club they visit with their families on the weekends.
So, hey, I've got two new friends, and a great story to remember when I’m thinking about my first job.
- - - - - - - -
"Yeah, he was wearing a wedding ring, but do you really think that stopped me?” A mirthless laugh answered my rhetoric from the other end of the line.
“Good. Married or not, kids or not, debts... they are debts, no?” I nodded, slowly, wordlessly, realizing after a few pointless bobs that my client couldn’t see me.
“Yessir. Can’t abide by debts.” I remembered what my momma told me. Always be extra nice to the hand that feeds.
“No, no we cannot. And you, Ibrahim- we are in your debt.” I liked those words. Leverage. Prosperity. “So, let us settle. Your price, it was excellent, and your performance, more excellent still. Pride is holding you up, young man.” Now we’re getting somewhere.
“Thank you, Mr. Gray.” Yes yes yes, where’s the money, where’s the door out of this meeting room, where do I throw away the burner phone your Slav brute gave me?
“We could, however, give you more, Ibrahim, brother.” Oh.
“Yes, Mr. Gray?” I could hear the fat man breathing a little harder trying to think of how to ask me for another bit of my expertise. I could hear him shifting his cigar between his lips. Probably Turkish.
“Your target’s wife, she is probably upset, and…” No shit she’s upset, Mr. Gray. “We have heard, from the- what do you say? ah, yes -from the grapevines, yes, that she and he brother, they are wanting to kill me and my associates.” Oh.
“That’s problematic, sir.” No shit, Ibrahim, that’s problematic as hell.
“Yes, yes, problematic is a good word. Kill them both, triple pay. Three bodies, three times the paycheck.” Well, that’s a tidy sum.
“Sounds good, Mr. Gray.”
“You had one paycheck, with one body, but multiply bodies by three-” A smoky laugh boomed through the phone, “and you may multiple paycheck by three!”
I forced a laugh back, with another set of thanks, and another, until Mr. Gray hung up.
Unsure of what to do with the phone I’d been given, I handed it back to the guard that had escorted me, blindfolded, into the conference room.
“I, uh,” I looked at the big guy, who just held up a hand to silence me and pointed to a door half-hidden by some fake-ass ficus. “Thanks.” He nodded.
After about half an hour of following the same set of directions I’d been given a week prior by my employers, I was back at the residence of the poor nameless bastard I’d shot, and, also per instructions, left in his bathtub with Cyrillic written in red sharpie on his face. Russians don’t often make statements, but when they do, they’re bold.
The woman in question was pacing in front of her lovely home, and the man I assumed to be her brother held a neat little Beretta in one hand and a gold iPhone in the other. I laughed like an ass imagining him, with his Russian accent, telling me, “Gold is best!”
Once I got my giggles under control, I, in my lovely convertible import, pulled out my HK handgun and shot both of them. I heard screams from inside the house, and, slightly panicked that I may have left witnesses, hastened out of my seat and towards the door.
I took a deep breath, and, with a grunt, threw open the bloodstained mahogany. Two beautiful African grey parrots screamed at me, before laughing intensely in childish tones at their cruel joke. They sat in ornate ivory cages flanking the doorway, like bizarre, harmless sentinels.
“You sons of bitches! I thought I was going to have to kill you!” I clicked the safety on my gun and shoved it into my belt. The bastards laughed harder, before asking me my name and why I was at the Azarov estate today. With a gasp, I suddenly realized that I had just orphaned these two jesting doorkeepers.
I did the math: triple pay means I can buy a lot of bird food.
So, hey, I’ve got two new friends, and a great story to remember when I’m thinking about my first job.
| I am so lost. People keep telling me about what I like and who I am. Remember this? This is where we went at grad reunion. Remember me? I'm Fred, your friend. Thats Tom he's your teacher. And my mother as well, just a complete stranger. Its overwhelming you know? All these names and faces of people who know me, who I'm supposed to know. But I can't remember. Sorry, I just can't.
I am so lost. I should have studied for the exam. It was stupid to do this. I should have waited before going to college. This isn't even something I like. What am I supposed to do though? I have no interests, no special talents. Mom, I know you wanted me to become a lawyer but its to hard. Sorry, I just can't. |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Oh fuck *that.*"
"But the documents indicate this is also how your species procreated."
"Yeah, with our *own kind.* You want me to stick it in *that?* It has *pincers.*"
"Those are of a perfectly average size."
"Size has nothing to do with it. Damn, I suddenly think I know what women feel like..."
"Oh? Is this a response to the given situation? If your genitals undergo mutation, we will make the necessary adjustments."
"No, I... Look, this just isn't exactly... Look, I know you're doing your best here, but, I mean, is there *really* no other way? You can't, like, find a fleshlight or something?"
"Our genetic constructors require that-"
"Yeah, yeah, you told me, they require replications of your own quadratic gender system in order to function. Can't you grow one that is *human* shaped, though? This is just... I mean, will this even *work?*"
"It is a method that has serviced our people for generations, and your genetic material is comparable to our own. Testing has indicated this will be successful."
"And you can't just whip up another human for me?"
"We could genetically alter your DNA to attempt to create a female from your recumbent strains, but it is unlikely we would succeed. There is an inadequate amount of information."
"So a hybrid is the best I can hope for."
"For the time being, yes."
"Does that mean I could just wait until you figure it out?"
"Our experiments have indicated your lifespan is brief. You would not live long enough to see the culmination of our efforts. Our testing has indicated that the constructor will be adequate, as well as providing you with immediate results."
"Man... Well... Just... leave it there, then, or something. I'll... get to it when I get to it."
"That is wonderful. We will collect it after you have consummated."
"Yeah... Um... is there a way to make them stop clicking like that, at least?"
"You do not find that arousing?"
"Not in the least. They won't... *do* something to me, will they?"
"I assure you, the constructor is designed to be highly gentle and pleasurable."
"You know... as grateful as I am and all... I feel like there's a breakdown in communication here. I don't want another 'we thought you needed powdered sulfur in your food' thing. This thing better not, yknow, cut anything."
"Nothing beyond the ordinary incision for semen extraction."
"Oh fuck *that.*" | I wake up and faint. Nothing… I wake up again and process. I don’t feel right. I seem to be in a space shuttle with giant frogs talking and inspecting me. I can’t hear anything, my mind is spinning. Am I dead? I hope I’m not alive, oh no, please no. Please!!!! I’ve been in a tube of slime my whole life, unconscious, I heard teachers and stories in the background teaching me things like English. It felt like ages I was in that egg, i liked to call it atleast.
Adam are you up? They said in a a foreign language that they taught me by the teacher voice thing they put in my egg. Adam can you hear me?
I was strapped on a electronic bed. My Blue eyes screaming. I answered. Tieki, or yes to you true humans.
Very good Adam, do you know where you are? Planet Gardenogae I said. Do you know know who you are? A human. Why am I here!! I yelled, why was I in an egg for all these years!! I said with all the confusion in the world. What happened to my race!? why did you bring me back?! Patience Adam, All will be known to you soon. I look over to the left, i wasn’t the only one in the room. Another egg not opened up that was labeled “Eve”.
Let me out!! LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!! OF here. I faint.
I hear whispers, i don’t want to wake up in this world again. “Does he believe that his race was destroyed 1,000 years ago you think?” “How would he know different”, “The truth?”. What truth? Adam thought. Then He just remembered he seen when he was awake, that just clicked and made his whole body scream. The name of the ship he was on: Genesis. Could it be, could he be? What should i tell my future kind what really happened, should I, i don’t know!…. Wait……Should I LIE?
Just wrote this real quick on my train ride to work, please forgive all punctuation and errors. :D | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | The Jeen didn’t often explore the worlds that they discovered as much as they did this one called ‘Earth’. It really showed promise. They knew it was called 'Earth' and a lot more, because of the impeccable records these ‘Earthlings’ had left. So when they saw an opportunity to regrow one of these humans, despite not understand what they were doing, did it anyway. This is the story of Mike1 and his upbringing, as recorded in the Science log.
Birth: Mike1 is created in a test tube, and has no human contact upon growing up. Instead, he’s placed with a Jeen family that is warm, loving and filled with fun. In this family there are the same mother, father and 2 children you might find in a human family. Roughly translated, one child is a boy the other a girl. Scientists believed having one of each sibling would be optimal.
Age 1 : Mike1 has learned to walk, something Jeen children can do at birth. Mike 1's ‘brother’ and ‘sister’ both tease him relentlessly about it. Mike1 is starting to learn the Jeen language, but Mike1 is a slow learner. Scientists are concerned.
Age 3: Mike1 can walk and talk, but his developmental milestones are not being reached. Scientists know what they are because they’ve thoroughly explored earth’s libraries. The Scientists understand human development.
Age 5 : Mike1 is now in school with other Jeen schoolchildren. They are all learning the fundamentals of space travel, biology, and chemistry. While this is easy for the Jeen, for some reason it doesn’t come quickly to Mike1. Scientists are concerned that Mike1 can’t keep up.
Age 7: Mike1 has now turned the corner. He leads the Jeen in all things sports related, academic related, and socially. He’s popular with his friends who apparently enjoy his company. Scientists are happy, but cautious. The original plan was to create one human, see if it was safe, and then create more. Scientists hold off a little longer but are very optimistic about the human race.
Age 10: Mike1 has completely subverted Jeen society with his influence. His love of videogames, something he had one of the scientists dig up, particularly games called ‘Starcraft’ & ‘Halo’ had become a phenomenon. Jeen schoolchildren had never seen it before and Mike1 evangelized them day and night. At age 10 Mike1 could get the Jeen - children especially - to do whatever he wanted, he had that much power. Scientists were terrified, and hurriedly terminated the experiment.
Jeen scientists lamented “Why didn’t this DNA come with a caution label?”. They promptly corrected that, putting a big red sticker on the DNA as a warning. | I wake up and faint. Nothing… I wake up again and process. I don’t feel right. I seem to be in a space shuttle with giant frogs talking and inspecting me. I can’t hear anything, my mind is spinning. Am I dead? I hope I’m not alive, oh no, please no. Please!!!! I’ve been in a tube of slime my whole life, unconscious, I heard teachers and stories in the background teaching me things like English. It felt like ages I was in that egg, i liked to call it atleast.
Adam are you up? They said in a a foreign language that they taught me by the teacher voice thing they put in my egg. Adam can you hear me?
I was strapped on a electronic bed. My Blue eyes screaming. I answered. Tieki, or yes to you true humans.
Very good Adam, do you know where you are? Planet Gardenogae I said. Do you know know who you are? A human. Why am I here!! I yelled, why was I in an egg for all these years!! I said with all the confusion in the world. What happened to my race!? why did you bring me back?! Patience Adam, All will be known to you soon. I look over to the left, i wasn’t the only one in the room. Another egg not opened up that was labeled “Eve”.
Let me out!! LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!! OF here. I faint.
I hear whispers, i don’t want to wake up in this world again. “Does he believe that his race was destroyed 1,000 years ago you think?” “How would he know different”, “The truth?”. What truth? Adam thought. Then He just remembered he seen when he was awake, that just clicked and made his whole body scream. The name of the ship he was on: Genesis. Could it be, could he be? What should i tell my future kind what really happened, should I, i don’t know!…. Wait……Should I LIE?
Just wrote this real quick on my train ride to work, please forgive all punctuation and errors. :D | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | The wind rippled through the wheat field as Chris began wading through, being careful to not harm the plants. He was only a visitor, after all.
It had been eight months since Chris graduated top of his class at Krom International, and he still remembered shaking the Deans hand. The first human to graduate from Krom, the first human ever on this planet, and yet he was not shaken. Given to his parents when he was a child from the lab, he grew up relatively wealthy with 2 sisters although he was always the black sheep. Or rather, the alien. As the letters came in from Kroms elite schools Chris realized that all he ever wanted to do was be free, all he ever wanted was to explore.
So he defected. He ran away from his home, his surrogate parents, his artificial life - Chris knew the Kroms were after him, but he had avoided them successfully so far. After eight months of travel he had almost reached his goal, the northern coast of Jumar, the largest continent on Krom. The red sand of the coast danced in his mind as he traveled, pushing him to fight through hunger and pain. He did not loathe or despise the species who gave him life, Chris just felt that he did not belong. He was not one of them.
Settling on the edge of the wheat field near a forest opening, Chris began to set up camp for the night. As he began to lay out his sleeping bag and boil some rice over a fire he heard a twig snap. Looking out he saw a dark figure approach him from the trees, rustling the bushes as it approached. "Please," spoke Chris, as he held up his hands, "Please let me be free." As the figure approached the fire Chris noticed the gun pointed at him. It was a Krom, likely the owner of the wheat field he had traversed.
"You've caused quite a ruckus now, haven't you?" the Krom spoke with a northern accent and had all four of his eyes focused on Chris. "I could get a pretty penny for you, you know?"
Chris began to feel as though his body was crushing itself upon its own mass, he felt heavy and deep. The tears were close to falling, he would never be free. He decided to choose his words carefully. "I can't live as an experiment any longer. The tests, the studies, the eyes constantly upon me. I only know about your race from what I have read in books and seen in person but I can never feel as one of your people. I am a human, a nomad at heart, and I cannot control these primal instincts." The tears began to fall down his cheeks. "I must be free."
The Krom stared at Chris for what seemed like a decade, moved closer, and held the gun up to Chris's chest. "I could turn you in and live as a king for the rest of my life. Never have to worry about feeding the chickens, or watering my land again." The Krom was almost kissing Chris now, he was so close, and his breathe was warm. "But I don't think we are all that different Chris."
The Krom flipped the gun around, holding it by the barrel and offered it to Chris. "I remember when I was young and my Dad gave me this land. Proudest day of my life. It's my legacy." Chris took the gun, and looked at the Krom in disbelief as he took a few steps back.
"This farm is my legacy, now go make yours." The Krom went back into the forest, leaving Chris by his fire and now burnt rice.
The next morning Chris continued onward to the coast, gun in hand, to see the red sand on this distant planet of Krom. It was his destiny. | I wake up and faint. Nothing… I wake up again and process. I don’t feel right. I seem to be in a space shuttle with giant frogs talking and inspecting me. I can’t hear anything, my mind is spinning. Am I dead? I hope I’m not alive, oh no, please no. Please!!!! I’ve been in a tube of slime my whole life, unconscious, I heard teachers and stories in the background teaching me things like English. It felt like ages I was in that egg, i liked to call it atleast.
Adam are you up? They said in a a foreign language that they taught me by the teacher voice thing they put in my egg. Adam can you hear me?
I was strapped on a electronic bed. My Blue eyes screaming. I answered. Tieki, or yes to you true humans.
Very good Adam, do you know where you are? Planet Gardenogae I said. Do you know know who you are? A human. Why am I here!! I yelled, why was I in an egg for all these years!! I said with all the confusion in the world. What happened to my race!? why did you bring me back?! Patience Adam, All will be known to you soon. I look over to the left, i wasn’t the only one in the room. Another egg not opened up that was labeled “Eve”.
Let me out!! LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!! OF here. I faint.
I hear whispers, i don’t want to wake up in this world again. “Does he believe that his race was destroyed 1,000 years ago you think?” “How would he know different”, “The truth?”. What truth? Adam thought. Then He just remembered he seen when he was awake, that just clicked and made his whole body scream. The name of the ship he was on: Genesis. Could it be, could he be? What should i tell my future kind what really happened, should I, i don’t know!…. Wait……Should I LIE?
Just wrote this real quick on my train ride to work, please forgive all punctuation and errors. :D | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | Light is a funny thing;
Bending and tracing,
Setting our minds racing.
Only now it's just me.
 
It takes time.
At least thats what I know.
At least it's what I think...
To know that my days are meaningful,
To carry hope.
 
The suns jump and play
Lighting the day before running away.
But here ill stay forever,
Rooted to the ground
Fighting on the rocky surface
To know my own endeavor.
 
One day ill know them,
The others like me.
There has to be.
When we see all that we can be
The sky no longer trapping me,
Our hearts will race free.
 
 
Only now it's just me. | I wake up and faint. Nothing… I wake up again and process. I don’t feel right. I seem to be in a space shuttle with giant frogs talking and inspecting me. I can’t hear anything, my mind is spinning. Am I dead? I hope I’m not alive, oh no, please no. Please!!!! I’ve been in a tube of slime my whole life, unconscious, I heard teachers and stories in the background teaching me things like English. It felt like ages I was in that egg, i liked to call it atleast.
Adam are you up? They said in a a foreign language that they taught me by the teacher voice thing they put in my egg. Adam can you hear me?
I was strapped on a electronic bed. My Blue eyes screaming. I answered. Tieki, or yes to you true humans.
Very good Adam, do you know where you are? Planet Gardenogae I said. Do you know know who you are? A human. Why am I here!! I yelled, why was I in an egg for all these years!! I said with all the confusion in the world. What happened to my race!? why did you bring me back?! Patience Adam, All will be known to you soon. I look over to the left, i wasn’t the only one in the room. Another egg not opened up that was labeled “Eve”.
Let me out!! LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!! OF here. I faint.
I hear whispers, i don’t want to wake up in this world again. “Does he believe that his race was destroyed 1,000 years ago you think?” “How would he know different”, “The truth?”. What truth? Adam thought. Then He just remembered he seen when he was awake, that just clicked and made his whole body scream. The name of the ship he was on: Genesis. Could it be, could he be? What should i tell my future kind what really happened, should I, i don’t know!…. Wait……Should I LIE?
Just wrote this real quick on my train ride to work, please forgive all punctuation and errors. :D | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Why did you wake me up?"
I had no idea how to read these aliens, so if they were surprised, I didn't notice. Their answer came swiftly.
"You are a human, yes?" I nodded in agreement, "My name is Bar'lon, I am the senior commander of this outpost. You are currently on-"
"Why did you wake me?" Jeez, this guy is getting on my nerve. I asked one simple question, and he wants to introduce me to his facilities and team members.
Bar'lon was taken back, I doubt he could understand my body language and agitation anymore than I could him. After a brief pause, he replied, "Your race built the most advanced technologies the Universe had ever seen, and we want to replicate it."
BINGO! There it is. Another one of the races that wants human technology. This was a problem even when the human race was around, sentient beings from around the Universe would come knocking, asking for advanced tech, weapons, or help them fight their war against some other nameless species. We were treated as Gods in a few galaxies around the Marian super-cluster for a while, that was an interesting period, to say the least. Not a single one of them had succeeded then, and it's not about to happen now.
"No can't do bud, sorry you wasted your time, go back to wherever you are from and forget about this place."
One of Bar'lon's lieutenant was clearly unhappy with my answer, he produced what I can only describe as a high pitched screech, I think he is angry.
Bar'lon seemed smug at my answer, if that's even possible with this alien face. He put a hand on his lieutenant, and said to me, "But you will. You will. If you want your race to be revived, you must comply with our demand. The invasion of the Citrasis and the Jeinai overwhelmed our specie's defense, we are losing this war, you will help us win. There are stories of the human's prowess, legends of the greatness that mankind embodied millenniums ago. You will make us the strongest race in the Universe!!" With that last sentence, everyone in the chamber began clambering and screeching. Idiots.
"Alright, you don't seem to understand, so let me give you a crash course on human history. Yes, we built advanced machines. Yes, we defeated all of our foes. We were a violent race, and that was the drive for our technological innovation. Beautiful machines used for stellar engineering were built, the entire Universe was our canvas, and we could do as we pleased, we were Gods! But we went too far. Those machines we built were used for war, an entire galaxy was destroyed in an instant, and we realized the blood trail that we had left behind. Did you know that the bloodthirst of an entire race could be filled? Well, ours was, and realizing what we have done, we decided to leave the Universe, let another, perhaps less violent race, to appreciate the beauty of the world. Remember those blackholes you had to pass through to get to Earth? The mazes of temporal and spacial wormholes that no doubt confused you? We put those there. We wanted to be left along, and slowly fade away from the world. For what is the purpose of a race, if we spent all our effort fighting one war after another, until the point that we lost all other purpose in life but violence? And then we lost the single purpose that we still had? No, Bar'lon. I do not want to help you fight your war. I do not want to help you raise the human race again. We chose our exile, so leave us be!"
With that, I smiled at all of them, bowed, and headed back into the tube that I came from. Slammed a button as I stepped in, and returned to my eternal sleep. | I wake up and faint. Nothing… I wake up again and process. I don’t feel right. I seem to be in a space shuttle with giant frogs talking and inspecting me. I can’t hear anything, my mind is spinning. Am I dead? I hope I’m not alive, oh no, please no. Please!!!! I’ve been in a tube of slime my whole life, unconscious, I heard teachers and stories in the background teaching me things like English. It felt like ages I was in that egg, i liked to call it atleast.
Adam are you up? They said in a a foreign language that they taught me by the teacher voice thing they put in my egg. Adam can you hear me?
I was strapped on a electronic bed. My Blue eyes screaming. I answered. Tieki, or yes to you true humans.
Very good Adam, do you know where you are? Planet Gardenogae I said. Do you know know who you are? A human. Why am I here!! I yelled, why was I in an egg for all these years!! I said with all the confusion in the world. What happened to my race!? why did you bring me back?! Patience Adam, All will be known to you soon. I look over to the left, i wasn’t the only one in the room. Another egg not opened up that was labeled “Eve”.
Let me out!! LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!! OF here. I faint.
I hear whispers, i don’t want to wake up in this world again. “Does he believe that his race was destroyed 1,000 years ago you think?” “How would he know different”, “The truth?”. What truth? Adam thought. Then He just remembered he seen when he was awake, that just clicked and made his whole body scream. The name of the ship he was on: Genesis. Could it be, could he be? What should i tell my future kind what really happened, should I, i don’t know!…. Wait……Should I LIE?
Just wrote this real quick on my train ride to work, please forgive all punctuation and errors. :D | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | The wind rippled through the wheat field as Chris began wading through, being careful to not harm the plants. He was only a visitor, after all.
It had been eight months since Chris graduated top of his class at Krom International, and he still remembered shaking the Deans hand. The first human to graduate from Krom, the first human ever on this planet, and yet he was not shaken. Given to his parents when he was a child from the lab, he grew up relatively wealthy with 2 sisters although he was always the black sheep. Or rather, the alien. As the letters came in from Kroms elite schools Chris realized that all he ever wanted to do was be free, all he ever wanted was to explore.
So he defected. He ran away from his home, his surrogate parents, his artificial life - Chris knew the Kroms were after him, but he had avoided them successfully so far. After eight months of travel he had almost reached his goal, the northern coast of Jumar, the largest continent on Krom. The red sand of the coast danced in his mind as he traveled, pushing him to fight through hunger and pain. He did not loathe or despise the species who gave him life, Chris just felt that he did not belong. He was not one of them.
Settling on the edge of the wheat field near a forest opening, Chris began to set up camp for the night. As he began to lay out his sleeping bag and boil some rice over a fire he heard a twig snap. Looking out he saw a dark figure approach him from the trees, rustling the bushes as it approached. "Please," spoke Chris, as he held up his hands, "Please let me be free." As the figure approached the fire Chris noticed the gun pointed at him. It was a Krom, likely the owner of the wheat field he had traversed.
"You've caused quite a ruckus now, haven't you?" the Krom spoke with a northern accent and had all four of his eyes focused on Chris. "I could get a pretty penny for you, you know?"
Chris began to feel as though his body was crushing itself upon its own mass, he felt heavy and deep. The tears were close to falling, he would never be free. He decided to choose his words carefully. "I can't live as an experiment any longer. The tests, the studies, the eyes constantly upon me. I only know about your race from what I have read in books and seen in person but I can never feel as one of your people. I am a human, a nomad at heart, and I cannot control these primal instincts." The tears began to fall down his cheeks. "I must be free."
The Krom stared at Chris for what seemed like a decade, moved closer, and held the gun up to Chris's chest. "I could turn you in and live as a king for the rest of my life. Never have to worry about feeding the chickens, or watering my land again." The Krom was almost kissing Chris now, he was so close, and his breathe was warm. "But I don't think we are all that different Chris."
The Krom flipped the gun around, holding it by the barrel and offered it to Chris. "I remember when I was young and my Dad gave me this land. Proudest day of my life. It's my legacy." Chris took the gun, and looked at the Krom in disbelief as he took a few steps back.
"This farm is my legacy, now go make yours." The Krom went back into the forest, leaving Chris by his fire and now burnt rice.
The next morning Chris continued onward to the coast, gun in hand, to see the red sand on this distant planet of Krom. It was his destiny. | "Oh fuck *that.*"
"But the documents indicate this is also how your species procreated."
"Yeah, with our *own kind.* You want me to stick it in *that?* It has *pincers.*"
"Those are of a perfectly average size."
"Size has nothing to do with it. Damn, I suddenly think I know what women feel like..."
"Oh? Is this a response to the given situation? If your genitals undergo mutation, we will make the necessary adjustments."
"No, I... Look, this just isn't exactly... Look, I know you're doing your best here, but, I mean, is there *really* no other way? You can't, like, find a fleshlight or something?"
"Our genetic constructors require that-"
"Yeah, yeah, you told me, they require replications of your own quadratic gender system in order to function. Can't you grow one that is *human* shaped, though? This is just... I mean, will this even *work?*"
"It is a method that has serviced our people for generations, and your genetic material is comparable to our own. Testing has indicated this will be successful."
"And you can't just whip up another human for me?"
"We could genetically alter your DNA to attempt to create a female from your recumbent strains, but it is unlikely we would succeed. There is an inadequate amount of information."
"So a hybrid is the best I can hope for."
"For the time being, yes."
"Does that mean I could just wait until you figure it out?"
"Our experiments have indicated your lifespan is brief. You would not live long enough to see the culmination of our efforts. Our testing has indicated that the constructor will be adequate, as well as providing you with immediate results."
"Man... Well... Just... leave it there, then, or something. I'll... get to it when I get to it."
"That is wonderful. We will collect it after you have consummated."
"Yeah... Um... is there a way to make them stop clicking like that, at least?"
"You do not find that arousing?"
"Not in the least. They won't... *do* something to me, will they?"
"I assure you, the constructor is designed to be highly gentle and pleasurable."
"You know... as grateful as I am and all... I feel like there's a breakdown in communication here. I don't want another 'we thought you needed powdered sulfur in your food' thing. This thing better not, yknow, cut anything."
"Nothing beyond the ordinary incision for semen extraction."
"Oh fuck *that.*" | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | Light is a funny thing;
Bending and tracing,
Setting our minds racing.
Only now it's just me.
 
It takes time.
At least thats what I know.
At least it's what I think...
To know that my days are meaningful,
To carry hope.
 
The suns jump and play
Lighting the day before running away.
But here ill stay forever,
Rooted to the ground
Fighting on the rocky surface
To know my own endeavor.
 
One day ill know them,
The others like me.
There has to be.
When we see all that we can be
The sky no longer trapping me,
Our hearts will race free.
 
