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[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | I am a fixer.
One who solves the world's problems, no matter how dirty the task may be. Taking down corrupt governments, destroying terrorist organizations from the inside out and the occasional helping a crying kid find his lost dog. In my quest to do so, I've developed this so-called "ability" to understand the power of an organization just by observing their headquarters. Many find this trait of mine to be some sort of physic ability but with my background and an eye for detail, it's more like a worker's intuition.
One day, I was walking down a small side street while on my vacation from Tuscany. I took a stab in the gut when hunting down a serial murder in the slums of Beijing. Careless on my part but I returned the favor with several bullet holes.
As I continued to walk, I found myself next to a quaint flower shop, selling the typical ornamental foliage, roses, daffodils and the like. As soon as I bent down to inspect them, wondering if I should grab some for the lovely receptionest girl at my hotel, I felt my heart freeze in place. Looking up, the place seemed indistinct from the other buildings around from it, but from the feeling I just felt in my gut, I know. This is the most powerful organization in the world.
Now, either this place has a hand at every damn flower purchase in the world or has enough nuclear firepower in its basement to destroy Earth 100 times over. With sweat trailing my forehead and a nervous smile creeping over my face, I walk in.
Beautiful flowers adorn every shelf and small seed packets are neatly organized along short stands. The surprise of the normalcy of this shop takes me aback. Am I losing my touch? No... no... no... there must be some kind of hidden secret to this place. As I slowly wander around, taking in the surroundings, I hear a cheerful voice greet me in Italian.
"Hello there sir, what can I do for ya today?" He asks me in a quiet but rough dialect.
"Oh, hello... I was just taking a look around."
"Let me know if you need anything." He responds with a beaming smile.
Standing behind the counter, a young boy at about 15 years with gray-white hair looks at me with kind eyes. His frail body barely looks like it can hold up a large pot and his work overalls are lacking any noticeable weapons. This feeling though... he's the reason why this shop is the number one in the world. This one small kid is more powerful than every armament, every expert assassin and without even trying, more powerful than me.
I sidle up next to the bench, lay my hand on it and ask for a bouquet of their prettiest flowers. The small kid gets to work and makes a wonderful display that he quietly hands me and with an exchange of cash, I find myself out of the store.
Walking back down the street I was going, I can't help but self-reflect. My goal is to become the strongest in the world, to never allow myself to lose to anyone and yet I can't even shape up to that kid. Maybe, I should quit... I've done enough, saved countless lives and done a lot of good in the world.
As these negative thoughts plague my mind, I notice a small card hidden among the bouquet I got from the shop. Opening it I find a simple message written in elegant writing.
"Keep up the hard work Mister F."
"Hahaha." A small chuckle escapes my lips as I realize my pointless rumination. That kid sure is something else, huh?
"I've still got a long way to go."
With flowers in hand, I make my way back to my hotel thinking about what my next job will be.
Author: Pistolero2314
(Criticism is welcome, I am very new to creative writing.) | I hadn't thought about finding number 1 for a few years now.
I had to bury that thought somewhere in the back of my mind.
Thinking about failing my duties in the CIA was too painful. They had given me one job to do: find the number 1 most powerful organization in the world.
They were mostly keen on the secret intelligence stuff, of course and I can't reveal any information on that. In other words, they wanted to know: where were the spies hiding out?
I had traveled to every single continent in search of this organization including Antarctica. I actually thought I had come close there to finding it. There was nothing on The McMurdo Station itself, that would've been in far too plain of sight, but I thought there was a meeting place in a snow cave- turned out there were just a bunch of penguins hanging out inside the semi-igloo. That was a disappointing report to bring back to the boss.
Anyways, they gave me two more shots. I thought I might've found the organization in Saudi Arabia in the town market. It was a dingy old stall and I found a stack of papers hanging around with official government seals on them- American and CIA stamps. They turned out to just be the shop owner's stack of approved Visas. By that point I knew I was running on thin ice and running out of time to find this all powerful organization.
Contrary to what one might think I tried to look in the somewhat run down and less thought of places. I had a gut- feeling this organization was not going to be in some world famous building like The White House or the Reichstag Building or the Kremlin. No, this organization was going to be hidden among the people.
Anyways, by this point I had one shot left. I thought I might've found something in Montreal- the basement of a French restaurant seemed to have some lofty papers laying about and suspicious people meandering about but no this was the third and final straw. I had failed a top secret security mission and was being let go.
So I put the thought behind me. Until now. I was on vacation with family in Tuscany and I was walking with my husband around one of the quaint city streets. We had just finished eating out and having a cup of wine and were feeling a light warm buzz course through our veins. My husband, Dennis, had pointed out the flower shop first.
"Let's go inside," He said. I took a look at the sign- an old faded out turquoise jade kind of color with the words *Tuscan Flowers* written on it in pure gold sent a familiar shiver down my spine. It was the kind of shiver I would only get when I thought I was coming unto a lead or getting closer to it. There was something about the gold that caught my eye and the sign. Underneath it there was some kind of highly detailed seal. There weren't that many orgs with gold seals around the world were they?
We went inside and sure enough I ended up discovering this was the place. I found stack and stacks of hidden information in the back of the desk once I had rung up the police. I still can't reveal to you what their mission is or their nationalities, but I can tell you I rest easy now knowing I've completed my duties. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | You ended up deciding to see what the big deal with the flower shop was.
You bought a flower one day and brought it back to your hotel room but it did not feel all that special.
You go home and stay there for a few years along with pressing the flower in a journal.
You have looked back and the question is still killing you why is it so special.
You go back and this time you see that they are hiring someone part time.
All or nothing
You take the job and still you can’t find what the answer is, the owner is this kind 30 ish year old looking man always reading a book.
You are working your hardest but you can’t find anything out of the ordinary. Your boss is nice and really loves to read but other then that it’s just your normal job.
Summer comes to a close.
You ask the boss if he will need help next year and the boss then asks if you want to stay full time. Your curiosity gets the better of you. You can’t help it.
You stay for one year and then two. You start getting board so you also start to become an avid reader. The boss says people don’t usually stay this long and that it’s nice to have some company.
You noticed that the boss sends out a few emails he says he’s just sending some social emails no big deal.
2 years turns into ten and you can’t find anything out of place so you think about quitting but you like selling flowers they smell nice.
You decide to go home for a visit see how the family’s doing. Everyone says that your looking great and they are all along with their lives. Your brother is married and he’s even expecting. You still kind of want to go back to your flowers.
20 years pass and now your well invested into selling flowers and reading tons of books but you still need to visit home as your mother is dying.
Your brother says that his son can pick you up from the airport and that he is so excited to see you after so long.
You wait for a while and get a call from your brother telling you that it seems his son could not find you and if you could tell him some identifiable traits. You tell him what your wearing and then your brother directs his son to pick you up.
His son says that he did not think you would look so young and that’s why he could not tell. He said that if he did not know better you would seem to be in your 30’s. You both laugh it off but it still feels a little off.
At your mothers death bed you sit with your family and you feel a little alienated which makes sense as you have been gone for so long but you still want to see your mother. You look at her and she is startled at your youth but embraces you afterwords. She died 5 days later.
After the procession you go back to your flowers and notice that your boss still looks like he is thirty ish which is weird being that you have worked their for 30 years.
In this time corporations have rose and fallen. Yet the flower shop is still number one. It does not feel weird anymore just normal. You have fallen in love with reading books and spend half of your day just reading.
40 years pass and now your brother is sick you decide to visit home one last time. His son picks you up again and he mentions that you have not changed a bit even though now the son is starting to get on his years.
Your brother says the same thing. You have not changed a bit similar situation to when your mom died. Now you see a lot of new faces in the family and a lot of old faces are gone. You think this is the last time your going to go home. You give a calling card to your nephew if he needs you and after the funeral you go back to the flower shop.
Your curiosity is killing your. You want to know why the shop is number one so you ask your boss if there is anything particularly special about this shop.
He tells you not really only that it has been around for a long time and that people sometimes call asking for advice.
It’s been a while and you have a visitor coming to see you. Apparently it’s your great grand nephew who found your calling card in his dead grandpas belongings. He wanted to know more about his dead grandpa but you don’t really know much. After all you only really knew your brother but you tell him what you knew.
The discussion turns to different things from stories to politics to physics. After talking with you he seems to have had a moment of inspiration and says he had to go home. He wants to talk to you again he says.
You did not see anything that relevant in what you said but 2 weeks later a paper which turned out to be revolutionary was published and you were one of the sources.
You boss looks over your shoulder and congratulated you on your first citation.
You finally start to understand why the flower shop is so important.
You ask your boss how old he is and he says that he might be around 500-600 years old.
One can’t read that many books and not learn something.
But in the end it’s just a small flower shop with some bookworms who answer questions.
The end. | I hadn't thought about finding number 1 for a few years now.
I had to bury that thought somewhere in the back of my mind.
Thinking about failing my duties in the CIA was too painful. They had given me one job to do: find the number 1 most powerful organization in the world.
They were mostly keen on the secret intelligence stuff, of course and I can't reveal any information on that. In other words, they wanted to know: where were the spies hiding out?
I had traveled to every single continent in search of this organization including Antarctica. I actually thought I had come close there to finding it. There was nothing on The McMurdo Station itself, that would've been in far too plain of sight, but I thought there was a meeting place in a snow cave- turned out there were just a bunch of penguins hanging out inside the semi-igloo. That was a disappointing report to bring back to the boss.
Anyways, they gave me two more shots. I thought I might've found the organization in Saudi Arabia in the town market. It was a dingy old stall and I found a stack of papers hanging around with official government seals on them- American and CIA stamps. They turned out to just be the shop owner's stack of approved Visas. By that point I knew I was running on thin ice and running out of time to find this all powerful organization.
Contrary to what one might think I tried to look in the somewhat run down and less thought of places. I had a gut- feeling this organization was not going to be in some world famous building like The White House or the Reichstag Building or the Kremlin. No, this organization was going to be hidden among the people.
Anyways, by this point I had one shot left. I thought I might've found something in Montreal- the basement of a French restaurant seemed to have some lofty papers laying about and suspicious people meandering about but no this was the third and final straw. I had failed a top secret security mission and was being let go.
So I put the thought behind me. Until now. I was on vacation with family in Tuscany and I was walking with my husband around one of the quaint city streets. We had just finished eating out and having a cup of wine and were feeling a light warm buzz course through our veins. My husband, Dennis, had pointed out the flower shop first.
"Let's go inside," He said. I took a look at the sign- an old faded out turquoise jade kind of color with the words *Tuscan Flowers* written on it in pure gold sent a familiar shiver down my spine. It was the kind of shiver I would only get when I thought I was coming unto a lead or getting closer to it. There was something about the gold that caught my eye and the sign. Underneath it there was some kind of highly detailed seal. There weren't that many orgs with gold seals around the world were they?
We went inside and sure enough I ended up discovering this was the place. I found stack and stacks of hidden information in the back of the desk once I had rung up the police. I still can't reveal to you what their mission is or their nationalities, but I can tell you I rest easy now knowing I've completed my duties. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | I am a fixer.
One who solves the world's problems, no matter how dirty the task may be. Taking down corrupt governments, destroying terrorist organizations from the inside out and the occasional helping a crying kid find his lost dog. In my quest to do so, I've developed this so-called "ability" to understand the power of an organization just by observing their headquarters. Many find this trait of mine to be some sort of physic ability but with my background and an eye for detail, it's more like a worker's intuition.
One day, I was walking down a small side street while on my vacation from Tuscany. I took a stab in the gut when hunting down a serial murder in the slums of Beijing. Careless on my part but I returned the favor with several bullet holes.
As I continued to walk, I found myself next to a quaint flower shop, selling the typical ornamental foliage, roses, daffodils and the like. As soon as I bent down to inspect them, wondering if I should grab some for the lovely receptionest girl at my hotel, I felt my heart freeze in place. Looking up, the place seemed indistinct from the other buildings around from it, but from the feeling I just felt in my gut, I know. This is the most powerful organization in the world.
Now, either this place has a hand at every damn flower purchase in the world or has enough nuclear firepower in its basement to destroy Earth 100 times over. With sweat trailing my forehead and a nervous smile creeping over my face, I walk in.
Beautiful flowers adorn every shelf and small seed packets are neatly organized along short stands. The surprise of the normalcy of this shop takes me aback. Am I losing my touch? No... no... no... there must be some kind of hidden secret to this place. As I slowly wander around, taking in the surroundings, I hear a cheerful voice greet me in Italian.
"Hello there sir, what can I do for ya today?" He asks me in a quiet but rough dialect.
"Oh, hello... I was just taking a look around."
"Let me know if you need anything." He responds with a beaming smile.
Standing behind the counter, a young boy at about 15 years with gray-white hair looks at me with kind eyes. His frail body barely looks like it can hold up a large pot and his work overalls are lacking any noticeable weapons. This feeling though... he's the reason why this shop is the number one in the world. This one small kid is more powerful than every armament, every expert assassin and without even trying, more powerful than me.
I sidle up next to the bench, lay my hand on it and ask for a bouquet of their prettiest flowers. The small kid gets to work and makes a wonderful display that he quietly hands me and with an exchange of cash, I find myself out of the store.
Walking back down the street I was going, I can't help but self-reflect. My goal is to become the strongest in the world, to never allow myself to lose to anyone and yet I can't even shape up to that kid. Maybe, I should quit... I've done enough, saved countless lives and done a lot of good in the world.
As these negative thoughts plague my mind, I notice a small card hidden among the bouquet I got from the shop. Opening it I find a simple message written in elegant writing.
"Keep up the hard work Mister F."
"Hahaha." A small chuckle escapes my lips as I realize my pointless rumination. That kid sure is something else, huh?
"I've still got a long way to go."
With flowers in hand, I make my way back to my hotel thinking about what my next job will be.
Author: Pistolero2314
(Criticism is welcome, I am very new to creative writing.) | Today, it is a new world.
The world has become slightly more equal.
I am certain of it.
But then... why do I feel so bad?
After finding out about my peculiar ability, I have been looking for months, travelling all over the world.
Some seats of power were obvious, others more well-hidden.
Never, however, was I able to find the real pinnacle, the varsity, the one percent of the one percent of the one percent.
Until yesterday, that is.
Yesterday I found it: The creature, the spider who has not only the governments entangled in her web, but plays their shadow governments as puppets on strings.
I had never expected to find it here, of all places. I actually had travelled to Italy in part as a vacation.
After all, I had been honing my skills for months on end. I needed the time to relax, destress. My search had been fruitful this far. I had found quite some organizations that seemed important, but the few times I tried to vanquish them, a new one always switfly stepped in their place.
No, the only way to stop them for one and for all was to cut the head of the snake.
Never did I think that I would find this here, in Siena, Tuscany, not further than two minutes walking from the Piazza del Campo, did fate finally struck.
Disguised as a small flowershop, the organization presented itself. "Il Picollo Fiore", _the little flower_, the sign on the entrance of the tiny storefront that was packed in the middle of two other, much larger and modern stores, proclaimed.
I cased the place for a couple of minutes. It seemed tranquil, mundane, even. But there was no mistaking it. The number never lies.