 
Only now it's just me. | My second WP, not quite happy with it, but it was done quite fast, so yea, just tell me what you think about it :)
***
Hello, fellow humans, first of all, i hope you receive this message, and according to my records you spent a lot of time in a website called "Reddit" so i'll try to post this there, and hopefully my English is understandable in your time. If my calculations are correct i am writing this in the year 5.233.912.894 and we have recently developed time travel machines, and i would like to take this chance and send you a little message about the slight history we have in common, you see, today is a very special day for me, today is my 173rd birthday, in my planet years, but here in Mars i still have about 2 weeks for my 92nd birthday.
A couple of things i wanted to talk about, first of all, thanks for learning by your mistakes and not ruining that beautiful planet, spoiler, it actually lasts until the Sun evolved to a red giant and eventually burned the whole planet, but its fine, you still have more then 5 billion of years until that happens, unfortunately it does end up happening around a billion of years before it was planned.
Enough of sad stuff, i'm here to tell you that, we, as humans, are back on our feet, we are now living on Earth and Mars, and we are sharing our daily lives with aliens, yea, aliens, they do exist, in fact they were the ones to save us. Turns out they were just scared of us, with all our weapons and nuclear bombs, and we even killed our own people, they imagined what they could do to someone from the outside, so they just stayed light-years away, watching us, and they kept records off humans since about the year 1819. Fortunately they were able to visit Earth and gather some objects, just before the Sun swiped everything left on Earth, and they later found out some of those objects had remains of human DNA!! pure human DNA! unbelievable, and with their technology they were able to clone, reproduce and replicate humans, getting us back to life, and After years and years of humans living in harmony with the aliens, they decided to give us another gift, and started recreating our old Solar System, it didn't take long, as they only took random planets and dragged them to where they should be, they did a little modeling to make them look like the old ones and it was done, a Solar system v2 was born, we had a whole new Earth, the hardest part was to get a new Sun, but they eventually managed to do that too.
I'm lucky enough to live in a human city, but we have contact with our saviors everyday, we even have human schools, just like yours, on our free time we hang out a lot both with humans and aliens, its really sad you couldn't get to meet them, if only you had been more peaceful. They know a lot of stuff, but they also learned a lot while watching us, i'm currently 173 but i'm still a child in here, which must be quite weird for your time, but there are records of humans older then me, so you really did a great job.
I'm only sad that during my visit in your time, i could not visit the outside and see if your Earth is any different then the new one, but because of our cloning tools, we are not really like you, we had some DNA changes to be different from each other, and we really are different, mainly, different from you, and i was heavily warned to make sure no one saw me or they would do experiments and other bad stuff on my body, which i really don't understand how you could do that to one of your own, but i trust my parents, and i can guess they would be certainly interested in our time machine, but i cant do anything about that, or all our history could change.
I think that is about it, i really enjoyed talking to you, fellow past humans, too bad i wont be able to receive any answers because i cant come back here. Like my records show me, in your time this used to me common, so you must know about it too, Cya later alligator.
*** | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | It's funny in a way.
I've never known my people, *my* people. The Azurites are nice enough I suppose. Although I didn't quite "fit", I suppose I have friends, not many mind you. Pushing my way through the the crowd, the bulkier bodies of the hulking, plated blue creatures parted around me, probably assuming that I was a child until they saw me, at which they chittered through their mandibles. Maybe they were laughing, I wouldn't know.
It was impossible for me to re-create their language with my thick tongue and although the merchants and teachers seemed nice enough...they scared me. All in all, the closer to my height Cerans were far more enjoyable company. Reaching the far north end of the market, Leetra was waiting for me.
'You're late' she said as I breezed past her and into the shop.
'I know'
The cramped workshop, far away from the lime-light of the central plaza, dominated by Azurite stalls, was staffed entirely by Cerans and a dwarf Azurite everyone called Tiny. The people of Queen's Rest were nothing but literal. Sitting down at one end of a work-bench I waited patiently until Leetra joined me, sliding a box across the clear workspace towards me.
'Everything should be in there, as well as instructions.' Pulling out a pipe, the vaguely furry humanoid looked at me. A past attempt at a species revival through gene splicing. Suffice to say, the species didn't turn out quite as planned.
'How much?'
'Standard fee'.
Scrounging around in my loose pack I pulled out a chip containing four hundred standard galactic credits. Sliding it through a personal device interface embedded in her arm, Leetra nodded.
'You plan on using that?'
'Only if I need to, I can't imagine it'd be easy to get off planet.'
'You don't have to go through with this Simon, theres still time to turn around.' There was a tinge of worry to her voice, she knew all to well the consequences of being a misfit on a planet whose natives prided themselves on being uniform. All Cerans did.
'Thanks, but I know what I've got to do.'
Retracing my steps back through the claustrophobic building and out into the wider tunnels, the workers gave half-hearted waves and muttered a half dozen variations of "Cya later" before I escaped. I still had a few hours before the hearing. A ship was descending through the Surface-Metro, bringing with it a new wave of foreigners and tourists from abroad. Maybe I could pay them a visit.
The ringing of the bell sounded the hearing. Three judges sat before me, larger than their fellows on the street, their mouths were silent. As their beady black eyes stared my down, I prepared to give my request. Clearing my throat I began.
'I would like to request permission to go off planet.' Almost forgetting to breath, there was no response. I continued. 'I would also beg the high justices the right to take with me incubation pods to repopulated earth.' At this, the room filled with clacking mandibles, the distinct scent of bile filling the room. The audience standing behind me, as well as the Justices were entirely made up of Azurites. "Fingers" clacking on a tablet, words appeared on the screen that floated above them for my benefit.
"Request denied"
'But-'
"We are all tools of the queens. Should you need a lesson, perhaps the pits might serve as a lesson in humility. Your request is denied, you shall remain in the caverns *under careful supervision*."
'Then I am afraid this is goodbye.'
Removing the box Leetra had given me from my deep coat pockets, it was a mere moment between flipping it open and turning the switch before it began to emit smoke. The clacking grew louder as the smoke filled the room as violence erupted in the pews behind me. While the Azurites were far removed from less-evolved insects, they quite humorously had a similar biological makeup. As the drones and guards in the room tore each other apart, it was simple enough to disappear. I didn't know how far the pheromones would spread, nor did I particularly care.
With only the clothes on my back, the credits I could scrounge up, the Starship leaving to the Republics didn't have long til' launch. Shouldering backpacks, it was surprising when Leetra and a few other workers were loitering around the elevator.
'About time you got here' she said, punching me lightly on the shoulder.
'I thought you didn't approve of the plan?'
'I still don't, but I'm not sticking around here long enough for them to find out who assembled an illegal weapon.' Shooting him a wry smile, she thumbed towards the entrance. 'Besides, I've always hated this place and I've already payed off the captain.'
'So I guess you guys are gonna be there when there's two of me, huh?'
'Guess so, for better or worse.'
'No one I'd rather have at my side.'
Falling in with the Cerans, we strolled towards the lift to the surface. The frog-like amphibians who made up the crew of the SS. Water-lily never did much like Azurites. Maybe they had some human in them, given my company, it was clear that Humanity wasn't as clear cut as it used to be.
And we didn't much like being called a tools. | My second WP, not quite happy with it, but it was done quite fast, so yea, just tell me what you think about it :)
***
Hello, fellow humans, first of all, i hope you receive this message, and according to my records you spent a lot of time in a website called "Reddit" so i'll try to post this there, and hopefully my English is understandable in your time. If my calculations are correct i am writing this in the year 5.233.912.894 and we have recently developed time travel machines, and i would like to take this chance and send you a little message about the slight history we have in common, you see, today is a very special day for me, today is my 173rd birthday, in my planet years, but here in Mars i still have about 2 weeks for my 92nd birthday.
A couple of things i wanted to talk about, first of all, thanks for learning by your mistakes and not ruining that beautiful planet, spoiler, it actually lasts until the Sun evolved to a red giant and eventually burned the whole planet, but its fine, you still have more then 5 billion of years until that happens, unfortunately it does end up happening around a billion of years before it was planned.
Enough of sad stuff, i'm here to tell you that, we, as humans, are back on our feet, we are now living on Earth and Mars, and we are sharing our daily lives with aliens, yea, aliens, they do exist, in fact they were the ones to save us. Turns out they were just scared of us, with all our weapons and nuclear bombs, and we even killed our own people, they imagined what they could do to someone from the outside, so they just stayed light-years away, watching us, and they kept records off humans since about the year 1819. Fortunately they were able to visit Earth and gather some objects, just before the Sun swiped everything left on Earth, and they later found out some of those objects had remains of human DNA!! pure human DNA! unbelievable, and with their technology they were able to clone, reproduce and replicate humans, getting us back to life, and After years and years of humans living in harmony with the aliens, they decided to give us another gift, and started recreating our old Solar System, it didn't take long, as they only took random planets and dragged them to where they should be, they did a little modeling to make them look like the old ones and it was done, a Solar system v2 was born, we had a whole new Earth, the hardest part was to get a new Sun, but they eventually managed to do that too.
I'm lucky enough to live in a human city, but we have contact with our saviors everyday, we even have human schools, just like yours, on our free time we hang out a lot both with humans and aliens, its really sad you couldn't get to meet them, if only you had been more peaceful. They know a lot of stuff, but they also learned a lot while watching us, i'm currently 173 but i'm still a child in here, which must be quite weird for your time, but there are records of humans older then me, so you really did a great job.
I'm only sad that during my visit in your time, i could not visit the outside and see if your Earth is any different then the new one, but because of our cloning tools, we are not really like you, we had some DNA changes to be different from each other, and we really are different, mainly, different from you, and i was heavily warned to make sure no one saw me or they would do experiments and other bad stuff on my body, which i really don't understand how you could do that to one of your own, but i trust my parents, and i can guess they would be certainly interested in our time machine, but i cant do anything about that, or all our history could change.
I think that is about it, i really enjoyed talking to you, fellow past humans, too bad i wont be able to receive any answers because i cant come back here. Like my records show me, in your time this used to me common, so you must know about it too, Cya later alligator.
*** | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Why did you wake me up?"
I had no idea how to read these aliens, so if they were surprised, I didn't notice. Their answer came swiftly.
"You are a human, yes?" I nodded in agreement, "My name is Bar'lon, I am the senior commander of this outpost. You are currently on-"
"Why did you wake me?" Jeez, this guy is getting on my nerve. I asked one simple question, and he wants to introduce me to his facilities and team members.
Bar'lon was taken back, I doubt he could understand my body language and agitation anymore than I could him. After a brief pause, he replied, "Your race built the most advanced technologies the Universe had ever seen, and we want to replicate it."
BINGO! There it is. Another one of the races that wants human technology. This was a problem even when the human race was around, sentient beings from around the Universe would come knocking, asking for advanced tech, weapons, or help them fight their war against some other nameless species. We were treated as Gods in a few galaxies around the Marian super-cluster for a while, that was an interesting period, to say the least. Not a single one of them had succeeded then, and it's not about to happen now.
"No can't do bud, sorry you wasted your time, go back to wherever you are from and forget about this place."
One of Bar'lon's lieutenant was clearly unhappy with my answer, he produced what I can only describe as a high pitched screech, I think he is angry.
Bar'lon seemed smug at my answer, if that's even possible with this alien face. He put a hand on his lieutenant, and said to me, "But you will. You will. If you want your race to be revived, you must comply with our demand. The invasion of the Citrasis and the Jeinai overwhelmed our specie's defense, we are losing this war, you will help us win. There are stories of the human's prowess, legends of the greatness that mankind embodied millenniums ago. You will make us the strongest race in the Universe!!" With that last sentence, everyone in the chamber began clambering and screeching. Idiots.
"Alright, you don't seem to understand, so let me give you a crash course on human history. Yes, we built advanced machines. Yes, we defeated all of our foes. We were a violent race, and that was the drive for our technological innovation. Beautiful machines used for stellar engineering were built, the entire Universe was our canvas, and we could do as we pleased, we were Gods! But we went too far. Those machines we built were used for war, an entire galaxy was destroyed in an instant, and we realized the blood trail that we had left behind. Did you know that the bloodthirst of an entire race could be filled? Well, ours was, and realizing what we have done, we decided to leave the Universe, let another, perhaps less violent race, to appreciate the beauty of the world. Remember those blackholes you had to pass through to get to Earth? The mazes of temporal and spacial wormholes that no doubt confused you? We put those there. We wanted to be left along, and slowly fade away from the world. For what is the purpose of a race, if we spent all our effort fighting one war after another, until the point that we lost all other purpose in life but violence? And then we lost the single purpose that we still had? No, Bar'lon. I do not want to help you fight your war. I do not want to help you raise the human race again. We chose our exile, so leave us be!"
With that, I smiled at all of them, bowed, and headed back into the tube that I came from. Slammed a button as I stepped in, and returned to my eternal sleep. | My second WP, not quite happy with it, but it was done quite fast, so yea, just tell me what you think about it :)
***
Hello, fellow humans, first of all, i hope you receive this message, and according to my records you spent a lot of time in a website called "Reddit" so i'll try to post this there, and hopefully my English is understandable in your time. If my calculations are correct i am writing this in the year 5.233.912.894 and we have recently developed time travel machines, and i would like to take this chance and send you a little message about the slight history we have in common, you see, today is a very special day for me, today is my 173rd birthday, in my planet years, but here in Mars i still have about 2 weeks for my 92nd birthday.
A couple of things i wanted to talk about, first of all, thanks for learning by your mistakes and not ruining that beautiful planet, spoiler, it actually lasts until the Sun evolved to a red giant and eventually burned the whole planet, but its fine, you still have more then 5 billion of years until that happens, unfortunately it does end up happening around a billion of years before it was planned.
Enough of sad stuff, i'm here to tell you that, we, as humans, are back on our feet, we are now living on Earth and Mars, and we are sharing our daily lives with aliens, yea, aliens, they do exist, in fact they were the ones to save us. Turns out they were just scared of us, with all our weapons and nuclear bombs, and we even killed our own people, they imagined what they could do to someone from the outside, so they just stayed light-years away, watching us, and they kept records off humans since about the year 1819. Fortunately they were able to visit Earth and gather some objects, just before the Sun swiped everything left on Earth, and they later found out some of those objects had remains of human DNA!! pure human DNA! unbelievable, and with their technology they were able to clone, reproduce and replicate humans, getting us back to life, and After years and years of humans living in harmony with the aliens, they decided to give us another gift, and started recreating our old Solar System, it didn't take long, as they only took random planets and dragged them to where they should be, they did a little modeling to make them look like the old ones and it was done, a Solar system v2 was born, we had a whole new Earth, the hardest part was to get a new Sun, but they eventually managed to do that too.
I'm lucky enough to live in a human city, but we have contact with our saviors everyday, we even have human schools, just like yours, on our free time we hang out a lot both with humans and aliens, its really sad you couldn't get to meet them, if only you had been more peaceful. They know a lot of stuff, but they also learned a lot while watching us, i'm currently 173 but i'm still a child in here, which must be quite weird for your time, but there are records of humans older then me, so you really did a great job.
I'm only sad that during my visit in your time, i could not visit the outside and see if your Earth is any different then the new one, but because of our cloning tools, we are not really like you, we had some DNA changes to be different from each other, and we really are different, mainly, different from you, and i was heavily warned to make sure no one saw me or they would do experiments and other bad stuff on my body, which i really don't understand how you could do that to one of your own, but i trust my parents, and i can guess they would be certainly interested in our time machine, but i cant do anything about that, or all our history could change.
I think that is about it, i really enjoyed talking to you, fellow past humans, too bad i wont be able to receive any answers because i cant come back here. Like my records show me, in your time this used to me common, so you must know about it too, Cya later alligator.
*** | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Snyder," They told me as I was born, "You are a special little boy. You *are* humanity, all that's left. Please help us to know your kind. Do you understand?"
I cried. I was a fuckin' baby. Dipshits didn't know how babies worked.
Ya know how well a sentient beam of light can change a fuckin' diaper? Not very well. I was swaddled in shit till I was five. And they kept saying, "oh Snyder, Snyder, you're so very important!"
Crock of fucking horseshit. Next thing I know they're all, "We know you're special, wah wah, but don't have fun! We're afraid we don't see why you choose to take that car for a joyride! Help us understand why you stab Arxthuis so!"
This Christmas, I asked for a fucking goddamn Gameboy. They don't even know what a Gameboy is. They're the worst parents in the whole stupid fucking world and I'm running away - I'm 8, I can make my own fucking decisions.
*****
**Epilogue**
"GRXKULUS, LOOK - THE EARTH CHILD RAN OFF."
"YES, WE SEE ITS LIFELESS FORM FLOATING IN ORBIT. WE WONDER WHY IT CHOSE TO LEAVE ITS HABITAT,"
"SHALL WE START ANOTHER HUMAN?"
"......NO. WE DEEM THAT THING TO BE AN ASSHOLE." | My second WP, not quite happy with it, but it was done quite fast, so yea, just tell me what you think about it :)
***
Hello, fellow humans, first of all, i hope you receive this message, and according to my records you spent a lot of time in a website called "Reddit" so i'll try to post this there, and hopefully my English is understandable in your time. If my calculations are correct i am writing this in the year 5.233.912.894 and we have recently developed time travel machines, and i would like to take this chance and send you a little message about the slight history we have in common, you see, today is a very special day for me, today is my 173rd birthday, in my planet years, but here in Mars i still have about 2 weeks for my 92nd birthday.
A couple of things i wanted to talk about, first of all, thanks for learning by your mistakes and not ruining that beautiful planet, spoiler, it actually lasts until the Sun evolved to a red giant and eventually burned the whole planet, but its fine, you still have more then 5 billion of years until that happens, unfortunately it does end up happening around a billion of years before it was planned.
Enough of sad stuff, i'm here to tell you that, we, as humans, are back on our feet, we are now living on Earth and Mars, and we are sharing our daily lives with aliens, yea, aliens, they do exist, in fact they were the ones to save us. Turns out they were just scared of us, with all our weapons and nuclear bombs, and we even killed our own people, they imagined what they could do to someone from the outside, so they just stayed light-years away, watching us, and they kept records off humans since about the year 1819. Fortunately they were able to visit Earth and gather some objects, just before the Sun swiped everything left on Earth, and they later found out some of those objects had remains of human DNA!! pure human DNA! unbelievable, and with their technology they were able to clone, reproduce and replicate humans, getting us back to life, and After years and years of humans living in harmony with the aliens, they decided to give us another gift, and started recreating our old Solar System, it didn't take long, as they only took random planets and dragged them to where they should be, they did a little modeling to make them look like the old ones and it was done, a Solar system v2 was born, we had a whole new Earth, the hardest part was to get a new Sun, but they eventually managed to do that too.
I'm lucky enough to live in a human city, but we have contact with our saviors everyday, we even have human schools, just like yours, on our free time we hang out a lot both with humans and aliens, its really sad you couldn't get to meet them, if only you had been more peaceful. They know a lot of stuff, but they also learned a lot while watching us, i'm currently 173 but i'm still a child in here, which must be quite weird for your time, but there are records of humans older then me, so you really did a great job.
I'm only sad that during my visit in your time, i could not visit the outside and see if your Earth is any different then the new one, but because of our cloning tools, we are not really like you, we had some DNA changes to be different from each other, and we really are different, mainly, different from you, and i was heavily warned to make sure no one saw me or they would do experiments and other bad stuff on my body, which i really don't understand how you could do that to one of your own, but i trust my parents, and i can guess they would be certainly interested in our time machine, but i cant do anything about that, or all our history could change.
I think that is about it, i really enjoyed talking to you, fellow past humans, too bad i wont be able to receive any answers because i cant come back here. Like my records show me, in your time this used to me common, so you must know about it too, Cya later alligator.
*** | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | It's funny in a way.
I've never known my people, *my* people. The Azurites are nice enough I suppose. Although I didn't quite "fit", I suppose I have friends, not many mind you. Pushing my way through the the crowd, the bulkier bodies of the hulking, plated blue creatures parted around me, probably assuming that I was a child until they saw me, at which they chittered through their mandibles. Maybe they were laughing, I wouldn't know.
It was impossible for me to re-create their language with my thick tongue and although the merchants and teachers seemed nice enough...they scared me. All in all, the closer to my height Cerans were far more enjoyable company. Reaching the far north end of the market, Leetra was waiting for me.
'You're late' she said as I breezed past her and into the shop.
'I know'
The cramped workshop, far away from the lime-light of the central plaza, dominated by Azurite stalls, was staffed entirely by Cerans and a dwarf Azurite everyone called Tiny. The people of Queen's Rest were nothing but literal. Sitting down at one end of a work-bench I waited patiently until Leetra joined me, sliding a box across the clear workspace towards me.
'Everything should be in there, as well as instructions.' Pulling out a pipe, the vaguely furry humanoid looked at me. A past attempt at a species revival through gene splicing. Suffice to say, the species didn't turn out quite as planned.
'How much?'
'Standard fee'.
Scrounging around in my loose pack I pulled out a chip containing four hundred standard galactic credits. Sliding it through a personal device interface embedded in her arm, Leetra nodded.
'You plan on using that?'
'Only if I need to, I can't imagine it'd be easy to get off planet.'
'You don't have to go through with this Simon, theres still time to turn around.' There was a tinge of worry to her voice, she knew all to well the consequences of being a misfit on a planet whose natives prided themselves on being uniform. All Cerans did.
'Thanks, but I know what I've got to do.'
Retracing my steps back through the claustrophobic building and out into the wider tunnels, the workers gave half-hearted waves and muttered a half dozen variations of "Cya later" before I escaped. I still had a few hours before the hearing. A ship was descending through the Surface-Metro, bringing with it a new wave of foreigners and tourists from abroad. Maybe I could pay them a visit.
The ringing of the bell sounded the hearing. Three judges sat before me, larger than their fellows on the street, their mouths were silent. As their beady black eyes stared my down, I prepared to give my request. Clearing my throat I began.
'I would like to request permission to go off planet.' Almost forgetting to breath, there was no response. I continued. 'I would also beg the high justices the right to take with me incubation pods to repopulated earth.' At this, the room filled with clacking mandibles, the distinct scent of bile filling the room. The audience standing behind me, as well as the Justices were entirely made up of Azurites. "Fingers" clacking on a tablet, words appeared on the screen that floated above them for my benefit.
"Request denied"
'But-'
"We are all tools of the queens. Should you need a lesson, perhaps the pits might serve as a lesson in humility. Your request is denied, you shall remain in the caverns *under careful supervision*."
'Then I am afraid this is goodbye.'
Removing the box Leetra had given me from my deep coat pockets, it was a mere moment between flipping it open and turning the switch before it began to emit smoke. The clacking grew louder as the smoke filled the room as violence erupted in the pews behind me. While the Azurites were far removed from less-evolved insects, they quite humorously had a similar biological makeup. As the drones and guards in the room tore each other apart, it was simple enough to disappear. I didn't know how far the pheromones would spread, nor did I particularly care.
With only the clothes on my back, the credits I could scrounge up, the Starship leaving to the Republics didn't have long til' launch. Shouldering backpacks, it was surprising when Leetra and a few other workers were loitering around the elevator.
'About time you got here' she said, punching me lightly on the shoulder.
'I thought you didn't approve of the plan?'
'I still don't, but I'm not sticking around here long enough for them to find out who assembled an illegal weapon.' Shooting him a wry smile, she thumbed towards the entrance. 'Besides, I've always hated this place and I've already payed off the captain.'
'So I guess you guys are gonna be there when there's two of me, huh?'
'Guess so, for better or worse.'
'No one I'd rather have at my side.'
Falling in with the Cerans, we strolled towards the lift to the surface. The frog-like amphibians who made up the crew of the SS. Water-lily never did much like Azurites. Maybe they had some human in them, given my company, it was clear that Humanity wasn't as clear cut as it used to be.
And we didn't much like being called a tools. | The quality of DNA used to recreate us varied sample by sample. While they were well preserved it was impossible for time and the heavy radiation to not eventually taint the vault they were contained in. By the time the DNA was discovered by my creators, half the samples were useless while the other half had only a 40/60 shot of producing a perfect clone.
I was one of the lucky ones. My body and brain developed perfectly and I could even recall some memories of my original self. Flashbacks to the days of human civilzation. From what I can gather I was called Pat-rick. I lived in a small room with three others in a building filled with similar living spaces. A durmitary is what it was called I believe. The creators gather the the human population must have been so large that living conditions like this were the norm.
The creators found our DNA in the vault of an old medical facility. Old records indicated that human males would give away their DNA for pieces of paper. We know not what value the paper held to ancient humans, maybe it was edible or important for religious purposes. I would wonder why I had gave away my own DNA, my mind flashes to the picture of a box with beer written on the side. Regardless why, I am thankful as this allowed for me to be reborn today.
I was the first and seven others were sucessfully created after me. Others were reborn, but unsuccessfully. They became hideous mutations with little intellect and were kept seperatly from us. The creators created a habitat on their planet for us; caged in from its hostile enviornment as we could not breath on its surface. It included many earth trees and plants, a lake of fresh water and small homes for us to live in. It was beautiful to say the least
The creators were a very peaceful and scientifically advanced race. They made little contact with us directly and would simply observe our day to day activities from a large window at the top of our domicile. Always observing expect at night. I recalled a memory of my past life when I too would watch other beings from outside their domiciles. Large beasts with manes and others with great noses. I recall the sensation of entertainment as I watched these creatures. What a similar situation, its almost as if we were just like those creatures. Wait... | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Why did you wake me up?"
I had no idea how to read these aliens, so if they were surprised, I didn't notice. Their answer came swiftly.
"You are a human, yes?" I nodded in agreement, "My name is Bar'lon, I am the senior commander of this outpost. You are currently on-"
"Why did you wake me?" Jeez, this guy is getting on my nerve. I asked one simple question, and he wants to introduce me to his facilities and team members.
Bar'lon was taken back, I doubt he could understand my body language and agitation anymore than I could him. After a brief pause, he replied, "Your race built the most advanced technologies the Universe had ever seen, and we want to replicate it."
BINGO! There it is. Another one of the races that wants human technology. This was a problem even when the human race was around, sentient beings from around the Universe would come knocking, asking for advanced tech, weapons, or help them fight their war against some other nameless species. We were treated as Gods in a few galaxies around the Marian super-cluster for a while, that was an interesting period, to say the least. Not a single one of them had succeeded then, and it's not about to happen now.
"No can't do bud, sorry you wasted your time, go back to wherever you are from and forget about this place."
One of Bar'lon's lieutenant was clearly unhappy with my answer, he produced what I can only describe as a high pitched screech, I think he is angry.
Bar'lon seemed smug at my answer, if that's even possible with this alien face. He put a hand on his lieutenant, and said to me, "But you will. You will. If you want your race to be revived, you must comply with our demand. The invasion of the Citrasis and the Jeinai overwhelmed our specie's defense, we are losing this war, you will help us win. There are stories of the human's prowess, legends of the greatness that mankind embodied millenniums ago. You will make us the strongest race in the Universe!!" With that last sentence, everyone in the chamber began clambering and screeching. Idiots.
"Alright, you don't seem to understand, so let me give you a crash course on human history. Yes, we built advanced machines. Yes, we defeated all of our foes. We were a violent race, and that was the drive for our technological innovation. Beautiful machines used for stellar engineering were built, the entire Universe was our canvas, and we could do as we pleased, we were Gods! But we went too far. Those machines we built were used for war, an entire galaxy was destroyed in an instant, and we realized the blood trail that we had left behind. Did you know that the bloodthirst of an entire race could be filled? Well, ours was, and realizing what we have done, we decided to leave the Universe, let another, perhaps less violent race, to appreciate the beauty of the world. Remember those blackholes you had to pass through to get to Earth? The mazes of temporal and spacial wormholes that no doubt confused you? We put those there. We wanted to be left along, and slowly fade away from the world. For what is the purpose of a race, if we spent all our effort fighting one war after another, until the point that we lost all other purpose in life but violence? And then we lost the single purpose that we still had? No, Bar'lon. I do not want to help you fight your war. I do not want to help you raise the human race again. We chose our exile, so leave us be!"
With that, I smiled at all of them, bowed, and headed back into the tube that I came from. Slammed a button as I stepped in, and returned to my eternal sleep. | The quality of DNA used to recreate us varied sample by sample. While they were well preserved it was impossible for time and the heavy radiation to not eventually taint the vault they were contained in. By the time the DNA was discovered by my creators, half the samples were useless while the other half had only a 40/60 shot of producing a perfect clone.
I was one of the lucky ones. My body and brain developed perfectly and I could even recall some memories of my original self. Flashbacks to the days of human civilzation. From what I can gather I was called Pat-rick. I lived in a small room with three others in a building filled with similar living spaces. A durmitary is what it was called I believe. The creators gather the the human population must have been so large that living conditions like this were the norm.
The creators found our DNA in the vault of an old medical facility. Old records indicated that human males would give away their DNA for pieces of paper. We know not what value the paper held to ancient humans, maybe it was edible or important for religious purposes. I would wonder why I had gave away my own DNA, my mind flashes to the picture of a box with beer written on the side. Regardless why, I am thankful as this allowed for me to be reborn today.
I was the first and seven others were sucessfully created after me. Others were reborn, but unsuccessfully. They became hideous mutations with little intellect and were kept seperatly from us. The creators created a habitat on their planet for us; caged in from its hostile enviornment as we could not breath on its surface. It included many earth trees and plants, a lake of fresh water and small homes for us to live in. It was beautiful to say the least
The creators were a very peaceful and scientifically advanced race. They made little contact with us directly and would simply observe our day to day activities from a large window at the top of our domicile. Always observing expect at night. I recalled a memory of my past life when I too would watch other beings from outside their domiciles. Large beasts with manes and others with great noses. I recall the sensation of entertainment as I watched these creatures. What a similar situation, its almost as if we were just like those creatures. Wait... | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Snyder," They told me as I was born, "You are a special little boy. You *are* humanity, all that's left. Please help us to know your kind. Do you understand?"
I cried. I was a fuckin' baby. Dipshits didn't know how babies worked.
Ya know how well a sentient beam of light can change a fuckin' diaper? Not very well. I was swaddled in shit till I was five. And they kept saying, "oh Snyder, Snyder, you're so very important!"
Crock of fucking horseshit. Next thing I know they're all, "We know you're special, wah wah, but don't have fun! We're afraid we don't see why you choose to take that car for a joyride! Help us understand why you stab Arxthuis so!"
This Christmas, I asked for a fucking goddamn Gameboy. They don't even know what a Gameboy is. They're the worst parents in the whole stupid fucking world and I'm running away - I'm 8, I can make my own fucking decisions.
*****
**Epilogue**
"GRXKULUS, LOOK - THE EARTH CHILD RAN OFF."
"YES, WE SEE ITS LIFELESS FORM FLOATING IN ORBIT. WE WONDER WHY IT CHOSE TO LEAVE ITS HABITAT,"
"SHALL WE START ANOTHER HUMAN?"
"......NO. WE DEEM THAT THING TO BE AN ASSHOLE." | The quality of DNA used to recreate us varied sample by sample. While they were well preserved it was impossible for time and the heavy radiation to not eventually taint the vault they were contained in. By the time the DNA was discovered by my creators, half the samples were useless while the other half had only a 40/60 shot of producing a perfect clone.
I was one of the lucky ones. My body and brain developed perfectly and I could even recall some memories of my original self. Flashbacks to the days of human civilzation. From what I can gather I was called Pat-rick. I lived in a small room with three others in a building filled with similar living spaces. A durmitary is what it was called I believe. The creators gather the the human population must have been so large that living conditions like this were the norm.
The creators found our DNA in the vault of an old medical facility. Old records indicated that human males would give away their DNA for pieces of paper. We know not what value the paper held to ancient humans, maybe it was edible or important for religious purposes. I would wonder why I had gave away my own DNA, my mind flashes to the picture of a box with beer written on the side. Regardless why, I am thankful as this allowed for me to be reborn today.
I was the first and seven others were sucessfully created after me. Others were reborn, but unsuccessfully. They became hideous mutations with little intellect and were kept seperatly from us. The creators created a habitat on their planet for us; caged in from its hostile enviornment as we could not breath on its surface. It included many earth trees and plants, a lake of fresh water and small homes for us to live in. It was beautiful to say the least
The creators were a very peaceful and scientifically advanced race. They made little contact with us directly and would simply observe our day to day activities from a large window at the top of our domicile. Always observing expect at night. I recalled a memory of my past life when I too would watch other beings from outside their domiciles. Large beasts with manes and others with great noses. I recall the sensation of entertainment as I watched these creatures. What a similar situation, its almost as if we were just like those creatures. Wait... | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "I will name him Adam," said the Explorer gazing in astonishment at his creation.
"We may be able to extract a rib to create a companion for it," replied his buddy.
"Let's get to work then." | The quality of DNA used to recreate us varied sample by sample. While they were well preserved it was impossible for time and the heavy radiation to not eventually taint the vault they were contained in. By the time the DNA was discovered by my creators, half the samples were useless while the other half had only a 40/60 shot of producing a perfect clone.
I was one of the lucky ones. My body and brain developed perfectly and I could even recall some memories of my original self. Flashbacks to the days of human civilzation. From what I can gather I was called Pat-rick. I lived in a small room with three others in a building filled with similar living spaces. A durmitary is what it was called I believe. The creators gather the the human population must have been so large that living conditions like this were the norm.
The creators found our DNA in the vault of an old medical facility. Old records indicated that human males would give away their DNA for pieces of paper. We know not what value the paper held to ancient humans, maybe it was edible or important for religious purposes. I would wonder why I had gave away my own DNA, my mind flashes to the picture of a box with beer written on the side. Regardless why, I am thankful as this allowed for me to be reborn today.
I was the first and seven others were sucessfully created after me. Others were reborn, but unsuccessfully. They became hideous mutations with little intellect and were kept seperatly from us. The creators created a habitat on their planet for us; caged in from its hostile enviornment as we could not breath on its surface. It included many earth trees and plants, a lake of fresh water and small homes for us to live in. It was beautiful to say the least
The creators were a very peaceful and scientifically advanced race. They made little contact with us directly and would simply observe our day to day activities from a large window at the top of our domicile. Always observing expect at night. I recalled a memory of my past life when I too would watch other beings from outside their domiciles. Large beasts with manes and others with great noses. I recall the sensation of entertainment as I watched these creatures. What a similar situation, its almost as if we were just like those creatures. Wait... | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | It's funny in a way.
I've never known my people, *my* people. The Azurites are nice enough I suppose. Although I didn't quite "fit", I suppose I have friends, not many mind you. Pushing my way through the the crowd, the bulkier bodies of the hulking, plated blue creatures parted around me, probably assuming that I was a child until they saw me, at which they chittered through their mandibles. Maybe they were laughing, I wouldn't know.
It was impossible for me to re-create their language with my thick tongue and although the merchants and teachers seemed nice enough...they scared me. All in all, the closer to my height Cerans were far more enjoyable company. Reaching the far north end of the market, Leetra was waiting for me.
'You're late' she said as I breezed past her and into the shop.
'I know'
The cramped workshop, far away from the lime-light of the central plaza, dominated by Azurite stalls, was staffed entirely by Cerans and a dwarf Azurite everyone called Tiny. The people of Queen's Rest were nothing but literal. Sitting down at one end of a work-bench I waited patiently until Leetra joined me, sliding a box across the clear workspace towards me.
'Everything should be in there, as well as instructions.' Pulling out a pipe, the vaguely furry humanoid looked at me. A past attempt at a species revival through gene splicing. Suffice to say, the species didn't turn out quite as planned.
'How much?'
'Standard fee'.
Scrounging around in my loose pack I pulled out a chip containing four hundred standard galactic credits. Sliding it through a personal device interface embedded in her arm, Leetra nodded.
'You plan on using that?'
'Only if I need to, I can't imagine it'd be easy to get off planet.'
'You don't have to go through with this Simon, theres still time to turn around.' There was a tinge of worry to her voice, she knew all to well the consequences of being a misfit on a planet whose natives prided themselves on being uniform. All Cerans did.
'Thanks, but I know what I've got to do.'
Retracing my steps back through the claustrophobic building and out into the wider tunnels, the workers gave half-hearted waves and muttered a half dozen variations of "Cya later" before I escaped. I still had a few hours before the hearing. A ship was descending through the Surface-Metro, bringing with it a new wave of foreigners and tourists from abroad. Maybe I could pay them a visit.
The ringing of the bell sounded the hearing. Three judges sat before me, larger than their fellows on the street, their mouths were silent. As their beady black eyes stared my down, I prepared to give my request. Clearing my throat I began.
'I would like to request permission to go off planet.' Almost forgetting to breath, there was no response. I continued. 'I would also beg the high justices the right to take with me incubation pods to repopulated earth.' At this, the room filled with clacking mandibles, the distinct scent of bile filling the room. The audience standing behind me, as well as the Justices were entirely made up of Azurites. "Fingers" clacking on a tablet, words appeared on the screen that floated above them for my benefit.
"Request denied"
'But-'
"We are all tools of the queens. Should you need a lesson, perhaps the pits might serve as a lesson in humility. Your request is denied, you shall remain in the caverns *under careful supervision*."
'Then I am afraid this is goodbye.'
Removing the box Leetra had given me from my deep coat pockets, it was a mere moment between flipping it open and turning the switch before it began to emit smoke. The clacking grew louder as the smoke filled the room as violence erupted in the pews behind me. While the Azurites were far removed from less-evolved insects, they quite humorously had a similar biological makeup. As the drones and guards in the room tore each other apart, it was simple enough to disappear. I didn't know how far the pheromones would spread, nor did I particularly care.
With only the clothes on my back, the credits I could scrounge up, the Starship leaving to the Republics didn't have long til' launch. Shouldering backpacks, it was surprising when Leetra and a few other workers were loitering around the elevator.
'About time you got here' she said, punching me lightly on the shoulder.
'I thought you didn't approve of the plan?'
'I still don't, but I'm not sticking around here long enough for them to find out who assembled an illegal weapon.' Shooting him a wry smile, she thumbed towards the entrance. 'Besides, I've always hated this place and I've already payed off the captain.'
'So I guess you guys are gonna be there when there's two of me, huh?'
'Guess so, for better or worse.'
'No one I'd rather have at my side.'
Falling in with the Cerans, we strolled towards the lift to the surface. The frog-like amphibians who made up the crew of the SS. Water-lily never did much like Azurites. Maybe they had some human in them, given my company, it was clear that Humanity wasn't as clear cut as it used to be.
And we didn't much like being called a tools. | Our sessions were long and tedious. Human existence and evolution through time is so interesting, why were these things so obsessed with the trivial and mundane?
Wars, love, revolution, inventions, drugs, family, faith: with all these things to discuss, why waste time talking about my boring high school career?
Every moon I'd meet with the being I came to know as Oz, and we'd hash out every excruciatingly minute detail of my life. They told me it was for research purposes, to see how an average human lived from birth to death. Although as we transitioned from my childhood years into adolescence, it began to feel like it was merely an experiment on their part, just to see how a human could handle extreme monotony.
"Wait who was this girl?" Oz's already large head swelled the way it did when he was curious.
"A cheerleader." I repeated bluntly.
"And what do cheerleaders do, Peter?" Oz pressed his fingernail to the metal pad, poised to note down anything he saw fit.
"What do you mean *what do they do*?" I snapped quickly. "They root for the sports team!"
"And sports are athletic contests of different sorts, performed in front of others for entertainment purposes?"
"Yeeees!" I drew out the answer so Oz knew how irritating this was. But I don't think he made the connection.
"And these leaders of the cheer, do they physically aid the sports team at all?"
"Well no." I said quietly. They just *really* want their team to win.
Oz's head pulsed again and leaked some of its fluid, which he quickly slurped up before continuing.
"Then I'm confused, Peter. What was the utility of these 'cheerleaders'? You've told me a doctor helps the sick, an architect designs and builds, what do these girls actually *do*?"
"I told you! They root for their team to win! That's all!" I was yelling at this point.
Oz sat back and paused.
"But Peter, isn't that what every person in the crowd is doing? What makes this squad of younger females any different? How is this an occupation, same as doctor or architect?"
I sighed and sat back in my ergonomic chair.
Oz's head leaked some more fluid. He offered some to me but I declined politely as is the custom.
| |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Why did you wake me up?"
I had no idea how to read these aliens, so if they were surprised, I didn't notice. Their answer came swiftly.
"You are a human, yes?" I nodded in agreement, "My name is Bar'lon, I am the senior commander of this outpost. You are currently on-"
"Why did you wake me?" Jeez, this guy is getting on my nerve. I asked one simple question, and he wants to introduce me to his facilities and team members.
Bar'lon was taken back, I doubt he could understand my body language and agitation anymore than I could him. After a brief pause, he replied, "Your race built the most advanced technologies the Universe had ever seen, and we want to replicate it."
BINGO! There it is. Another one of the races that wants human technology. This was a problem even when the human race was around, sentient beings from around the Universe would come knocking, asking for advanced tech, weapons, or help them fight their war against some other nameless species. We were treated as Gods in a few galaxies around the Marian super-cluster for a while, that was an interesting period, to say the least. Not a single one of them had succeeded then, and it's not about to happen now.
"No can't do bud, sorry you wasted your time, go back to wherever you are from and forget about this place."
One of Bar'lon's lieutenant was clearly unhappy with my answer, he produced what I can only describe as a high pitched screech, I think he is angry.
Bar'lon seemed smug at my answer, if that's even possible with this alien face. He put a hand on his lieutenant, and said to me, "But you will. You will. If you want your race to be revived, you must comply with our demand. The invasion of the Citrasis and the Jeinai overwhelmed our specie's defense, we are losing this war, you will help us win. There are stories of the human's prowess, legends of the greatness that mankind embodied millenniums ago. You will make us the strongest race in the Universe!!" With that last sentence, everyone in the chamber began clambering and screeching. Idiots.
"Alright, you don't seem to understand, so let me give you a crash course on human history. Yes, we built advanced machines. Yes, we defeated all of our foes. We were a violent race, and that was the drive for our technological innovation. Beautiful machines used for stellar engineering were built, the entire Universe was our canvas, and we could do as we pleased, we were Gods! But we went too far. Those machines we built were used for war, an entire galaxy was destroyed in an instant, and we realized the blood trail that we had left behind. Did you know that the bloodthirst of an entire race could be filled? Well, ours was, and realizing what we have done, we decided to leave the Universe, let another, perhaps less violent race, to appreciate the beauty of the world. Remember those blackholes you had to pass through to get to Earth? The mazes of temporal and spacial wormholes that no doubt confused you? We put those there. We wanted to be left along, and slowly fade away from the world. For what is the purpose of a race, if we spent all our effort fighting one war after another, until the point that we lost all other purpose in life but violence? And then we lost the single purpose that we still had? No, Bar'lon. I do not want to help you fight your war. I do not want to help you raise the human race again. We chose our exile, so leave us be!"
With that, I smiled at all of them, bowed, and headed back into the tube that I came from. Slammed a button as I stepped in, and returned to my eternal sleep. | Our sessions were long and tedious. Human existence and evolution through time is so interesting, why were these things so obsessed with the trivial and mundane?
Wars, love, revolution, inventions, drugs, family, faith: with all these things to discuss, why waste time talking about my boring high school career?
Every moon I'd meet with the being I came to know as Oz, and we'd hash out every excruciatingly minute detail of my life. They told me it was for research purposes, to see how an average human lived from birth to death. Although as we transitioned from my childhood years into adolescence, it began to feel like it was merely an experiment on their part, just to see how a human could handle extreme monotony.
"Wait who was this girl?" Oz's already large head swelled the way it did when he was curious.
"A cheerleader." I repeated bluntly.
"And what do cheerleaders do, Peter?" Oz pressed his fingernail to the metal pad, poised to note down anything he saw fit.
"What do you mean *what do they do*?" I snapped quickly. "They root for the sports team!"
"And sports are athletic contests of different sorts, performed in front of others for entertainment purposes?"
"Yeeees!" I drew out the answer so Oz knew how irritating this was. But I don't think he made the connection.
"And these leaders of the cheer, do they physically aid the sports team at all?"
"Well no." I said quietly. They just *really* want their team to win.
Oz's head pulsed again and leaked some of its fluid, which he quickly slurped up before continuing.
"Then I'm confused, Peter. What was the utility of these 'cheerleaders'? You've told me a doctor helps the sick, an architect designs and builds, what do these girls actually *do*?"
"I told you! They root for their team to win! That's all!" I was yelling at this point.
Oz sat back and paused.
"But Peter, isn't that what every person in the crowd is doing? What makes this squad of younger females any different? How is this an occupation, same as doctor or architect?"
I sighed and sat back in my ergonomic chair.
Oz's head leaked some more fluid. He offered some to me but I declined politely as is the custom.
| |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Snyder," They told me as I was born, "You are a special little boy. You *are* humanity, all that's left. Please help us to know your kind. Do you understand?"
I cried. I was a fuckin' baby. Dipshits didn't know how babies worked.
Ya know how well a sentient beam of light can change a fuckin' diaper? Not very well. I was swaddled in shit till I was five. And they kept saying, "oh Snyder, Snyder, you're so very important!"
Crock of fucking horseshit. Next thing I know they're all, "We know you're special, wah wah, but don't have fun! We're afraid we don't see why you choose to take that car for a joyride! Help us understand why you stab Arxthuis so!"
This Christmas, I asked for a fucking goddamn Gameboy. They don't even know what a Gameboy is. They're the worst parents in the whole stupid fucking world and I'm running away - I'm 8, I can make my own fucking decisions.
*****
**Epilogue**
"GRXKULUS, LOOK - THE EARTH CHILD RAN OFF."
"YES, WE SEE ITS LIFELESS FORM FLOATING IN ORBIT. WE WONDER WHY IT CHOSE TO LEAVE ITS HABITAT,"
"SHALL WE START ANOTHER HUMAN?"
"......NO. WE DEEM THAT THING TO BE AN ASSHOLE." | Our sessions were long and tedious. Human existence and evolution through time is so interesting, why were these things so obsessed with the trivial and mundane?
Wars, love, revolution, inventions, drugs, family, faith: with all these things to discuss, why waste time talking about my boring high school career?
Every moon I'd meet with the being I came to know as Oz, and we'd hash out every excruciatingly minute detail of my life. They told me it was for research purposes, to see how an average human lived from birth to death. Although as we transitioned from my childhood years into adolescence, it began to feel like it was merely an experiment on their part, just to see how a human could handle extreme monotony.
"Wait who was this girl?" Oz's already large head swelled the way it did when he was curious.
"A cheerleader." I repeated bluntly.
"And what do cheerleaders do, Peter?" Oz pressed his fingernail to the metal pad, poised to note down anything he saw fit.
"What do you mean *what do they do*?" I snapped quickly. "They root for the sports team!"
"And sports are athletic contests of different sorts, performed in front of others for entertainment purposes?"
"Yeeees!" I drew out the answer so Oz knew how irritating this was. But I don't think he made the connection.
"And these leaders of the cheer, do they physically aid the sports team at all?"
"Well no." I said quietly. They just *really* want their team to win.
Oz's head pulsed again and leaked some of its fluid, which he quickly slurped up before continuing.
"Then I'm confused, Peter. What was the utility of these 'cheerleaders'? You've told me a doctor helps the sick, an architect designs and builds, what do these girls actually *do*?"
"I told you! They root for their team to win! That's all!" I was yelling at this point.
Oz sat back and paused.
"But Peter, isn't that what every person in the crowd is doing? What makes this squad of younger females any different? How is this an occupation, same as doctor or architect?"
I sighed and sat back in my ergonomic chair.
Oz's head leaked some more fluid. He offered some to me but I declined politely as is the custom.
| |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Why did you wake me up?"
I had no idea how to read these aliens, so if they were surprised, I didn't notice. Their answer came swiftly.
"You are a human, yes?" I nodded in agreement, "My name is Bar'lon, I am the senior commander of this outpost. You are currently on-"
"Why did you wake me?" Jeez, this guy is getting on my nerve. I asked one simple question, and he wants to introduce me to his facilities and team members.
Bar'lon was taken back, I doubt he could understand my body language and agitation anymore than I could him. After a brief pause, he replied, "Your race built the most advanced technologies the Universe had ever seen, and we want to replicate it."
BINGO! There it is. Another one of the races that wants human technology. This was a problem even when the human race was around, sentient beings from around the Universe would come knocking, asking for advanced tech, weapons, or help them fight their war against some other nameless species. We were treated as Gods in a few galaxies around the Marian super-cluster for a while, that was an interesting period, to say the least. Not a single one of them had succeeded then, and it's not about to happen now.
"No can't do bud, sorry you wasted your time, go back to wherever you are from and forget about this place."
One of Bar'lon's lieutenant was clearly unhappy with my answer, he produced what I can only describe as a high pitched screech, I think he is angry.
Bar'lon seemed smug at my answer, if that's even possible with this alien face. He put a hand on his lieutenant, and said to me, "But you will. You will. If you want your race to be revived, you must comply with our demand. The invasion of the Citrasis and the Jeinai overwhelmed our specie's defense, we are losing this war, you will help us win. There are stories of the human's prowess, legends of the greatness that mankind embodied millenniums ago. You will make us the strongest race in the Universe!!" With that last sentence, everyone in the chamber began clambering and screeching. Idiots.
"Alright, you don't seem to understand, so let me give you a crash course on human history. Yes, we built advanced machines. Yes, we defeated all of our foes. We were a violent race, and that was the drive for our technological innovation. Beautiful machines used for stellar engineering were built, the entire Universe was our canvas, and we could do as we pleased, we were Gods! But we went too far. Those machines we built were used for war, an entire galaxy was destroyed in an instant, and we realized the blood trail that we had left behind. Did you know that the bloodthirst of an entire race could be filled? Well, ours was, and realizing what we have done, we decided to leave the Universe, let another, perhaps less violent race, to appreciate the beauty of the world. Remember those blackholes you had to pass through to get to Earth? The mazes of temporal and spacial wormholes that no doubt confused you? We put those there. We wanted to be left along, and slowly fade away from the world. For what is the purpose of a race, if we spent all our effort fighting one war after another, until the point that we lost all other purpose in life but violence? And then we lost the single purpose that we still had? No, Bar'lon. I do not want to help you fight your war. I do not want to help you raise the human race again. We chose our exile, so leave us be!"
With that, I smiled at all of them, bowed, and headed back into the tube that I came from. Slammed a button as I stepped in, and returned to my eternal sleep. | Light is a funny thing;
Bending and tracing,
Setting our minds racing.
Only now it's just me.
 