A feeling of exhilaration swept through my body.
I rushed in, and was greeted by a short, somewhat portly woman of middle age. She flashed me a big grin. Her vile eyes twinkled at me, as she spoke a greeting in Italian.
I did not leave any element of the situation to chance. I rushed in and stuck my butterfly knife right between her 2nd and 3rd rib, deep into her heart. She was wearing a name tag with the text "Bianca", which was slightly splattered as the blood spewed forth.
This agent, whose real name with high probablility was not Bianca at all, had no time to react to anything that happened. She attempts to stabilize herself by grabbing at the stalls near where she stands. She grabs hold of a sign that was attached to one of the racks, but it does not help at all to hold her upright.
As she slumped to the floor, I was already rushing on, ready to counter any reaction of the organization's security protocols.
However, nothing happened.
I stood there, breathing heavily, for more than a minute.
No reaction from within the building. Also, none of the few tourists that made their way through the city on this fall day seem have noticed anything happening.
I came to my senses, and walked back outside. As I turned around I was delighted: The number, the big bright red '1' that I had seen floating above the building before, had gone. She had been the spider, the kingpin. The sole person on top. I am sure.
Now I am back inside my hotel room.
Looking back, it seems almost like a dream. I am delighted, but also scared.
Was she really dead? Why hadn't I seen anything about it on the news?
How long will it take for the people that want to take me me back to the asylum to trace my latest steps?
Hah! I havn't taken their 'medicine' in months, so they will never be able to comprehend the thoughts of my awakened mind.
On the other hand, it does not matter anymore. Even if they take me back, my life's goal is complete: The work that I started all those months ago when I first broke out,
when I first started to see the numbers.
It is done now.
Nothing can turn it back. With the vileness banished and destroyed, a new, better world order will finally take place.
I grin, and as I leave my hotelroom I close my eyes and with my mind's eye look back one more time.
The woman, lying there, in the middle of the flowers, colored crimson. Unmoving, dead. In her left hand, holding the sign that she grabbed as she slumped down, stating some unimportant flower name: "Nontiscordardimé"... | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | You ended up deciding to see what the big deal with the flower shop was.
You bought a flower one day and brought it back to your hotel room but it did not feel all that special.
You go home and stay there for a few years along with pressing the flower in a journal.
You have looked back and the question is still killing you why is it so special.
You go back and this time you see that they are hiring someone part time.
All or nothing
You take the job and still you can’t find what the answer is, the owner is this kind 30 ish year old looking man always reading a book.
You are working your hardest but you can’t find anything out of the ordinary. Your boss is nice and really loves to read but other then that it’s just your normal job.
Summer comes to a close.
You ask the boss if he will need help next year and the boss then asks if you want to stay full time. Your curiosity gets the better of you. You can’t help it.
You stay for one year and then two. You start getting board so you also start to become an avid reader. The boss says people don’t usually stay this long and that it’s nice to have some company.
You noticed that the boss sends out a few emails he says he’s just sending some social emails no big deal.
2 years turns into ten and you can’t find anything out of place so you think about quitting but you like selling flowers they smell nice.
You decide to go home for a visit see how the family’s doing. Everyone says that your looking great and they are all along with their lives. Your brother is married and he’s even expecting. You still kind of want to go back to your flowers.
20 years pass and now your well invested into selling flowers and reading tons of books but you still need to visit home as your mother is dying.
Your brother says that his son can pick you up from the airport and that he is so excited to see you after so long.
You wait for a while and get a call from your brother telling you that it seems his son could not find you and if you could tell him some identifiable traits. You tell him what your wearing and then your brother directs his son to pick you up.
His son says that he did not think you would look so young and that’s why he could not tell. He said that if he did not know better you would seem to be in your 30’s. You both laugh it off but it still feels a little off.
At your mothers death bed you sit with your family and you feel a little alienated which makes sense as you have been gone for so long but you still want to see your mother. You look at her and she is startled at your youth but embraces you afterwords. She died 5 days later.
After the procession you go back to your flowers and notice that your boss still looks like he is thirty ish which is weird being that you have worked their for 30 years.
In this time corporations have rose and fallen. Yet the flower shop is still number one. It does not feel weird anymore just normal. You have fallen in love with reading books and spend half of your day just reading.
40 years pass and now your brother is sick you decide to visit home one last time. His son picks you up again and he mentions that you have not changed a bit even though now the son is starting to get on his years.
Your brother says the same thing. You have not changed a bit similar situation to when your mom died. Now you see a lot of new faces in the family and a lot of old faces are gone. You think this is the last time your going to go home. You give a calling card to your nephew if he needs you and after the funeral you go back to the flower shop.
Your curiosity is killing your. You want to know why the shop is number one so you ask your boss if there is anything particularly special about this shop.
He tells you not really only that it has been around for a long time and that people sometimes call asking for advice.
It’s been a while and you have a visitor coming to see you. Apparently it’s your great grand nephew who found your calling card in his dead grandpas belongings. He wanted to know more about his dead grandpa but you don’t really know much. After all you only really knew your brother but you tell him what you knew.
The discussion turns to different things from stories to politics to physics. After talking with you he seems to have had a moment of inspiration and says he had to go home. He wants to talk to you again he says.
You did not see anything that relevant in what you said but 2 weeks later a paper which turned out to be revolutionary was published and you were one of the sources.
You boss looks over your shoulder and congratulated you on your first citation.
You finally start to understand why the flower shop is so important.
You ask your boss how old he is and he says that he might be around 500-600 years old.
One can’t read that many books and not learn something.
But in the end it’s just a small flower shop with some bookworms who answer questions.
The end. | Today, it is a new world.
The world has become slightly more equal.
I am certain of it.
But then... why do I feel so bad?
After finding out about my peculiar ability, I have been looking for months, travelling all over the world.
Some seats of power were obvious, others more well-hidden.
Never, however, was I able to find the real pinnacle, the varsity, the one percent of the one percent of the one percent.
Until yesterday, that is.
Yesterday I found it: The creature, the spider who has not only the governments entangled in her web, but plays their shadow governments as puppets on strings.
I had never expected to find it here, of all places. I actually had travelled to Italy in part as a vacation.
After all, I had been honing my skills for months on end. I needed the time to relax, destress. My search had been fruitful this far. I had found quite some organizations that seemed important, but the few times I tried to vanquish them, a new one always switfly stepped in their place.
No, the only way to stop them for one and for all was to cut the head of the snake.
Never did I think that I would find this here, in Siena, Tuscany, not further than two minutes walking from the Piazza del Campo, did fate finally struck.
Disguised as a small flowershop, the organization presented itself. "Il Picollo Fiore", _the little flower_, the sign on the entrance of the tiny storefront that was packed in the middle of two other, much larger and modern stores, proclaimed.
I cased the place for a couple of minutes. It seemed tranquil, mundane, even. But there was no mistaking it. The number never lies.
A feeling of exhilaration swept through my body.
I rushed in, and was greeted by a short, somewhat portly woman of middle age. She flashed me a big grin. Her vile eyes twinkled at me, as she spoke a greeting in Italian.
I did not leave any element of the situation to chance. I rushed in and stuck my butterfly knife right between her 2nd and 3rd rib, deep into her heart. She was wearing a name tag with the text "Bianca", which was slightly splattered as the blood spewed forth.
This agent, whose real name with high probablility was not Bianca at all, had no time to react to anything that happened. She attempts to stabilize herself by grabbing at the stalls near where she stands. She grabs hold of a sign that was attached to one of the racks, but it does not help at all to hold her upright.
As she slumped to the floor, I was already rushing on, ready to counter any reaction of the organization's security protocols.
However, nothing happened.
I stood there, breathing heavily, for more than a minute.
No reaction from within the building. Also, none of the few tourists that made their way through the city on this fall day seem have noticed anything happening.
I came to my senses, and walked back outside. As I turned around I was delighted: The number, the big bright red '1' that I had seen floating above the building before, had gone. She had been the spider, the kingpin. The sole person on top. I am sure.
Now I am back inside my hotel room.
Looking back, it seems almost like a dream. I am delighted, but also scared.
Was she really dead? Why hadn't I seen anything about it on the news?
How long will it take for the people that want to take me me back to the asylum to trace my latest steps?
Hah! I havn't taken their 'medicine' in months, so they will never be able to comprehend the thoughts of my awakened mind.
On the other hand, it does not matter anymore. Even if they take me back, my life's goal is complete: The work that I started all those months ago when I first broke out,
when I first started to see the numbers.
It is done now.
Nothing can turn it back. With the vileness banished and destroyed, a new, better world order will finally take place.
I grin, and as I leave my hotelroom I close my eyes and with my mind's eye look back one more time.
The woman, lying there, in the middle of the flowers, colored crimson. Unmoving, dead. In her left hand, holding the sign that she grabbed as she slumped down, stating some unimportant flower name: "Nontiscordardimé"... | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | I am a fixer.
One who solves the world's problems, no matter how dirty the task may be. Taking down corrupt governments, destroying terrorist organizations from the inside out and the occasional helping a crying kid find his lost dog. In my quest to do so, I've developed this so-called "ability" to understand the power of an organization just by observing their headquarters. Many find this trait of mine to be some sort of physic ability but with my background and an eye for detail, it's more like a worker's intuition.
One day, I was walking down a small side street while on my vacation from Tuscany. I took a stab in the gut when hunting down a serial murder in the slums of Beijing. Careless on my part but I returned the favor with several bullet holes.
As I continued to walk, I found myself next to a quaint flower shop, selling the typical ornamental foliage, roses, daffodils and the like. As soon as I bent down to inspect them, wondering if I should grab some for the lovely receptionest girl at my hotel, I felt my heart freeze in place. Looking up, the place seemed indistinct from the other buildings around from it, but from the feeling I just felt in my gut, I know. This is the most powerful organization in the world.
Now, either this place has a hand at every damn flower purchase in the world or has enough nuclear firepower in its basement to destroy Earth 100 times over. With sweat trailing my forehead and a nervous smile creeping over my face, I walk in.
Beautiful flowers adorn every shelf and small seed packets are neatly organized along short stands. The surprise of the normalcy of this shop takes me aback. Am I losing my touch? No... no... no... there must be some kind of hidden secret to this place. As I slowly wander around, taking in the surroundings, I hear a cheerful voice greet me in Italian.
"Hello there sir, what can I do for ya today?" He asks me in a quiet but rough dialect.
"Oh, hello... I was just taking a look around."
"Let me know if you need anything." He responds with a beaming smile.
Standing behind the counter, a young boy at about 15 years with gray-white hair looks at me with kind eyes. His frail body barely looks like it can hold up a large pot and his work overalls are lacking any noticeable weapons. This feeling though... he's the reason why this shop is the number one in the world. This one small kid is more powerful than every armament, every expert assassin and without even trying, more powerful than me.
I sidle up next to the bench, lay my hand on it and ask for a bouquet of their prettiest flowers. The small kid gets to work and makes a wonderful display that he quietly hands me and with an exchange of cash, I find myself out of the store.
Walking back down the street I was going, I can't help but self-reflect. My goal is to become the strongest in the world, to never allow myself to lose to anyone and yet I can't even shape up to that kid. Maybe, I should quit... I've done enough, saved countless lives and done a lot of good in the world.
As these negative thoughts plague my mind, I notice a small card hidden among the bouquet I got from the shop. Opening it I find a simple message written in elegant writing.
"Keep up the hard work Mister F."
"Hahaha." A small chuckle escapes my lips as I realize my pointless rumination. That kid sure is something else, huh?
"I've still got a long way to go."
With flowers in hand, I make my way back to my hotel thinking about what my next job will be.
Author: Pistolero2314
(Criticism is welcome, I am very new to creative writing.) | I'd given up my search a long time ago.
I eventually retired from my job at the CIA, where my skill came in handy, and moved far away from the noise and hustle of the city, to Italy. The most beautiful place in the world.
So, I bought a small, rustic house in the Italian countryside, in Fosdinovo, Tuscany. I didn't have a family or kids so life was fairly simple. Wake up, shower, go for a walk with Bosco (my golden retriever), walk around town by myself, have lunch, take a nap, have dinner, go to sleep.
I'd frequented most of the restaurants in the village by the time I'd hit the ten year mark of being a Fosdinovian. Hell, I'd frequented most of the stores too. But I never left Fosdinovo. Why should I? I'm too old to walk that far, and I don't own a car.
But one day, a restaurant owner whom I had become good friends with (and a loyal patron to) announced that she was getting married. I was so happy for her. I wanted to get her irises, her favourite flower, as congratulations.
But any Fosdinovian can tell you that in our small, snowy town, flowers are hard to come by. So for the first time in years, I arranged a taxi and drove out to the nearest flower shop.
First, let me tell you that I had given no thought to my ability ever since I retired. Yes, the numbers still popped up, and they were sometimes surprising (a ski rental shop in Fosdinovo is #391,867th!), but much like a stain on a pair of glasses, it faded into the background. There are so many more things to look at - we're in Italy, after all!
But it did no such thing when I exited the taxi and stared at this quaint flower shop. Its front walls were painted a pastel yellow, and it had small steps from the cobblestone path to the old, wooden door. It had plants outside, and a lantern above the door. It hardly looked like a flower shop.
But in big, white font, a number hung in the air.
*#1.*
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I rubbed my eyes and shook my head in utter disbelief. What? How could a flower shop in Tuscany possibly be the most powerful organisation in the world?!
Naturally, I went in. Tentatively, of course, but walking away was not an option. Oh, you have no idea how much I wish it had been.
That day, my life - my entire perception of the world and how it was run was changed forever. Irreversibly. Profoundly. My skill, it seemed, was leading to this very moment, culminating in a global scandal of proportions indescribable.
You see, that quaint little flower shop, tucked away in a small section of Tuscany, was the birthplace - and current headquarters of the fabled organisation that ran the world behind the scenes, unbeknownst to seven billion people, save a few dozen. And now me, of course.
It was the stuff of myth and ancient rumours, rooted in truth. And that little flower shop held its lifeblood.
The Illuminati.
And it would seem like I'd just found it. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | You ended up deciding to see what the big deal with the flower shop was.
You bought a flower one day and brought it back to your hotel room but it did not feel all that special.
You go home and stay there for a few years along with pressing the flower in a journal.
You have looked back and the question is still killing you why is it so special.
You go back and this time you see that they are hiring someone part time.
All or nothing
You take the job and still you can’t find what the answer is, the owner is this kind 30 ish year old looking man always reading a book.
You are working your hardest but you can’t find anything out of the ordinary. Your boss is nice and really loves to read but other then that it’s just your normal job.
Summer comes to a close.
You ask the boss if he will need help next year and the boss then asks if you want to stay full time. Your curiosity gets the better of you. You can’t help it.
You stay for one year and then two. You start getting board so you also start to become an avid reader. The boss says people don’t usually stay this long and that it’s nice to have some company.
You noticed that the boss sends out a few emails he says he’s just sending some social emails no big deal.
2 years turns into ten and you can’t find anything out of place so you think about quitting but you like selling flowers they smell nice.
You decide to go home for a visit see how the family’s doing. Everyone says that your looking great and they are all along with their lives. Your brother is married and he’s even expecting. You still kind of want to go back to your flowers.
20 years pass and now your well invested into selling flowers and reading tons of books but you still need to visit home as your mother is dying.
Your brother says that his son can pick you up from the airport and that he is so excited to see you after so long.
You wait for a while and get a call from your brother telling you that it seems his son could not find you and if you could tell him some identifiable traits. You tell him what your wearing and then your brother directs his son to pick you up.
His son says that he did not think you would look so young and that’s why he could not tell. He said that if he did not know better you would seem to be in your 30’s. You both laugh it off but it still feels a little off.
At your mothers death bed you sit with your family and you feel a little alienated which makes sense as you have been gone for so long but you still want to see your mother. You look at her and she is startled at your youth but embraces you afterwords. She died 5 days later.
After the procession you go back to your flowers and notice that your boss still looks like he is thirty ish which is weird being that you have worked their for 30 years.
In this time corporations have rose and fallen. Yet the flower shop is still number one. It does not feel weird anymore just normal. You have fallen in love with reading books and spend half of your day just reading.
40 years pass and now your brother is sick you decide to visit home one last time. His son picks you up again and he mentions that you have not changed a bit even though now the son is starting to get on his years.
Your brother says the same thing. You have not changed a bit similar situation to when your mom died. Now you see a lot of new faces in the family and a lot of old faces are gone. You think this is the last time your going to go home. You give a calling card to your nephew if he needs you and after the funeral you go back to the flower shop.
Your curiosity is killing your. You want to know why the shop is number one so you ask your boss if there is anything particularly special about this shop.
He tells you not really only that it has been around for a long time and that people sometimes call asking for advice.
It’s been a while and you have a visitor coming to see you. Apparently it’s your great grand nephew who found your calling card in his dead grandpas belongings. He wanted to know more about his dead grandpa but you don’t really know much. After all you only really knew your brother but you tell him what you knew.
The discussion turns to different things from stories to politics to physics. After talking with you he seems to have had a moment of inspiration and says he had to go home. He wants to talk to you again he says.
You did not see anything that relevant in what you said but 2 weeks later a paper which turned out to be revolutionary was published and you were one of the sources.
You boss looks over your shoulder and congratulated you on your first citation.
You finally start to understand why the flower shop is so important.
You ask your boss how old he is and he says that he might be around 500-600 years old.
One can’t read that many books and not learn something.
But in the end it’s just a small flower shop with some bookworms who answer questions.
The end. | I'd given up my search a long time ago.
I eventually retired from my job at the CIA, where my skill came in handy, and moved far away from the noise and hustle of the city, to Italy. The most beautiful place in the world.
So, I bought a small, rustic house in the Italian countryside, in Fosdinovo, Tuscany. I didn't have a family or kids so life was fairly simple. Wake up, shower, go for a walk with Bosco (my golden retriever), walk around town by myself, have lunch, take a nap, have dinner, go to sleep.
I'd frequented most of the restaurants in the village by the time I'd hit the ten year mark of being a Fosdinovian. Hell, I'd frequented most of the stores too. But I never left Fosdinovo. Why should I? I'm too old to walk that far, and I don't own a car.
But one day, a restaurant owner whom I had become good friends with (and a loyal patron to) announced that she was getting married. I was so happy for her. I wanted to get her irises, her favourite flower, as congratulations.
But any Fosdinovian can tell you that in our small, snowy town, flowers are hard to come by. So for the first time in years, I arranged a taxi and drove out to the nearest flower shop.
First, let me tell you that I had given no thought to my ability ever since I retired. Yes, the numbers still popped up, and they were sometimes surprising (a ski rental shop in Fosdinovo is #391,867th!), but much like a stain on a pair of glasses, it faded into the background. There are so many more things to look at - we're in Italy, after all!
But it did no such thing when I exited the taxi and stared at this quaint flower shop. Its front walls were painted a pastel yellow, and it had small steps from the cobblestone path to the old, wooden door. It had plants outside, and a lantern above the door. It hardly looked like a flower shop.
But in big, white font, a number hung in the air.
*#1.*
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I rubbed my eyes and shook my head in utter disbelief. What? How could a flower shop in Tuscany possibly be the most powerful organisation in the world?!
Naturally, I went in. Tentatively, of course, but walking away was not an option. Oh, you have no idea how much I wish it had been.
That day, my life - my entire perception of the world and how it was run was changed forever. Irreversibly. Profoundly. My skill, it seemed, was leading to this very moment, culminating in a global scandal of proportions indescribable.
You see, that quaint little flower shop, tucked away in a small section of Tuscany, was the birthplace - and current headquarters of the fabled organisation that ran the world behind the scenes, unbeknownst to seven billion people, save a few dozen. And now me, of course.
It was the stuff of myth and ancient rumours, rooted in truth. And that little flower shop held its lifeblood.
The Illuminati.
And it would seem like I'd just found it. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | "Huh..." That was all I could say, it was as bewildering a sight as any other. Just, pure awe had overtook me. I've seen it all, McDonalds, Chick-fil-a, Amazon, the works. But this? This is crazy! What sort of activities are carried out in this store that could fill such a role as the number one organization!
Looking back on it, it was more crazy of me to believe they were number one due to nefarious givings, but I digress. Regardless, I stowed my fear and entered the pleasant store. As I stepped in, all my worries melted away. It was a blessing of various chromas decorating the walls and tables, vibrant sights that emanated a calming aura. Alas, walking through the plethora of well-maintained brush and shrubbery, I saw him.
He was an old man, no younger than 50, no older than 60. I'll never forget the smile I saw him show flowering the brush of blue. It was... resigned, almost.
"Are you perhaps interested in the Hydrangeas?" His sudden speaking caught me off-guard, and quite frankly, I was taken aback by caution. He continued, looking at me with his thought-provoking smile, "They are our shop's specialty, after all."
I couldn't see it, regardless of what I felt, was this really the number one organization? "I... what is this place?" Particularly in this situation, my thoughts were hard to organize, but he didn't falter in answering.
"Hehehe, what kind of question is that? This is my flower shop, the Alluring Petal. Didn't you see the sign?" The old man boasted with a great laugh. For someone so old, he sure had some pep in his step...
He had more to say yet, "It's a relaxing feeling being here, is it not? Every sod that comes in here always has the same reaction. A lot of work has went into making this store amazing! I can't help but applaud it." To be frank, looking around, I wanted to applaud it, as well.
After that, he took me around the shop. Compared to looking at the outside of the store, it was quite spacious inside. I'd be lying if I said I remembered all the breeds of flower he showed me (Beside the obvious roses, poppys, daisies, etc.), but all roads led back to the Hydrangeas, the perfect, blue Hydrangeas.
...And that's when his resigned smile returned.
It took no genius to figure out that this was it, this was why his store was number one. But I wasn't satisfied with that conclusion, so it was time to investigate. I turned to the man and struck up a conversation.
"Is it just you here... uh..."
"Just call me Harlow, friend. Yes, I'm the sole boss, employee, janitor, and more."
"Must be tough, but the Hydrangeas sell well enough to be your specialty?"
"Oh... it's nothing like that, just a... personal love for them..."
That damn smile, that's what I remember thinking when I saw it rear it's head back. I'll admit, I was getting a bit impatient, I decided to get to the point and try and get the answer out of him.
"Harlow, why do you smile like that when you talk about the Hydrangeas?" A question, looking back on it, I don't regret asking, but at that moment, it was almost whiplash.
Harlow held his head down for a moment, sighed, then came back to looking at me, with more sorrow in his eyes, and the smile was infected with despair. "Perceptive, aren't you? If you are curious, then I'll let you in on it, it's not a happy story." I simply nodded, as the suspense silenced me.
"Alright then, don't go crying over it." His once great laughter had turned into a depressing chuckle. "Do you know the meaning behind hydrangeas? Of course not. Well, blue hydrangeas are apology flowers. And.. well, that's enough of that. Let's talk about me. I used to have a beautiful wife, she was a full-on botanist. Knew every flower under the sun. She loved these hydrangeas. I gave her these flowers when I proposed to her 32 years ago."
I already knew what was coming, it was unbearable to think of, but all I could do was listen, so I did. "About 4 years into the marriage, we opened this quaint little shop, she'd take wonderful care of all the flowers, but especially the hydrangeas. We made lots of smiles when people bought flowers for their honeys or such. We were honeys ourselves, though, and 4 more years in, we had a boy."
"It was 4 more years later that.. it happened. On October 29th, 19XX, my wife was down with the flu, as well as my boy. They stayed home while I went to tend tl the shop. It was slow anyways, I could've gone home anytime..."
It was ironic, as morbid as it is to say, that he was the one that started crying at this point. But he continued on nonetheless. "An armed fugitive being chased decided to take his buisness into... into my home... he held them hostage and... and after the police broke down the door, he spared... nobody."
I wanted to speak, I wanted to speak more than I ever wanted to in my entire life. But as my mouth opened, nothing came out. Nothing, I felt pathetic, worthless, but nothing could compare to what this old man was feeling right now.
After taking a breath, Harlow continued on. "I remember when I caught a glimpse of the scene... our home. The hydrangeas she had at home... the blood stained the leaves. So, now I take care of them, to the best of my ability. To me, they are my apology to her. But to others, they are still the beautiful damn flowers that'll make their honeys love them to death."
To summarize what happened after, only because I was dazed at the events that transpired, I solved the mystery. I knew why this store was the number one. It was more than profit or size, it was just... well, I can't put it into words, but I'm sure anyone could at least feel it.
I ended up buying a pot of Hydrangeas, brought them home to my girlfriend that I started cohabiting with earlier that year. As I put them near the window, she came over to see the gift I had brought home.
"Those are drop dead gorgeous, honey! Where'd you get them?" Was all she said, I don't know why that's what it took, but...
...To the old man out there, sorry, I ended up crying. | I'm not finished but I had to head into work and I wanted to drop this before the thread went cold.
I sat on the damp bench down the lane calmly eating my sack lunch. Peanut butter and jelly. (Grape if you must know.) It had become my habit of late so that I might gleam an answer or maybe a better question before making my move. It had been 4 months since I came across this enchanted old ruin. An old flower shop, though it looked as if it had had countless other occupants in it's past. Most of the original marble was gone but the trained eye might be able to gleam the original use. Sadly, my eyes weren't as well trained as others, however I knew from the start that this was it. Number One. I felt it in my bones as I had before when I happened upon Number Nine in Kyoto.
An old tea shop. It was the location where the soon to be eunuchs of the palace underwent their operation exchanging any pleasure or future offspring for a chance at power. It had evolved over time becoming a meeting place for the Shogun and other warlords. It had evolved again and again, but the blood of former mens' old sacrifices still lingered and the power held fast. I was able to stumble in as a lost tourist for that one. Honestly, I was lucky to have gotten out without losing my head on that one or my my manhood for that matter. I learned less than I would have liked to have before handing over the Intel. One thing I had learned is that with places like these, there is always old blood... And old blood loves company. As they say "blood will have blood." Even my own organization's power center was founded on blood. It is much younger blood, however as they say, frequent waterings can make up for a multitudes of sins.
I had a few options that I had been cultivating for my first go. First, was my new neighbour. A charming old nonnina whom had befriended me. Upon my arrival she welcomed me with a gift of a cube of salt the size of my hand, a warm loaf of Focaccia and a bottle of a young house wine followed by a kiss on the forehead. A gift of flowers to her would be welcome and not raise suspicion. My only problem with her that I can't get out of my head is that she was the one who approached me. I feel like with the situation that I am putting myself into I can't be too cautious. Then there was also the young woman I had met at one of the coffee bars on the piazza. I had seen her at least once a day there. We had flirted pretty regularly and a single bloom might be appropriate. Charming even... But, again it involved someone else. Anytime someone else is involved there is a greater risk. Lastly, was a day trip I had been mulling over to the Necropoli of Sovana. A respectful batch of flowers for those long passed would likely be greatly respected especially from an outsider. However, a gesture like that has the greatest likelihood of being perceived as inauthentic and that would truely be a death knell... I wasn't going to think about it. I couldn't. I had to just act. As I crossed the threshold and the little bell rang I thoughtlessly touched the rock of salt in my pocket. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | I am a fixer.
One who solves the world's problems, no matter how dirty the task may be. Taking down corrupt governments, destroying terrorist organizations from the inside out and the occasional helping a crying kid find his lost dog. In my quest to do so, I've developed this so-called "ability" to understand the power of an organization just by observing their headquarters. Many find this trait of mine to be some sort of physic ability but with my background and an eye for detail, it's more like a worker's intuition.
One day, I was walking down a small side street while on my vacation from Tuscany. I took a stab in the gut when hunting down a serial murder in the slums of Beijing. Careless on my part but I returned the favor with several bullet holes.
As I continued to walk, I found myself next to a quaint flower shop, selling the typical ornamental foliage, roses, daffodils and the like. As soon as I bent down to inspect them, wondering if I should grab some for the lovely receptionest girl at my hotel, I felt my heart freeze in place. Looking up, the place seemed indistinct from the other buildings around from it, but from the feeling I just felt in my gut, I know. This is the most powerful organization in the world.
Now, either this place has a hand at every damn flower purchase in the world or has enough nuclear firepower in its basement to destroy Earth 100 times over. With sweat trailing my forehead and a nervous smile creeping over my face, I walk in.
Beautiful flowers adorn every shelf and small seed packets are neatly organized along short stands. The surprise of the normalcy of this shop takes me aback. Am I losing my touch? No... no... no... there must be some kind of hidden secret to this place. As I slowly wander around, taking in the surroundings, I hear a cheerful voice greet me in Italian.
"Hello there sir, what can I do for ya today?" He asks me in a quiet but rough dialect.
"Oh, hello... I was just taking a look around."
"Let me know if you need anything." He responds with a beaming smile.
Standing behind the counter, a young boy at about 15 years with gray-white hair looks at me with kind eyes. His frail body barely looks like it can hold up a large pot and his work overalls are lacking any noticeable weapons. This feeling though... he's the reason why this shop is the number one in the world. This one small kid is more powerful than every armament, every expert assassin and without even trying, more powerful than me.
I sidle up next to the bench, lay my hand on it and ask for a bouquet of their prettiest flowers. The small kid gets to work and makes a wonderful display that he quietly hands me and with an exchange of cash, I find myself out of the store.
Walking back down the street I was going, I can't help but self-reflect. My goal is to become the strongest in the world, to never allow myself to lose to anyone and yet I can't even shape up to that kid. Maybe, I should quit... I've done enough, saved countless lives and done a lot of good in the world.
As these negative thoughts plague my mind, I notice a small card hidden among the bouquet I got from the shop. Opening it I find a simple message written in elegant writing.
"Keep up the hard work Mister F."
"Hahaha." A small chuckle escapes my lips as I realize my pointless rumination. That kid sure is something else, huh?
"I've still got a long way to go."
With flowers in hand, I make my way back to my hotel thinking about what my next job will be.
Author: Pistolero2314
(Criticism is welcome, I am very new to creative writing.) | I'm not finished but I had to head into work and I wanted to drop this before the thread went cold.