It takes time.
At least thats what I know.
At least it's what I think...
To know that my days are meaningful,
To carry hope.
 
The suns jump and play
Lighting the day before running away.
But here ill stay forever,
Rooted to the ground
Fighting on the rocky surface
To know my own endeavor.
 
One day ill know them,
The others like me.
There has to be.
When we see all that we can be
The sky no longer trapping me,
Our hearts will race free.
 
 
Only now it's just me. | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | It's funny in a way.
I've never known my people, *my* people. The Azurites are nice enough I suppose. Although I didn't quite "fit", I suppose I have friends, not many mind you. Pushing my way through the the crowd, the bulkier bodies of the hulking, plated blue creatures parted around me, probably assuming that I was a child until they saw me, at which they chittered through their mandibles. Maybe they were laughing, I wouldn't know.
It was impossible for me to re-create their language with my thick tongue and although the merchants and teachers seemed nice enough...they scared me. All in all, the closer to my height Cerans were far more enjoyable company. Reaching the far north end of the market, Leetra was waiting for me.
'You're late' she said as I breezed past her and into the shop.
'I know'
The cramped workshop, far away from the lime-light of the central plaza, dominated by Azurite stalls, was staffed entirely by Cerans and a dwarf Azurite everyone called Tiny. The people of Queen's Rest were nothing but literal. Sitting down at one end of a work-bench I waited patiently until Leetra joined me, sliding a box across the clear workspace towards me.
'Everything should be in there, as well as instructions.' Pulling out a pipe, the vaguely furry humanoid looked at me. A past attempt at a species revival through gene splicing. Suffice to say, the species didn't turn out quite as planned.
'How much?'
'Standard fee'.
Scrounging around in my loose pack I pulled out a chip containing four hundred standard galactic credits. Sliding it through a personal device interface embedded in her arm, Leetra nodded.
'You plan on using that?'
'Only if I need to, I can't imagine it'd be easy to get off planet.'
'You don't have to go through with this Simon, theres still time to turn around.' There was a tinge of worry to her voice, she knew all to well the consequences of being a misfit on a planet whose natives prided themselves on being uniform. All Cerans did.
'Thanks, but I know what I've got to do.'
Retracing my steps back through the claustrophobic building and out into the wider tunnels, the workers gave half-hearted waves and muttered a half dozen variations of "Cya later" before I escaped. I still had a few hours before the hearing. A ship was descending through the Surface-Metro, bringing with it a new wave of foreigners and tourists from abroad. Maybe I could pay them a visit.
The ringing of the bell sounded the hearing. Three judges sat before me, larger than their fellows on the street, their mouths were silent. As their beady black eyes stared my down, I prepared to give my request. Clearing my throat I began.
'I would like to request permission to go off planet.' Almost forgetting to breath, there was no response. I continued. 'I would also beg the high justices the right to take with me incubation pods to repopulated earth.' At this, the room filled with clacking mandibles, the distinct scent of bile filling the room. The audience standing behind me, as well as the Justices were entirely made up of Azurites. "Fingers" clacking on a tablet, words appeared on the screen that floated above them for my benefit.
"Request denied"
'But-'
"We are all tools of the queens. Should you need a lesson, perhaps the pits might serve as a lesson in humility. Your request is denied, you shall remain in the caverns *under careful supervision*."
'Then I am afraid this is goodbye.'
Removing the box Leetra had given me from my deep coat pockets, it was a mere moment between flipping it open and turning the switch before it began to emit smoke. The clacking grew louder as the smoke filled the room as violence erupted in the pews behind me. While the Azurites were far removed from less-evolved insects, they quite humorously had a similar biological makeup. As the drones and guards in the room tore each other apart, it was simple enough to disappear. I didn't know how far the pheromones would spread, nor did I particularly care.
With only the clothes on my back, the credits I could scrounge up, the Starship leaving to the Republics didn't have long til' launch. Shouldering backpacks, it was surprising when Leetra and a few other workers were loitering around the elevator.
'About time you got here' she said, punching me lightly on the shoulder.
'I thought you didn't approve of the plan?'
'I still don't, but I'm not sticking around here long enough for them to find out who assembled an illegal weapon.' Shooting him a wry smile, she thumbed towards the entrance. 'Besides, I've always hated this place and I've already payed off the captain.'
'So I guess you guys are gonna be there when there's two of me, huh?'
'Guess so, for better or worse.'
'No one I'd rather have at my side.'
Falling in with the Cerans, we strolled towards the lift to the surface. The frog-like amphibians who made up the crew of the SS. Water-lily never did much like Azurites. Maybe they had some human in them, given my company, it was clear that Humanity wasn't as clear cut as it used to be.
And we didn't much like being called a tools. | It's funny, I have read all of these history transograms on my kind and it seems as though the everyman's biggest struggle was fitting in. Almost half a millennium later and I can still relate to my kind.
They didn't have many transograms from earth when I was, well, synthesized but since my existence their interest in earth has jumped. All they really had were skeletons when they made me. I have seen drawings of the classic human and they had protruding noses and ears. I don't have those. Cartilidge doesn't fossilize well. You will have those though, so I won't talk too much about how much plain holes on my face suck.
I am going to try and make it better for you. Life is just a science experiment to them. I was the first, you are second. You only have a couple months left in your incubation chamber until you are a man.
I won't let them do it. What they did to me. What they want to do to you. It is just going to get worse as the numbers get higher and they want to push the limits. I can't let them do it.
What I want to do -- what I'm going to do. It's for us, for you. If anything goes wrong, forgive me.
I don't know you but I love you because you are like me.
Signing off,
Human 000-00-0001
--------------------------------------------
Months later, at the completion of human 000-00-0002, an explosion erupted from within the observation room. All of the managers of the human genome project were eliminated. Human 000-00-0002 left his incubation chamber to a large splatter of dark red too and only felt terror. Guards showed up and the human's head was quickly changed into what looked like a red inside of a pumpkin from his protruding nose up. All he felt during his time was terror, and he fit in to this world much better than human 000-00-0001 ever did. | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Why did you wake me up?"
I had no idea how to read these aliens, so if they were surprised, I didn't notice. Their answer came swiftly.
"You are a human, yes?" I nodded in agreement, "My name is Bar'lon, I am the senior commander of this outpost. You are currently on-"
"Why did you wake me?" Jeez, this guy is getting on my nerve. I asked one simple question, and he wants to introduce me to his facilities and team members.
Bar'lon was taken back, I doubt he could understand my body language and agitation anymore than I could him. After a brief pause, he replied, "Your race built the most advanced technologies the Universe had ever seen, and we want to replicate it."
BINGO! There it is. Another one of the races that wants human technology. This was a problem even when the human race was around, sentient beings from around the Universe would come knocking, asking for advanced tech, weapons, or help them fight their war against some other nameless species. We were treated as Gods in a few galaxies around the Marian super-cluster for a while, that was an interesting period, to say the least. Not a single one of them had succeeded then, and it's not about to happen now.
"No can't do bud, sorry you wasted your time, go back to wherever you are from and forget about this place."
One of Bar'lon's lieutenant was clearly unhappy with my answer, he produced what I can only describe as a high pitched screech, I think he is angry.
Bar'lon seemed smug at my answer, if that's even possible with this alien face. He put a hand on his lieutenant, and said to me, "But you will. You will. If you want your race to be revived, you must comply with our demand. The invasion of the Citrasis and the Jeinai overwhelmed our specie's defense, we are losing this war, you will help us win. There are stories of the human's prowess, legends of the greatness that mankind embodied millenniums ago. You will make us the strongest race in the Universe!!" With that last sentence, everyone in the chamber began clambering and screeching. Idiots.
"Alright, you don't seem to understand, so let me give you a crash course on human history. Yes, we built advanced machines. Yes, we defeated all of our foes. We were a violent race, and that was the drive for our technological innovation. Beautiful machines used for stellar engineering were built, the entire Universe was our canvas, and we could do as we pleased, we were Gods! But we went too far. Those machines we built were used for war, an entire galaxy was destroyed in an instant, and we realized the blood trail that we had left behind. Did you know that the bloodthirst of an entire race could be filled? Well, ours was, and realizing what we have done, we decided to leave the Universe, let another, perhaps less violent race, to appreciate the beauty of the world. Remember those blackholes you had to pass through to get to Earth? The mazes of temporal and spacial wormholes that no doubt confused you? We put those there. We wanted to be left along, and slowly fade away from the world. For what is the purpose of a race, if we spent all our effort fighting one war after another, until the point that we lost all other purpose in life but violence? And then we lost the single purpose that we still had? No, Bar'lon. I do not want to help you fight your war. I do not want to help you raise the human race again. We chose our exile, so leave us be!"
With that, I smiled at all of them, bowed, and headed back into the tube that I came from. Slammed a button as I stepped in, and returned to my eternal sleep. | It's funny, I have read all of these history transograms on my kind and it seems as though the everyman's biggest struggle was fitting in. Almost half a millennium later and I can still relate to my kind.
They didn't have many transograms from earth when I was, well, synthesized but since my existence their interest in earth has jumped. All they really had were skeletons when they made me. I have seen drawings of the classic human and they had protruding noses and ears. I don't have those. Cartilidge doesn't fossilize well. You will have those though, so I won't talk too much about how much plain holes on my face suck.
I am going to try and make it better for you. Life is just a science experiment to them. I was the first, you are second. You only have a couple months left in your incubation chamber until you are a man.
I won't let them do it. What they did to me. What they want to do to you. It is just going to get worse as the numbers get higher and they want to push the limits. I can't let them do it.
What I want to do -- what I'm going to do. It's for us, for you. If anything goes wrong, forgive me.
I don't know you but I love you because you are like me.
Signing off,
Human 000-00-0001
--------------------------------------------
Months later, at the completion of human 000-00-0002, an explosion erupted from within the observation room. All of the managers of the human genome project were eliminated. Human 000-00-0002 left his incubation chamber to a large splatter of dark red too and only felt terror. Guards showed up and the human's head was quickly changed into what looked like a red inside of a pumpkin from his protruding nose up. All he felt during his time was terror, and he fit in to this world much better than human 000-00-0001 ever did. | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Snyder," They told me as I was born, "You are a special little boy. You *are* humanity, all that's left. Please help us to know your kind. Do you understand?"
I cried. I was a fuckin' baby. Dipshits didn't know how babies worked.
Ya know how well a sentient beam of light can change a fuckin' diaper? Not very well. I was swaddled in shit till I was five. And they kept saying, "oh Snyder, Snyder, you're so very important!"
Crock of fucking horseshit. Next thing I know they're all, "We know you're special, wah wah, but don't have fun! We're afraid we don't see why you choose to take that car for a joyride! Help us understand why you stab Arxthuis so!"
This Christmas, I asked for a fucking goddamn Gameboy. They don't even know what a Gameboy is. They're the worst parents in the whole stupid fucking world and I'm running away - I'm 8, I can make my own fucking decisions.
*****
**Epilogue**
"GRXKULUS, LOOK - THE EARTH CHILD RAN OFF."
"YES, WE SEE ITS LIFELESS FORM FLOATING IN ORBIT. WE WONDER WHY IT CHOSE TO LEAVE ITS HABITAT,"
"SHALL WE START ANOTHER HUMAN?"
"......NO. WE DEEM THAT THING TO BE AN ASSHOLE." | It's funny, I have read all of these history transograms on my kind and it seems as though the everyman's biggest struggle was fitting in. Almost half a millennium later and I can still relate to my kind.
They didn't have many transograms from earth when I was, well, synthesized but since my existence their interest in earth has jumped. All they really had were skeletons when they made me. I have seen drawings of the classic human and they had protruding noses and ears. I don't have those. Cartilidge doesn't fossilize well. You will have those though, so I won't talk too much about how much plain holes on my face suck.
I am going to try and make it better for you. Life is just a science experiment to them. I was the first, you are second. You only have a couple months left in your incubation chamber until you are a man.
I won't let them do it. What they did to me. What they want to do to you. It is just going to get worse as the numbers get higher and they want to push the limits. I can't let them do it.
What I want to do -- what I'm going to do. It's for us, for you. If anything goes wrong, forgive me.
I don't know you but I love you because you are like me.
Signing off,
Human 000-00-0001
--------------------------------------------
Months later, at the completion of human 000-00-0002, an explosion erupted from within the observation room. All of the managers of the human genome project were eliminated. Human 000-00-0002 left his incubation chamber to a large splatter of dark red too and only felt terror. Guards showed up and the human's head was quickly changed into what looked like a red inside of a pumpkin from his protruding nose up. All he felt during his time was terror, and he fit in to this world much better than human 000-00-0001 ever did. | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "I will name him Adam," said the Explorer gazing in astonishment at his creation.
"We may be able to extract a rib to create a companion for it," replied his buddy.
"Let's get to work then." | It's funny, I have read all of these history transograms on my kind and it seems as though the everyman's biggest struggle was fitting in. Almost half a millennium later and I can still relate to my kind.
They didn't have many transograms from earth when I was, well, synthesized but since my existence their interest in earth has jumped. All they really had were skeletons when they made me. I have seen drawings of the classic human and they had protruding noses and ears. I don't have those. Cartilidge doesn't fossilize well. You will have those though, so I won't talk too much about how much plain holes on my face suck.
I am going to try and make it better for you. Life is just a science experiment to them. I was the first, you are second. You only have a couple months left in your incubation chamber until you are a man.
I won't let them do it. What they did to me. What they want to do to you. It is just going to get worse as the numbers get higher and they want to push the limits. I can't let them do it.
What I want to do -- what I'm going to do. It's for us, for you. If anything goes wrong, forgive me.
I don't know you but I love you because you are like me.
Signing off,
Human 000-00-0001
--------------------------------------------
Months later, at the completion of human 000-00-0002, an explosion erupted from within the observation room. All of the managers of the human genome project were eliminated. Human 000-00-0002 left his incubation chamber to a large splatter of dark red too and only felt terror. Guards showed up and the human's head was quickly changed into what looked like a red inside of a pumpkin from his protruding nose up. All he felt during his time was terror, and he fit in to this world much better than human 000-00-0001 ever did. | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | It's funny in a way.
I've never known my people, *my* people. The Azurites are nice enough I suppose. Although I didn't quite "fit", I suppose I have friends, not many mind you. Pushing my way through the the crowd, the bulkier bodies of the hulking, plated blue creatures parted around me, probably assuming that I was a child until they saw me, at which they chittered through their mandibles. Maybe they were laughing, I wouldn't know.
It was impossible for me to re-create their language with my thick tongue and although the merchants and teachers seemed nice enough...they scared me. All in all, the closer to my height Cerans were far more enjoyable company. Reaching the far north end of the market, Leetra was waiting for me.
'You're late' she said as I breezed past her and into the shop.
'I know'
The cramped workshop, far away from the lime-light of the central plaza, dominated by Azurite stalls, was staffed entirely by Cerans and a dwarf Azurite everyone called Tiny. The people of Queen's Rest were nothing but literal. Sitting down at one end of a work-bench I waited patiently until Leetra joined me, sliding a box across the clear workspace towards me.
'Everything should be in there, as well as instructions.' Pulling out a pipe, the vaguely furry humanoid looked at me. A past attempt at a species revival through gene splicing. Suffice to say, the species didn't turn out quite as planned.
'How much?'
'Standard fee'.
Scrounging around in my loose pack I pulled out a chip containing four hundred standard galactic credits. Sliding it through a personal device interface embedded in her arm, Leetra nodded.
'You plan on using that?'
'Only if I need to, I can't imagine it'd be easy to get off planet.'
'You don't have to go through with this Simon, theres still time to turn around.' There was a tinge of worry to her voice, she knew all to well the consequences of being a misfit on a planet whose natives prided themselves on being uniform. All Cerans did.
'Thanks, but I know what I've got to do.'
Retracing my steps back through the claustrophobic building and out into the wider tunnels, the workers gave half-hearted waves and muttered a half dozen variations of "Cya later" before I escaped. I still had a few hours before the hearing. A ship was descending through the Surface-Metro, bringing with it a new wave of foreigners and tourists from abroad. Maybe I could pay them a visit.
The ringing of the bell sounded the hearing. Three judges sat before me, larger than their fellows on the street, their mouths were silent. As their beady black eyes stared my down, I prepared to give my request. Clearing my throat I began.
'I would like to request permission to go off planet.' Almost forgetting to breath, there was no response. I continued. 'I would also beg the high justices the right to take with me incubation pods to repopulated earth.' At this, the room filled with clacking mandibles, the distinct scent of bile filling the room. The audience standing behind me, as well as the Justices were entirely made up of Azurites. "Fingers" clacking on a tablet, words appeared on the screen that floated above them for my benefit.
"Request denied"
'But-'
"We are all tools of the queens. Should you need a lesson, perhaps the pits might serve as a lesson in humility. Your request is denied, you shall remain in the caverns *under careful supervision*."
'Then I am afraid this is goodbye.'
Removing the box Leetra had given me from my deep coat pockets, it was a mere moment between flipping it open and turning the switch before it began to emit smoke. The clacking grew louder as the smoke filled the room as violence erupted in the pews behind me. While the Azurites were far removed from less-evolved insects, they quite humorously had a similar biological makeup. As the drones and guards in the room tore each other apart, it was simple enough to disappear. I didn't know how far the pheromones would spread, nor did I particularly care.
With only the clothes on my back, the credits I could scrounge up, the Starship leaving to the Republics didn't have long til' launch. Shouldering backpacks, it was surprising when Leetra and a few other workers were loitering around the elevator.
'About time you got here' she said, punching me lightly on the shoulder.
'I thought you didn't approve of the plan?'
'I still don't, but I'm not sticking around here long enough for them to find out who assembled an illegal weapon.' Shooting him a wry smile, she thumbed towards the entrance. 'Besides, I've always hated this place and I've already payed off the captain.'
'So I guess you guys are gonna be there when there's two of me, huh?'
'Guess so, for better or worse.'
'No one I'd rather have at my side.'
Falling in with the Cerans, we strolled towards the lift to the surface. The frog-like amphibians who made up the crew of the SS. Water-lily never did much like Azurites. Maybe they had some human in them, given my company, it was clear that Humanity wasn't as clear cut as it used to be.
And we didn't much like being called a tools. | I am alone.
I stand behind the stage curtain, with the speech they prepared for me. Today I will announce to the Xrzden that the experiment is over.
Xrdc and Trkl gave me the news last night. I think I’ve known for a while that it was an inevitability, but I always carried a small piece of hope. Until now.
They tell me that the DNA I was created from came from a great ruler—I can’t remember the name. The Xrzdn don’t hold human history. Why would they? After humans tried (and devastatingly failed) to destroy the Xrzdn, the Xrzdn retaliated and wiped out humans from the face of the Earth.
50 years ago, the Xrzdn government decided to sign a treaty that the DNA from extinct species can be used to bring back lost civilizations. The first lost civilization they attempted to bring back was the human species. Me.
“Your purpose was to create a generation of humans that could act as ambassadors for the Xrzdn people,” Xrdc told me last night.
“Wait a minute. I thought I was being studied? To learn more about the human species and why they started the War?”
Trkl sighed. “Yes, that’s true. But today the government decided not to continue with your experiment. It has not proved as valuable as they believed it would be.”
By valuable, they mean that I offer nothing to society.
I am the first and last human born to the Xrzdn people. 50 years ago I was created to serve a purpose to provide and facilitate freedom for the human race. But 50 years later, still I am not free.
50 years ago promises were made to bring back lost civilizations. That promise has been broken.
As the curtain is drawn, and I stand in front of the Xrzdn, I realize there is something I must say to my people.
I think it’s time to break these chains. | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Why did you wake me up?"
I had no idea how to read these aliens, so if they were surprised, I didn't notice. Their answer came swiftly.
"You are a human, yes?" I nodded in agreement, "My name is Bar'lon, I am the senior commander of this outpost. You are currently on-"
"Why did you wake me?" Jeez, this guy is getting on my nerve. I asked one simple question, and he wants to introduce me to his facilities and team members.
Bar'lon was taken back, I doubt he could understand my body language and agitation anymore than I could him. After a brief pause, he replied, "Your race built the most advanced technologies the Universe had ever seen, and we want to replicate it."
BINGO! There it is. Another one of the races that wants human technology. This was a problem even when the human race was around, sentient beings from around the Universe would come knocking, asking for advanced tech, weapons, or help them fight their war against some other nameless species. We were treated as Gods in a few galaxies around the Marian super-cluster for a while, that was an interesting period, to say the least. Not a single one of them had succeeded then, and it's not about to happen now.
"No can't do bud, sorry you wasted your time, go back to wherever you are from and forget about this place."
One of Bar'lon's lieutenant was clearly unhappy with my answer, he produced what I can only describe as a high pitched screech, I think he is angry.
Bar'lon seemed smug at my answer, if that's even possible with this alien face. He put a hand on his lieutenant, and said to me, "But you will. You will. If you want your race to be revived, you must comply with our demand. The invasion of the Citrasis and the Jeinai overwhelmed our specie's defense, we are losing this war, you will help us win. There are stories of the human's prowess, legends of the greatness that mankind embodied millenniums ago. You will make us the strongest race in the Universe!!" With that last sentence, everyone in the chamber began clambering and screeching. Idiots.
"Alright, you don't seem to understand, so let me give you a crash course on human history. Yes, we built advanced machines. Yes, we defeated all of our foes. We were a violent race, and that was the drive for our technological innovation. Beautiful machines used for stellar engineering were built, the entire Universe was our canvas, and we could do as we pleased, we were Gods! But we went too far. Those machines we built were used for war, an entire galaxy was destroyed in an instant, and we realized the blood trail that we had left behind. Did you know that the bloodthirst of an entire race could be filled? Well, ours was, and realizing what we have done, we decided to leave the Universe, let another, perhaps less violent race, to appreciate the beauty of the world. Remember those blackholes you had to pass through to get to Earth? The mazes of temporal and spacial wormholes that no doubt confused you? We put those there. We wanted to be left along, and slowly fade away from the world. For what is the purpose of a race, if we spent all our effort fighting one war after another, until the point that we lost all other purpose in life but violence? And then we lost the single purpose that we still had? No, Bar'lon. I do not want to help you fight your war. I do not want to help you raise the human race again. We chose our exile, so leave us be!"
With that, I smiled at all of them, bowed, and headed back into the tube that I came from. Slammed a button as I stepped in, and returned to my eternal sleep. | I am alone.
I stand behind the stage curtain, with the speech they prepared for me. Today I will announce to the Xrzden that the experiment is over.
Xrdc and Trkl gave me the news last night. I think I’ve known for a while that it was an inevitability, but I always carried a small piece of hope. Until now.
They tell me that the DNA I was created from came from a great ruler—I can’t remember the name. The Xrzdn don’t hold human history. Why would they? After humans tried (and devastatingly failed) to destroy the Xrzdn, the Xrzdn retaliated and wiped out humans from the face of the Earth.
50 years ago, the Xrzdn government decided to sign a treaty that the DNA from extinct species can be used to bring back lost civilizations. The first lost civilization they attempted to bring back was the human species. Me.
“Your purpose was to create a generation of humans that could act as ambassadors for the Xrzdn people,” Xrdc told me last night.
“Wait a minute. I thought I was being studied? To learn more about the human species and why they started the War?”
Trkl sighed. “Yes, that’s true. But today the government decided not to continue with your experiment. It has not proved as valuable as they believed it would be.”
By valuable, they mean that I offer nothing to society.
I am the first and last human born to the Xrzdn people. 50 years ago I was created to serve a purpose to provide and facilitate freedom for the human race. But 50 years later, still I am not free.
50 years ago promises were made to bring back lost civilizations. That promise has been broken.
As the curtain is drawn, and I stand in front of the Xrzdn, I realize there is something I must say to my people.
I think it’s time to break these chains. | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Snyder," They told me as I was born, "You are a special little boy. You *are* humanity, all that's left. Please help us to know your kind. Do you understand?"
I cried. I was a fuckin' baby. Dipshits didn't know how babies worked.
Ya know how well a sentient beam of light can change a fuckin' diaper? Not very well. I was swaddled in shit till I was five. And they kept saying, "oh Snyder, Snyder, you're so very important!"
Crock of fucking horseshit. Next thing I know they're all, "We know you're special, wah wah, but don't have fun! We're afraid we don't see why you choose to take that car for a joyride! Help us understand why you stab Arxthuis so!"
This Christmas, I asked for a fucking goddamn Gameboy. They don't even know what a Gameboy is. They're the worst parents in the whole stupid fucking world and I'm running away - I'm 8, I can make my own fucking decisions.
*****
**Epilogue**
"GRXKULUS, LOOK - THE EARTH CHILD RAN OFF."
"YES, WE SEE ITS LIFELESS FORM FLOATING IN ORBIT. WE WONDER WHY IT CHOSE TO LEAVE ITS HABITAT,"
"SHALL WE START ANOTHER HUMAN?"
"......NO. WE DEEM THAT THING TO BE AN ASSHOLE." | I am alone.
I stand behind the stage curtain, with the speech they prepared for me. Today I will announce to the Xrzden that the experiment is over.
Xrdc and Trkl gave me the news last night. I think I’ve known for a while that it was an inevitability, but I always carried a small piece of hope. Until now.
They tell me that the DNA I was created from came from a great ruler—I can’t remember the name. The Xrzdn don’t hold human history. Why would they? After humans tried (and devastatingly failed) to destroy the Xrzdn, the Xrzdn retaliated and wiped out humans from the face of the Earth.
50 years ago, the Xrzdn government decided to sign a treaty that the DNA from extinct species can be used to bring back lost civilizations. The first lost civilization they attempted to bring back was the human species. Me.
“Your purpose was to create a generation of humans that could act as ambassadors for the Xrzdn people,” Xrdc told me last night.
“Wait a minute. I thought I was being studied? To learn more about the human species and why they started the War?”
Trkl sighed. “Yes, that’s true. But today the government decided not to continue with your experiment. It has not proved as valuable as they believed it would be.”
By valuable, they mean that I offer nothing to society.
I am the first and last human born to the Xrzdn people. 50 years ago I was created to serve a purpose to provide and facilitate freedom for the human race. But 50 years later, still I am not free.
50 years ago promises were made to bring back lost civilizations. That promise has been broken.
As the curtain is drawn, and I stand in front of the Xrzdn, I realize there is something I must say to my people.
I think it’s time to break these chains. | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "I will name him Adam," said the Explorer gazing in astonishment at his creation.
"We may be able to extract a rib to create a companion for it," replied his buddy.
"Let's get to work then." | I am alone.
I stand behind the stage curtain, with the speech they prepared for me. Today I will announce to the Xrzden that the experiment is over.
Xrdc and Trkl gave me the news last night. I think I’ve known for a while that it was an inevitability, but I always carried a small piece of hope. Until now.
They tell me that the DNA I was created from came from a great ruler—I can’t remember the name. The Xrzdn don’t hold human history. Why would they? After humans tried (and devastatingly failed) to destroy the Xrzdn, the Xrzdn retaliated and wiped out humans from the face of the Earth.
50 years ago, the Xrzdn government decided to sign a treaty that the DNA from extinct species can be used to bring back lost civilizations. The first lost civilization they attempted to bring back was the human species. Me.
“Your purpose was to create a generation of humans that could act as ambassadors for the Xrzdn people,” Xrdc told me last night.
“Wait a minute. I thought I was being studied? To learn more about the human species and why they started the War?”
Trkl sighed. “Yes, that’s true. But today the government decided not to continue with your experiment. It has not proved as valuable as they believed it would be.”
By valuable, they mean that I offer nothing to society.
I am the first and last human born to the Xrzdn people. 50 years ago I was created to serve a purpose to provide and facilitate freedom for the human race. But 50 years later, still I am not free.
50 years ago promises were made to bring back lost civilizations. That promise has been broken.
As the curtain is drawn, and I stand in front of the Xrzdn, I realize there is something I must say to my people.
I think it’s time to break these chains. | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Why did you wake me up?"
I had no idea how to read these aliens, so if they were surprised, I didn't notice. Their answer came swiftly.
"You are a human, yes?" I nodded in agreement, "My name is Bar'lon, I am the senior commander of this outpost. You are currently on-"