I sat on the damp bench down the lane calmly eating my sack lunch. Peanut butter and jelly. (Grape if you must know.) It had become my habit of late so that I might gleam an answer or maybe a better question before making my move. It had been 4 months since I came across this enchanted old ruin. An old flower shop, though it looked as if it had had countless other occupants in it's past. Most of the original marble was gone but the trained eye might be able to gleam the original use. Sadly, my eyes weren't as well trained as others, however I knew from the start that this was it. Number One. I felt it in my bones as I had before when I happened upon Number Nine in Kyoto.
An old tea shop. It was the location where the soon to be eunuchs of the palace underwent their operation exchanging any pleasure or future offspring for a chance at power. It had evolved over time becoming a meeting place for the Shogun and other warlords. It had evolved again and again, but the blood of former mens' old sacrifices still lingered and the power held fast. I was able to stumble in as a lost tourist for that one. Honestly, I was lucky to have gotten out without losing my head on that one or my my manhood for that matter. I learned less than I would have liked to have before handing over the Intel. One thing I had learned is that with places like these, there is always old blood... And old blood loves company. As they say "blood will have blood." Even my own organization's power center was founded on blood. It is much younger blood, however as they say, frequent waterings can make up for a multitudes of sins.
I had a few options that I had been cultivating for my first go. First, was my new neighbour. A charming old nonnina whom had befriended me. Upon my arrival she welcomed me with a gift of a cube of salt the size of my hand, a warm loaf of Focaccia and a bottle of a young house wine followed by a kiss on the forehead. A gift of flowers to her would be welcome and not raise suspicion. My only problem with her that I can't get out of my head is that she was the one who approached me. I feel like with the situation that I am putting myself into I can't be too cautious. Then there was also the young woman I had met at one of the coffee bars on the piazza. I had seen her at least once a day there. We had flirted pretty regularly and a single bloom might be appropriate. Charming even... But, again it involved someone else. Anytime someone else is involved there is a greater risk. Lastly, was a day trip I had been mulling over to the Necropoli of Sovana. A respectful batch of flowers for those long passed would likely be greatly respected especially from an outsider. However, a gesture like that has the greatest likelihood of being perceived as inauthentic and that would truely be a death knell... I wasn't going to think about it. I couldn't. I had to just act. As I crossed the threshold and the little bell rang I thoughtlessly touched the rock of salt in my pocket. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | You ended up deciding to see what the big deal with the flower shop was.
You bought a flower one day and brought it back to your hotel room but it did not feel all that special.
You go home and stay there for a few years along with pressing the flower in a journal.
You have looked back and the question is still killing you why is it so special.
You go back and this time you see that they are hiring someone part time.
All or nothing
You take the job and still you can’t find what the answer is, the owner is this kind 30 ish year old looking man always reading a book.
You are working your hardest but you can’t find anything out of the ordinary. Your boss is nice and really loves to read but other then that it’s just your normal job.
Summer comes to a close.
You ask the boss if he will need help next year and the boss then asks if you want to stay full time. Your curiosity gets the better of you. You can’t help it.
You stay for one year and then two. You start getting board so you also start to become an avid reader. The boss says people don’t usually stay this long and that it’s nice to have some company.
You noticed that the boss sends out a few emails he says he’s just sending some social emails no big deal.
2 years turns into ten and you can’t find anything out of place so you think about quitting but you like selling flowers they smell nice.
You decide to go home for a visit see how the family’s doing. Everyone says that your looking great and they are all along with their lives. Your brother is married and he’s even expecting. You still kind of want to go back to your flowers.
20 years pass and now your well invested into selling flowers and reading tons of books but you still need to visit home as your mother is dying.
Your brother says that his son can pick you up from the airport and that he is so excited to see you after so long.
You wait for a while and get a call from your brother telling you that it seems his son could not find you and if you could tell him some identifiable traits. You tell him what your wearing and then your brother directs his son to pick you up.
His son says that he did not think you would look so young and that’s why he could not tell. He said that if he did not know better you would seem to be in your 30’s. You both laugh it off but it still feels a little off.
At your mothers death bed you sit with your family and you feel a little alienated which makes sense as you have been gone for so long but you still want to see your mother. You look at her and she is startled at your youth but embraces you afterwords. She died 5 days later.
After the procession you go back to your flowers and notice that your boss still looks like he is thirty ish which is weird being that you have worked their for 30 years.
In this time corporations have rose and fallen. Yet the flower shop is still number one. It does not feel weird anymore just normal. You have fallen in love with reading books and spend half of your day just reading.
40 years pass and now your brother is sick you decide to visit home one last time. His son picks you up again and he mentions that you have not changed a bit even though now the son is starting to get on his years.
Your brother says the same thing. You have not changed a bit similar situation to when your mom died. Now you see a lot of new faces in the family and a lot of old faces are gone. You think this is the last time your going to go home. You give a calling card to your nephew if he needs you and after the funeral you go back to the flower shop.
Your curiosity is killing your. You want to know why the shop is number one so you ask your boss if there is anything particularly special about this shop.
He tells you not really only that it has been around for a long time and that people sometimes call asking for advice.
It’s been a while and you have a visitor coming to see you. Apparently it’s your great grand nephew who found your calling card in his dead grandpas belongings. He wanted to know more about his dead grandpa but you don’t really know much. After all you only really knew your brother but you tell him what you knew.
The discussion turns to different things from stories to politics to physics. After talking with you he seems to have had a moment of inspiration and says he had to go home. He wants to talk to you again he says.
You did not see anything that relevant in what you said but 2 weeks later a paper which turned out to be revolutionary was published and you were one of the sources.
You boss looks over your shoulder and congratulated you on your first citation.
You finally start to understand why the flower shop is so important.
You ask your boss how old he is and he says that he might be around 500-600 years old.
One can’t read that many books and not learn something.
But in the end it’s just a small flower shop with some bookworms who answer questions.
The end. | I'm not finished but I had to head into work and I wanted to drop this before the thread went cold.
I sat on the damp bench down the lane calmly eating my sack lunch. Peanut butter and jelly. (Grape if you must know.) It had become my habit of late so that I might gleam an answer or maybe a better question before making my move. It had been 4 months since I came across this enchanted old ruin. An old flower shop, though it looked as if it had had countless other occupants in it's past. Most of the original marble was gone but the trained eye might be able to gleam the original use. Sadly, my eyes weren't as well trained as others, however I knew from the start that this was it. Number One. I felt it in my bones as I had before when I happened upon Number Nine in Kyoto.
An old tea shop. It was the location where the soon to be eunuchs of the palace underwent their operation exchanging any pleasure or future offspring for a chance at power. It had evolved over time becoming a meeting place for the Shogun and other warlords. It had evolved again and again, but the blood of former mens' old sacrifices still lingered and the power held fast. I was able to stumble in as a lost tourist for that one. Honestly, I was lucky to have gotten out without losing my head on that one or my my manhood for that matter. I learned less than I would have liked to have before handing over the Intel. One thing I had learned is that with places like these, there is always old blood... And old blood loves company. As they say "blood will have blood." Even my own organization's power center was founded on blood. It is much younger blood, however as they say, frequent waterings can make up for a multitudes of sins.
I had a few options that I had been cultivating for my first go. First, was my new neighbour. A charming old nonnina whom had befriended me. Upon my arrival she welcomed me with a gift of a cube of salt the size of my hand, a warm loaf of Focaccia and a bottle of a young house wine followed by a kiss on the forehead. A gift of flowers to her would be welcome and not raise suspicion. My only problem with her that I can't get out of my head is that she was the one who approached me. I feel like with the situation that I am putting myself into I can't be too cautious. Then there was also the young woman I had met at one of the coffee bars on the piazza. I had seen her at least once a day there. We had flirted pretty regularly and a single bloom might be appropriate. Charming even... But, again it involved someone else. Anytime someone else is involved there is a greater risk. Lastly, was a day trip I had been mulling over to the Necropoli of Sovana. A respectful batch of flowers for those long passed would likely be greatly respected especially from an outsider. However, a gesture like that has the greatest likelihood of being perceived as inauthentic and that would truely be a death knell... I wasn't going to think about it. I couldn't. I had to just act. As I crossed the threshold and the little bell rang I thoughtlessly touched the rock of salt in my pocket. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | I’ve never submitted one of these prompts so give me some feedback!
“
I rush through the door and hear a bell chattering behind me. I come to a quick stop in the doorway and look around. The little shop is full of floral arrangements and there’s an old Italian couple browsing the styles. This is so confusing.
”Mi scusi, negoziante?” I call for the shopkeeper. A middle aged man walks out with a warm smile.
“Benvenuto! Sir, may I help you find anything?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could interview you. My name is Alexander, I’m a journalist at the New York Post, and we are including a segment on small businesses around the world. Do you have fifteen minutes?” I flash an attempt at a smile towards the gentleman and pray that the fear behind my eyes is invisible to him. The florist looks me over and evidently seems me worthy.
“Very well! My name is Luca. Come, come in. Join me in my office.”
“Thank you so much!”
We walk together through the winding paths between beautiful arrangements. I can’t help but be a little distracted by all these colors. I follow close behind Luca and try to take in as many details about the shop as I can. This is so confusing. Everything about this place is contradictory.
“Luca, how long has the flower shop been open?” I pat down my jacket, looking for a notepad. But since I’m not a real journalist, of course I don’t have one. Wow. That was smooth, Alex. Guess I’m “recording this on my phone”.
“Seventy,” he trails off, counting on his fingers, “seventy two years. My grandfather opened it when his fiancée’s parents would not let him marry her without a stable career. He found this warm little building and things fell into place. He’s passed on, as has my father. But the community is still here and as you can see, so are the flowers.”
“Wow. That’s beautiful.” I’m trying to analyze what he’s just told me, see if there’s some code but I need more information. “And, uh, what exactly do you bring to the community?”
Luca looks at me quizzically, unlocks the door to his office, and says, “Well, apart from flowers, I suppose we bring people love and happiness if that’s what you want to know.” He chuckles in a light, airy tone as he retreats to his desk.
“Oh, of course. What else could I have meant?”
This is getting me nowhere. Okay. Grow a pair and just tell him.
“Luca, I’m not a journalist. But I know something is going on here. I don’t know what it is exactly. But I know that you’re a man of influence. I have this…intuition. I can know how powerful a group is by seeing their headquarters or where they meet. And I had never found number one until today. Luca, why does my intuition say that your flower shop is the most powerful organization on earth?” I’ve never told anyone this. I probably sound crazy. I rightly grip the leather seat of the chair beneath me. Bracing for an answer.
Luca leans back in his chair and I can see him processing this new information.
“Well, Alex. I must say, I don’t appreciate being lied to. But if you already know so much, I suppose I’ll tell you more. My grandfather started this shop to be with the woman he loved. The city knew this. They supported their relationship so they flocked to the flowers he ordered. The people of Tuscany had little need for flowers in their home but it brought them such joy to support a good man who loved a good girl.”
I sit up towards the edge of my seat, “Please, I’m just asking for the truth.”
“What do you mean by this? I am telling you the story of this shop! Sit back. Listen. My grandfather was a good man. Kind. And the love of my grandparents inspired people. Nonna would cook for the kids who did not get enough at home. And Nonno would hire on young men and women who had nowhere else to go. Rejected from their homes because of religion or love or not wanting to take the family trade. This shop became a haven. And everyone knew that we provided the best arrangements in the city. Some of those men and women that worked here moved away. London, New York, Paris, Tokyo. Cities of influence. And they have opened their doors to those in need. My father continued this legacy. He began to organize teams to clean the streets and programs for the kids after school let out. We had enough that my father was able to give back to the city well. So, Alexander. This is power. Not brute strength. Influence. Power is a graceful being who is most present with those who remain humble. I can call any number of people in thirty countries and ask for a euro or a kidney and I know they’d be willing. I can ask the people of the city for a statue of my grandfather and they wouldn’t bat an eye. Do you understand?”
I stared at him, mouth slightly agape.
“I don’t run any secret drug rings. I don’t have an underground army. I have simply loved the people around me as my father and his father did. This is how you become a man of influence. Now, let me bring you home and make you dinner.”
Edit: added paragraph breaks | I'm not finished but I had to head into work and I wanted to drop this before the thread went cold.
I sat on the damp bench down the lane calmly eating my sack lunch. Peanut butter and jelly. (Grape if you must know.) It had become my habit of late so that I might gleam an answer or maybe a better question before making my move. It had been 4 months since I came across this enchanted old ruin. An old flower shop, though it looked as if it had had countless other occupants in it's past. Most of the original marble was gone but the trained eye might be able to gleam the original use. Sadly, my eyes weren't as well trained as others, however I knew from the start that this was it. Number One. I felt it in my bones as I had before when I happened upon Number Nine in Kyoto.
An old tea shop. It was the location where the soon to be eunuchs of the palace underwent their operation exchanging any pleasure or future offspring for a chance at power. It had evolved over time becoming a meeting place for the Shogun and other warlords. It had evolved again and again, but the blood of former mens' old sacrifices still lingered and the power held fast. I was able to stumble in as a lost tourist for that one. Honestly, I was lucky to have gotten out without losing my head on that one or my my manhood for that matter. I learned less than I would have liked to have before handing over the Intel. One thing I had learned is that with places like these, there is always old blood... And old blood loves company. As they say "blood will have blood." Even my own organization's power center was founded on blood. It is much younger blood, however as they say, frequent waterings can make up for a multitudes of sins.
I had a few options that I had been cultivating for my first go. First, was my new neighbour. A charming old nonnina whom had befriended me. Upon my arrival she welcomed me with a gift of a cube of salt the size of my hand, a warm loaf of Focaccia and a bottle of a young house wine followed by a kiss on the forehead. A gift of flowers to her would be welcome and not raise suspicion. My only problem with her that I can't get out of my head is that she was the one who approached me. I feel like with the situation that I am putting myself into I can't be too cautious. Then there was also the young woman I had met at one of the coffee bars on the piazza. I had seen her at least once a day there. We had flirted pretty regularly and a single bloom might be appropriate. Charming even... But, again it involved someone else. Anytime someone else is involved there is a greater risk. Lastly, was a day trip I had been mulling over to the Necropoli of Sovana. A respectful batch of flowers for those long passed would likely be greatly respected especially from an outsider. However, a gesture like that has the greatest likelihood of being perceived as inauthentic and that would truely be a death knell... I wasn't going to think about it. I couldn't. I had to just act. As I crossed the threshold and the little bell rang I thoughtlessly touched the rock of salt in my pocket. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. |
It was a neat trick to pull out at work events, mentioning how a specific government was or wasn’t even in the top ten most powerful organizations. Of course, when you were a member of the President’s Security Detail for the US Secret Service, you weren’t exactly doing that as a bar trick. You generally whispered it directly to the President herself.
You were the most nondescript of her detail, never in the trademark dark suits and ear pieces your brothers in arms were in, but that’s because you were the easiest to hide as an aide to Madame President. You barely made the Secret Service cutoffs for sizing until you pointed out your background in undercover work. It caused the interviewing officers to reevaluate your application. You solidly passed the physical and mental tests, your background showed no blemishes throughout eight years with the military and six more as a city police detective, and you were an ideal candidate for public-level spy work. You passed perfectly as a soccer mom or trophy wife and could get in to places and situations others couldn’t.
It wasn’t until you were through with training and into your third year with the agency that your talents were exposed.
It had been an easy mission – escort some senators through the embassy in Brazil and to a summit on climate change. Low danger level, mild media attention, and plenty of preparation with familiar facilities. You had been the second most senior agent on the case and had been scouting the region when you noticed the warm glow around the small coffee shop just six blocks from the summit. How had you not seen this before?
A soft seven floated around the door of the building. It was almost a shimmer instead of a solid number, just mild enough to catch your attention but not enough for anyone else to notice. It wasn’t particularly busy, but a few customers sat outside, sipping small espresso cups, nibbling on cookies, and reading books or chatting with friends. A single server chatted with an older gentleman who sat by himself near the door; they seemed familiar enough that he was likely a regular here.
It was funny, the most powerful places in the world rarely had Men in Suits going in and out of them as you might expect.
Number Ten had been a comic book store in Queens, NY. It had some mob ties but remained quiet. It wasn’t on any books anywhere and the ownership was so far removed from anyone associated with any of the Families that it couldn’t be tied back to them with rope, but it was the tenth most powerful place in the world.
Number Nine was in Rome, and surprisingly it was the only one you’d expected to be on the list, though you’d expected it a little higher than ninth place. The Vatican still held a lot of power within its walls and it didn’t seem God would be releasing any of it any time soon.
Numbers Eight, Six, Five, and Four were also small businesses in quiet places. An auto repair shop in France, a library in Spain, a Michelin-starred restaurant in Germany, and a petting zoo in Australia all held shimmering single-digit numbers.
Number Three was a historical home in England, but it wasn’t owned by the Royal Family. Number Two was a farm in Missouri, of all places, but Number One was elusive. You’d searched every country you’d been in, visiting neighborhoods tourists avoided and getting to know locals to find their favorite places. They often didn’t realize that their favorite little shop was the seat of power for some of the world’s most influential organizations.
You had spent a little too long staring at the shop and your commanding officer had noticed.
“Morrow, situation?” he’d asked in your ear-coms.
“Negative, sir. Just a cute shop, wondered if their coffee was any good,” you’d smiled. He didn’t believe you and had taken you to the side.
“Morrow, I need to know what you saw at that shop. There is no room for keeping anything to yourself,” he’d said quietly.
“I don’t even know how to say it, but that shop is the seventh most powerful organization in the world’s headquarters, sir.”
“What’s the organization? And more importantly, how do you know that?”
“I can’t answer that on either account sir, but I can tell you I’m right. We don’t have anything to worry about today, though. They don’t know we know and they don’t seem to be actively planning anything.”
The commander had set up a discreet watch on the coffee shop after that. He had been blown away by your accuracy. The US now had a handle on the headquarters of one of the most powerful secret societies in the world and you had given it to them.
Promotions had come quickly after that, getting you to be the personal guard and public aide to the first female President of the United States of America. That’s how you’d ended up in Tuscany, Italy today.
She had a meeting with the Italian president and all hands were on deck, as usual. It was a beautiful season in Italy when the grapes were harvested and many festivals were held. Madame President would be attending one that evening, in fact, but first had to handle the official business she was here for.
You’d spend most of the meeting studying those in the room and the surveillance undoubtedly installed everywhere, but it should be an easy hour. Smile, take some notes, whisper a few reminders and out. Nobody would ever suspect the unassuming aide to be someone with your talents.
And it was exactly as you’d expected. An easy meeting, a few photos for the press, and back out to the hotel. Another standard day in the life of a Secret Service agent, right?
Until you saw it.
It shimmered brighter than the others, you’d thought it was the sun starting to move behind the cute little flower shop that gave it the golden glow. An errant thought about photographers loving the light passed through your mind before it snapped to attention.
ONE. A bright, shiny, glowing 1 floated near the doorway of the flower shop, the fresh, cool scent of flowers hovering near the doorway.
“Madame President, a word please?” You trusted this one, unlike the last two. They’d been total idiots, unfit to serve or lead the people of the US, but this one had something different about her. Maybe it was the respect she commanded that had nothing to do with her gender, maybe it was the thoughtful way she considered each proposal brought her way, or maybe it was something else, but she was doing great and had started a slow improvement in the economy and job market. No one person would be able to fix it all, but she was making progress on both sides of the aisle.
“Sure, Morrow. What’s going on?” You rarely asked for her time, so she paused when you did. “Do we need to step away?”
“No Madame President, but I have a fun fact for you.”
The President leaned in with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye, she loved the facts you spouted off about each location you visited and she was well aware that the phrasing mattered and would be important on this one.
“Oh wonderful! What’s today’s fact?” she smiled.
“I just wanted to point out those beautiful red poppies at that flower shop, Tuscany is known for their poppies this time of year,” you gestured. “They’re regarded as the most beautiful in the world, in fact.”
“Oh? Are they the number one producer?”
“Yes, ma’am, *the* number one.”
“I see, well, perhaps you could arrange a bouquet for the staff at the hotel before we leave, I do enjoy local floral arrangements.”
“Noted,” you said. You’d speak to her again at the embassy when you returned to Florence, but she was aware of the special gift you possessed and knew to take it seriously. While your gift told you of the importance, it didn’t tell you which organization it belonged to and it often took several weeks or months of investigation to figure it out. And only twice had anyone moved locations on you. Foolishly, they’d kept them in the same areas, so you’d been able to find them again easily.
You had a feeling if this one moved, you’d never find it again. | I'm not finished but I had to head into work and I wanted to drop this before the thread went cold.
I sat on the damp bench down the lane calmly eating my sack lunch. Peanut butter and jelly. (Grape if you must know.) It had become my habit of late so that I might gleam an answer or maybe a better question before making my move. It had been 4 months since I came across this enchanted old ruin. An old flower shop, though it looked as if it had had countless other occupants in it's past. Most of the original marble was gone but the trained eye might be able to gleam the original use. Sadly, my eyes weren't as well trained as others, however I knew from the start that this was it. Number One. I felt it in my bones as I had before when I happened upon Number Nine in Kyoto.
An old tea shop. It was the location where the soon to be eunuchs of the palace underwent their operation exchanging any pleasure or future offspring for a chance at power. It had evolved over time becoming a meeting place for the Shogun and other warlords. It had evolved again and again, but the blood of former mens' old sacrifices still lingered and the power held fast. I was able to stumble in as a lost tourist for that one. Honestly, I was lucky to have gotten out without losing my head on that one or my my manhood for that matter. I learned less than I would have liked to have before handing over the Intel. One thing I had learned is that with places like these, there is always old blood... And old blood loves company. As they say "blood will have blood." Even my own organization's power center was founded on blood. It is much younger blood, however as they say, frequent waterings can make up for a multitudes of sins.
I had a few options that I had been cultivating for my first go. First, was my new neighbour. A charming old nonnina whom had befriended me. Upon my arrival she welcomed me with a gift of a cube of salt the size of my hand, a warm loaf of Focaccia and a bottle of a young house wine followed by a kiss on the forehead. A gift of flowers to her would be welcome and not raise suspicion. My only problem with her that I can't get out of my head is that she was the one who approached me. I feel like with the situation that I am putting myself into I can't be too cautious. Then there was also the young woman I had met at one of the coffee bars on the piazza. I had seen her at least once a day there. We had flirted pretty regularly and a single bloom might be appropriate. Charming even... But, again it involved someone else. Anytime someone else is involved there is a greater risk. Lastly, was a day trip I had been mulling over to the Necropoli of Sovana. A respectful batch of flowers for those long passed would likely be greatly respected especially from an outsider. However, a gesture like that has the greatest likelihood of being perceived as inauthentic and that would truely be a death knell... I wasn't going to think about it. I couldn't. I had to just act. As I crossed the threshold and the little bell rang I thoughtlessly touched the rock of salt in my pocket. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | "This doesn't make sense," I muttered, perturbed. The tulips didn't seem to have any microphones inside. The hydrangea arrangements seemed like they were for sure hiding a secret passage but if that were so it was too well-concealed for even me to find - which should be impossible! There wasn't even a security camera on the ceiling, though that wasn't necessarily unusual. Anyone THIS powerful wouldn't have anything to fear, and also probably didn't want a lot of business caught on tape.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" The smiling old man behind the counter called out in stunted English.
"Oh I'm good," I called back, think returning his warmth with all the sincerity I could muster. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice.
It has to be the mob, I thought, but which mob? I'd sussed out mafioso headquarters from Russia to Ru Paul's Drag Race (it's all a front, people) and never even got a sniff of one headquartered in Tuscany. A new player? Impossible - whoever was running this place was head and shoulders above the CIA, Mossad, and the nomadic Mongolian witch coven that secretly controls the economy. A flower shop, to boot? I sidled up next to the roses again. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. I'd been looking for signs of secret organizations that originated on Earth...
"My friend, I know why you come here," the old man said, nearly making me jump out of my skin. When had he gotten so close?
"Ah," I did my best to smile with this monster beside me. "Do you?"
His eyes were a bright green, but his look was somber and grave. Only a few tufts of white hair remained on his liver-spotted head, and his face was a labyrinth of wrinkles and lines. Heavy eyebrows knit together as he brushed some soil off his hands onto the thin apron he wore, and then reached out to take me by the wrist.
"We're a gonna need to talk to Maria," he sternly intoned.
I pulled back, nearly tripping. He'd made me. "No, that's fine, I think I need to be going, there's- "
"Maria!" The man raised his voice, and the previous warmth had vanished. "We have a guest who needs your attention."
I heard a rustling in the back. Past the rows of neatly arranged flowers, the gift baskets and expensive chocolates, the selections of fine wines, a door opened. The old man, who had been so small when I entered, now seemed to loom over me. I had to get out, before -
"What is this? Marco, who is this?" A woman as wrinkled and dirt-stained as the old man rounded the corner. A small shovel was gripped menacingly in one gloved hand. Her eyes, as green as her partner's, gleamed as she cast her gaze back and forth between me and Marco. The old man straightened.
"Now you gonna get it," he threatened. Maria, twice the diminutive Marco's size, locked her eyes on mine.
"There's a misunderstanding- " I started to say, but then the bell on the front door announced a new visitor.
Both Maria and Marco turned, and I seized the opportunity to dash behind the roses. I began to shout out a theat, but another, wild "WHOOP!" drowned out my own.
"Mr. Romano! Mrs. Romano! I cannot thank you enough!" I peered out from behind the dozen thorny stalks acting as my shield. There was a young man in a vest and cap, vigorously shaking the hands of the pair in turn. "I give those flowers you say to Margaret and she adore them! She even give me a kiss - Dio! She's a coming to meet my mother this week - I think you did it! I owe it to you!"
Maria was beaming as Marco chuckled. "I told you our flowers were the best, Silvio," she patted his face warmly. "Now if you two get married and you ever get in a fight, you come back here and tell me what happened, we'll find what you need to apologize."
"But what if I am right?" Silvio queried.
Marco's chuckle became a deep belly laugh. "You just remember to come back when you need," Maria cuffed Marco on the back of the head, but that didn't stop his laughter. She rolled her eyes. "Go now Silvio, you find a nice shirt to wear when you bring her to your mama."
The young man profusely thanked them again before rushing out of the store, the door closing firmly behind him.
Both sets of eyes turned back on me. The thorns on these roses seemed to retract in fear.
"Don't think we forget about you," Marco said. "Maria, take care of this one."
Maria set her jaw, stepping forward. She reached out, gloved hand like a vise around my wrist, eyes pulling my gaze in as she searched my face.
"So," she yanked me from my useless hiding spot and into the shop's center. "What's her name?"
"Her...name?"
"Don't play coy," Maria gave me a look that said she wasn't having it. "Fifty years we've been doing this, and not once have we ever failed. You start talking, I'll get you what you need."
"We don't rightly understand it either," Marco sighed, taking out a broom to idly begin sweeping leaves and dirt from the floor, "but how are we going to complain?"
"You don't understand it, I understand it perfectly!" Maria yelled at him. He gave her a dreamy smile and leaned in for a kiss. She made a show of rolling her eyes and shooing him away, but I caught the fleeting wisp of a smile on her face.
"Fifty years," Maria repeated, "and not a one time have we failed to help a customer find their true love - and keep them - with our flowers. We only started this little shop because we both loved gardening, can you believe it? But I like to think in our little way, we mean something to the world."
"More than you realize," I replied, reassessing everything I thought I understood. "Far, far more than you realize." | I'm not finished but I had to head into work and I wanted to drop this before the thread went cold.
I sat on the damp bench down the lane calmly eating my sack lunch. Peanut butter and jelly. (Grape if you must know.) It had become my habit of late so that I might gleam an answer or maybe a better question before making my move. It had been 4 months since I came across this enchanted old ruin. An old flower shop, though it looked as if it had had countless other occupants in it's past. Most of the original marble was gone but the trained eye might be able to gleam the original use. Sadly, my eyes weren't as well trained as others, however I knew from the start that this was it. Number One. I felt it in my bones as I had before when I happened upon Number Nine in Kyoto.
An old tea shop. It was the location where the soon to be eunuchs of the palace underwent their operation exchanging any pleasure or future offspring for a chance at power. It had evolved over time becoming a meeting place for the Shogun and other warlords. It had evolved again and again, but the blood of former mens' old sacrifices still lingered and the power held fast. I was able to stumble in as a lost tourist for that one. Honestly, I was lucky to have gotten out without losing my head on that one or my my manhood for that matter. I learned less than I would have liked to have before handing over the Intel. One thing I had learned is that with places like these, there is always old blood... And old blood loves company. As they say "blood will have blood." Even my own organization's power center was founded on blood. It is much younger blood, however as they say, frequent waterings can make up for a multitudes of sins.
I had a few options that I had been cultivating for my first go. First, was my new neighbour. A charming old nonnina whom had befriended me. Upon my arrival she welcomed me with a gift of a cube of salt the size of my hand, a warm loaf of Focaccia and a bottle of a young house wine followed by a kiss on the forehead. A gift of flowers to her would be welcome and not raise suspicion. My only problem with her that I can't get out of my head is that she was the one who approached me. I feel like with the situation that I am putting myself into I can't be too cautious. Then there was also the young woman I had met at one of the coffee bars on the piazza. I had seen her at least once a day there. We had flirted pretty regularly and a single bloom might be appropriate. Charming even... But, again it involved someone else. Anytime someone else is involved there is a greater risk. Lastly, was a day trip I had been mulling over to the Necropoli of Sovana. A respectful batch of flowers for those long passed would likely be greatly respected especially from an outsider. However, a gesture like that has the greatest likelihood of being perceived as inauthentic and that would truely be a death knell... I wasn't going to think about it. I couldn't. I had to just act. As I crossed the threshold and the little bell rang I thoughtlessly touched the rock of salt in my pocket. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | You ended up deciding to see what the big deal with the flower shop was.
You bought a flower one day and brought it back to your hotel room but it did not feel all that special.
You go home and stay there for a few years along with pressing the flower in a journal.