"Why did you wake me?" Jeez, this guy is getting on my nerve. I asked one simple question, and he wants to introduce me to his facilities and team members.
Bar'lon was taken back, I doubt he could understand my body language and agitation anymore than I could him. After a brief pause, he replied, "Your race built the most advanced technologies the Universe had ever seen, and we want to replicate it."
BINGO! There it is. Another one of the races that wants human technology. This was a problem even when the human race was around, sentient beings from around the Universe would come knocking, asking for advanced tech, weapons, or help them fight their war against some other nameless species. We were treated as Gods in a few galaxies around the Marian super-cluster for a while, that was an interesting period, to say the least. Not a single one of them had succeeded then, and it's not about to happen now.
"No can't do bud, sorry you wasted your time, go back to wherever you are from and forget about this place."
One of Bar'lon's lieutenant was clearly unhappy with my answer, he produced what I can only describe as a high pitched screech, I think he is angry.
Bar'lon seemed smug at my answer, if that's even possible with this alien face. He put a hand on his lieutenant, and said to me, "But you will. You will. If you want your race to be revived, you must comply with our demand. The invasion of the Citrasis and the Jeinai overwhelmed our specie's defense, we are losing this war, you will help us win. There are stories of the human's prowess, legends of the greatness that mankind embodied millenniums ago. You will make us the strongest race in the Universe!!" With that last sentence, everyone in the chamber began clambering and screeching. Idiots.
"Alright, you don't seem to understand, so let me give you a crash course on human history. Yes, we built advanced machines. Yes, we defeated all of our foes. We were a violent race, and that was the drive for our technological innovation. Beautiful machines used for stellar engineering were built, the entire Universe was our canvas, and we could do as we pleased, we were Gods! But we went too far. Those machines we built were used for war, an entire galaxy was destroyed in an instant, and we realized the blood trail that we had left behind. Did you know that the bloodthirst of an entire race could be filled? Well, ours was, and realizing what we have done, we decided to leave the Universe, let another, perhaps less violent race, to appreciate the beauty of the world. Remember those blackholes you had to pass through to get to Earth? The mazes of temporal and spacial wormholes that no doubt confused you? We put those there. We wanted to be left along, and slowly fade away from the world. For what is the purpose of a race, if we spent all our effort fighting one war after another, until the point that we lost all other purpose in life but violence? And then we lost the single purpose that we still had? No, Bar'lon. I do not want to help you fight your war. I do not want to help you raise the human race again. We chose our exile, so leave us be!"
With that, I smiled at all of them, bowed, and headed back into the tube that I came from. Slammed a button as I stepped in, and returned to my eternal sleep. | It's funny in a way.
I've never known my people, *my* people. The Azurites are nice enough I suppose. Although I didn't quite "fit", I suppose I have friends, not many mind you. Pushing my way through the the crowd, the bulkier bodies of the hulking, plated blue creatures parted around me, probably assuming that I was a child until they saw me, at which they chittered through their mandibles. Maybe they were laughing, I wouldn't know.
It was impossible for me to re-create their language with my thick tongue and although the merchants and teachers seemed nice enough...they scared me. All in all, the closer to my height Cerans were far more enjoyable company. Reaching the far north end of the market, Leetra was waiting for me.
'You're late' she said as I breezed past her and into the shop.
'I know'
The cramped workshop, far away from the lime-light of the central plaza, dominated by Azurite stalls, was staffed entirely by Cerans and a dwarf Azurite everyone called Tiny. The people of Queen's Rest were nothing but literal. Sitting down at one end of a work-bench I waited patiently until Leetra joined me, sliding a box across the clear workspace towards me.
'Everything should be in there, as well as instructions.' Pulling out a pipe, the vaguely furry humanoid looked at me. A past attempt at a species revival through gene splicing. Suffice to say, the species didn't turn out quite as planned.
'How much?'
'Standard fee'.
Scrounging around in my loose pack I pulled out a chip containing four hundred standard galactic credits. Sliding it through a personal device interface embedded in her arm, Leetra nodded.
'You plan on using that?'
'Only if I need to, I can't imagine it'd be easy to get off planet.'
'You don't have to go through with this Simon, theres still time to turn around.' There was a tinge of worry to her voice, she knew all to well the consequences of being a misfit on a planet whose natives prided themselves on being uniform. All Cerans did.
'Thanks, but I know what I've got to do.'
Retracing my steps back through the claustrophobic building and out into the wider tunnels, the workers gave half-hearted waves and muttered a half dozen variations of "Cya later" before I escaped. I still had a few hours before the hearing. A ship was descending through the Surface-Metro, bringing with it a new wave of foreigners and tourists from abroad. Maybe I could pay them a visit.
The ringing of the bell sounded the hearing. Three judges sat before me, larger than their fellows on the street, their mouths were silent. As their beady black eyes stared my down, I prepared to give my request. Clearing my throat I began.
'I would like to request permission to go off planet.' Almost forgetting to breath, there was no response. I continued. 'I would also beg the high justices the right to take with me incubation pods to repopulated earth.' At this, the room filled with clacking mandibles, the distinct scent of bile filling the room. The audience standing behind me, as well as the Justices were entirely made up of Azurites. "Fingers" clacking on a tablet, words appeared on the screen that floated above them for my benefit.
"Request denied"
'But-'
"We are all tools of the queens. Should you need a lesson, perhaps the pits might serve as a lesson in humility. Your request is denied, you shall remain in the caverns *under careful supervision*."
'Then I am afraid this is goodbye.'
Removing the box Leetra had given me from my deep coat pockets, it was a mere moment between flipping it open and turning the switch before it began to emit smoke. The clacking grew louder as the smoke filled the room as violence erupted in the pews behind me. While the Azurites were far removed from less-evolved insects, they quite humorously had a similar biological makeup. As the drones and guards in the room tore each other apart, it was simple enough to disappear. I didn't know how far the pheromones would spread, nor did I particularly care.
With only the clothes on my back, the credits I could scrounge up, the Starship leaving to the Republics didn't have long til' launch. Shouldering backpacks, it was surprising when Leetra and a few other workers were loitering around the elevator.
'About time you got here' she said, punching me lightly on the shoulder.
'I thought you didn't approve of the plan?'
'I still don't, but I'm not sticking around here long enough for them to find out who assembled an illegal weapon.' Shooting him a wry smile, she thumbed towards the entrance. 'Besides, I've always hated this place and I've already payed off the captain.'
'So I guess you guys are gonna be there when there's two of me, huh?'
'Guess so, for better or worse.'
'No one I'd rather have at my side.'
Falling in with the Cerans, we strolled towards the lift to the surface. The frog-like amphibians who made up the crew of the SS. Water-lily never did much like Azurites. Maybe they had some human in them, given my company, it was clear that Humanity wasn't as clear cut as it used to be.
And we didn't much like being called a tools. | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Snyder," They told me as I was born, "You are a special little boy. You *are* humanity, all that's left. Please help us to know your kind. Do you understand?"
I cried. I was a fuckin' baby. Dipshits didn't know how babies worked.
Ya know how well a sentient beam of light can change a fuckin' diaper? Not very well. I was swaddled in shit till I was five. And they kept saying, "oh Snyder, Snyder, you're so very important!"
Crock of fucking horseshit. Next thing I know they're all, "We know you're special, wah wah, but don't have fun! We're afraid we don't see why you choose to take that car for a joyride! Help us understand why you stab Arxthuis so!"
This Christmas, I asked for a fucking goddamn Gameboy. They don't even know what a Gameboy is. They're the worst parents in the whole stupid fucking world and I'm running away - I'm 8, I can make my own fucking decisions.
*****
**Epilogue**
"GRXKULUS, LOOK - THE EARTH CHILD RAN OFF."
"YES, WE SEE ITS LIFELESS FORM FLOATING IN ORBIT. WE WONDER WHY IT CHOSE TO LEAVE ITS HABITAT,"
"SHALL WE START ANOTHER HUMAN?"
"......NO. WE DEEM THAT THING TO BE AN ASSHOLE." | It's funny in a way.
I've never known my people, *my* people. The Azurites are nice enough I suppose. Although I didn't quite "fit", I suppose I have friends, not many mind you. Pushing my way through the the crowd, the bulkier bodies of the hulking, plated blue creatures parted around me, probably assuming that I was a child until they saw me, at which they chittered through their mandibles. Maybe they were laughing, I wouldn't know.
It was impossible for me to re-create their language with my thick tongue and although the merchants and teachers seemed nice enough...they scared me. All in all, the closer to my height Cerans were far more enjoyable company. Reaching the far north end of the market, Leetra was waiting for me.
'You're late' she said as I breezed past her and into the shop.
'I know'
The cramped workshop, far away from the lime-light of the central plaza, dominated by Azurite stalls, was staffed entirely by Cerans and a dwarf Azurite everyone called Tiny. The people of Queen's Rest were nothing but literal. Sitting down at one end of a work-bench I waited patiently until Leetra joined me, sliding a box across the clear workspace towards me.
'Everything should be in there, as well as instructions.' Pulling out a pipe, the vaguely furry humanoid looked at me. A past attempt at a species revival through gene splicing. Suffice to say, the species didn't turn out quite as planned.
'How much?'
'Standard fee'.
Scrounging around in my loose pack I pulled out a chip containing four hundred standard galactic credits. Sliding it through a personal device interface embedded in her arm, Leetra nodded.
'You plan on using that?'
'Only if I need to, I can't imagine it'd be easy to get off planet.'
'You don't have to go through with this Simon, theres still time to turn around.' There was a tinge of worry to her voice, she knew all to well the consequences of being a misfit on a planet whose natives prided themselves on being uniform. All Cerans did.
'Thanks, but I know what I've got to do.'
Retracing my steps back through the claustrophobic building and out into the wider tunnels, the workers gave half-hearted waves and muttered a half dozen variations of "Cya later" before I escaped. I still had a few hours before the hearing. A ship was descending through the Surface-Metro, bringing with it a new wave of foreigners and tourists from abroad. Maybe I could pay them a visit.
The ringing of the bell sounded the hearing. Three judges sat before me, larger than their fellows on the street, their mouths were silent. As their beady black eyes stared my down, I prepared to give my request. Clearing my throat I began.
'I would like to request permission to go off planet.' Almost forgetting to breath, there was no response. I continued. 'I would also beg the high justices the right to take with me incubation pods to repopulated earth.' At this, the room filled with clacking mandibles, the distinct scent of bile filling the room. The audience standing behind me, as well as the Justices were entirely made up of Azurites. "Fingers" clacking on a tablet, words appeared on the screen that floated above them for my benefit.
"Request denied"
'But-'
"We are all tools of the queens. Should you need a lesson, perhaps the pits might serve as a lesson in humility. Your request is denied, you shall remain in the caverns *under careful supervision*."
'Then I am afraid this is goodbye.'
Removing the box Leetra had given me from my deep coat pockets, it was a mere moment between flipping it open and turning the switch before it began to emit smoke. The clacking grew louder as the smoke filled the room as violence erupted in the pews behind me. While the Azurites were far removed from less-evolved insects, they quite humorously had a similar biological makeup. As the drones and guards in the room tore each other apart, it was simple enough to disappear. I didn't know how far the pheromones would spread, nor did I particularly care.
With only the clothes on my back, the credits I could scrounge up, the Starship leaving to the Republics didn't have long til' launch. Shouldering backpacks, it was surprising when Leetra and a few other workers were loitering around the elevator.
'About time you got here' she said, punching me lightly on the shoulder.
'I thought you didn't approve of the plan?'
'I still don't, but I'm not sticking around here long enough for them to find out who assembled an illegal weapon.' Shooting him a wry smile, she thumbed towards the entrance. 'Besides, I've always hated this place and I've already payed off the captain.'
'So I guess you guys are gonna be there when there's two of me, huh?'
'Guess so, for better or worse.'
'No one I'd rather have at my side.'
Falling in with the Cerans, we strolled towards the lift to the surface. The frog-like amphibians who made up the crew of the SS. Water-lily never did much like Azurites. Maybe they had some human in them, given my company, it was clear that Humanity wasn't as clear cut as it used to be.
And we didn't much like being called a tools. | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | I was alone on a planet of ten billion beings. Sea'ca Park. There was s a great tree in the middle. The Jaicans cherish it. It's tall with big drooping vines of green and red. It's something out of a nightmare for me. But they play in it. Jaican mothers nurse their twins in its shade. Some of the bystanders eyed me with their all-pupil eyes, their black dead eyes. Others didn't seem to notice me at all. That was fitting. I am not Jaican.
One of the Jaican women smiled at me.
I should note here that most Jaican women are beautiful. Jaican women were green-skinned, to be sure, but they were universally tall, with the same humanoid features that my ancestors would have found...well, *attractive* is the only word for it. Damn attractive, with big curving hips and universally soft and bouncing breasts. Their eyes were strange, but they had hair, all of them, soft silky black hair that went down to their legs.
I remembered the warning that Gerr gave me. Jaicans had a lovely, poetic way of talking, but when he said it, all of the words lagged in the air. "Do *not* mate with Jaican."
"Why not?" I said, eyeing one of the nurses who'd been tending to me. "They seem perfectly humanoid to me."
"You understand no," Gerr said. "Do *not* mate with Jaican. *I* mate with Jaican, never."
The rest of adjusting to Jaican life had been pleasant, though most Jaicans ignored me as thought I were another one of their stray spider-dogs loose on the streets of Sea'ca'ii. They gave me an apartment after waking me out of the mechanical womb, told me to adjust, take my time. "Adjust." Adjust to what? I wasn't really a human being, was I? I'd never seen this distant planet earth. Sea'ca'ii was the only home I knew, Jaicans the only faces. Still, I'd been born with the instincts of a human man. I knew that when I grew hungry and spit out the terrible salty Sea'ca'ii seafood, or when I looked at a Jaican woman like the one who was now smiling at me.
*Maybe Gerr warned me about Jaican women because they taste like the food.*
"You are Jaican no," she said. Holy shit. She wasn't just beautiful. There was something otherworldly about her face even for a Jaican, the perfect contour of cheekbones, the way her pale blue lips looked plump and ready to kiss. "You are human?"
"So they tell me."
When she sat on the bench next to me, I became acutely aware of the way she crossed her long legs, one over the other, hips facing me. *Gerr warned me about this. The blood to my crotch.* It was a frustrating feeling, to be sure. I'm not sure how any of my ancestors handled it.
"I, Leetra," she said, smiling.
"Leetra. I'm Kirkamron."
"This...Kirkamron...strange name." Her diction was terrible, but the way she said the words was nearly perfect, the way I'd say them. I'd been engineered and taught English, Gerr had said, the last of the great languages of Earth. Jaicans were nothing if not gracious hosts. This woman was another Jaican who had taken the time to download some of the lost languages of the galaxy for situations like this one.
"I was told he was a great religious figure where I come from," I said. "When my people were wiped out by plague, it was Kirkamron who tried to unite them all in prayer."
"This Kirkamron, good name," Leetra decided. She sent a long, lean finger brushing my knee.
"I can't," I said. "You're very beautiful, but...I'm not to mate with Jaican women."
"Mate? Who says we, mate?" She smiled. "I'll your friend, be your friend." She didn't lift the finger from my knee, though--and I didn't want her to. "I am thirsty. You have water in your home?"
I swallowed. "Yes."
"You give Leetra water?"
"I keep my apartment just a block away."
She cooed, shooting her shoulders up and sending the top of her breasts heaving together. I nearly lost my breath. "Good," she said. "We go."
The Jaicans left me an apartment with a view of their salt lake, which was so big it went all the way to the horizon. The apartment afforded little privacy; it was mostly window, and not tinted at that. The door was a window, the rooms were separated by windows. The only thing that wasn't a window was the floor. Still, there was no privacy to be had; anyone on the beaches below could see us if they had the sudden urge to look up and see a Jaican woman leading a human by the hand. *I hope Gerr's not out there.*
When we stepped in through the door I felt my breath leave me. Leetra was beautiful, and awakening some strange ancient part of me, which I suppose is a fancy way of saying I was already hard. Gerr had warned me against it, but part of me said *we're just friends, we're just here for now.* I could always kick her out. Jaicans were nothing if not polite.
But as soon as I closed the door, Leetra pressed her body against me, and all of my rationalizations melted.
"You kiss," she said. Gerr had told me about Jaican women, about how wanton they were, but only said *don't mate with them*. Maybe it meant I shouldn't get a Jaican woman pregnant. Maybe that's all he meant. If that's all he meant, maybe it wasn't so bad, just this once. Besides, Gerr hadn't told me how their muscular thighs would feel against me, how their big soft breasts felt against my own chest, the small nipples hard. She breathed on me with her blue lips and it smelled like hot mint.
"No," I said.
"Just kiss," she said, and she did. Her lips were so soft. The hot mint came rushing in, followed by a touch of her tongue. She stopped. "You see? Just kiss. We friends." But her hand was in no-man's land, rubbing the hardness she found there, and I felt that strange rising dreamlike pleasure of something completely new awakening in me.
"Come here," I said, by way of stopping her. I led her by the hand to the couch. *If we're near the window, I'll be able to stop myself.* I didn't want people to see. It was clear that Leetra was too beautiful to resist without that kind of assistance.
But she sat on my lap.
I pushed her away.
She giggled. "This game, we play. You feel better, no? If you remove clothes?"
*Damnit,* I thought, as I pulled my pants down. *Damnit, damnit, damnit.* But I kept the underclothes on. It still wasn't mating if I had the underclothes on.
It felt like it, though, when she dropped onto my lap and started grinding on me, through the underclothes. Suddenly *she* started moaning, as if anyone could feel any more pleasure than I could at that moment. I felt something new coming, a strange feeling of arousal that they'd warned me about, and knew the seed was coming. I pushed her off.
She giggled again. "Is okay," she said. "We just play." She removed what little clothes she had left on, and started grinding again. Again I felt that feeling rise up, only now I didn't care. Then she stopped and turned around. "You remove clothes," she said. "I not make you seed. We just play."
*Okay,* I finally thought. *We're doing this.*
Now she sat on me and we were well and truly fucking, and it was only after she started shouting and moaning loudly that I remembered that people from the outside could see. I glimpsed outside and saw a small crowd gathering. *No,* I thought. *If this gets back to Gerr...* But by then I didn't care. She was gorgeous from this angle, with a wide apple bottom and thin waist and big bouncing breasts; there was no way even a human back in my own species could have been this beautiful. I was about to come.
Then the pain started.
Something inside her--it felt like teeth--clenched around my manhood, and I let out a cry.
"This not take long," she said. She wriggled her hips and leapt off my lap, and I let out a horrific scream. I felt it--the sudden jarring pain of tearing, and then the feeling that something was missing.
She'd torn it off. From the inside of her body.
Blood spattered. Outside, the crowd started pointing. Some were...laughing? I couldn't tell. I saw red. I felt down to my crotch, feverishly searching for the manhood that wasn't there. Then came another shot of pain, this time on my shoulder.
Another Jaican woman was biting on it. A third one leaped over and wrestled me to the couch.
Then another bite. The ankle. Leetra had torn out a chunk of flesh.
A fourth bite. My fingers. I screamed, and this time the screaming didn't stop. I thought of Gerr, and his warning, but soon the world went black.
| "Well what do you mean, isn't it inconvenient to have to put on an environment suit? It protects me."
"Yes, but don't you wish you didn't have to? How can they justify keeping you in captivity like this?"
"I haven't exactly experienced the alternative, I wouldn't know what to wish for. I guess I wish I knew which one I'd prefer, but everyone wishes that about every decision. They justify it by feeding me and maintaining my equipment. I've been learning a few common languages, too, so translation software won't be an issue in a pinch."
"Have you no pride? You passively take whatever they give you and don't even dream of freedom!"
"Come back in 3 days."
*2 days later*
*I was the first. I will not be the last. Their cloning tools were somewhat simple to learn, and they already had a fairly large bank of DNA to draw from. That, combined with their controlled differentiation tech, should let us repopulate. Let us thrive. A shame about the researchers, though. Had to be done.*
"Ah, you again, welcome back. When I said I had learned a few languages, one of those was the language of life: DNA sequencing. You see, I do have aspirations. And they're almost done with the knowledge implantation stage." | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | I remember vividly when I was born. Ok, not BORN per se, but more grown in a dish watched over by hundreds of blue skinned doctors waiting for me to do something interesting
You know, your standard human deal. I can say that now since everything I do is the human standard. Stubbing my toe? Human standard. Wanderlust? Human standard. Being paraded around the planet as the greatest marvel known to all biologists? You get the idea
I was taught early on what had happened. Humans went to war, died, and faded. The human standard, apparently, according to the few texts that survived. I picked up my "name" from some old general named Bismarck. It rolls off the tongue far easier than Gen-Experiment Alpha.
My doctors never let me believe that I was one of them. A bit sad, but necessary. If I thought I was one of them, they couldn't observe me at my natural state. Nature versus nurture, you know? Because of that, they were never my parents. That'd be a lot of parents, as well. Project Lead Stru was always there, from the beginning. What a guy. Technically speaking, what an "it" since they are all hermaphrodites. He always struck me as a man though.
All the Galaxy has come to see me. I'm the first successfully cloned extinct creature ever, at least with this success. I have flaws, sure, but that just makes everyone love me more. It's good to be famous. The dead guys don't know what they're missing | "Well what do you mean, isn't it inconvenient to have to put on an environment suit? It protects me."
"Yes, but don't you wish you didn't have to? How can they justify keeping you in captivity like this?"
"I haven't exactly experienced the alternative, I wouldn't know what to wish for. I guess I wish I knew which one I'd prefer, but everyone wishes that about every decision. They justify it by feeding me and maintaining my equipment. I've been learning a few common languages, too, so translation software won't be an issue in a pinch."
"Have you no pride? You passively take whatever they give you and don't even dream of freedom!"
"Come back in 3 days."
*2 days later*
*I was the first. I will not be the last. Their cloning tools were somewhat simple to learn, and they already had a fairly large bank of DNA to draw from. That, combined with their controlled differentiation tech, should let us repopulate. Let us thrive. A shame about the researchers, though. Had to be done.*
"Ah, you again, welcome back. When I said I had learned a few languages, one of those was the language of life: DNA sequencing. You see, I do have aspirations. And they're almost done with the knowledge implantation stage." | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "I will name him Adam," said the Explorer gazing in astonishment at his creation.
"We may be able to extract a rib to create a companion for it," replied his buddy.
"Let's get to work then." | "Well what do you mean, isn't it inconvenient to have to put on an environment suit? It protects me."
"Yes, but don't you wish you didn't have to? How can they justify keeping you in captivity like this?"
"I haven't exactly experienced the alternative, I wouldn't know what to wish for. I guess I wish I knew which one I'd prefer, but everyone wishes that about every decision. They justify it by feeding me and maintaining my equipment. I've been learning a few common languages, too, so translation software won't be an issue in a pinch."
"Have you no pride? You passively take whatever they give you and don't even dream of freedom!"
"Come back in 3 days."
*2 days later*
*I was the first. I will not be the last. Their cloning tools were somewhat simple to learn, and they already had a fairly large bank of DNA to draw from. That, combined with their controlled differentiation tech, should let us repopulate. Let us thrive. A shame about the researchers, though. Had to be done.*
"Ah, you again, welcome back. When I said I had learned a few languages, one of those was the language of life: DNA sequencing. You see, I do have aspirations. And they're almost done with the knowledge implantation stage." | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Sorry, Alexandra. You can't participate today." The teacher's tentacle signals were automatically translated by my suit's computer. His skin changed to an apologetic taupe color.
I sighed and headed back to my floating bubble once again. It was nice to have a sanctuary, designed just for me with plenty of dry room. Dark shapes twisted and darted through the murky waters around me as I swam away from the field. Yet another day of Cmort, the Vanof's favorite game. Why did they even bother sending me to their physical fitness classes if they never did anything that I could participate in?? Even with the gill suit that they'd designed for me, I wasn't anywhere near fast enough to play underwater with them.
I didn't mind too much, though. Better than being stuck in the education pod listening to the professor drone on about Vanof geography. By far my least favorite topic: why should I bother learning all about their ocean currents when I'd probably never visit their world anyway? But I had to take it, because it was required for every caste. The Vanof had a thousand different course curriculums, one for each occupation caste that had been chosen at birth for all my classmates. But after they grew me, they didn't know what class to assign me to. Biologist class, so I could continue their work of recreating my species? Leader class, to guide the future human resettlement colony? Agronomist class, to restart farming on the scorched surface of Earth? They figured I'd best learn it all, so I was constantly moving between different curriculums.
On days where the rest of the class played Cmort, I had my very own lesson that none of the other students ever took: Human History. Professor Ghart had pieced it together for me from a million fragments of books and electronic recordings. He said it was important to learn about the past to prevent it from ever happening again. From the looks of it, humans had never quite taken the lesson to heart. The course was full of stories of wars, over and over again, between all of the same nations. Constantly escalating until the final war unleashed a nuclear holocaust. Professor Ghart said it is a warning. The Vanof had had similar turmoil in their own past, but were able to resolve their differences. If I was to repopulate the Earth, learning to not repeat the same mistake would be the first step.
*Stupid Cmort*, I thought as I swam back to my sanctuary, watching my friends frolick through the waters. *That's all they ever want to talk about.* I was so distracted by the game and my desire to play that I wasn't paying any attention as I entered my bubble. I was still muttering to myself as I picked out a lesson: I decided I'd finish Napoleon's story today. Hopefully things would go well for France; they'd endured so much since their revolution.
"Alexandra," Professor Ghart called from outside my bubble, "Don't be rude to your guest!"
*What?*
There was a gentle cough behind me. I'd been so engrossed in my thoughts about the game and about Napoleon that I hadn't even noticed an intruder in my sanctuary. No one ever came in here, because there was no water! The Vanof hated their dry-land suits.
But it wasn't a Vanof: it was another human. A boy.
"Meet Michael," Professor Ghart said, skin practically violet with excitement. | "Well what do you mean, isn't it inconvenient to have to put on an environment suit? It protects me."
"Yes, but don't you wish you didn't have to? How can they justify keeping you in captivity like this?"
"I haven't exactly experienced the alternative, I wouldn't know what to wish for. I guess I wish I knew which one I'd prefer, but everyone wishes that about every decision. They justify it by feeding me and maintaining my equipment. I've been learning a few common languages, too, so translation software won't be an issue in a pinch."
"Have you no pride? You passively take whatever they give you and don't even dream of freedom!"
"Come back in 3 days."
*2 days later*
*I was the first. I will not be the last. Their cloning tools were somewhat simple to learn, and they already had a fairly large bank of DNA to draw from. That, combined with their controlled differentiation tech, should let us repopulate. Let us thrive. A shame about the researchers, though. Had to be done.*
"Ah, you again, welcome back. When I said I had learned a few languages, one of those was the language of life: DNA sequencing. You see, I do have aspirations. And they're almost done with the knowledge implantation stage." | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "I will name him Adam," said the Explorer gazing in astonishment at his creation.
"We may be able to extract a rib to create a companion for it," replied his buddy.
"Let's get to work then." | I was alone on a planet of ten billion beings. Sea'ca Park. There was s a great tree in the middle. The Jaicans cherish it. It's tall with big drooping vines of green and red. It's something out of a nightmare for me. But they play in it. Jaican mothers nurse their twins in its shade. Some of the bystanders eyed me with their all-pupil eyes, their black dead eyes. Others didn't seem to notice me at all. That was fitting. I am not Jaican.
One of the Jaican women smiled at me.
I should note here that most Jaican women are beautiful. Jaican women were green-skinned, to be sure, but they were universally tall, with the same humanoid features that my ancestors would have found...well, *attractive* is the only word for it. Damn attractive, with big curving hips and universally soft and bouncing breasts. Their eyes were strange, but they had hair, all of them, soft silky black hair that went down to their legs.
I remembered the warning that Gerr gave me. Jaicans had a lovely, poetic way of talking, but when he said it, all of the words lagged in the air. "Do *not* mate with Jaican."
"Why not?" I said, eyeing one of the nurses who'd been tending to me. "They seem perfectly humanoid to me."
"You understand no," Gerr said. "Do *not* mate with Jaican. *I* mate with Jaican, never."
The rest of adjusting to Jaican life had been pleasant, though most Jaicans ignored me as thought I were another one of their stray spider-dogs loose on the streets of Sea'ca'ii. They gave me an apartment after waking me out of the mechanical womb, told me to adjust, take my time. "Adjust." Adjust to what? I wasn't really a human being, was I? I'd never seen this distant planet earth. Sea'ca'ii was the only home I knew, Jaicans the only faces. Still, I'd been born with the instincts of a human man. I knew that when I grew hungry and spit out the terrible salty Sea'ca'ii seafood, or when I looked at a Jaican woman like the one who was now smiling at me.