You have looked back and the question is still killing you why is it so special.
You go back and this time you see that they are hiring someone part time.
All or nothing
You take the job and still you can’t find what the answer is, the owner is this kind 30 ish year old looking man always reading a book.
You are working your hardest but you can’t find anything out of the ordinary. Your boss is nice and really loves to read but other then that it’s just your normal job.
Summer comes to a close.
You ask the boss if he will need help next year and the boss then asks if you want to stay full time. Your curiosity gets the better of you. You can’t help it.
You stay for one year and then two. You start getting board so you also start to become an avid reader. The boss says people don’t usually stay this long and that it’s nice to have some company.
You noticed that the boss sends out a few emails he says he’s just sending some social emails no big deal.
2 years turns into ten and you can’t find anything out of place so you think about quitting but you like selling flowers they smell nice.
You decide to go home for a visit see how the family’s doing. Everyone says that your looking great and they are all along with their lives. Your brother is married and he’s even expecting. You still kind of want to go back to your flowers.
20 years pass and now your well invested into selling flowers and reading tons of books but you still need to visit home as your mother is dying.
Your brother says that his son can pick you up from the airport and that he is so excited to see you after so long.
You wait for a while and get a call from your brother telling you that it seems his son could not find you and if you could tell him some identifiable traits. You tell him what your wearing and then your brother directs his son to pick you up.
His son says that he did not think you would look so young and that’s why he could not tell. He said that if he did not know better you would seem to be in your 30’s. You both laugh it off but it still feels a little off.
At your mothers death bed you sit with your family and you feel a little alienated which makes sense as you have been gone for so long but you still want to see your mother. You look at her and she is startled at your youth but embraces you afterwords. She died 5 days later.
After the procession you go back to your flowers and notice that your boss still looks like he is thirty ish which is weird being that you have worked their for 30 years.
In this time corporations have rose and fallen. Yet the flower shop is still number one. It does not feel weird anymore just normal. You have fallen in love with reading books and spend half of your day just reading.
40 years pass and now your brother is sick you decide to visit home one last time. His son picks you up again and he mentions that you have not changed a bit even though now the son is starting to get on his years.
Your brother says the same thing. You have not changed a bit similar situation to when your mom died. Now you see a lot of new faces in the family and a lot of old faces are gone. You think this is the last time your going to go home. You give a calling card to your nephew if he needs you and after the funeral you go back to the flower shop.
Your curiosity is killing your. You want to know why the shop is number one so you ask your boss if there is anything particularly special about this shop.
He tells you not really only that it has been around for a long time and that people sometimes call asking for advice.
It’s been a while and you have a visitor coming to see you. Apparently it’s your great grand nephew who found your calling card in his dead grandpas belongings. He wanted to know more about his dead grandpa but you don’t really know much. After all you only really knew your brother but you tell him what you knew.
The discussion turns to different things from stories to politics to physics. After talking with you he seems to have had a moment of inspiration and says he had to go home. He wants to talk to you again he says.
You did not see anything that relevant in what you said but 2 weeks later a paper which turned out to be revolutionary was published and you were one of the sources.
You boss looks over your shoulder and congratulated you on your first citation.
You finally start to understand why the flower shop is so important.
You ask your boss how old he is and he says that he might be around 500-600 years old.
One can’t read that many books and not learn something.
But in the end it’s just a small flower shop with some bookworms who answer questions.
The end. | "Huh..." That was all I could say, it was as bewildering a sight as any other. Just, pure awe had overtook me. I've seen it all, McDonalds, Chick-fil-a, Amazon, the works. But this? This is crazy! What sort of activities are carried out in this store that could fill such a role as the number one organization!
Looking back on it, it was more crazy of me to believe they were number one due to nefarious givings, but I digress. Regardless, I stowed my fear and entered the pleasant store. As I stepped in, all my worries melted away. It was a blessing of various chromas decorating the walls and tables, vibrant sights that emanated a calming aura. Alas, walking through the plethora of well-maintained brush and shrubbery, I saw him.
He was an old man, no younger than 50, no older than 60. I'll never forget the smile I saw him show flowering the brush of blue. It was... resigned, almost.
"Are you perhaps interested in the Hydrangeas?" His sudden speaking caught me off-guard, and quite frankly, I was taken aback by caution. He continued, looking at me with his thought-provoking smile, "They are our shop's specialty, after all."
I couldn't see it, regardless of what I felt, was this really the number one organization? "I... what is this place?" Particularly in this situation, my thoughts were hard to organize, but he didn't falter in answering.
"Hehehe, what kind of question is that? This is my flower shop, the Alluring Petal. Didn't you see the sign?" The old man boasted with a great laugh. For someone so old, he sure had some pep in his step...
He had more to say yet, "It's a relaxing feeling being here, is it not? Every sod that comes in here always has the same reaction. A lot of work has went into making this store amazing! I can't help but applaud it." To be frank, looking around, I wanted to applaud it, as well.
After that, he took me around the shop. Compared to looking at the outside of the store, it was quite spacious inside. I'd be lying if I said I remembered all the breeds of flower he showed me (Beside the obvious roses, poppys, daisies, etc.), but all roads led back to the Hydrangeas, the perfect, blue Hydrangeas.
...And that's when his resigned smile returned.
It took no genius to figure out that this was it, this was why his store was number one. But I wasn't satisfied with that conclusion, so it was time to investigate. I turned to the man and struck up a conversation.
"Is it just you here... uh..."
"Just call me Harlow, friend. Yes, I'm the sole boss, employee, janitor, and more."
"Must be tough, but the Hydrangeas sell well enough to be your specialty?"
"Oh... it's nothing like that, just a... personal love for them..."
That damn smile, that's what I remember thinking when I saw it rear it's head back. I'll admit, I was getting a bit impatient, I decided to get to the point and try and get the answer out of him.
"Harlow, why do you smile like that when you talk about the Hydrangeas?" A question, looking back on it, I don't regret asking, but at that moment, it was almost whiplash.
Harlow held his head down for a moment, sighed, then came back to looking at me, with more sorrow in his eyes, and the smile was infected with despair. "Perceptive, aren't you? If you are curious, then I'll let you in on it, it's not a happy story." I simply nodded, as the suspense silenced me.
"Alright then, don't go crying over it." His once great laughter had turned into a depressing chuckle. "Do you know the meaning behind hydrangeas? Of course not. Well, blue hydrangeas are apology flowers. And.. well, that's enough of that. Let's talk about me. I used to have a beautiful wife, she was a full-on botanist. Knew every flower under the sun. She loved these hydrangeas. I gave her these flowers when I proposed to her 32 years ago."
I already knew what was coming, it was unbearable to think of, but all I could do was listen, so I did. "About 4 years into the marriage, we opened this quaint little shop, she'd take wonderful care of all the flowers, but especially the hydrangeas. We made lots of smiles when people bought flowers for their honeys or such. We were honeys ourselves, though, and 4 more years in, we had a boy."
"It was 4 more years later that.. it happened. On October 29th, 19XX, my wife was down with the flu, as well as my boy. They stayed home while I went to tend tl the shop. It was slow anyways, I could've gone home anytime..."
It was ironic, as morbid as it is to say, that he was the one that started crying at this point. But he continued on nonetheless. "An armed fugitive being chased decided to take his buisness into... into my home... he held them hostage and... and after the police broke down the door, he spared... nobody."
I wanted to speak, I wanted to speak more than I ever wanted to in my entire life. But as my mouth opened, nothing came out. Nothing, I felt pathetic, worthless, but nothing could compare to what this old man was feeling right now.
After taking a breath, Harlow continued on. "I remember when I caught a glimpse of the scene... our home. The hydrangeas she had at home... the blood stained the leaves. So, now I take care of them, to the best of my ability. To me, they are my apology to her. But to others, they are still the beautiful damn flowers that'll make their honeys love them to death."
To summarize what happened after, only because I was dazed at the events that transpired, I solved the mystery. I knew why this store was the number one. It was more than profit or size, it was just... well, I can't put it into words, but I'm sure anyone could at least feel it.
I ended up buying a pot of Hydrangeas, brought them home to my girlfriend that I started cohabiting with earlier that year. As I put them near the window, she came over to see the gift I had brought home.
"Those are drop dead gorgeous, honey! Where'd you get them?" Was all she said, I don't know why that's what it took, but...
...To the old man out there, sorry, I ended up crying. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | I’ve never submitted one of these prompts so give me some feedback!
“
I rush through the door and hear a bell chattering behind me. I come to a quick stop in the doorway and look around. The little shop is full of floral arrangements and there’s an old Italian couple browsing the styles. This is so confusing.
”Mi scusi, negoziante?” I call for the shopkeeper. A middle aged man walks out with a warm smile.
“Benvenuto! Sir, may I help you find anything?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could interview you. My name is Alexander, I’m a journalist at the New York Post, and we are including a segment on small businesses around the world. Do you have fifteen minutes?” I flash an attempt at a smile towards the gentleman and pray that the fear behind my eyes is invisible to him. The florist looks me over and evidently seems me worthy.
“Very well! My name is Luca. Come, come in. Join me in my office.”
“Thank you so much!”
We walk together through the winding paths between beautiful arrangements. I can’t help but be a little distracted by all these colors. I follow close behind Luca and try to take in as many details about the shop as I can. This is so confusing. Everything about this place is contradictory.
“Luca, how long has the flower shop been open?” I pat down my jacket, looking for a notepad. But since I’m not a real journalist, of course I don’t have one. Wow. That was smooth, Alex. Guess I’m “recording this on my phone”.
“Seventy,” he trails off, counting on his fingers, “seventy two years. My grandfather opened it when his fiancée’s parents would not let him marry her without a stable career. He found this warm little building and things fell into place. He’s passed on, as has my father. But the community is still here and as you can see, so are the flowers.”
“Wow. That’s beautiful.” I’m trying to analyze what he’s just told me, see if there’s some code but I need more information. “And, uh, what exactly do you bring to the community?”
Luca looks at me quizzically, unlocks the door to his office, and says, “Well, apart from flowers, I suppose we bring people love and happiness if that’s what you want to know.” He chuckles in a light, airy tone as he retreats to his desk.
“Oh, of course. What else could I have meant?”
This is getting me nowhere. Okay. Grow a pair and just tell him.
“Luca, I’m not a journalist. But I know something is going on here. I don’t know what it is exactly. But I know that you’re a man of influence. I have this…intuition. I can know how powerful a group is by seeing their headquarters or where they meet. And I had never found number one until today. Luca, why does my intuition say that your flower shop is the most powerful organization on earth?” I’ve never told anyone this. I probably sound crazy. I rightly grip the leather seat of the chair beneath me. Bracing for an answer.
Luca leans back in his chair and I can see him processing this new information.
“Well, Alex. I must say, I don’t appreciate being lied to. But if you already know so much, I suppose I’ll tell you more. My grandfather started this shop to be with the woman he loved. The city knew this. They supported their relationship so they flocked to the flowers he ordered. The people of Tuscany had little need for flowers in their home but it brought them such joy to support a good man who loved a good girl.”
I sit up towards the edge of my seat, “Please, I’m just asking for the truth.”
“What do you mean by this? I am telling you the story of this shop! Sit back. Listen. My grandfather was a good man. Kind. And the love of my grandparents inspired people. Nonna would cook for the kids who did not get enough at home. And Nonno would hire on young men and women who had nowhere else to go. Rejected from their homes because of religion or love or not wanting to take the family trade. This shop became a haven. And everyone knew that we provided the best arrangements in the city. Some of those men and women that worked here moved away. London, New York, Paris, Tokyo. Cities of influence. And they have opened their doors to those in need. My father continued this legacy. He began to organize teams to clean the streets and programs for the kids after school let out. We had enough that my father was able to give back to the city well. So, Alexander. This is power. Not brute strength. Influence. Power is a graceful being who is most present with those who remain humble. I can call any number of people in thirty countries and ask for a euro or a kidney and I know they’d be willing. I can ask the people of the city for a statue of my grandfather and they wouldn’t bat an eye. Do you understand?”
I stared at him, mouth slightly agape.
“I don’t run any secret drug rings. I don’t have an underground army. I have simply loved the people around me as my father and his father did. This is how you become a man of influence. Now, let me bring you home and make you dinner.”
Edit: added paragraph breaks | "Huh..." That was all I could say, it was as bewildering a sight as any other. Just, pure awe had overtook me. I've seen it all, McDonalds, Chick-fil-a, Amazon, the works. But this? This is crazy! What sort of activities are carried out in this store that could fill such a role as the number one organization!
Looking back on it, it was more crazy of me to believe they were number one due to nefarious givings, but I digress. Regardless, I stowed my fear and entered the pleasant store. As I stepped in, all my worries melted away. It was a blessing of various chromas decorating the walls and tables, vibrant sights that emanated a calming aura. Alas, walking through the plethora of well-maintained brush and shrubbery, I saw him.
He was an old man, no younger than 50, no older than 60. I'll never forget the smile I saw him show flowering the brush of blue. It was... resigned, almost.
"Are you perhaps interested in the Hydrangeas?" His sudden speaking caught me off-guard, and quite frankly, I was taken aback by caution. He continued, looking at me with his thought-provoking smile, "They are our shop's specialty, after all."
I couldn't see it, regardless of what I felt, was this really the number one organization? "I... what is this place?" Particularly in this situation, my thoughts were hard to organize, but he didn't falter in answering.
"Hehehe, what kind of question is that? This is my flower shop, the Alluring Petal. Didn't you see the sign?" The old man boasted with a great laugh. For someone so old, he sure had some pep in his step...
He had more to say yet, "It's a relaxing feeling being here, is it not? Every sod that comes in here always has the same reaction. A lot of work has went into making this store amazing! I can't help but applaud it." To be frank, looking around, I wanted to applaud it, as well.
After that, he took me around the shop. Compared to looking at the outside of the store, it was quite spacious inside. I'd be lying if I said I remembered all the breeds of flower he showed me (Beside the obvious roses, poppys, daisies, etc.), but all roads led back to the Hydrangeas, the perfect, blue Hydrangeas.
...And that's when his resigned smile returned.
It took no genius to figure out that this was it, this was why his store was number one. But I wasn't satisfied with that conclusion, so it was time to investigate. I turned to the man and struck up a conversation.
"Is it just you here... uh..."
"Just call me Harlow, friend. Yes, I'm the sole boss, employee, janitor, and more."
"Must be tough, but the Hydrangeas sell well enough to be your specialty?"
"Oh... it's nothing like that, just a... personal love for them..."
That damn smile, that's what I remember thinking when I saw it rear it's head back. I'll admit, I was getting a bit impatient, I decided to get to the point and try and get the answer out of him.
"Harlow, why do you smile like that when you talk about the Hydrangeas?" A question, looking back on it, I don't regret asking, but at that moment, it was almost whiplash.
Harlow held his head down for a moment, sighed, then came back to looking at me, with more sorrow in his eyes, and the smile was infected with despair. "Perceptive, aren't you? If you are curious, then I'll let you in on it, it's not a happy story." I simply nodded, as the suspense silenced me.
"Alright then, don't go crying over it." His once great laughter had turned into a depressing chuckle. "Do you know the meaning behind hydrangeas? Of course not. Well, blue hydrangeas are apology flowers. And.. well, that's enough of that. Let's talk about me. I used to have a beautiful wife, she was a full-on botanist. Knew every flower under the sun. She loved these hydrangeas. I gave her these flowers when I proposed to her 32 years ago."
I already knew what was coming, it was unbearable to think of, but all I could do was listen, so I did. "About 4 years into the marriage, we opened this quaint little shop, she'd take wonderful care of all the flowers, but especially the hydrangeas. We made lots of smiles when people bought flowers for their honeys or such. We were honeys ourselves, though, and 4 more years in, we had a boy."
"It was 4 more years later that.. it happened. On October 29th, 19XX, my wife was down with the flu, as well as my boy. They stayed home while I went to tend tl the shop. It was slow anyways, I could've gone home anytime..."
It was ironic, as morbid as it is to say, that he was the one that started crying at this point. But he continued on nonetheless. "An armed fugitive being chased decided to take his buisness into... into my home... he held them hostage and... and after the police broke down the door, he spared... nobody."
I wanted to speak, I wanted to speak more than I ever wanted to in my entire life. But as my mouth opened, nothing came out. Nothing, I felt pathetic, worthless, but nothing could compare to what this old man was feeling right now.
After taking a breath, Harlow continued on. "I remember when I caught a glimpse of the scene... our home. The hydrangeas she had at home... the blood stained the leaves. So, now I take care of them, to the best of my ability. To me, they are my apology to her. But to others, they are still the beautiful damn flowers that'll make their honeys love them to death."
To summarize what happened after, only because I was dazed at the events that transpired, I solved the mystery. I knew why this store was the number one. It was more than profit or size, it was just... well, I can't put it into words, but I'm sure anyone could at least feel it.
I ended up buying a pot of Hydrangeas, brought them home to my girlfriend that I started cohabiting with earlier that year. As I put them near the window, she came over to see the gift I had brought home.
"Those are drop dead gorgeous, honey! Where'd you get them?" Was all she said, I don't know why that's what it took, but...
...To the old man out there, sorry, I ended up crying. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. |
It was a neat trick to pull out at work events, mentioning how a specific government was or wasn’t even in the top ten most powerful organizations. Of course, when you were a member of the President’s Security Detail for the US Secret Service, you weren’t exactly doing that as a bar trick. You generally whispered it directly to the President herself.
You were the most nondescript of her detail, never in the trademark dark suits and ear pieces your brothers in arms were in, but that’s because you were the easiest to hide as an aide to Madame President. You barely made the Secret Service cutoffs for sizing until you pointed out your background in undercover work. It caused the interviewing officers to reevaluate your application. You solidly passed the physical and mental tests, your background showed no blemishes throughout eight years with the military and six more as a city police detective, and you were an ideal candidate for public-level spy work. You passed perfectly as a soccer mom or trophy wife and could get in to places and situations others couldn’t.
It wasn’t until you were through with training and into your third year with the agency that your talents were exposed.
It had been an easy mission – escort some senators through the embassy in Brazil and to a summit on climate change. Low danger level, mild media attention, and plenty of preparation with familiar facilities. You had been the second most senior agent on the case and had been scouting the region when you noticed the warm glow around the small coffee shop just six blocks from the summit. How had you not seen this before?
A soft seven floated around the door of the building. It was almost a shimmer instead of a solid number, just mild enough to catch your attention but not enough for anyone else to notice. It wasn’t particularly busy, but a few customers sat outside, sipping small espresso cups, nibbling on cookies, and reading books or chatting with friends. A single server chatted with an older gentleman who sat by himself near the door; they seemed familiar enough that he was likely a regular here.
It was funny, the most powerful places in the world rarely had Men in Suits going in and out of them as you might expect.
Number Ten had been a comic book store in Queens, NY. It had some mob ties but remained quiet. It wasn’t on any books anywhere and the ownership was so far removed from anyone associated with any of the Families that it couldn’t be tied back to them with rope, but it was the tenth most powerful place in the world.
Number Nine was in Rome, and surprisingly it was the only one you’d expected to be on the list, though you’d expected it a little higher than ninth place. The Vatican still held a lot of power within its walls and it didn’t seem God would be releasing any of it any time soon.
Numbers Eight, Six, Five, and Four were also small businesses in quiet places. An auto repair shop in France, a library in Spain, a Michelin-starred restaurant in Germany, and a petting zoo in Australia all held shimmering single-digit numbers.
Number Three was a historical home in England, but it wasn’t owned by the Royal Family. Number Two was a farm in Missouri, of all places, but Number One was elusive. You’d searched every country you’d been in, visiting neighborhoods tourists avoided and getting to know locals to find their favorite places. They often didn’t realize that their favorite little shop was the seat of power for some of the world’s most influential organizations.
You had spent a little too long staring at the shop and your commanding officer had noticed.
“Morrow, situation?” he’d asked in your ear-coms.
“Negative, sir. Just a cute shop, wondered if their coffee was any good,” you’d smiled. He didn’t believe you and had taken you to the side.
“Morrow, I need to know what you saw at that shop. There is no room for keeping anything to yourself,” he’d said quietly.
“I don’t even know how to say it, but that shop is the seventh most powerful organization in the world’s headquarters, sir.”
“What’s the organization? And more importantly, how do you know that?”
“I can’t answer that on either account sir, but I can tell you I’m right. We don’t have anything to worry about today, though. They don’t know we know and they don’t seem to be actively planning anything.”
The commander had set up a discreet watch on the coffee shop after that. He had been blown away by your accuracy. The US now had a handle on the headquarters of one of the most powerful secret societies in the world and you had given it to them.
Promotions had come quickly after that, getting you to be the personal guard and public aide to the first female President of the United States of America. That’s how you’d ended up in Tuscany, Italy today.
She had a meeting with the Italian president and all hands were on deck, as usual. It was a beautiful season in Italy when the grapes were harvested and many festivals were held. Madame President would be attending one that evening, in fact, but first had to handle the official business she was here for.
You’d spend most of the meeting studying those in the room and the surveillance undoubtedly installed everywhere, but it should be an easy hour. Smile, take some notes, whisper a few reminders and out. Nobody would ever suspect the unassuming aide to be someone with your talents.
And it was exactly as you’d expected. An easy meeting, a few photos for the press, and back out to the hotel. Another standard day in the life of a Secret Service agent, right?
Until you saw it.
It shimmered brighter than the others, you’d thought it was the sun starting to move behind the cute little flower shop that gave it the golden glow. An errant thought about photographers loving the light passed through your mind before it snapped to attention.
ONE. A bright, shiny, glowing 1 floated near the doorway of the flower shop, the fresh, cool scent of flowers hovering near the doorway.
“Madame President, a word please?” You trusted this one, unlike the last two. They’d been total idiots, unfit to serve or lead the people of the US, but this one had something different about her. Maybe it was the respect she commanded that had nothing to do with her gender, maybe it was the thoughtful way she considered each proposal brought her way, or maybe it was something else, but she was doing great and had started a slow improvement in the economy and job market. No one person would be able to fix it all, but she was making progress on both sides of the aisle.
“Sure, Morrow. What’s going on?” You rarely asked for her time, so she paused when you did. “Do we need to step away?”
“No Madame President, but I have a fun fact for you.”
The President leaned in with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye, she loved the facts you spouted off about each location you visited and she was well aware that the phrasing mattered and would be important on this one.
“Oh wonderful! What’s today’s fact?” she smiled.
“I just wanted to point out those beautiful red poppies at that flower shop, Tuscany is known for their poppies this time of year,” you gestured. “They’re regarded as the most beautiful in the world, in fact.”
“Oh? Are they the number one producer?”
“Yes, ma’am, *the* number one.”
“I see, well, perhaps you could arrange a bouquet for the staff at the hotel before we leave, I do enjoy local floral arrangements.”
“Noted,” you said. You’d speak to her again at the embassy when you returned to Florence, but she was aware of the special gift you possessed and knew to take it seriously. While your gift told you of the importance, it didn’t tell you which organization it belonged to and it often took several weeks or months of investigation to figure it out. And only twice had anyone moved locations on you. Foolishly, they’d kept them in the same areas, so you’d been able to find them again easily.
You had a feeling if this one moved, you’d never find it again. | "Huh..." That was all I could say, it was as bewildering a sight as any other. Just, pure awe had overtook me. I've seen it all, McDonalds, Chick-fil-a, Amazon, the works. But this? This is crazy! What sort of activities are carried out in this store that could fill such a role as the number one organization!
Looking back on it, it was more crazy of me to believe they were number one due to nefarious givings, but I digress. Regardless, I stowed my fear and entered the pleasant store. As I stepped in, all my worries melted away. It was a blessing of various chromas decorating the walls and tables, vibrant sights that emanated a calming aura. Alas, walking through the plethora of well-maintained brush and shrubbery, I saw him.
He was an old man, no younger than 50, no older than 60. I'll never forget the smile I saw him show flowering the brush of blue. It was... resigned, almost.
"Are you perhaps interested in the Hydrangeas?" His sudden speaking caught me off-guard, and quite frankly, I was taken aback by caution. He continued, looking at me with his thought-provoking smile, "They are our shop's specialty, after all."
I couldn't see it, regardless of what I felt, was this really the number one organization? "I... what is this place?" Particularly in this situation, my thoughts were hard to organize, but he didn't falter in answering.
"Hehehe, what kind of question is that? This is my flower shop, the Alluring Petal. Didn't you see the sign?" The old man boasted with a great laugh. For someone so old, he sure had some pep in his step...
He had more to say yet, "It's a relaxing feeling being here, is it not? Every sod that comes in here always has the same reaction. A lot of work has went into making this store amazing! I can't help but applaud it." To be frank, looking around, I wanted to applaud it, as well.
After that, he took me around the shop. Compared to looking at the outside of the store, it was quite spacious inside. I'd be lying if I said I remembered all the breeds of flower he showed me (Beside the obvious roses, poppys, daisies, etc.), but all roads led back to the Hydrangeas, the perfect, blue Hydrangeas.
...And that's when his resigned smile returned.
It took no genius to figure out that this was it, this was why his store was number one. But I wasn't satisfied with that conclusion, so it was time to investigate. I turned to the man and struck up a conversation.
"Is it just you here... uh..."
"Just call me Harlow, friend. Yes, I'm the sole boss, employee, janitor, and more."
"Must be tough, but the Hydrangeas sell well enough to be your specialty?"
"Oh... it's nothing like that, just a... personal love for them..."
That damn smile, that's what I remember thinking when I saw it rear it's head back. I'll admit, I was getting a bit impatient, I decided to get to the point and try and get the answer out of him.
"Harlow, why do you smile like that when you talk about the Hydrangeas?" A question, looking back on it, I don't regret asking, but at that moment, it was almost whiplash.
Harlow held his head down for a moment, sighed, then came back to looking at me, with more sorrow in his eyes, and the smile was infected with despair. "Perceptive, aren't you? If you are curious, then I'll let you in on it, it's not a happy story." I simply nodded, as the suspense silenced me.
"Alright then, don't go crying over it." His once great laughter had turned into a depressing chuckle. "Do you know the meaning behind hydrangeas? Of course not. Well, blue hydrangeas are apology flowers. And.. well, that's enough of that. Let's talk about me. I used to have a beautiful wife, she was a full-on botanist. Knew every flower under the sun. She loved these hydrangeas. I gave her these flowers when I proposed to her 32 years ago."
I already knew what was coming, it was unbearable to think of, but all I could do was listen, so I did. "About 4 years into the marriage, we opened this quaint little shop, she'd take wonderful care of all the flowers, but especially the hydrangeas. We made lots of smiles when people bought flowers for their honeys or such. We were honeys ourselves, though, and 4 more years in, we had a boy."
"It was 4 more years later that.. it happened. On October 29th, 19XX, my wife was down with the flu, as well as my boy. They stayed home while I went to tend tl the shop. It was slow anyways, I could've gone home anytime..."
It was ironic, as morbid as it is to say, that he was the one that started crying at this point. But he continued on nonetheless. "An armed fugitive being chased decided to take his buisness into... into my home... he held them hostage and... and after the police broke down the door, he spared... nobody."
I wanted to speak, I wanted to speak more than I ever wanted to in my entire life. But as my mouth opened, nothing came out. Nothing, I felt pathetic, worthless, but nothing could compare to what this old man was feeling right now.
After taking a breath, Harlow continued on. "I remember when I caught a glimpse of the scene... our home. The hydrangeas she had at home... the blood stained the leaves. So, now I take care of them, to the best of my ability. To me, they are my apology to her. But to others, they are still the beautiful damn flowers that'll make their honeys love them to death."
To summarize what happened after, only because I was dazed at the events that transpired, I solved the mystery. I knew why this store was the number one. It was more than profit or size, it was just... well, I can't put it into words, but I'm sure anyone could at least feel it.
I ended up buying a pot of Hydrangeas, brought them home to my girlfriend that I started cohabiting with earlier that year. As I put them near the window, she came over to see the gift I had brought home.
"Those are drop dead gorgeous, honey! Where'd you get them?" Was all she said, I don't know why that's what it took, but...
...To the old man out there, sorry, I ended up crying. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | "This doesn't make sense," I muttered, perturbed. The tulips didn't seem to have any microphones inside. The hydrangea arrangements seemed like they were for sure hiding a secret passage but if that were so it was too well-concealed for even me to find - which should be impossible! There wasn't even a security camera on the ceiling, though that wasn't necessarily unusual. Anyone THIS powerful wouldn't have anything to fear, and also probably didn't want a lot of business caught on tape.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" The smiling old man behind the counter called out in stunted English.
"Oh I'm good," I called back, think returning his warmth with all the sincerity I could muster. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice.
It has to be the mob, I thought, but which mob? I'd sussed out mafioso headquarters from Russia to Ru Paul's Drag Race (it's all a front, people) and never even got a sniff of one headquartered in Tuscany. A new player? Impossible - whoever was running this place was head and shoulders above the CIA, Mossad, and the nomadic Mongolian witch coven that secretly controls the economy. A flower shop, to boot? I sidled up next to the roses again. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. I'd been looking for signs of secret organizations that originated on Earth...
"My friend, I know why you come here," the old man said, nearly making me jump out of my skin. When had he gotten so close?
"Ah," I did my best to smile with this monster beside me. "Do you?"
His eyes were a bright green, but his look was somber and grave. Only a few tufts of white hair remained on his liver-spotted head, and his face was a labyrinth of wrinkles and lines. Heavy eyebrows knit together as he brushed some soil off his hands onto the thin apron he wore, and then reached out to take me by the wrist.
"We're a gonna need to talk to Maria," he sternly intoned.
I pulled back, nearly tripping. He'd made me. "No, that's fine, I think I need to be going, there's- "
"Maria!" The man raised his voice, and the previous warmth had vanished. "We have a guest who needs your attention."