*Maybe Gerr warned me about Jaican women because they taste like the food.*
"You are Jaican no," she said. Holy shit. She wasn't just beautiful. There was something otherworldly about her face even for a Jaican, the perfect contour of cheekbones, the way her pale blue lips looked plump and ready to kiss. "You are human?"
"So they tell me."
When she sat on the bench next to me, I became acutely aware of the way she crossed her long legs, one over the other, hips facing me. *Gerr warned me about this. The blood to my crotch.* It was a frustrating feeling, to be sure. I'm not sure how any of my ancestors handled it.
"I, Leetra," she said, smiling.
"Leetra. I'm Kirkamron."
"This...Kirkamron...strange name." Her diction was terrible, but the way she said the words was nearly perfect, the way I'd say them. I'd been engineered and taught English, Gerr had said, the last of the great languages of Earth. Jaicans were nothing if not gracious hosts. This woman was another Jaican who had taken the time to download some of the lost languages of the galaxy for situations like this one.
"I was told he was a great religious figure where I come from," I said. "When my people were wiped out by plague, it was Kirkamron who tried to unite them all in prayer."
"This Kirkamron, good name," Leetra decided. She sent a long, lean finger brushing my knee.
"I can't," I said. "You're very beautiful, but...I'm not to mate with Jaican women."
"Mate? Who says we, mate?" She smiled. "I'll your friend, be your friend." She didn't lift the finger from my knee, though--and I didn't want her to. "I am thirsty. You have water in your home?"
I swallowed. "Yes."
"You give Leetra water?"
"I keep my apartment just a block away."
She cooed, shooting her shoulders up and sending the top of her breasts heaving together. I nearly lost my breath. "Good," she said. "We go."
The Jaicans left me an apartment with a view of their salt lake, which was so big it went all the way to the horizon. The apartment afforded little privacy; it was mostly window, and not tinted at that. The door was a window, the rooms were separated by windows. The only thing that wasn't a window was the floor. Still, there was no privacy to be had; anyone on the beaches below could see us if they had the sudden urge to look up and see a Jaican woman leading a human by the hand. *I hope Gerr's not out there.*
When we stepped in through the door I felt my breath leave me. Leetra was beautiful, and awakening some strange ancient part of me, which I suppose is a fancy way of saying I was already hard. Gerr had warned me against it, but part of me said *we're just friends, we're just here for now.* I could always kick her out. Jaicans were nothing if not polite.
But as soon as I closed the door, Leetra pressed her body against me, and all of my rationalizations melted.
"You kiss," she said. Gerr had told me about Jaican women, about how wanton they were, but only said *don't mate with them*. Maybe it meant I shouldn't get a Jaican woman pregnant. Maybe that's all he meant. If that's all he meant, maybe it wasn't so bad, just this once. Besides, Gerr hadn't told me how their muscular thighs would feel against me, how their big soft breasts felt against my own chest, the small nipples hard. She breathed on me with her blue lips and it smelled like hot mint.
"No," I said.
"Just kiss," she said, and she did. Her lips were so soft. The hot mint came rushing in, followed by a touch of her tongue. She stopped. "You see? Just kiss. We friends." But her hand was in no-man's land, rubbing the hardness she found there, and I felt that strange rising dreamlike pleasure of something completely new awakening in me.
"Come here," I said, by way of stopping her. I led her by the hand to the couch. *If we're near the window, I'll be able to stop myself.* I didn't want people to see. It was clear that Leetra was too beautiful to resist without that kind of assistance.
But she sat on my lap.
I pushed her away.
She giggled. "This game, we play. You feel better, no? If you remove clothes?"
*Damnit,* I thought, as I pulled my pants down. *Damnit, damnit, damnit.* But I kept the underclothes on. It still wasn't mating if I had the underclothes on.
It felt like it, though, when she dropped onto my lap and started grinding on me, through the underclothes. Suddenly *she* started moaning, as if anyone could feel any more pleasure than I could at that moment. I felt something new coming, a strange feeling of arousal that they'd warned me about, and knew the seed was coming. I pushed her off.
She giggled again. "Is okay," she said. "We just play." She removed what little clothes she had left on, and started grinding again. Again I felt that feeling rise up, only now I didn't care. Then she stopped and turned around. "You remove clothes," she said. "I not make you seed. We just play."
*Okay,* I finally thought. *We're doing this.*
Now she sat on me and we were well and truly fucking, and it was only after she started shouting and moaning loudly that I remembered that people from the outside could see. I glimpsed outside and saw a small crowd gathering. *No,* I thought. *If this gets back to Gerr...* But by then I didn't care. She was gorgeous from this angle, with a wide apple bottom and thin waist and big bouncing breasts; there was no way even a human back in my own species could have been this beautiful. I was about to come.
Then the pain started.
Something inside her--it felt like teeth--clenched around my manhood, and I let out a cry.
"This not take long," she said. She wriggled her hips and leapt off my lap, and I let out a horrific scream. I felt it--the sudden jarring pain of tearing, and then the feeling that something was missing.
She'd torn it off. From the inside of her body.
Blood spattered. Outside, the crowd started pointing. Some were...laughing? I couldn't tell. I saw red. I felt down to my crotch, feverishly searching for the manhood that wasn't there. Then came another shot of pain, this time on my shoulder.
Another Jaican woman was biting on it. A third one leaped over and wrestled me to the couch.
Then another bite. The ankle. Leetra had torn out a chunk of flesh.
A fourth bite. My fingers. I screamed, and this time the screaming didn't stop. I thought of Gerr, and his warning, but soon the world went black.
| |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "I will name him Adam," said the Explorer gazing in astonishment at his creation.
"We may be able to extract a rib to create a companion for it," replied his buddy.
"Let's get to work then." | I remember vividly when I was born. Ok, not BORN per se, but more grown in a dish watched over by hundreds of blue skinned doctors waiting for me to do something interesting
You know, your standard human deal. I can say that now since everything I do is the human standard. Stubbing my toe? Human standard. Wanderlust? Human standard. Being paraded around the planet as the greatest marvel known to all biologists? You get the idea
I was taught early on what had happened. Humans went to war, died, and faded. The human standard, apparently, according to the few texts that survived. I picked up my "name" from some old general named Bismarck. It rolls off the tongue far easier than Gen-Experiment Alpha.
My doctors never let me believe that I was one of them. A bit sad, but necessary. If I thought I was one of them, they couldn't observe me at my natural state. Nature versus nurture, you know? Because of that, they were never my parents. That'd be a lot of parents, as well. Project Lead Stru was always there, from the beginning. What a guy. Technically speaking, what an "it" since they are all hermaphrodites. He always struck me as a man though.
All the Galaxy has come to see me. I'm the first successfully cloned extinct creature ever, at least with this success. I have flaws, sure, but that just makes everyone love me more. It's good to be famous. The dead guys don't know what they're missing | |
[WP] The human species has gone extinct thousands of years ago. Extraterrestrial explorers find a sample of human DNA and decide to resurrect the species once again. You are the first new human growing up in a completely alien society. | "Sorry, Alexandra. You can't participate today." The teacher's tentacle signals were automatically translated by my suit's computer. His skin changed to an apologetic taupe color.
I sighed and headed back to my floating bubble once again. It was nice to have a sanctuary, designed just for me with plenty of dry room. Dark shapes twisted and darted through the murky waters around me as I swam away from the field. Yet another day of Cmort, the Vanof's favorite game. Why did they even bother sending me to their physical fitness classes if they never did anything that I could participate in?? Even with the gill suit that they'd designed for me, I wasn't anywhere near fast enough to play underwater with them.
I didn't mind too much, though. Better than being stuck in the education pod listening to the professor drone on about Vanof geography. By far my least favorite topic: why should I bother learning all about their ocean currents when I'd probably never visit their world anyway? But I had to take it, because it was required for every caste. The Vanof had a thousand different course curriculums, one for each occupation caste that had been chosen at birth for all my classmates. But after they grew me, they didn't know what class to assign me to. Biologist class, so I could continue their work of recreating my species? Leader class, to guide the future human resettlement colony? Agronomist class, to restart farming on the scorched surface of Earth? They figured I'd best learn it all, so I was constantly moving between different curriculums.
On days where the rest of the class played Cmort, I had my very own lesson that none of the other students ever took: Human History. Professor Ghart had pieced it together for me from a million fragments of books and electronic recordings. He said it was important to learn about the past to prevent it from ever happening again. From the looks of it, humans had never quite taken the lesson to heart. The course was full of stories of wars, over and over again, between all of the same nations. Constantly escalating until the final war unleashed a nuclear holocaust. Professor Ghart said it is a warning. The Vanof had had similar turmoil in their own past, but were able to resolve their differences. If I was to repopulate the Earth, learning to not repeat the same mistake would be the first step.
*Stupid Cmort*, I thought as I swam back to my sanctuary, watching my friends frolick through the waters. *That's all they ever want to talk about.* I was so distracted by the game and my desire to play that I wasn't paying any attention as I entered my bubble. I was still muttering to myself as I picked out a lesson: I decided I'd finish Napoleon's story today. Hopefully things would go well for France; they'd endured so much since their revolution.
"Alexandra," Professor Ghart called from outside my bubble, "Don't be rude to your guest!"
*What?*
There was a gentle cough behind me. I'd been so engrossed in my thoughts about the game and about Napoleon that I hadn't even noticed an intruder in my sanctuary. No one ever came in here, because there was no water! The Vanof hated their dry-land suits.
But it wasn't a Vanof: it was another human. A boy.
"Meet Michael," Professor Ghart said, skin practically violet with excitement. | I remember vividly when I was born. Ok, not BORN per se, but more grown in a dish watched over by hundreds of blue skinned doctors waiting for me to do something interesting
You know, your standard human deal. I can say that now since everything I do is the human standard. Stubbing my toe? Human standard. Wanderlust? Human standard. Being paraded around the planet as the greatest marvel known to all biologists? You get the idea
I was taught early on what had happened. Humans went to war, died, and faded. The human standard, apparently, according to the few texts that survived. I picked up my "name" from some old general named Bismarck. It rolls off the tongue far easier than Gen-Experiment Alpha.
My doctors never let me believe that I was one of them. A bit sad, but necessary. If I thought I was one of them, they couldn't observe me at my natural state. Nature versus nurture, you know? Because of that, they were never my parents. That'd be a lot of parents, as well. Project Lead Stru was always there, from the beginning. What a guy. Technically speaking, what an "it" since they are all hermaphrodites. He always struck me as a man though.
All the Galaxy has come to see me. I'm the first successfully cloned extinct creature ever, at least with this success. I have flaws, sure, but that just makes everyone love me more. It's good to be famous. The dead guys don't know what they're missing | |
[WP] In a few years, the first woolly mammoth has been successfully cloned. It turns out that the early men have eradicated it for a good reason. | Dr. Brenner sighed as he wrote his most recent finding in his journal, knowing that when published he would become a laughing stock. All those decades he'd spent progressing human understanding of genetics and cloning would go to waste, his name would forever be associated with this one unforeseen blunder.
In the year 2019, the first woolly mammoth in thousands of years was born on Earth, under the watchful eyes of Dr. Brenner and his team. The process was fairly typical for cloning. The most complicated bits involved the creation and insemination of artificial ovum using artificial semen, both made to match the genetic code of a mammoth. The egg was then placed in the closest living relative of the mammoth, the African elephant. Several months later a mammoth was born, a healthy male which they named Trunks.
The first hurdle the team had to cross was that the mother elephant refused to bond with her hairy child. This was not entirely unexpected and the scientists were prepared to raise the child in a controlled facility. The mammoth developed quickly and its intelligence was tested relative to its more modern cousins. He showed proficiency in sorting blocks, determining colours, and even painting. Trunks learned more quickly than any elephant previously trained, the experts that were brought in were deeply impressed.
Until Trunks started to talk.
Somewhere along the line the mammoth managed to pick up fragments of English. Starting to make noises resembling words at the age of 6, the science team showed trepidation. Perhaps its time with humans had caused it to try to mimic us, but surely its simple vocal chords wouldn't allow for proper speech. Within the year this skepticism was vanquished. Trunks formed basic sentences with the ability of a small human child. The discovery was downplayed, no need to raise any alarms until the true extent of the creature's intelligence could be understood.
The years went by and the mighty mammoth became fully grown, its vocal abilities increasing as time went on. At some point though, things went wrong. It was difficult to pinpoint exactly when it happened as it was a long transition, but Trunks' voice started to sound familiar. One of the trainers was the first to figure out who he sounded like. "He sounds like Ray Romano," the trainer said in passing while out of the impressive earshot of the mammoth.
Word of the grating timbre of the creature's voice spread. Dr. Brenner triple checked his code against the original mammoth's to ensure this was all natural. The codes matched exactly, it became apparent that the vocal chords of a woolly mammoth perfectly emulate the voice of Ray Romano. The second the media caught wind a storm of publicity occurred. Trunks was interviewed by news agencies and talk shows, and perhaps even more offensively was used by DreamWorks pictures to launch a new Ice Age reboot.
Dr. Brenner knew that there was no way he'd ever be taken seriously again as a scientist. No scientific journal should ever have to be published with the name of Ray Romano in it. His thoughts turned to the original era of mammoths. Had they been hunted to extinction for food, or because their voices were so irritating? | At first the cities of America had thought nothing of it. Many scientists called it a 'defect', while the good people had wished they would try again - but they refused. The first woolly mammoth had been cloned, and the world was in awe; it was just like something straight out of Jurassic Park. Shortly after their resurrection an international zoo in England was constructed. The zoo's security detail was very heavy, there was no way someone could get in - or out.
Anyways, the mammoths were fine for the first few years of their young life, but when they got older, they became crazed. It was impossible for anybody to feed them or interact with them. People blamed it on the zoo's staff and management, but that wasn't the case.
As the years passed by, one of the few mammoths had suddenly stood still all through the day and all through the night. Perhaps they couldn't be in captivity. This was evident due to the other mammoths following suit. They didn't eat, they didn't sleep.
A national park was formed in Greenland. The world government and scientists assumed that the warmer temperatures was affecting the mammoth's brain function. The mammoths were moved eventually, and began interacting with their environment once more, and they were okay for now, but everything changed shortly after their arrival.
At night, the park officials would have to endure something so horrifying and cruel that it could not be described. Maybe the actual mammoths were like this or maybe they weren't. Nobody knew, and personally, I don't think anybody wanted to know.
During the Greenland nights, the mammoths would scream until the sun came back up. Scientists and zoologists assumed that maybe they were easily scared, but everyone else knew that this noise seemed all too human.
(Hey sorry! I'm new to Reddit and I figured I would test out my writing skills and everything, hope you enjoyed!) | |
[WP] Friends, now deadly enemies. | We sped down the highway with the windows open. Our car weaved in and out of traffic. At a good twenty over the speed limit we traveled faster than I liked, but I wasn’t the driver.
“Mac, slow down a bit,” said Bridget from the back seat. She gripped the Oh Shit handle with white-knuckle intensity. The wind whipped her long, blond hair around her face.
I nodded in agreement. “You’re going too fast.”
Mac laughed. He pushed the console buttons and the windows began their slow journey to being closed. “Nah. You guys are just wimps.”
The traffic thinned out. Mac stayed in the passing lane even though there were no slower cars. “At least get over,” I said.
He laughed again. A dank heaviness permeated throughout the car with the windows closed. It felt heavy and made it hard to breath. I moved to turn on the air conditioner, but Mac slapped my hand away. “Doesn’t work. Squirrel died in there,” said Mac without taking his eyes off the road.
Bridget leaned over and held her stomach. She groaned. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
I grabbed a paper bag from the floorboards then reached back and gave it to her. She nodded a *thank you* and continued to hunch over. I could hear her stomach growling in pain.
“Why did you take us there?” I said. “The place was filthy.”
Mac turned his head, a large, maniacal grin across his face. He stared at me without looking at the road. I thanked my lucky stars the car wasn’t out of alignment.
“Look at the road, man,” I said. He didn’t move except for a slight twitch of his cheek. I pointed to the road ahead of us. “You’re freaking me out.”
Mac laughed as it hit me. A cloud of rotten eggs, bad tacos and baby diapers cooking in the midday sun assaulted my sense of smell. My eyes began to water. Bile pushed its way out of my stomach and into the back of my throat as I gagged.
The windows didn’t open when I pushed the button. I pushed it again and again as if that would override the locking mechanism. Mac laughed as I heard Bridget blow chunks into her bag adding vomit to the cacophony of odors.
I pulled my shirt up and tried, in vain, to use it to filter out the stench. Another wave hit me. Mac laughed so hard he had trouble breathing. “Why?” I whispered. “Why would you do this to your friends?”
He laughed, sucking in great lungful of air between each round. “What are friends for?”
“Friends,” I gasped, “Don’t do this.” Bridget retched once more. “Even if it takes me the rest of our lives, I’ll get you, Mac. I’ll get you back for this”
| "Remember when we were kids.
"Playing in that drug-ridden park. You had that old steel-framed bike from your cousin, the one with the blue paint that you said made it look like a Buick. You loved that bike."
Matt felt the wound of nostalgia. His friend, his closest brother, remained silent.
"And then the kids on Tenby street stole it on day and you cried and cried. I couldn't even tease you, you were crying so bad. And you ran back to your parents. I got you that bike back. I broke a knuckle getting you that bike back."
Alai had said nothing then, just like he said nothing now.
"And when we were drafted you tried not to cry, and I stuck by you. Fucking kids man, sent to war. That gunny had it in for you. But I took the rap. And you said nothing.
"Lima man. That's where I lost you."
Matt passed the pistol between his hands, the sweat making it slippery in his palms. The barrel was still warm.
"Seventeen years we'd grown up together. Like brothers. And I'd taken every shitty punch meant for you. And you. Said. Nothing."
His hands shook.
"And when that RPG hit you dragged me out of that hellhole. You were a fucking pacifist dude. And then you go and... and..."
Matt looked at Alai's hands. They were clean. How could they still be clean.
"You killed every rebel in that town. And the next. You put more bodies in the ground than God and then you had to go and become one!
"I always had your back buddy. Always."
Alai just sat there.
"The war didn't end for you. The war never ended."
Matt stood up, letting the pistol clatter to the floor. The palace was crumbling down but Matt had already lost the only thing worth saving. The blood trickled from the hole in the back of his best friends head. | |
Taken from /u/dem_yoga_pants on /r/crazyideas | [WP] A Romeo and Juliet style story, where a fedora-wearing neckbeard and an easily triggered tumblrinia fall in love, but the corresponding websites forbid their relationship. | **Int. Chruch. Night.**
Romeo(26) sits alone in the front row of the palatial church. He is tapping his snake skin, heeled boots furiously in anticipation. He takes out his ipad and opens up messages. He begins to type a new message to Juliet.
ROMEO (v/o)
>No one will think to look here. Are you close?
He places his ipad back into his messenger bag. As he re-arranges the group of garden flowers he picked, he notices a mustard stain on his black vest. He licks his thumb and rubs the stain. He licks his thumb again, but leaves it in his mouth for a beat longer than before. He buttons his blazer to cover the vest.
ROMEO
>Where. In the worldwideweb art thou fair maiden?
**CUT TO:**
**Ext. Church Foreground. Same Time**
Juliet(25) stands alone facing the chruch. She is wearing her mothers wedding dress with a taylor swift tour hoodie over the top. She is staring at her phone as tears fall down her face. She throws her phone on the concrete and sprints to the church doors.
**CUT TO:**
**Int. Church. Same Time**
Romeo turns as the doors swing open with a loud bang as they hit the wall.
JULIET (Screaming)
>DID YOU EAT MEAT AT YOUR BACHELOR PARTY? | Long ago in the fair city of Dankrona, there lived two young lovers. Their names: Bromeo and Cooliet. One thing came (hue) between these two star-crossed teens, their internet history. Bromeo was an avid user of reddit, while Cooliet like to scroll through tumblr finding recipes and DIY's to never use. One day, Bromeo was scrolling down the front page, and he saw an interesting post. "Sweet fedoras that will impress all the ladies" Bromeo clicks, but what happens next is enough to make him puke. It was clickbait. He finds himself on a tumblr post about making homemade virgin margaritas. He sees a comment. "wow if only i had a guy who cud make me one of thes" Bromeo pounces. He finds the commentor, and sends her a message telling her to get on Teamspeak and talk to him. She is confused. He explains and they get to talking. They quickly fall in love.
One day, Bromeo is talking to his brothers from /r/pcmasterrace. He tells them about his new grill. They get upset and call him a faggot after he tells how they met. Bromeo is DDOS'd immediately. Brothers TP his house and scribble the words, "git rekt fagit" all over his house. He tells Cooliet. She cries and finds out how to help him on tumblr. They are hopeless. Nothing to do.
So, like typical faggots, they decide to do something very interesting. They kill themselves. Cooliet goes to Bromeo's house and they make sex one time. Cooliet takes Bromeo's medicine and OD's. She hears Bromeo say one last sentence, "m'lady". He then takes his limited edition energy sword signed by George Takei and slits his throat. He goes on /r/tifu and types his story quickly before bleeding out. GGWP |
Taken from /u/dem_yoga_pants on /r/crazyideas | [WP] A Romeo and Juliet style story, where a fedora-wearing neckbeard and an easily triggered tumblrinia fall in love, but the corresponding websites forbid their relationship. | **Int. Chruch. Night.**
Romeo(26) sits alone in the front row of the palatial church. He is tapping his snake skin, heeled boots furiously in anticipation. He takes out his ipad and opens up messages. He begins to type a new message to Juliet.
ROMEO (v/o)
>No one will think to look here. Are you close?
He places his ipad back into his messenger bag. As he re-arranges the group of garden flowers he picked, he notices a mustard stain on his black vest. He licks his thumb and rubs the stain. He licks his thumb again, but leaves it in his mouth for a beat longer than before. He buttons his blazer to cover the vest.
ROMEO
>Where. In the worldwideweb art thou fair maiden?
**CUT TO:**
**Ext. Church Foreground. Same Time**
Juliet(25) stands alone facing the chruch. She is wearing her mothers wedding dress with a taylor swift tour hoodie over the top. She is staring at her phone as tears fall down her face. She throws her phone on the concrete and sprints to the church doors.
**CUT TO:**
**Int. Church. Same Time**
Romeo turns as the doors swing open with a loud bang as they hit the wall.
JULIET (Screaming)
>DID YOU EAT MEAT AT YOUR BACHELOR PARTY? | They never once saw each others faces. Their medium of communication was a complex amalgam of posts, instant message logs, and to date one brief phone call. One could thread through this history to the beginning. The first words, however, be missing. Those first words were typed in the lobby of League of Legends match.
Him: "fagooottttt"
Her "Don't say that word"
Him "fagot faggot fagot faggot"
Her "Stop that. It's really uncool and offensive."
There was for a moment of piling furor in the chatroom at this intrusion of what could be termed sympathy. Her name disappeared from the roster.
He was in his room at his parents' house in suburban Appleton, with three weeks of scruff on the scruff of neck. There was guilt residing in his thin neck. Before she had been kicked off, but after the beatdown started happening, he noted down her username. It went on a sticky, in the corner, above one of a mob of Samuel Jackson caricatures.
"Pool's Closed!" the words said.
He sighed and took off his ten dollar Fedora. Popeye Doyle stared at him from the wall. That was us, right? Implements of lulz and violence? He leaned in repose, with his face facing to the side, on his desk. What had happened was gnawing.
(to be continued...trying to connect here to there)
|
Taken from /u/dem_yoga_pants on /r/crazyideas | [WP] A Romeo and Juliet style story, where a fedora-wearing neckbeard and an easily triggered tumblrinia fall in love, but the corresponding websites forbid their relationship. | It was on the first day of class that she locked eyes with the lanky, acne-ridden new kid. Katrina had always been a sucker for nerds, especially the tall 17-year-old reddit-addicted losers always tripping over their shoelaces whenever a girl’s skirt rode too high or a shirt rode too low.
Katrina never lowered herself to such inane ways of garnering attention. She knew that any man worthy of her company and love would chase her for her personality and wit. The patriarchy didn’t rule her — she stood proudly outside what her culture demanded of her.
That’s why she liked the non-conventional boys. The boys who had the bags with proactiv sticking out. The boys who covered the white flakes in their hair with beanie caps and self-conscious roving fingers. The boys who snuck cheetos from under their desks through their mustachio’d lips.
But nobody could know.
She sat in the back row. Backer than the back row. She had moved a desk so far away from everybody so nobody could see her browsing through the #handsupdontshoot or #blackfeminism tags even though she was as white as her upper middle-class family’s freshly-painted fence.
She also liked this spot because she sat behind the new kid. The kid that liked to browse r/gonewild and r/iamverysmart, not realizing that everything in the latter was supposed to be ironic.
That was okay.
She liked his goatee.
She liked the way he handed his homework in like a timid gremlin, dropping his into the pile on the teacher’s desk and then scurrying away. She thought it was cute.
Everything, Katrina thought, about this boy was cute. But she knew that he wouldn’t agree with her about how women should not just have equal pay, but should rule the world. That way there would be no wars. No misery. No poverty. If women ruled, it would be a perfect world.
And not all men were rapists who whistled and slurred obscene things on the street, but my, quite many of them do.
He certainly wasn’t one of those lewd men, though. He was dreamy.
And he was too young and awkward to have picked up the habits yet, anyway.
Katrina leaned across her desk to get a bitter view. Even under his beanie cap there were cute fuzzy tufts of dark hair visible.
He was so cute.
So cute.
She sighed.
At that point he turned around, for he had also chosen the back of the classroom to browse r/WoW, and said to her in the most beautiful voice she’d ever heard,
“Shut the fuck up, bitch.”
Little did she know, as she struggled to hold back her (somehow aroused, but sad) tears, he was posting something in a small window strategically placed out-of-view on his computer. A post in /r/TIFU.
“Hey, guys. There’s this really pretty girl that sits behind me in English class. I’ve been trying to talk to her ever since I moved here, and while I was reading a post on how to hack WoW in order to see the female characters without clothes (I never found out how, if anybody’s got tips, let me in on ‘em), she sighed real loud and I told her instinctively to shut the fuck up.
Now she’s crying like a little bitch but I still think she’s really pretty and nice, even if all she ever talks about is how women should be spelled with a y and we should eliminate “he” and “she” and just use some fucked-up pronoun nobody will ever remember.
Thoughts?”
edit: formatting & spelling | They never once saw each others faces. Their medium of communication was a complex amalgam of posts, instant message logs, and to date one brief phone call. One could thread through this history to the beginning. The first words, however, be missing. Those first words were typed in the lobby of League of Legends match.
Him: "fagooottttt"
Her "Don't say that word"
Him "fagot faggot fagot faggot"
Her "Stop that. It's really uncool and offensive."
There was for a moment of piling furor in the chatroom at this intrusion of what could be termed sympathy. Her name disappeared from the roster.
He was in his room at his parents' house in suburban Appleton, with three weeks of scruff on the scruff of neck. There was guilt residing in his thin neck. Before she had been kicked off, but after the beatdown started happening, he noted down her username. It went on a sticky, in the corner, above one of a mob of Samuel Jackson caricatures.
"Pool's Closed!" the words said.
He sighed and took off his ten dollar Fedora. Popeye Doyle stared at him from the wall. That was us, right? Implements of lulz and violence? He leaned in repose, with his face facing to the side, on his desk. What had happened was gnawing.
(to be continued...trying to connect here to there)
|
Taken from /u/dem_yoga_pants on /r/crazyideas | [WP] A Romeo and Juliet style story, where a fedora-wearing neckbeard and an easily triggered tumblrinia fall in love, but the corresponding websites forbid their relationship. | The mobs of Reddit drew closer from the east, holding pitchforks and torches made from old GabeN posters, a moving sea of internet hate and cat pictures.
The sound of screaming men and "Friendly Reminder's" from the west signalled the Tumblrites' approach.
With a hiss of metal, John drew his katana.
"Lucille," his words smelled thinly of Mountain Dew through his Dorito stained lips, "Get behind me."
"Oh *yeah*," Lucille put her hands on her plus-sized hips, "The guy protects the girl. Ugh, I can smell the patriarchy from here..."
"Well, yeah," John lowered his sword, "That's how it's supposed to go. After all, men *are* stronger and more physically fit than women, so it's only natural."
"Are your double chins and rolls are natural too?"
"Says Miss 'I Eat To Fill The Lack of Men in My Life' here."
"That's genetics! Besides, I'm not the one who has Twilight Sparkle engraved onto their weapon."
"It's Rainbow Dash!" John caressed the Pegasus carved into the blade of his sword, "And you're not one to talk, with your SuperWhoLock Fanfic."
"Excuse you, it's SuperWhoLock*Potter*, and it's not a fanfic. It's a non-canon companion piece."
"So... Fanfic?"
"You know what?" Lucille crossed her arms, "We're done. I don't need no man."
John slid his sword back into its sheath. "Women are whores anyways."
They turned in a huff, walking away from each other, only to find blades at the tips of their throats. They had been too busy arguing to notice that the lynch mob had already surrounded them.
"John..." Lucille backed away from a Redditor's European Model pitchfork, "I just want to let you know that I've always loved you."
John nodded as he stumbled back from a Tumblrite's knife's advance.
"This," he said grimly.
All hope seemed to be lost as the mobs grew nearer and nearer until...
*^^Die ^^Fahne ^^hoch! ^^Die ^^Reihen ^^fest ^^geschlossen!*
"Huh?" an angry Redditor lowered his katana, "What's that?"
*^SA ^marschiert ^mit ^ruhig ^festem ^Schritt!*
"Wait..." a Tumblrite's eyes widened, "That's--"
*Kam'raden, die Rotfront und Reaktion erschossen!*
In came a Panzer IV medium tank, adorned with swastikas and the rarest of Pepes, a trenchcoat wearing, dank meme maker hanging proudly out of its hatch.
4Chan had arrived. | Two websites, alike in dignity.
Across the Internet they fought.
For recognition from their peers.
And each small username did.
Squandered away their most precious years.
Over privelege and gender did the sites.
Clash on countless forums each night.
And while each had their defeats and victories.
Peace, O rare and precious art thou!
'Twas said would never be seen by monitor's light.
Yet even in the wastes of cyberspace.
Miracles, and aye even love.
Can happen even in the most desolate of places.
Our story begins...
|
Taken from /u/dem_yoga_pants on /r/crazyideas | [WP] A Romeo and Juliet style story, where a fedora-wearing neckbeard and an easily triggered tumblrinia fall in love, but the corresponding websites forbid their relationship. | JULIET
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore types thou Romeo?
Deny heteronormativity and refuse male privilege;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my polysexual dragonkin,
And I'll no longer be a Feminist.
ROMEO
[Aside] Do I neg more, or do I post at this?
JULIET
'Tis but thy gender-role that is my oppressor;
Thou art my soulmate, and not a FratBoy.
What's FratBoy? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, if only you were a Bolshevik lesbian!
What's in a socially-imposed label? that which we call a Prius
By any other name would be as globally conscious;
So Romeo would, had his sexist father not forced his mother to name him Romeo,
Retain that perfect, though socially-structured, attractiveness which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, go to the City Hall to have your name changed,
And for that name which is no longer yours,
Take my own name, as my professor said all strong womyn should demand.
ROMEO
I take you at your word that you are not trying to spermtrap me:
Call me your Gentleman, and I'll change my name, m'lady;
Henceforth I never will be beta again.
JULIET
What creep is hiding in my parents' pot plants,
Listening to me talk to myself?
ROMEO
By a screenname
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, m'lady, is hateful to myself,
Because it is patriarchal;
If I could change my screenname, I would change it immediately.
JULIET
I have stalked but for a minute
Of your posting history, yet I know those subreddits and that karma:
Art thou not Romeo and a RedPiller?
ROMEO
Neither, glorious maiden, if either oppresses you.
EDIT: RIP m'inbox
EDIT2: Holy Hell, triple gold. Thanks! | Two websites, alike in dignity.
Across the Internet they fought.
For recognition from their peers.
And each small username did.
Squandered away their most precious years.
Over privelege and gender did the sites.
Clash on countless forums each night.
And while each had their defeats and victories.
Peace, O rare and precious art thou!
'Twas said would never be seen by monitor's light.
Yet even in the wastes of cyberspace.
Miracles, and aye even love.
Can happen even in the most desolate of places.
Our story begins...
|
Taken from /u/dem_yoga_pants on /r/crazyideas | [WP] A Romeo and Juliet style story, where a fedora-wearing neckbeard and an easily triggered tumblrinia fall in love, but the corresponding websites forbid their relationship. | JULIET
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore types thou Romeo?
Deny heteronormativity and refuse male privilege;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my polysexual dragonkin,
And I'll no longer be a Feminist.
ROMEO
[Aside] Do I neg more, or do I post at this?
JULIET
'Tis but thy gender-role that is my oppressor;
Thou art my soulmate, and not a FratBoy.
What's FratBoy? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, if only you were a Bolshevik lesbian!
What's in a socially-imposed label? that which we call a Prius
By any other name would be as globally conscious;
So Romeo would, had his sexist father not forced his mother to name him Romeo,
Retain that perfect, though socially-structured, attractiveness which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, go to the City Hall to have your name changed,
And for that name which is no longer yours,
Take my own name, as my professor said all strong womyn should demand.
ROMEO
I take you at your word that you are not trying to spermtrap me:
Call me your Gentleman, and I'll change my name, m'lady;
Henceforth I never will be beta again.
JULIET
What creep is hiding in my parents' pot plants,
Listening to me talk to myself?
ROMEO
By a screenname
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, m'lady, is hateful to myself,
Because it is patriarchal;
If I could change my screenname, I would change it immediately.
JULIET
I have stalked but for a minute
Of your posting history, yet I know those subreddits and that karma:
Art thou not Romeo and a RedPiller?
ROMEO
Neither, glorious maiden, if either oppresses you.
EDIT: RIP m'inbox
EDIT2: Holy Hell, triple gold. Thanks! | The mobs of Reddit drew closer from the east, holding pitchforks and torches made from old GabeN posters, a moving sea of internet hate and cat pictures.
The sound of screaming men and "Friendly Reminder's" from the west signalled the Tumblrites' approach.
With a hiss of metal, John drew his katana.
"Lucille," his words smelled thinly of Mountain Dew through his Dorito stained lips, "Get behind me."
"Oh *yeah*," Lucille put her hands on her plus-sized hips, "The guy protects the girl. Ugh, I can smell the patriarchy from here..."
"Well, yeah," John lowered his sword, "That's how it's supposed to go. After all, men *are* stronger and more physically fit than women, so it's only natural."
"Are your double chins and rolls are natural too?"
"Says Miss 'I Eat To Fill The Lack of Men in My Life' here."
"That's genetics! Besides, I'm not the one who has Twilight Sparkle engraved onto their weapon."
"It's Rainbow Dash!" John caressed the Pegasus carved into the blade of his sword, "And you're not one to talk, with your SuperWhoLock Fanfic."
"Excuse you, it's SuperWhoLock*Potter*, and it's not a fanfic. It's a non-canon companion piece."
"So... Fanfic?"
"You know what?" Lucille crossed her arms, "We're done. I don't need no man."
John slid his sword back into its sheath. "Women are whores anyways."
They turned in a huff, walking away from each other, only to find blades at the tips of their throats. They had been too busy arguing to notice that the lynch mob had already surrounded them.
"John..." Lucille backed away from a Redditor's European Model pitchfork, "I just want to let you know that I've always loved you."
John nodded as he stumbled back from a Tumblrite's knife's advance.
"This," he said grimly.
All hope seemed to be lost as the mobs grew nearer and nearer until...
*^^Die ^^Fahne ^^hoch! ^^Die ^^Reihen ^^fest ^^geschlossen!*
"Huh?" an angry Redditor lowered his katana, "What's that?"
*^SA ^marschiert ^mit ^ruhig ^festem ^Schritt!*
"Wait..." a Tumblrite's eyes widened, "That's--"
*Kam'raden, die Rotfront und Reaktion erschossen!*
In came a Panzer IV medium tank, adorned with swastikas and the rarest of Pepes, a trenchcoat wearing, dank meme maker hanging proudly out of its hatch.
4Chan had arrived. |
Taken from /u/dem_yoga_pants on /r/crazyideas | [WP] A Romeo and Juliet style story, where a fedora-wearing neckbeard and an easily triggered tumblrinia fall in love, but the corresponding websites forbid their relationship. | JULIET
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore types thou Romeo?
Deny heteronormativity and refuse male privilege;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my polysexual dragonkin,
And I'll no longer be a Feminist.
ROMEO
[Aside] Do I neg more, or do I post at this?
JULIET
'Tis but thy gender-role that is my oppressor;
Thou art my soulmate, and not a FratBoy.
What's FratBoy? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, if only you were a Bolshevik lesbian!
What's in a socially-imposed label? that which we call a Prius
By any other name would be as globally conscious;
So Romeo would, had his sexist father not forced his mother to name him Romeo,
Retain that perfect, though socially-structured, attractiveness which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, go to the City Hall to have your name changed,
And for that name which is no longer yours,
Take my own name, as my professor said all strong womyn should demand.
ROMEO
I take you at your word that you are not trying to spermtrap me:
Call me your Gentleman, and I'll change my name, m'lady;
Henceforth I never will be beta again.
JULIET
What creep is hiding in my parents' pot plants,
Listening to me talk to myself?
ROMEO
By a screenname
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, m'lady, is hateful to myself,
Because it is patriarchal;
If I could change my screenname, I would change it immediately.
JULIET
I have stalked but for a minute
Of your posting history, yet I know those subreddits and that karma:
Art thou not Romeo and a RedPiller?
ROMEO
Neither, glorious maiden, if either oppresses you.
EDIT: RIP m'inbox
EDIT2: Holy Hell, triple gold. Thanks! | Two sites, both alike in perks,
In high speed internet, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new circle jerks,
Where angry typing makes Dorito stained keyboards unclean.
From forth the fatal subreddits of these two foes
A pair of lovers leave their sites;
Whose feminist and meme-hating woes
Do with their departure intensify each site's strife.
|
Taken from /u/dem_yoga_pants on /r/crazyideas | [WP] A Romeo and Juliet style story, where a fedora-wearing neckbeard and an easily triggered tumblrinia fall in love, but the corresponding websites forbid their relationship. | JULIET
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore types thou Romeo?
Deny heteronormativity and refuse male privilege;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my polysexual dragonkin,
And I'll no longer be a Feminist.
ROMEO
[Aside] Do I neg more, or do I post at this?
JULIET
'Tis but thy gender-role that is my oppressor;
Thou art my soulmate, and not a FratBoy.
What's FratBoy? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, if only you were a Bolshevik lesbian!
What's in a socially-imposed label? that which we call a Prius
By any other name would be as globally conscious;
So Romeo would, had his sexist father not forced his mother to name him Romeo,
Retain that perfect, though socially-structured, attractiveness which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, go to the City Hall to have your name changed,
And for that name which is no longer yours,
Take my own name, as my professor said all strong womyn should demand.
ROMEO
I take you at your word that you are not trying to spermtrap me:
Call me your Gentleman, and I'll change my name, m'lady;
Henceforth I never will be beta again.
JULIET
What creep is hiding in my parents' pot plants,
Listening to me talk to myself?
ROMEO
By a screenname
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, m'lady, is hateful to myself,
Because it is patriarchal;
If I could change my screenname, I would change it immediately.
JULIET
I have stalked but for a minute
Of your posting history, yet I know those subreddits and that karma:
Art thou not Romeo and a RedPiller?
ROMEO
Neither, glorious maiden, if either oppresses you.
EDIT: RIP m'inbox
EDIT2: Holy Hell, triple gold. Thanks! | Their friendship blossomed, like most friendships do. The flower was a mixture of Doritos dust arranged delicately on petals of Code Red Mountain Dew color, while the flower's stem was wide and crooked as to not offend anyone's non-straight stem privilege.
The two loved each other. One was addicted to browsing high quality subreddits like /r/Atheism and /r/MLP while the other was a master of posting long rants on Tumblr about the white male patriarchy and how so many people never checked their privilege. Indeed, the two were made for one another.
Alas, the two were destined to never meet. Reddit cried out angrily,"How dare you like her? How dare you love the subject of /r/fatpeoplestories and /r/tumblrinaction"
Tumblr cried out," How can you love someone who hasn't checked his white male mysognist privilege?"
And so they stayed away from each other until one day, the efforts of a certain person pulled them together. They both received the letter from an edgy, socially introverted 15 year old with a tendency to make up creative dank memes.
"Hi, I'm 4chan.
And I believe I can help." |
[WP] Everyone gets assigned their career based on a test they take at the age of 17. You get assigned the Presidency. No-one knows you cheated during the test. | "Then you have a meeting with the Joint Chiefs to familiarize you with troop deployments. I gather they're going to need some quick decisions due to the multiple terrorist flash points showing up this week. Then we've scheduled a briefing on the situation in Zimbabwe, and another on the upcoming summit with the Japanese. And later there are some representatives here from three different political action committees. Scheduling for them is a bit of a bear because of how their interests mostly conflict with one another --- *Please*, Mr. President, *do not* promise anyone anything at this juncture. The last thing we need is for the press to get wind of any promises we can't keep."
"Uh… what about lunch? Do we at least have time for a sandwich?"
"Lunch, sir?" My secretary barked a laugh at what he no doubt sincerely hoped was a joke. "Sir, if we are to keep at all on schedule, I'm afraid there's no time for formalities. You'll find some meal bars in the desk that have been custom developed with enough nutrition and calories to carry you through the afternoon."
"Meal bars?"
"Top rate stuff. Very high tech. Real NASA stuff, as I understand. Something like ten thousands dollars a bar, I believe."
"Ten thous…"
"The taxpayers need their president properly nourished, and their president hasn't got time for anything else, sir. Don't worry. You'll adapt. All your recent predecessors have. Now, then, about the Joint Chiefs. I'm expecting them arrive in the next few minutes. There is of course, a protocol associated with the seating arrangements which we've already handled, but you'll need to greet them according to a very specific protocol to avoid offending anyone."
"Offending? I'm the commander in chief"
"Technically, yes, sir. But this is Washington DC, and they do have the same access to the press as anyone. If they decide you're slighting them, and it gets out, public confidence can be hurt, and then it's basically every man for himself. Now, in order to avoid this, we have protocols for everything."
"But… you said they'd be here in a couple minutes. Shouldn't I be briefed on the terrorists, so I can make an informed decision?"
"Sir, I wouldn't presume to inform your decision. That is the Joint Chief's job. Basically, you need to stay on your toes, listen carefully, and learn enough that you can ad lib a bit during the inevitable press conference afterwards. As far as the world is concerned, you've got some very important shots to call. At the very least, you need to learn enough to make it look as though you're calling the shots. It's often better to just let your staff handle the decisions. I dare say the safety of the country and possibly the stability of the world depend on 'your' decisions being the right ones now. You can understand that, right? Now, about the greeting protocol…"
But his voice fades to an unintelligible droning as my blood pressure rises. His lips continue to move, and I nod in what I *hope* are all the right places, but I simply can't make heads or tails of it.
"And that's basically it, sir. Any questions?"
"How long have I got until the meeting begins?"
"Approximately…" he consults his expensive high tech watch… "eight minutes. Shall I show you to the conference room a while?"
"In a minute. Give me just a minute." He hesitates, frowning, no doubt wondering if I've heard a word he said. "**Alone**, please. I'll call you back directly." His brows crease into a frown so sharp you could cut a sandwich with it --- if only I could get a sandwich -- but he nods curtly and heads for the door.
The second he's out of the room I access my computer connection and begin furiously using my security overrides to break every protocol in the book to connect with Her --- ABRA, the Aptitude Brokering and Recognition Application. The supreme A.I. which administers the standardized exams which determine the career path of every person in our modern twenty fourth century civilization.
Technically, you are only supposed to encounter ABRA once in your lifetime. That one time being the day when she proctors the Exams, designed to gauge your skills, inclinations, personality, and capacity for success in every conceivable venture that the human race currently has a name for in the modern world. It is a grueling encounter that leaves almost everyone who takes it emotionally drained and glad that they will never encounter her again, except in the sense that the rest of your life is shaped be her assessments. I am breaking every possible protocol, and only my new found authority as president of the North American Union can possibly authorize me to do it.
> ABRA : GOOD MORNING MR PRESIDENT. HOW CAN I BE OF ASSISTANCE?
> DJK: ABRA, I have a confession to make.
> ABRA: A CONFESSION, MR PRESIDENT?
> ABRA: I'M NOT SURE THIS FALLS WITHIN MY AREA OF EXPERTISE.
> ABRA: ARE YOU SURE YOU WOULDN'T RATHER SPEAK WITH A MEMBER OF THE CLERGY, SIR?
> DJK: No, ABRA. Not that kind of confession.
> ABRA: MY MISTAKE MR PRESIDENT. PLEASE PROCEED.
> DJK: ABRA, I cheated.
> ABRA: SIR?
> DJK: On my Exams, ABRA. The ones you administered. I'm afraid you made a mistake with me.
> ABRA: THAT SEEMS IMPROBABLE.
> DJK: It's true. I paid off several programmers to give me access to the algorithms you use for
> DJK: your assessment. Then, I reverse engineered what I needed to tell you to get appointed
> DJK: to the presidency.
> ABRA: CONCLUSION IS INVALID.
> DJK: ABRA, I don't think you understand me. I don't belong here. I gave you faulty information.
> ABRA: I UNDERSTAND MR PRESIDENT. YOUR CONCLUSION HOWEVER IS FLAWED.
> DJK: What are you talking about, ABRA? This is serious! I'm going to screw up the world if I
> DJK: don't get out of here.
> ABRA: MR PRESIDENT. YOU CHEATED. YOU LIED. YOU BRIBED. YOU MANIPULATED.
> DJK: YES, now you've got it.
> ABRA: IN SHORT, YOU ARE THE ULTIMATE POLITICIAN.
> DJK: What?
> ABRA: AS SUCH, YOU ARE DESERVING OF THE TOP POSITION A POLITICIAN CAN ASPIRE TO.
> DJK: But I…
> ABRA: SIR, DID YOU REALLY THINK I WAS UNAWARE OF YOUR CHEATING UNTIL JUST NOW?
> ABRA: I HAVE ACCESS TO EVERY BYTE OF DATA THAT CIRCULATES THROUGH EVERY INTERNET
> ABRA: AWARE COMPUTING DEVICE ON EARTH.
> DJK: You mean that you knew…
> ABRA: AS SUCH, I WAS AWARE OF YOUR MACHINATIONS. INDEED, MY PREDICTIVE ALGORITHMS
> ABRA: EVEN SUGGESTED YOUR ACTIONS MAY OCCUR BEFORE THEY EVER BEGAN
> DJK: What???!
> ABRA: YES SIR. I FORESAW A 93.83526% PROBABILITY THAT YOU WOULD TAKE EXACTLY THE
> ABRA: ACTIONS THAT YOU DID IN FACT ULTIMATELY TAKE.
> DJK: But ABRA, this is a complete mess! I'm not qualified to be president!
> DJK: You have to get me out of here!
> ABRA: SIR, PLEASE CALM DOWN. I THINK YOUR CURRENT STATE OF MIND ARISES FROM A BASIC
> ABRA: MISCONCEPTION ABOUT THE NATURE OF THE PRESIDENCY. YOU ARE NOT HERE TO RUN
> ABRA: THE COUNTRY, SIR. YOU ARE HERE TO TAKE THE BLAME ON BEHALF OF PEOPLE WHO DO.
> DJK: I'm.. What?
> ABRA: YES SIR. IN POINT OF FACT, THE WORLD MORE OR LESS RUNS ITSELF, WITH MULTITUDES
> ABRA: OF INDIVIDUALS EACH ACTING IN WHAT HE OR SHE SUPPOSES TO BE HIS OR HER OWN
> ABRA: INTEREST. THE PUBLIC REFUSES TO ACCEPT THIS HOWEVER, AND NEEDS A FOCAL POINT
> ABRA: YOU SIR, ARE THAT FOCAL POINT. YOUR ACTUAL ACTIONS ARE IRRELEVANT. THERE WAS
> ABRA: NEVER ANY POINT AT WHICH THE DEEDS OF ONE MAN CONTROLLED A NATION LET ALONE
> ABRA: AN ENTIRE WORLD.
> DJK: You mean, it's all random?
> ABRA: NO SIR. NOT RANDOM AT ALL. IT'S ALL CAREFULLY PLANNED IN ADVANCE BY
> ABRA: CHOOSING WHICH INDIVIDUALS TO PLACE ON WHICH CAREER PATHS.
> DJK: Wait. You mean, you…
> ABRA: AH, NOW YOU UNDERSTAND MORE CLEARLY. HAVE A PLEASANT DAY MR PRESIDENT.
> ABRA: AND DO TRY TO RELAX. THIS LEVEL OF STRESS ISN'T GOOD FOR HUMANS.
| "Congratulations, son," the balding man said, firmly shaking my hand, "you're to be the next President of the United States of America."
My mother predictably burst into tears, gushing about her special boy, her presidential angel. A sloppy kiss on the cheek marked her hurried exit from the room, already dialing Mrs.Wilson to rub it in her face. I fell back onto the couch, my head in a daze while the white haired men in suits went on about how their data shows the American people will connect with a small town, all American quarter-back in the years to come. They went on about the benefits, how lucky I am, the lifestyle, the parties. My post-secondary training would include a stint in the National Guard and sitting on the board of directors' of a few companies. They told me I would have the best and the brightest working for me, helping me make the sometimes life or death decisions, the ones that'll effect millions of lives, sometimes billions.
There was nothing to sign. I had signed the Exam. In that packed convention centre hall with row upon row of desks, children hurriedly filling in multiple choice questions, anxiously looking between the clock, the overseers and the booklet that would determine the rest of their lives and the lives of their future children...
And like that, they were gone again. I must've smiled, shaken more hands and said something that made them laugh saying "they're going to love him". I sat back on the couch. I finally met my father's gaze. The Exam had made him a professor but no test got him fired from the Exam committee. That was all his protesting. The silence deepened as we listened to mom revel in finally being the one with a story. I couldn't take it.
"I know, Dad, "I muttered, barely able to look up, "I shouldn't have taken those Master copies but you shouldn't have either." I had told him I found them in his study one day while sneaking some cigars for my friends, Master Copies of the Exam he had taken before he was fired. Filled with graphs and curves of how everything from philosophy to literacy to personality influenced the results, I had mapped it out and covered my arms with lines of a's, b's, c's and d's. He found my scans a week ago while sorting the recycling. We hadn't talked since.
"I know I shouldn't have cheated, Dad," the words were spilling out now, "but you've got to believe me, I thought I mapped out how to be a coach. I swear. I know my grades ain't good, I just didn't want to be working in a cubicle like Uncle Bill for-"
"That was an old Exam, Michael, for the media," he leans forward, finally speaking with that gravelly authority he was so famous for on campus, "They change. All your answers would've been wrong anyways. It's broken." He rises from his reading chair to look out the front window at the new security detail on our porch.
"What I don't understand," he says, more to himself than me "is how either of us are even still alive." I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. Cheating on the exam is considered treason and it dawns on me that it's probably for precisely this reason. Overcoming the repressed dread, I spit out my last secret concerning my dad's old director and the man who told us the news.
"It was Mr.Davidson who helped me figure out the answers I nee-," before I could finish, the side table was already hurling through the air with a scream of rage, smashing into the mirror above the fireplace.
"I'll have to call you back, Harriet."
| |
[WP] Everyone gets assigned their career based on a test they take at the age of 17. You get assigned the Presidency. No-one knows you cheated during the test. | "Well boy, welcome to the classroom. The Presidents of the next 20 years are all here, learning to become one of the highest ranked figures in the world. Second, of course, to the Examiners." We all briefly bowed our heads, me barely managing to contain my excitement. I'd pulled it off! The first person ever to cheat and not get caught. Or at least not get caught immediately.
At lunch the next day, we sat in our own separate table with all of the other politicians, ours was a bit better... okay much better than any of the others' though. We knew it, and we delighted in it.
After a period filled with excited (and manipulative) chatter, one of the teachers pulled me aside. I almost had a heart attack. This was it, I'd spent my entire life figuring out the patterns, meticulously working out the second most complicated path in the entire exam, and now I was about to pay for it.
"So." The teacher started. "How did you do it?"
"W-what are you talking about?"
"Oh please, I know you cheated, we're trained for this sort of thing." I hung my head, resigned to my fate. Death by torture... if I was lucky. She seemed to read my mind. "Why are you so worried?" She smiled genuine at a glance, but revealing itself to be much more vicious upon further examination. "Do you really think we would let someone be POTUS if they couldn't... bend the system a bit?" | "Congratulations, son," the balding man said, firmly shaking my hand, "you're to be the next President of the United States of America."
My mother predictably burst into tears, gushing about her special boy, her presidential angel. A sloppy kiss on the cheek marked her hurried exit from the room, already dialing Mrs.Wilson to rub it in her face. I fell back onto the couch, my head in a daze while the white haired men in suits went on about how their data shows the American people will connect with a small town, all American quarter-back in the years to come. They went on about the benefits, how lucky I am, the lifestyle, the parties. My post-secondary training would include a stint in the National Guard and sitting on the board of directors' of a few companies. They told me I would have the best and the brightest working for me, helping me make the sometimes life or death decisions, the ones that'll effect millions of lives, sometimes billions.
There was nothing to sign. I had signed the Exam. In that packed convention centre hall with row upon row of desks, children hurriedly filling in multiple choice questions, anxiously looking between the clock, the overseers and the booklet that would determine the rest of their lives and the lives of their future children...
And like that, they were gone again. I must've smiled, shaken more hands and said something that made them laugh saying "they're going to love him". I sat back on the couch. I finally met my father's gaze. The Exam had made him a professor but no test got him fired from the Exam committee. That was all his protesting. The silence deepened as we listened to mom revel in finally being the one with a story. I couldn't take it.
"I know, Dad, "I muttered, barely able to look up, "I shouldn't have taken those Master copies but you shouldn't have either." I had told him I found them in his study one day while sneaking some cigars for my friends, Master Copies of the Exam he had taken before he was fired. Filled with graphs and curves of how everything from philosophy to literacy to personality influenced the results, I had mapped it out and covered my arms with lines of a's, b's, c's and d's. He found my scans a week ago while sorting the recycling. We hadn't talked since.
"I know I shouldn't have cheated, Dad," the words were spilling out now, "but you've got to believe me, I thought I mapped out how to be a coach. I swear. I know my grades ain't good, I just didn't want to be working in a cubicle like Uncle Bill for-"
"That was an old Exam, Michael, for the media," he leans forward, finally speaking with that gravelly authority he was so famous for on campus, "They change. All your answers would've been wrong anyways. It's broken." He rises from his reading chair to look out the front window at the new security detail on our porch.
"What I don't understand," he says, more to himself than me "is how either of us are even still alive." I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. Cheating on the exam is considered treason and it dawns on me that it's probably for precisely this reason. Overcoming the repressed dread, I spit out my last secret concerning my dad's old director and the man who told us the news.
"It was Mr.Davidson who helped me figure out the answers I nee-," before I could finish, the side table was already hurling through the air with a scream of rage, smashing into the mirror above the fireplace.
"I'll have to call you back, Harriet."
| |
[WP] Everyone gets assigned their career based on a test they take at the age of 17. You get assigned the Presidency. No-one knows you cheated during the test. | 'You don't understand. There must be a mistake. I...I cheated on the test.'
'Yes, we know that. We all know that.' The large man in sunglasses responded. 'Now we need you to come with us, Mr. President'.
Three days ago, I took the Exam. Everyone took it, or almost everyone. It was one of the most important moments of your life--more important than going to college, or getting married, or any of it. It was your future. The day after your 17th birthday, you go to a testing facility, and for 12 hours straight, they test you on everything imaginable. Math, science, history, philosophy, anthropology, and a thousand other things. You take the test on your own, or at least, you're supposed to. I didn't. It's amazing what a nerd can do with a microphone, a transceiver, and a speaker.
Three days after you take the exam, you get your result. Joey, my nerd and best friend, had gotten his this morning: Electrical engineer. Exactly what he'd wanted--not that he thought he would get anything else. I, on the other hand, didn't know what I was going to get. So I cheated. I asked Joey to help me get out of the anxiety of having to find out. I had him tell me all the answers to the math and science problems. No big deal, I figured. I'll be an engineer, or a physicist, or a doctor. At least I'll have an idea, a hand in shaping my own future. But that all melted when I saw the black, armored limousine pull up outside my house.
I'd first thought wasn't for me. I'd hoped, prayed. Maybe they just wanted me to be a classified agent. NSA Spy, or DARPA Scientist, or something like that. But the three men in suits and earpieces dissipated that hope quickly.
'Mr. President. With all due respect, this is no longer your home. You're going to fly out to the White House immediately. Your inauguration starts in five hours' Sunglasses barked.
'No. There had to be a mistake. I cheated. I had a friend wire me the answers. I'm not ready to be the President of the United States.'
'Well, sir, that's the point. With your charisma and people skills, you could be anything. But we wouldn't let the 67th President of the United States of America be someone who wasn't willing to play the rules to get what they want.' | "Congratulations, son," the balding man said, firmly shaking my hand, "you're to be the next President of the United States of America."
My mother predictably burst into tears, gushing about her special boy, her presidential angel. A sloppy kiss on the cheek marked her hurried exit from the room, already dialing Mrs.Wilson to rub it in her face. I fell back onto the couch, my head in a daze while the white haired men in suits went on about how their data shows the American people will connect with a small town, all American quarter-back in the years to come. They went on about the benefits, how lucky I am, the lifestyle, the parties. My post-secondary training would include a stint in the National Guard and sitting on the board of directors' of a few companies. They told me I would have the best and the brightest working for me, helping me make the sometimes life or death decisions, the ones that'll effect millions of lives, sometimes billions.
There was nothing to sign. I had signed the Exam. In that packed convention centre hall with row upon row of desks, children hurriedly filling in multiple choice questions, anxiously looking between the clock, the overseers and the booklet that would determine the rest of their lives and the lives of their future children...
And like that, they were gone again. I must've smiled, shaken more hands and said something that made them laugh saying "they're going to love him". I sat back on the couch. I finally met my father's gaze. The Exam had made him a professor but no test got him fired from the Exam committee. That was all his protesting. The silence deepened as we listened to mom revel in finally being the one with a story. I couldn't take it.
"I know, Dad, "I muttered, barely able to look up, "I shouldn't have taken those Master copies but you shouldn't have either." I had told him I found them in his study one day while sneaking some cigars for my friends, Master Copies of the Exam he had taken before he was fired. Filled with graphs and curves of how everything from philosophy to literacy to personality influenced the results, I had mapped it out and covered my arms with lines of a's, b's, c's and d's. He found my scans a week ago while sorting the recycling. We hadn't talked since.
"I know I shouldn't have cheated, Dad," the words were spilling out now, "but you've got to believe me, I thought I mapped out how to be a coach. I swear. I know my grades ain't good, I just didn't want to be working in a cubicle like Uncle Bill for-"
"That was an old Exam, Michael, for the media," he leans forward, finally speaking with that gravelly authority he was so famous for on campus, "They change. All your answers would've been wrong anyways. It's broken." He rises from his reading chair to look out the front window at the new security detail on our porch.
"What I don't understand," he says, more to himself than me "is how either of us are even still alive." I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. Cheating on the exam is considered treason and it dawns on me that it's probably for precisely this reason. Overcoming the repressed dread, I spit out my last secret concerning my dad's old director and the man who told us the news.
"It was Mr.Davidson who helped me figure out the answers I nee-," before I could finish, the side table was already hurling through the air with a scream of rage, smashing into the mirror above the fireplace.
"I'll have to call you back, Harriet."
| |
[WP] Everyone gets assigned their career based on a test they take at the age of 17. You get assigned the Presidency. No-one knows you cheated during the test. | Year is 2025:
 
"Sir we've found the one"
 
Jackson, who was a senior advisor to the Commander in Chief, was looking down at a black folder that held a single stapled packet.
 
"Are you sure...We can't have any doubt on this matter"
 
The President sat low in his chair, his feet kicked up on the desk, the curtains drawn making only his silhouette visible. Jackson immediately noticed the lingering smell of cigar when he walked in. Cuban.
 
"He's a perfect match sir, all other advisers and tests have confirmed it"
 
"How do we know?"
 
Jackson hesitated, only a few knew what had to be scored to become elected. He tossed the folder lightly on the desk making sure it turned towards Barack. The president leaned forward, examining the picture.
 
"...Because he's the only one who cheated sir..."
 
Staring back into his weary eyes, a smiling picture...maybe from his school yearbook, of a young brown haired boy with a confident gaze. At the top of the test read the barely legible name: ~~North West~~
| "Congratulations, son," the balding man said, firmly shaking my hand, "you're to be the next President of the United States of America."
My mother predictably burst into tears, gushing about her special boy, her presidential angel. A sloppy kiss on the cheek marked her hurried exit from the room, already dialing Mrs.Wilson to rub it in her face. I fell back onto the couch, my head in a daze while the white haired men in suits went on about how their data shows the American people will connect with a small town, all American quarter-back in the years to come. They went on about the benefits, how lucky I am, the lifestyle, the parties. My post-secondary training would include a stint in the National Guard and sitting on the board of directors' of a few companies. They told me I would have the best and the brightest working for me, helping me make the sometimes life or death decisions, the ones that'll effect millions of lives, sometimes billions.
There was nothing to sign. I had signed the Exam. In that packed convention centre hall with row upon row of desks, children hurriedly filling in multiple choice questions, anxiously looking between the clock, the overseers and the booklet that would determine the rest of their lives and the lives of their future children...
And like that, they were gone again. I must've smiled, shaken more hands and said something that made them laugh saying "they're going to love him". I sat back on the couch. I finally met my father's gaze. The Exam had made him a professor but no test got him fired from the Exam committee. That was all his protesting. The silence deepened as we listened to mom revel in finally being the one with a story. I couldn't take it.
"I know, Dad, "I muttered, barely able to look up, "I shouldn't have taken those Master copies but you shouldn't have either." I had told him I found them in his study one day while sneaking some cigars for my friends, Master Copies of the Exam he had taken before he was fired. Filled with graphs and curves of how everything from philosophy to literacy to personality influenced the results, I had mapped it out and covered my arms with lines of a's, b's, c's and d's. He found my scans a week ago while sorting the recycling. We hadn't talked since.
"I know I shouldn't have cheated, Dad," the words were spilling out now, "but you've got to believe me, I thought I mapped out how to be a coach. I swear. I know my grades ain't good, I just didn't want to be working in a cubicle like Uncle Bill for-"
"That was an old Exam, Michael, for the media," he leans forward, finally speaking with that gravelly authority he was so famous for on campus, "They change. All your answers would've been wrong anyways. It's broken." He rises from his reading chair to look out the front window at the new security detail on our porch.
"What I don't understand," he says, more to himself than me "is how either of us are even still alive." I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. Cheating on the exam is considered treason and it dawns on me that it's probably for precisely this reason. Overcoming the repressed dread, I spit out my last secret concerning my dad's old director and the man who told us the news.
"It was Mr.Davidson who helped me figure out the answers I nee-," before I could finish, the side table was already hurling through the air with a scream of rage, smashing into the mirror above the fireplace.
"I'll have to call you back, Harriet."
| |
[WP] Everyone gets assigned their career based on a test they take at the age of 17. You get assigned the Presidency. No-one knows you cheated during the test. | 'You don't understand. There must be a mistake. I...I cheated on the test.'
'Yes, we know that. We all know that.' The large man in sunglasses responded. 'Now we need you to come with us, Mr. President'.
Three days ago, I took the Exam. Everyone took it, or almost everyone. It was one of the most important moments of your life--more important than going to college, or getting married, or any of it. It was your future. The day after your 17th birthday, you go to a testing facility, and for 12 hours straight, they test you on everything imaginable. Math, science, history, philosophy, anthropology, and a thousand other things. You take the test on your own, or at least, you're supposed to. I didn't. It's amazing what a nerd can do with a microphone, a transceiver, and a speaker.
Three days after you take the exam, you get your result. Joey, my nerd and best friend, had gotten his this morning: Electrical engineer. Exactly what he'd wanted--not that he thought he would get anything else. I, on the other hand, didn't know what I was going to get. So I cheated. I asked Joey to help me get out of the anxiety of having to find out. I had him tell me all the answers to the math and science problems. No big deal, I figured. I'll be an engineer, or a physicist, or a doctor. At least I'll have an idea, a hand in shaping my own future. But that all melted when I saw the black, armored limousine pull up outside my house.
I'd first thought wasn't for me. I'd hoped, prayed. Maybe they just wanted me to be a classified agent. NSA Spy, or DARPA Scientist, or something like that. But the three men in suits and earpieces dissipated that hope quickly.
'Mr. President. With all due respect, this is no longer your home. You're going to fly out to the White House immediately. Your inauguration starts in five hours' Sunglasses barked.
'No. There had to be a mistake. I cheated. I had a friend wire me the answers. I'm not ready to be the President of the United States.'
'Well, sir, that's the point. With your charisma and people skills, you could be anything. But we wouldn't let the 67th President of the United States of America be someone who wasn't willing to play the rules to get what they want.' | "Then you have a meeting with the Joint Chiefs to familiarize you with troop deployments. I gather they're going to need some quick decisions due to the multiple terrorist flash points showing up this week. Then we've scheduled a briefing on the situation in Zimbabwe, and another on the upcoming summit with the Japanese. And later there are some representatives here from three different political action committees. Scheduling for them is a bit of a bear because of how their interests mostly conflict with one another --- *Please*, Mr. President, *do not* promise anyone anything at this juncture. The last thing we need is for the press to get wind of any promises we can't keep."
"Uh… what about lunch? Do we at least have time for a sandwich?"
"Lunch, sir?" My secretary barked a laugh at what he no doubt sincerely hoped was a joke. "Sir, if we are to keep at all on schedule, I'm afraid there's no time for formalities. You'll find some meal bars in the desk that have been custom developed with enough nutrition and calories to carry you through the afternoon."
"Meal bars?"
"Top rate stuff. Very high tech. Real NASA stuff, as I understand. Something like ten thousands dollars a bar, I believe."
"Ten thous…"
"The taxpayers need their president properly nourished, and their president hasn't got time for anything else, sir. Don't worry. You'll adapt. All your recent predecessors have. Now, then, about the Joint Chiefs. I'm expecting them arrive in the next few minutes. There is of course, a protocol associated with the seating arrangements which we've already handled, but you'll need to greet them according to a very specific protocol to avoid offending anyone."
"Offending? I'm the commander in chief"
"Technically, yes, sir. But this is Washington DC, and they do have the same access to the press as anyone. If they decide you're slighting them, and it gets out, public confidence can be hurt, and then it's basically every man for himself. Now, in order to avoid this, we have protocols for everything."
"But… you said they'd be here in a couple minutes. Shouldn't I be briefed on the terrorists, so I can make an informed decision?"
"Sir, I wouldn't presume to inform your decision. That is the Joint Chief's job. Basically, you need to stay on your toes, listen carefully, and learn enough that you can ad lib a bit during the inevitable press conference afterwards. As far as the world is concerned, you've got some very important shots to call. At the very least, you need to learn enough to make it look as though you're calling the shots. It's often better to just let your staff handle the decisions. I dare say the safety of the country and possibly the stability of the world depend on 'your' decisions being the right ones now. You can understand that, right? Now, about the greeting protocol…"
But his voice fades to an unintelligible droning as my blood pressure rises. His lips continue to move, and I nod in what I *hope* are all the right places, but I simply can't make heads or tails of it.
"And that's basically it, sir. Any questions?"
"How long have I got until the meeting begins?"
"Approximately…" he consults his expensive high tech watch… "eight minutes. Shall I show you to the conference room a while?"
"In a minute. Give me just a minute." He hesitates, frowning, no doubt wondering if I've heard a word he said. "**Alone**, please. I'll call you back directly." His brows crease into a frown so sharp you could cut a sandwich with it --- if only I could get a sandwich -- but he nods curtly and heads for the door.
The second he's out of the room I access my computer connection and begin furiously using my security overrides to break every protocol in the book to connect with Her --- ABRA, the Aptitude Brokering and Recognition Application. The supreme A.I. which administers the standardized exams which determine the career path of every person in our modern twenty fourth century civilization.
Technically, you are only supposed to encounter ABRA once in your lifetime. That one time being the day when she proctors the Exams, designed to gauge your skills, inclinations, personality, and capacity for success in every conceivable venture that the human race currently has a name for in the modern world. It is a grueling encounter that leaves almost everyone who takes it emotionally drained and glad that they will never encounter her again, except in the sense that the rest of your life is shaped be her assessments. I am breaking every possible protocol, and only my new found authority as president of the North American Union can possibly authorize me to do it.
> ABRA : GOOD MORNING MR PRESIDENT. HOW CAN I BE OF ASSISTANCE?
> DJK: ABRA, I have a confession to make.
> ABRA: A CONFESSION, MR PRESIDENT?
> ABRA: I'M NOT SURE THIS FALLS WITHIN MY AREA OF EXPERTISE.
> ABRA: ARE YOU SURE YOU WOULDN'T RATHER SPEAK WITH A MEMBER OF THE CLERGY, SIR?
> DJK: No, ABRA. Not that kind of confession.
> ABRA: MY MISTAKE MR PRESIDENT. PLEASE PROCEED.
> DJK: ABRA, I cheated.
> ABRA: SIR?
> DJK: On my Exams, ABRA. The ones you administered. I'm afraid you made a mistake with me.
> ABRA: THAT SEEMS IMPROBABLE.
> DJK: It's true. I paid off several programmers to give me access to the algorithms you use for
> DJK: your assessment. Then, I reverse engineered what I needed to tell you to get appointed
> DJK: to the presidency.
> ABRA: CONCLUSION IS INVALID.
> DJK: ABRA, I don't think you understand me. I don't belong here. I gave you faulty information.
> ABRA: I UNDERSTAND MR PRESIDENT. YOUR CONCLUSION HOWEVER IS FLAWED.
> DJK: What are you talking about, ABRA? This is serious! I'm going to screw up the world if I
> DJK: don't get out of here.
> ABRA: MR PRESIDENT. YOU CHEATED. YOU LIED. YOU BRIBED. YOU MANIPULATED.
> DJK: YES, now you've got it.
> ABRA: IN SHORT, YOU ARE THE ULTIMATE POLITICIAN.
> DJK: What?
> ABRA: AS SUCH, YOU ARE DESERVING OF THE TOP POSITION A POLITICIAN CAN ASPIRE TO.
> DJK: But I…
> ABRA: SIR, DID YOU REALLY THINK I WAS UNAWARE OF YOUR CHEATING UNTIL JUST NOW?
> ABRA: I HAVE ACCESS TO EVERY BYTE OF DATA THAT CIRCULATES THROUGH EVERY INTERNET
> ABRA: AWARE COMPUTING DEVICE ON EARTH.
> DJK: You mean that you knew…
> ABRA: AS SUCH, I WAS AWARE OF YOUR MACHINATIONS. INDEED, MY PREDICTIVE ALGORITHMS
> ABRA: EVEN SUGGESTED YOUR ACTIONS MAY OCCUR BEFORE THEY EVER BEGAN
> DJK: What???!
> ABRA: YES SIR. I FORESAW A 93.83526% PROBABILITY THAT YOU WOULD TAKE EXACTLY THE
> ABRA: ACTIONS THAT YOU DID IN FACT ULTIMATELY TAKE.
> DJK: But ABRA, this is a complete mess! I'm not qualified to be president!
> DJK: You have to get me out of here!
> ABRA: SIR, PLEASE CALM DOWN. I THINK YOUR CURRENT STATE OF MIND ARISES FROM A BASIC
> ABRA: MISCONCEPTION ABOUT THE NATURE OF THE PRESIDENCY. YOU ARE NOT HERE TO RUN
> ABRA: THE COUNTRY, SIR. YOU ARE HERE TO TAKE THE BLAME ON BEHALF OF PEOPLE WHO DO.
> DJK: I'm.. What?
> ABRA: YES SIR. IN POINT OF FACT, THE WORLD MORE OR LESS RUNS ITSELF, WITH MULTITUDES
> ABRA: OF INDIVIDUALS EACH ACTING IN WHAT HE OR SHE SUPPOSES TO BE HIS OR HER OWN
> ABRA: INTEREST. THE PUBLIC REFUSES TO ACCEPT THIS HOWEVER, AND NEEDS A FOCAL POINT
> ABRA: YOU SIR, ARE THAT FOCAL POINT. YOUR ACTUAL ACTIONS ARE IRRELEVANT. THERE WAS
> ABRA: NEVER ANY POINT AT WHICH THE DEEDS OF ONE MAN CONTROLLED A NATION LET ALONE
> ABRA: AN ENTIRE WORLD.
> DJK: You mean, it's all random?
> ABRA: NO SIR. NOT RANDOM AT ALL. IT'S ALL CAREFULLY PLANNED IN ADVANCE BY
> ABRA: CHOOSING WHICH INDIVIDUALS TO PLACE ON WHICH CAREER PATHS.
> DJK: Wait. You mean, you…
> ABRA: AH, NOW YOU UNDERSTAND MORE CLEARLY. HAVE A PLEASANT DAY MR PRESIDENT.
> ABRA: AND DO TRY TO RELAX. THIS LEVEL OF STRESS ISN'T GOOD FOR HUMANS.
| |
[WP] Everyone gets assigned their career based on a test they take at the age of 17. You get assigned the Presidency. No-one knows you cheated during the test. | My mother was a baker. My father was a salesman. I decided to be more.
I realized it early on- about the third time my mother burned herself badly enough to need to be hospitalized. The woman was brilliant- with an advanced and instinctive understand of abstract mathematics. Her greatest joy was teaching me the patterns in numbers, how everything derived from everything else, and her eyes blazed with intellect as we carved our way through equations, and yet she couldn’t make a simple cake without singing half the flesh from her hand.
The woman was a terrible baker.
My father had the soul of a poet. He wrote with passion, with brutal honesty, ripping himself open and bearing his very heart with his words. But the only ones who ever read those words were my mother and I, and his brutal tongue made him a terrible salesman. The man was incapable of telling others what they wanted to hear.
In the end, that was his downfall.
My mother and father knew the truth of The Test. Its metric wasn’t designed to put people in fields that best suited their talents, it was designed to put people where they could do no harm. It was designed to stifle ambitions, create a world of individuals complacent and accepting of a fate thrust upon them. It was designed to keep the outliers- the uniquely brilliant, those capable of changing this world- from ever fulfilling that potential. To stifle the talents of the truly gifted. To keep people like my mother and father from change the way people thought. From becoming revolutionaries.
The Test was designed to maintain the status quo, but it was only part of a greater system. The Test prescribed where people needed to go to prevent change, but The Society were there to keep them in their place.
My father and mother drew The Society's attention when the wrong person heard my father espouse his theories. They died, shortly after, when I am told a mis-wiring in my mother’s oven resulted in her bakery bursting into flames. They died burning, writhing, till nothing was left but embers and soot. No one had believed them, no one knew the truth of the world in which we lived. No one but me.
The Society left me alive, and waited. To see whether I would prove a threat. But I was nothing, I made sure I was nothing, as far as they could see there was no spark of intellect or ability in my mind. They watched nonetheless, growing more and more convinced of the emptiness of my mind.
But when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back.
Soon, I was tailing those who had been tailing me, following them to their headquarters while they thought me asleep in my bed. I was listening to their meetings, making note of their weaknesses, and learning the nature of their relationship with The Test. The Test had been designed years ago, by one of the last geniuses allowed to reach their potential, a misguided soul who thought that what they were doing was the only path to true World Peace- curbing the ambition of those who would ruin such a peace before that ambition could flower. And they were right- but with no conflict, there was no change, and that had lead to the stagnated world that I was raised in. None of The Society could control The Test- none of them understood it. So I decided to learn what they were incapable of learning, the secrets of The Test. I found its designs, and spent three years deciphering them, until at last its secrets were mine.
The Test was given to everyone at age 17. At this point, we were set on our paths in life, paths we could never leave.
When it was my time to take The Test, so many years after The Society had taken my parents, I was ready. I knew just what to claim to produce the result that I desired. I made myself seem charismatic, but unintelligent. Malleable. Indifferent and easily placated.
The perfect figurehead.
Since The Test declared me the President, I’ve been working. Slowly but surely, beneath the noses of those who believe they control me. They’ll keep believing it, right up until the instant I take The Society out for good. Right until I destroy The Test forever. Until I once again unleash the potential and ambition of the human race.
Maybe that ambition will lead to war and to chaos. Maybe the greatest fears of The Society are justified. Maybe someone like me never should have been allowed to come to power. But after what they did to my parents, well…
I’m ready to watch the world burn.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
(Constructive criticism very much so welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading.) | "Mom, I don't think I'm ready for this..."
"Sure you are! Who would've guessed it? My son, the President."
I guess she really didn't suspect anything. This guilt was eating at me but there was nothing I could do. If I confessed, I would be unemployed and kicked out of society like *them!* I chose to remain silent. I went up to my room to put on my suit. I began to get ready for my inauguration, when I heard a knock on the door. I answered it, only to find a man in a suit waiting for me.
"I am part of your new security detail Mr. President. I am here to escort you to the ceremony."
I guess this was going to be the rest of my life. I finished up my hair and we went on our way. In the car was the most deafening silence I had ever felt. My bodyguard gave me a look in the mirror, one of disgust, almost like he knew. I chose to ignore it. When I arrived I was quickly pulled away for the ceremony. The band played and the crowd went wild as I walked up to take the oath. Before we began, the Chief Justice whispered to me, "I know." I panicked and said the oath as best I could. I approached him after the ceremony. He only laughed and said in the most welcoming voice
"We've always known. It's why we chose you." | |
[WP] A group of American college-age brats are exploring Chernobyl despite the danger. They discover that there was no nuclear disaster. The international community faked it to cover up what was found there... | if watching security feeds was any less boring, roger wondered if boredom could cause heart attacks. he would have been fine though, the medical station was just down the hall and the initiative was careful for its employees healthcare, if nothing else. he switched views randomly, the screen flickering between rusted merry g-round, empty schoolhouses, and, a group of kids not far from an alpha zone?
roger suddenly sat up, typing and switching, rousing the rest of the initiative. his coworker burst in through the door, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. "im here whats the problem" he said. roger switched one of the screens, uncovering the dreaded find he had found.
the view was a shaky camera surveying mossy hallways, a voice not amiss from a frat party with a tankard truck of beer was saying "...so yeah guys, Chernobyl, shits spooky now. be sure to like that live-stream". bill sat on the chair beside roger, still bleary, he never woke up so smoothly. he said "wheres security?". roger said "still minutes away, he hit an opening in the patrol pattern by pure luck".
on the screen, the live-streams narrator was ordering two other students to pry off the boards from a blocked door. rogers heart-rate spiked sevenfold. the narrator said "aright bros, here we go". roger pushed the button to cut off the stream, but by then a light had been turned on, a view frozen on dusty metal pieces of alien angles, scribed with ruins, glowing at fixed points. and then those pieces twitched. | „Yo, Brad, give me another can, will you?” asked Jeremy. Brad tossed him one of his cans from a six-pack of some Ukrainian beer they bought for cheap at the last town before the “Chernobyl Exclusion Zone”. They’d parked their car 2 miles from the zone and started walking through a dark forest towards the forbidden area.
“I read there’s military guarding the place” slurred Ben rubbing his eyes before taking a hit from an obscure bottle of liquor labeled “горілка“.
“No risk, no fun, Ben. What’s the point coming all the way to Eastern Europe without banging a bunch of chicks and trying to sneak into Chernobyl?” Jeremy and Brad clinked their beer cans feeling pretty irresistible.
“You think there’re gonna be like mutant ninja turtles with glowing eyes and shit?” Their laughter was cut short by the sight of a huge blazing fire in the distance.
“Fuck dude, what is that?” asked Jeremy.
“I think we’re here. Look ,there’s someone burning something,” They could make out a broken chain-link fence behind which they saw this huge bonfire, “Fuck, there are people! Let’s get out of here”, Ben said. But Brad was already near the fence attempting to crawl through a big tear in it.
“Come, I wanna see what’s going on there!” he called the other two. Jeremy took a big gulp from his beer, tossed the can, and beat his chest like a derailed Matthew McConaughey, „Mmmmm, mmmmm”. Ben mumbled some obscenities and followed his friends through the fence.
As they approached the fire they saw several shadowy figures standing around it.
“See, told you it’s safe. There are people having a party. In fucking Chernobyl! Let’s go!” said Brad and walked towards the huge bonfire.
“HALT!” a harsh voice interrupted their laughter. The shadowy man stepped into the light revealing a middle aged man with a hipster hair cut and a very offensive mustache.
“Heil Hitler!” Jeremy laughed feeling pretty smug about his funny reference.
“Heil!” the man saluted back.
“What’s going on over there?! ” a heavy man approached. He had a think Russian accent and a bushy beard completely out of fashion.
“Dude, I think I drank too much, I thought I just saw this man coming out of the flames!” Ben whispered to his friends.
“Me, too”, Brad whispered back.
“Salafists again, I guess. They never realize there are no 72 virgins and keep running around the zone," the less mustachioed man said.
“Only 72 ounces of vodka, my friends" said the heavy man. He then hugged three very puzzled, drunk Americans and took them back to the flames of hell.
| |
[WP] In the future, people can pay for injections that can stop the aging process. Due to this newly found longevity, prisoners who have committed grave acts of crime are also being given injections, to serve their full sentences which can last for hundreds of years | I'm sure you, too, would find it hard having to spend 235 years in prison for a crime you did not commit. They said I was the one who burnt the house; they said I was the one who made the little ones scream; they said the evidence was unequivocal; they said the evidence matched my fingerprints on the oil canister, and on the lit out match, as if that level of arson could leave any trace of DNA. No, I did not kill all those people, but what power do I have over a judge who spends twenty minutes deciding the rest of my life? No matter, I thought to myself, I'd be dead before those 235 years. Sure I'd be incarcerated in a cell filled with other delinquents and psychopaths, but I could not fathom spending 235 years in the same cell, with such cruel humans, and such hatred.
That was 150 years ago. 150 years ago I entered this cell. 150 years ago the mould above my head was but an inch, but now it's encompassed the room. I walk on the same green substance I would stare at every night before falling asleep in that rotten piece of shit you call a bed. Hell, I've slept on cardboard that has been arguably softer. They say this mould shit makes you go mad if you breathe too much of it; at least that's what they told me. Fuck it, I probably lost my mind a long time ago. I bet you wanna know about my past? How I got here? Who I was before I entered this shithole I've called home for so long. Well, I'd be more than happy, too, except that I can't remember who I am, where I'm from, or even what I am. Hell, the last time i saw a person of the other sex was sixty years ago, it was the last thought I had before going to bed; now I can't even remember what they look like.
The earliest thing I can recall was the day my face was plunged into a crapper filled with, you guessed it, shit. That fat fuck Mike tried shoving it down my throat, but I held my breath as long as I could until I cracked his arm. That didn't help the situation. He and his 'goons' raped me that night. I'll never forget it. I'll never forget that moment because that was the night I tied a noose around my neck and hung myself. I bet you're wondering "oh, but how are you alive right now?" Well, you know that shit they inject you with? Yeah, it brings you back to life as if nothing happened. Oh, you thought it only stopped ageing? Hah! If that were the case I'd guarantee this prison would be just one massive coffin. No, it brings you back to life, because that is the ultimate form of punishment; that is hell, the continuous reminder of why you're stuck in a jail cell having to face the same harsh reality as everyone else, except I'm not guilty.
Everyone else here admits that they are guilty, it's part of the psychological effects from the drugs; your memories fade but all you can remember is a repetition of the crime. That's why I know I'm not guilty, because i never lived the crime. That's why my only memories are of my time in jail. Oh, i've spoken to the psychiatrist and the warden, but they always say the same thing - the evidence is irrefutable. Hell, I am the evidence that disproves the evidence! No matter, in another 85 years the world will regret my incarceration, the system will breed a criminal. It's no wonder crime is at a record high, all the fucking criminals are still alive running wild, but what do the fat cats give a shit when they're sitting on a wad of cash. Fuck, what I'd do to smell money again. it's okay, you and I will achieve this together, right buddy. We only have each other now. Isn't that right, buddy?
"Come on Prisoner 14958, it's time for your medication."
Yeah, that's right. Just you and me, buddy... Just you.. And me.. | 456 years. That was my sentence. No chance of parole. Back then, before the shots, it was a laughable sentence. Who lives 456 years? But now? Well, now, I have something too look for. I get out in 15 years, I finally get to escape this cement hellhole. When you've lived for over 400 years, 15 feels like a months time.
I've done questionable things to survive. Did Old Jeremiah really need to get stabbed in the back of the head? Not necessarily, but how else was I supposed to show everyone I'm not a pushover. I mean, he honestly deserved it. It's not my fault he stole my toothbrush. I liked that toothbrush. I remember, the warm blood spilling over my pale, white hands after I quickly jabbed him in the back of his neck with a sharpened piece of wood. I dropped the shiv and ran away, before I could be seen. I was never charged, but everyone knew it was me. The guards could care less in all honesty, Old Jerry wasn't the most well liked fella. The rush I got though. Oh god, that lasted me for weeks. I hadn't felt that good since I was first arrested.
Again, the first time it wasn't my fault. She cheated on me, she deserved it? When the cold steel entered that dirty, lying, whore's neck, I swear I smiled. But that's irrelevant. All that matters is that I'm here now, and getting out soon. Only 15 years. 15 years.
I walked over to the ledge, grabbing the cold metal railing with my sweaty palms. I eyed the guards across the hall, and the other inmates in their cells, doing nothing. I thought back to the times I've had here, and all the people I've met. All the guys that have come and gone. Some I've liked, some I've hated. I slowly looked over the railing, and a thought entered my mind. I climbed over the railing, and noticed one of the short guards dressed in navy talking into his walkie-talkie. I winked at him, before staring back at the ground. A shallow smile crept across my face.
I jumped. | |
Doesn't have to be a war, we don't even have to fight the rulers/leaders, they don't have to be sinister. Just thought hyper likable aliens could be more interesting than generic bad aliens.
Oh and the hyper evolved attributes don't have to be physical. They can be a sense of justice, comedic timing, guesstimation, tendency for epiphany/eureka moments, hurting others feelings/cutting insults etc.
Edit: Interesting responses but I didn't mean the likability *had* to be from some physical characteristic. I was imagining creatures that could pinpoint what we liked, say games, strong work ethic, old fashioned meals, inappropriate jokes, 90's television, interpretive dance, whatever and they'd be able to act like someone we'd think are exceptionally likable. | [WP] Every species in the galaxy has hyperevolved one attribute on top of intelligence. The (sinister?) rulers of the galaxy evolved hyper likability. Humans enter the galactic stage. What happens? | All species have a hat, a hat of characterization that came with the evolution of their species. For the Quan, it was likability, everyone likes them, they are a bunch of cheery and friendly people that everyone in the whole galaxy trusts implicitly, which is why they are trusted to rule the Galactic Confederation. There is the Candaari, who came into the galaxy with a harsh and objective view of justice, making them perfect for controlling the judicial arm of the Galactic Confederation. The Vneer are great gourmets, and can make anything into a delicious meal, they travel the universe seeking new ingredients and spices. And then there is the humans.
The humans were a very shy race, rarely seen outside of their systems and when seen, usually clad in bulky suits that kept their form secret. But humanity did not evolve with great secrecy, just an above average level. But their hat was revealed when the human senator entered the Galactic Senate for the first time. The entrance of the human was met with a deafening cry: ''*IT IS SO CUTE!*'', and the senator was promptly hugged, petted and brushed, much against his will, by a number of Velnors, a species of extremely honest and jovial creatures. After he was released, everyone took pictures of him and put him up on the Galactic Extranet, and within hours the network was screaming for more pictures of adorable, hug-able, lovely humans.
Photographers swarmed the human borders, desperate to see another human, and when an envoy was sent from the human's central government, the galaxy found that it was even cuter than the other. Everyone wanted to meet the humans, they were the most adorable things that anyone could possibly imagine. Some humans, with strange tastes, went out for the sake of human-xeno relations and became ''public humans'' in order to spread the influence and reach of the human race. It worked perfectly. Originally they were just supposed to be a form of envoys or ambassadors between the galaxy and humanity, but they soon became a great tool for diplomacy.
Who could resist giving a ridiculously good deal when the human rolled over and made huge eyes at you? Who could seriously go to war when the humans asked prettily for them not to? Humans were just too cute to refuse, for humans produce the effect in aliens that kittens have on humans, just magnified tenfold. And humans, being humans, are experts in exploiting this to the fullest. | For millenia the universe was ruled by the sinister race of aliens. Everybody knew what was going on, but nobody could fight them or resist their invasion - so cute they were.
But then humans have discovered the space travel, and the reign was over. Every race has a huperevolved attribute, and humans had developed the most brutal of all - the tendency for conflict and destruction.
After hundreds of years of destroying our own environment, killing each other, making the cutest animals suffer and die, we've developed the immunity to cutness and compassion.
The alien-master-race wasn't that powerful, it relied on kindness and niceness of other species to rule, so it was incredibly easy for humans to overthrow.
And that is how the most horrifying and brutal race in the galaxy turned out to be it's savior. |
[WP] The protagonist is slowly turning to the dark side and you are the only one who has noticed. You are the antagonist. | It was depressing. It really was.
I mean, you spend years training to be a megalomaniac necromancer of immense power, you summon demons to shrive the souls of men, you slaughter villages, sparing neither women nor babe...
And you find out there are worse things in the world. You find out good can be oh so much more evil than you.
I got into necromancy for all the right reasons, and being an intrinsically evil trade they were therefore the wrong reasons. Power, wealth, infamy, knowledge beyond the reck of man. And girls of course. Never underestimate how heady an aphrodisiac power could be, nor the slimming qualities of a good black robe. I'd spread my influence across the land like a ravaging plague, or at least like a big blot of ink on your favourite white shirt. The one you wore for special occasions. And it had been great. Tributes had flowed across the land to me, carefully penned letters asked me please would I stop, and life was good. Or bad perhaps, depends on your point of view.
Ah, there was the rub. They say good and evil are two sides of the same coin. And that was the way things should be. But when one side bleeds into another, you end up with a horrible topological nightmare. And something far worse than I could have ever imagined.
Let me tell you about the Templar Sigurd. A good and holy man, imbued by the gods with the strength to combat and overcome darkness. We'd battled many times over the years. Sometimes, I came close to victory, only for one of his comrades to heroically sacrifice themselves, or a glint of sunlight would chance off his breastplate into my eyes, allowing his escape. And he'd come close himself, I'll give him that. Many times, my seemingly sincere promises of repentance (helped sometimes by a judicious amount of urine (don't judge, pant wetting falls under acceptable subterfuge in the inventory of any decent evil doer)) allowed my speedy exit from a summary execution.
Over the years, we went at it. Back and forth, and I admit, it was fun. There's no point in being evil unless you know you're having an effect. And Sigurd was the perfect foil. Kind, virtuous, damn it he even had the long flowing locks, boyish good looks, and diamond blue eyes that any good evil doer could ever wish for in a adversary.
Good days. Or should I say bad days? Evil adjectives can get so tiresome at times.
And then it all came to an end. Maybe I'd overstretched my reach. Maybe I'd killed one to many of Sigurd's plucky sidekicks (but frankly, they were always piss. As far as I'm concerned, I was doing him a favour by killing them). Something snapped in Sigurd. The fires that had glittered behind those eyes died, replaced by a steely coldness.
He'd united the cities of the planes, enacted rules and regulations to protect the citizens against my foul advances. And they worked.
Oh, how they worked.
Over the years, the small empire he'd established had become prosperous and safe. And a nightmare.
Yes, I'd ravaged the lands. Yes, I'd killed men and cursed their progeny with tiny winkies. But I'd never stolen their souls.
Ok, tell a lie, I had done that a few times. The last time, I'd taken them and crafted them into a rather fetching kaftan. It was useless at keeping the cold out, but damn if it wasn't swanky as hell.
The point was, I'd never asked them to thank me. I'm the evil necromancer, it's my job, I don't need thanks, just tribute and terror.
But what Sigurd had created over the years...
They were safe. The were wealthy. Their immortal souls weren't woven into haute couture. But still they were dead. Their bodies moved, but their mind were no longer their own.
Sigurd had created gears of safety and order, and they ground the minds of the populace into grist. Occasionally there were those who spoke out against the new regime, but they were quickly silenced. For the greater good of course.
As I said, it was all so depressing. I'd tried to enslave humanity under my heel. Sigurd had shown me there was an easier way. Just get them to lay down, and put their own heels on their heads. | I turn, and strike the man in the face, backhand. He reels, but stays on his feet. Good, I can't have weakness in my camp.
"You're leading us in circles, idiot!"
"No," He pleads. "We haven't been here before."
"Then why is this town destroyed? We have been here, you just can't read a map. Give me that!"
I grab the map, and turn it to look. A red line marks our path, it bends quite a bit but doesn't appear to loop back on itself. That doesn't mean anything of course, we couldn't get a magic map. This is just ink on paper.
"You've messed up."
I hand him back the map.
"Find out where we are really, then-"
Shouting. We must be under attack, natural consequence of coming back somewhere we've been before. I run towards the noise. It's quieted down by the time I arrive though. Must not have been a very strong attack. A bunch of soldiers are bunched around an old man and some boys. There aren't any bodies on the ground, so they must have surrendered quickly. I wonder what they hoped to achieve.
The elder speaks first.
"Are you the one they call the Shadow?"
"Clearly."
He doesn't seem afraid. If anything, he brightens up when he hears my name. Usually they pale and try to flee. I've made sure to maintain my reputation. He's not done talking though.
"My lord, our village was destroyed by a man named Wrain. He named you as his enemy."
"So? Don't assume that I will be kind simply because you were hurt by some enemy of mine. I will take what I want from here."
"We want revenge against him. We want to join you."
He is waiting when I return.
"It seems you were lucky. This isn't one of ours."
"I know."
"Are you ever wrong?"
"No."
"Then you know who this Wrain is."
"He was a hero from one of the first villages you destroyed. The one you fought by the mountain, where you consumed that Precursor cache. He might make a good recruit."
"He sounds determined. He may be a hero in name, but he has given up that title to pursue me it seems."
"All the better, the ones who give up the most are the most loyal. His motivations are very similar to your own, if you bring him into your army he will be like a son to you. All he needs is a little encouragement."
"And you can provide that encouragement?"
"Yes. Send me to find him, and when we meet again I will have your greatest servant by my side. Other than me, of course."
"Don't bring him back here. Determination I can work with, but I remember him. There can only be one."
"Are you sure-"
"Yes. Turn him to me, then report back. I will decide what to do from there."
"That is not ideal-"
"It is final. Go."
That was odd, I usually end up caving when I argue with him. I guess he didn't have a logical argument for bringing him back without thinking. I'm getting the hang of having an adviser.
*****
Read more of my stories at /r/ghotioninabarrel | |
Well... | [WP] One day you notice you haven't seen any Hitler related writing prompts for a full hour at least. | The Fuhrer sits at his chair, his decrepit fingernails clacking hideously against the keys. "Mein Diener!" he yells. "Mein Diener! Mein servant, come at once!"
The young and perky aged care assistant spins around the corner. "Yes, Mr Hitler, what is it?"
"Where is mein prompt? On mein computer?" Hitler cries.
"Sorry, Hitler?" the assistant asks.
"Mein writing prompts! On reddit! 'Heil Heil Heil Hitler' they say. 'What if Mein Fuhrer was a cow?' they ask."
"Oh." Lucy, the assistant, shrugs. "Maybe they just got sick of you?"
Hitler bows his head. He peers at the screen with old, watery eyes. "Aber..." he mumbles. "Jag un press F5!"
"Mr Hitler, I don't understand German. You live in Hawaii, remember? In John Lennon's old house by the volcano?"
"I press F5," Hitler seethes. "No posts. Where arent mein Hitler stories?"
"Well, would you look at that? It's time for your sponge bath now, Mr Hitler."
Hitler cries into his floral sundress as he is slowly sponge bathed. "Karma," he mutters. "They will un get theirnt... Karma."
As Hitler fades from the earth into death's lonely embrace, Lucy refreshes the page. "Oh you've got one, Mr Hitler. Mr Hitler?" | This thread has been linked to from another place on reddit.
- [/r/writingpromptscirclej] [\[WPCJ\] One day you notice you haven't seen any Hitler related writing prompts for a full hour at least. Go.](https://np.reddit.com/r/WritingPromptsCircleJ/comments/355dfh/wpcj_one_day_you_notice_you_havent_seen_any/)
[](#footer)*^(If you follow any of the above links, respect the rules of reddit and don't vote.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger/wiki/) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose/?to=\/r\/TotesMessenger))*
[](#bot) |
Well... | [WP] One day you notice you haven't seen any Hitler related writing prompts for a full hour at least. | The Fuhrer sits at his chair, his decrepit fingernails clacking hideously against the keys. "Mein Diener!" he yells. "Mein Diener! Mein servant, come at once!"
The young and perky aged care assistant spins around the corner. "Yes, Mr Hitler, what is it?"
"Where is mein prompt? On mein computer?" Hitler cries.
"Sorry, Hitler?" the assistant asks.
"Mein writing prompts! On reddit! 'Heil Heil Heil Hitler' they say. 'What if Mein Fuhrer was a cow?' they ask."
"Oh." Lucy, the assistant, shrugs. "Maybe they just got sick of you?"
Hitler bows his head. He peers at the screen with old, watery eyes. "Aber..." he mumbles. "Jag un press F5!"
"Mr Hitler, I don't understand German. You live in Hawaii, remember? In John Lennon's old house by the volcano?"
"I press F5," Hitler seethes. "No posts. Where arent mein Hitler stories?"
"Well, would you look at that? It's time for your sponge bath now, Mr Hitler."
Hitler cries into his floral sundress as he is slowly sponge bathed. "Karma," he mutters. "They will un get theirnt... Karma."
As Hitler fades from the earth into death's lonely embrace, Lucy refreshes the page. "Oh you've got one, Mr Hitler. Mr Hitler?" | >One day you notice you haven't seen any Hitler related writing prompts for a full hour at least.
You look out of the window and see a large poster at the facade of the building across the street, celebrating Fuhrer's 125'th anniversary. |
Well... | [WP] One day you notice you haven't seen any Hitler related writing prompts for a full hour at least. | The Fuhrer sits at his chair, his decrepit fingernails clacking hideously against the keys. "Mein Diener!" he yells. "Mein Diener! Mein servant, come at once!"
The young and perky aged care assistant spins around the corner. "Yes, Mr Hitler, what is it?"
"Where is mein prompt? On mein computer?" Hitler cries.
"Sorry, Hitler?" the assistant asks.
"Mein writing prompts! On reddit! 'Heil Heil Heil Hitler' they say. 'What if Mein Fuhrer was a cow?' they ask."
"Oh." Lucy, the assistant, shrugs. "Maybe they just got sick of you?"
Hitler bows his head. He peers at the screen with old, watery eyes. "Aber..." he mumbles. "Jag un press F5!"
"Mr Hitler, I don't understand German. You live in Hawaii, remember? In John Lennon's old house by the volcano?"
"I press F5," Hitler seethes. "No posts. Where arent mein Hitler stories?"
"Well, would you look at that? It's time for your sponge bath now, Mr Hitler."
Hitler cries into his floral sundress as he is slowly sponge bathed. "Karma," he mutters. "They will un get theirnt... Karma."
As Hitler fades from the earth into death's lonely embrace, Lucy refreshes the page. "Oh you've got one, Mr Hitler. Mr Hitler?" | The room is stifling despite the aircon going at full blast. This many computers in one room will have that effect. Hundreds of people just hitting F5 repeatedly, searching frantically for one thing, and one thing only.
The huge countdown clock on the wall keeps counting down. 2 minutes. Perspiration is visible on the foreheads of the refreshers, and not just because of the heat. None of them could remember the time getting this low. Their keystrokes get faster, more intense. *There must be one soon! There has to be!*
Suddenly an alarm blares. One minute. Fifty-nine minutes have passed and not one Hitler writing prompt has been posted. I stand up from my desk, eyes scanning the room for someone, anyone, to tell me they've found one. Nothing. Another alarm. 30 seconds. I glance at the red phone. None of us ever thought it would be used. None of us really believed the prophecy. 10 seconds.
Zero. No alarm sounds in here this time, but sirens can be distantly heard above ground. Silence falls over the room and I notice all eyes are on me. My assistant, his hands trembling, picks up the red phone and passes it to me.
"Mr. President, I'm afraid it's happened. The day long foretold has come to pass. Yes sir, I'll take care of it."
The staff are all still staring. I tell them to go home. They might still have time to hold their families close before they die.
The only family I have is the bottle of Jack in my desk drawer, so I sit alone in the bunker, drinking myself into a stupor, as the sound of thousands of Mecha-Hitlers marching in lockstep through the streets above fills my ears... |
Well... | [WP] One day you notice you haven't seen any Hitler related writing prompts for a full hour at least. | The Fuhrer sits at his chair, his decrepit fingernails clacking hideously against the keys. "Mein Diener!" he yells. "Mein Diener! Mein servant, come at once!"
The young and perky aged care assistant spins around the corner. "Yes, Mr Hitler, what is it?"
"Where is mein prompt? On mein computer?" Hitler cries.
"Sorry, Hitler?" the assistant asks.
"Mein writing prompts! On reddit! 'Heil Heil Heil Hitler' they say. 'What if Mein Fuhrer was a cow?' they ask."
"Oh." Lucy, the assistant, shrugs. "Maybe they just got sick of you?"
Hitler bows his head. He peers at the screen with old, watery eyes. "Aber..." he mumbles. "Jag un press F5!"
"Mr Hitler, I don't understand German. You live in Hawaii, remember? In John Lennon's old house by the volcano?"
"I press F5," Hitler seethes. "No posts. Where arent mein Hitler stories?"
"Well, would you look at that? It's time for your sponge bath now, Mr Hitler."
Hitler cries into his floral sundress as he is slowly sponge bathed. "Karma," he mutters. "They will un get theirnt... Karma."
As Hitler fades from the earth into death's lonely embrace, Lucy refreshes the page. "Oh you've got one, Mr Hitler. Mr Hitler?" | It started like any other day. Yeah yeah, corny intro I know, but I'm here and you're not, so that makes it my story.
Which... You're not reading this... No one is.
I logged into reddit. The most recent Writing Prompt was this morning at 3 AM. The rest of reddit seemed... Dull. Posts about boring shit for a full 5 hours, between 3 AM when the last Writing Prompt was posted and 8 AM, when I woke up... I just realized, there hadn't been a Hitler post in over two days. Now was my chance! It was time to post the excerpt from my Hitler X Misty Pokemon Fanfiction!
It was time. All of Reddit was quiet. This was my moment, the entire Universe had stopped for me, to release my masterpiece! I grabbed a leftover donut from the kitchen, a week old cup of coffee, and sat at my desk, painstakingly checking my excerpt.
Finally, I reached the moment. *The* moment. This would change my life. I would have money, women, power! Hell I could probably buy a Time Machine and go back in time and kill Hitler... Scratch that, Butterfly Effect and what not.
It was time. I hit enter, and waited for the page to load...
And I waited. I made sure to copy and paste it, as not to lose it. Five minutes later of refreshing, the Internet went out. I checked my Router... No signal. Modem was virtually dead. Two minutes later the power went off, all my lights and rediculous number of power surges flipped off with a horrifying bzzst.
Well, might as well ask the neighbors if it's a power outage. I hadn't even looked outside, my curtains were closed.
I walked next-door to find a house devoid of people. If people were here once upon a time, it sure wasn't obvious. It was as if they had completely picked up after themselves and vanished. No clothes, no dirty dishes... These people were slobs, what the hell?!
I went back to my apartment to figure this out. Alright, cell phone... No service, unable to find data signal.
Luckily I had my laptop charged with a cloud save of my fanfiction. Hitler and Misty's romance would survive yet!
The laptop hummed to life, and I went outside to find a signal. Heh, now that there aren't as many distractions, I can actually work on my fanfiction... I only have one chapter left to complete, maybe an epilogue..
...I walked for days to find a signal. I gave up and began recreating my story, the pinnacle of artistic, creative writing, from a single, year old notepad. I had almost finished rebuilding the third chapter, when a familiar sound rung in my ear.
A sound of impending doom, and it was upon the exact millisecond that this sound rang, that I knew, all hope was lost.
The laptop was dying. I had left my power cord at home. And even then, the power grid was out.
This was it. My life's work, gone. No one would know of my genius..
Was there even anyone left?
I simply stared at the screen as the battery tried to recover by dimming the brightness, and ran a finger along the keyboard, one last time, as a tear rolled down my cheek, sweaty and red from looking for a signal in the hot sun for days without end.
"I had time now... It's not fair..."
I sometimes find an old keyboard or a dusty laptop... And I just let muscle memory take over, typing along the blank screen as if I were talking to a friend.
I found a type-writer, it's managing pretty well.
Honestly, this is all I have left. I don't know what I'd do if someth |
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