I heard a rustling in the back. Past the rows of neatly arranged flowers, the gift baskets and expensive chocolates, the selections of fine wines, a door opened. The old man, who had been so small when I entered, now seemed to loom over me. I had to get out, before -
"What is this? Marco, who is this?" A woman as wrinkled and dirt-stained as the old man rounded the corner. A small shovel was gripped menacingly in one gloved hand. Her eyes, as green as her partner's, gleamed as she cast her gaze back and forth between me and Marco. The old man straightened.
"Now you gonna get it," he threatened. Maria, twice the diminutive Marco's size, locked her eyes on mine.
"There's a misunderstanding- " I started to say, but then the bell on the front door announced a new visitor.
Both Maria and Marco turned, and I seized the opportunity to dash behind the roses. I began to shout out a theat, but another, wild "WHOOP!" drowned out my own.
"Mr. Romano! Mrs. Romano! I cannot thank you enough!" I peered out from behind the dozen thorny stalks acting as my shield. There was a young man in a vest and cap, vigorously shaking the hands of the pair in turn. "I give those flowers you say to Margaret and she adore them! She even give me a kiss - Dio! She's a coming to meet my mother this week - I think you did it! I owe it to you!"
Maria was beaming as Marco chuckled. "I told you our flowers were the best, Silvio," she patted his face warmly. "Now if you two get married and you ever get in a fight, you come back here and tell me what happened, we'll find what you need to apologize."
"But what if I am right?" Silvio queried.
Marco's chuckle became a deep belly laugh. "You just remember to come back when you need," Maria cuffed Marco on the back of the head, but that didn't stop his laughter. She rolled her eyes. "Go now Silvio, you find a nice shirt to wear when you bring her to your mama."
The young man profusely thanked them again before rushing out of the store, the door closing firmly behind him.
Both sets of eyes turned back on me. The thorns on these roses seemed to retract in fear.
"Don't think we forget about you," Marco said. "Maria, take care of this one."
Maria set her jaw, stepping forward. She reached out, gloved hand like a vise around my wrist, eyes pulling my gaze in as she searched my face.
"So," she yanked me from my useless hiding spot and into the shop's center. "What's her name?"
"Her...name?"
"Don't play coy," Maria gave me a look that said she wasn't having it. "Fifty years we've been doing this, and not once have we ever failed. You start talking, I'll get you what you need."
"We don't rightly understand it either," Marco sighed, taking out a broom to idly begin sweeping leaves and dirt from the floor, "but how are we going to complain?"
"You don't understand it, I understand it perfectly!" Maria yelled at him. He gave her a dreamy smile and leaned in for a kiss. She made a show of rolling her eyes and shooing him away, but I caught the fleeting wisp of a smile on her face.
"Fifty years," Maria repeated, "and not a one time have we failed to help a customer find their true love - and keep them - with our flowers. We only started this little shop because we both loved gardening, can you believe it? But I like to think in our little way, we mean something to the world."
"More than you realize," I replied, reassessing everything I thought I understood. "Far, far more than you realize." | "Huh..." That was all I could say, it was as bewildering a sight as any other. Just, pure awe had overtook me. I've seen it all, McDonalds, Chick-fil-a, Amazon, the works. But this? This is crazy! What sort of activities are carried out in this store that could fill such a role as the number one organization!
Looking back on it, it was more crazy of me to believe they were number one due to nefarious givings, but I digress. Regardless, I stowed my fear and entered the pleasant store. As I stepped in, all my worries melted away. It was a blessing of various chromas decorating the walls and tables, vibrant sights that emanated a calming aura. Alas, walking through the plethora of well-maintained brush and shrubbery, I saw him.
He was an old man, no younger than 50, no older than 60. I'll never forget the smile I saw him show flowering the brush of blue. It was... resigned, almost.
"Are you perhaps interested in the Hydrangeas?" His sudden speaking caught me off-guard, and quite frankly, I was taken aback by caution. He continued, looking at me with his thought-provoking smile, "They are our shop's specialty, after all."
I couldn't see it, regardless of what I felt, was this really the number one organization? "I... what is this place?" Particularly in this situation, my thoughts were hard to organize, but he didn't falter in answering.
"Hehehe, what kind of question is that? This is my flower shop, the Alluring Petal. Didn't you see the sign?" The old man boasted with a great laugh. For someone so old, he sure had some pep in his step...
He had more to say yet, "It's a relaxing feeling being here, is it not? Every sod that comes in here always has the same reaction. A lot of work has went into making this store amazing! I can't help but applaud it." To be frank, looking around, I wanted to applaud it, as well.
After that, he took me around the shop. Compared to looking at the outside of the store, it was quite spacious inside. I'd be lying if I said I remembered all the breeds of flower he showed me (Beside the obvious roses, poppys, daisies, etc.), but all roads led back to the Hydrangeas, the perfect, blue Hydrangeas.
...And that's when his resigned smile returned.
It took no genius to figure out that this was it, this was why his store was number one. But I wasn't satisfied with that conclusion, so it was time to investigate. I turned to the man and struck up a conversation.
"Is it just you here... uh..."
"Just call me Harlow, friend. Yes, I'm the sole boss, employee, janitor, and more."
"Must be tough, but the Hydrangeas sell well enough to be your specialty?"
"Oh... it's nothing like that, just a... personal love for them..."
That damn smile, that's what I remember thinking when I saw it rear it's head back. I'll admit, I was getting a bit impatient, I decided to get to the point and try and get the answer out of him.
"Harlow, why do you smile like that when you talk about the Hydrangeas?" A question, looking back on it, I don't regret asking, but at that moment, it was almost whiplash.
Harlow held his head down for a moment, sighed, then came back to looking at me, with more sorrow in his eyes, and the smile was infected with despair. "Perceptive, aren't you? If you are curious, then I'll let you in on it, it's not a happy story." I simply nodded, as the suspense silenced me.
"Alright then, don't go crying over it." His once great laughter had turned into a depressing chuckle. "Do you know the meaning behind hydrangeas? Of course not. Well, blue hydrangeas are apology flowers. And.. well, that's enough of that. Let's talk about me. I used to have a beautiful wife, she was a full-on botanist. Knew every flower under the sun. She loved these hydrangeas. I gave her these flowers when I proposed to her 32 years ago."
I already knew what was coming, it was unbearable to think of, but all I could do was listen, so I did. "About 4 years into the marriage, we opened this quaint little shop, she'd take wonderful care of all the flowers, but especially the hydrangeas. We made lots of smiles when people bought flowers for their honeys or such. We were honeys ourselves, though, and 4 more years in, we had a boy."
"It was 4 more years later that.. it happened. On October 29th, 19XX, my wife was down with the flu, as well as my boy. They stayed home while I went to tend tl the shop. It was slow anyways, I could've gone home anytime..."
It was ironic, as morbid as it is to say, that he was the one that started crying at this point. But he continued on nonetheless. "An armed fugitive being chased decided to take his buisness into... into my home... he held them hostage and... and after the police broke down the door, he spared... nobody."
I wanted to speak, I wanted to speak more than I ever wanted to in my entire life. But as my mouth opened, nothing came out. Nothing, I felt pathetic, worthless, but nothing could compare to what this old man was feeling right now.
After taking a breath, Harlow continued on. "I remember when I caught a glimpse of the scene... our home. The hydrangeas she had at home... the blood stained the leaves. So, now I take care of them, to the best of my ability. To me, they are my apology to her. But to others, they are still the beautiful damn flowers that'll make their honeys love them to death."
To summarize what happened after, only because I was dazed at the events that transpired, I solved the mystery. I knew why this store was the number one. It was more than profit or size, it was just... well, I can't put it into words, but I'm sure anyone could at least feel it.
I ended up buying a pot of Hydrangeas, brought them home to my girlfriend that I started cohabiting with earlier that year. As I put them near the window, she came over to see the gift I had brought home.
"Those are drop dead gorgeous, honey! Where'd you get them?" Was all she said, I don't know why that's what it took, but...
...To the old man out there, sorry, I ended up crying. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | You ended up deciding to see what the big deal with the flower shop was.
You bought a flower one day and brought it back to your hotel room but it did not feel all that special.
You go home and stay there for a few years along with pressing the flower in a journal.
You have looked back and the question is still killing you why is it so special.
You go back and this time you see that they are hiring someone part time.
All or nothing
You take the job and still you can’t find what the answer is, the owner is this kind 30 ish year old looking man always reading a book.
You are working your hardest but you can’t find anything out of the ordinary. Your boss is nice and really loves to read but other then that it’s just your normal job.
Summer comes to a close.
You ask the boss if he will need help next year and the boss then asks if you want to stay full time. Your curiosity gets the better of you. You can’t help it.
You stay for one year and then two. You start getting board so you also start to become an avid reader. The boss says people don’t usually stay this long and that it’s nice to have some company.
You noticed that the boss sends out a few emails he says he’s just sending some social emails no big deal.
2 years turns into ten and you can’t find anything out of place so you think about quitting but you like selling flowers they smell nice.
You decide to go home for a visit see how the family’s doing. Everyone says that your looking great and they are all along with their lives. Your brother is married and he’s even expecting. You still kind of want to go back to your flowers.
20 years pass and now your well invested into selling flowers and reading tons of books but you still need to visit home as your mother is dying.
Your brother says that his son can pick you up from the airport and that he is so excited to see you after so long.
You wait for a while and get a call from your brother telling you that it seems his son could not find you and if you could tell him some identifiable traits. You tell him what your wearing and then your brother directs his son to pick you up.
His son says that he did not think you would look so young and that’s why he could not tell. He said that if he did not know better you would seem to be in your 30’s. You both laugh it off but it still feels a little off.
At your mothers death bed you sit with your family and you feel a little alienated which makes sense as you have been gone for so long but you still want to see your mother. You look at her and she is startled at your youth but embraces you afterwords. She died 5 days later.
After the procession you go back to your flowers and notice that your boss still looks like he is thirty ish which is weird being that you have worked their for 30 years.
In this time corporations have rose and fallen. Yet the flower shop is still number one. It does not feel weird anymore just normal. You have fallen in love with reading books and spend half of your day just reading.
40 years pass and now your brother is sick you decide to visit home one last time. His son picks you up again and he mentions that you have not changed a bit even though now the son is starting to get on his years.
Your brother says the same thing. You have not changed a bit similar situation to when your mom died. Now you see a lot of new faces in the family and a lot of old faces are gone. You think this is the last time your going to go home. You give a calling card to your nephew if he needs you and after the funeral you go back to the flower shop.
Your curiosity is killing your. You want to know why the shop is number one so you ask your boss if there is anything particularly special about this shop.
He tells you not really only that it has been around for a long time and that people sometimes call asking for advice.
It’s been a while and you have a visitor coming to see you. Apparently it’s your great grand nephew who found your calling card in his dead grandpas belongings. He wanted to know more about his dead grandpa but you don’t really know much. After all you only really knew your brother but you tell him what you knew.
The discussion turns to different things from stories to politics to physics. After talking with you he seems to have had a moment of inspiration and says he had to go home. He wants to talk to you again he says.
You did not see anything that relevant in what you said but 2 weeks later a paper which turned out to be revolutionary was published and you were one of the sources.
You boss looks over your shoulder and congratulated you on your first citation.
You finally start to understand why the flower shop is so important.
You ask your boss how old he is and he says that he might be around 500-600 years old.
One can’t read that many books and not learn something.
But in the end it’s just a small flower shop with some bookworms who answer questions.
The end. | I am a fixer.
One who solves the world's problems, no matter how dirty the task may be. Taking down corrupt governments, destroying terrorist organizations from the inside out and the occasional helping a crying kid find his lost dog. In my quest to do so, I've developed this so-called "ability" to understand the power of an organization just by observing their headquarters. Many find this trait of mine to be some sort of physic ability but with my background and an eye for detail, it's more like a worker's intuition.
One day, I was walking down a small side street while on my vacation from Tuscany. I took a stab in the gut when hunting down a serial murder in the slums of Beijing. Careless on my part but I returned the favor with several bullet holes.
As I continued to walk, I found myself next to a quaint flower shop, selling the typical ornamental foliage, roses, daffodils and the like. As soon as I bent down to inspect them, wondering if I should grab some for the lovely receptionest girl at my hotel, I felt my heart freeze in place. Looking up, the place seemed indistinct from the other buildings around from it, but from the feeling I just felt in my gut, I know. This is the most powerful organization in the world.
Now, either this place has a hand at every damn flower purchase in the world or has enough nuclear firepower in its basement to destroy Earth 100 times over. With sweat trailing my forehead and a nervous smile creeping over my face, I walk in.
Beautiful flowers adorn every shelf and small seed packets are neatly organized along short stands. The surprise of the normalcy of this shop takes me aback. Am I losing my touch? No... no... no... there must be some kind of hidden secret to this place. As I slowly wander around, taking in the surroundings, I hear a cheerful voice greet me in Italian.
"Hello there sir, what can I do for ya today?" He asks me in a quiet but rough dialect.
"Oh, hello... I was just taking a look around."
"Let me know if you need anything." He responds with a beaming smile.
Standing behind the counter, a young boy at about 15 years with gray-white hair looks at me with kind eyes. His frail body barely looks like it can hold up a large pot and his work overalls are lacking any noticeable weapons. This feeling though... he's the reason why this shop is the number one in the world. This one small kid is more powerful than every armament, every expert assassin and without even trying, more powerful than me.
I sidle up next to the bench, lay my hand on it and ask for a bouquet of their prettiest flowers. The small kid gets to work and makes a wonderful display that he quietly hands me and with an exchange of cash, I find myself out of the store.
Walking back down the street I was going, I can't help but self-reflect. My goal is to become the strongest in the world, to never allow myself to lose to anyone and yet I can't even shape up to that kid. Maybe, I should quit... I've done enough, saved countless lives and done a lot of good in the world.
As these negative thoughts plague my mind, I notice a small card hidden among the bouquet I got from the shop. Opening it I find a simple message written in elegant writing.
"Keep up the hard work Mister F."
"Hahaha." A small chuckle escapes my lips as I realize my pointless rumination. That kid sure is something else, huh?
"I've still got a long way to go."
With flowers in hand, I make my way back to my hotel thinking about what my next job will be.
Author: Pistolero2314
(Criticism is welcome, I am very new to creative writing.) | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | It's always hard to find out what exactly is the greatest power in the world. For other people that is. Some believe it's the Kremlin, which is ranked 6th. The Chinese new Forbidden City does a bit better, at 4th. The White House comes out above them at third. In all my years as a diplomat I failed to find out what stood above the The White House. After a while I found the NRA's headquarters to be ranked 5th, just above the Kremlin.
It took me nine years to discover the 2nd greatest power. A para-military organisation that undertook shady business in every part of the world's shadows. A criminal organisation that held the world to it's grip. That was 3 years ago. I had nearly abandoned my search.
It was not untill I visited my aunt in Florence that I discovered the undisputed centre of the world's power. I found it when my aunt and I went to a farmer's market. It was a small village, half an hour drive from Florence where it stood. A small flower shop. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, yet my senses told me, that's it. That's where power supreme is located.
I asked my aunt about it. "That's Nonna Ariel's shop. It might look like just a flower shop, but in the back there's a small cafe with great caffè, tea and delicious Panini. Why don't we hop by?"
Low and behold, a few minutes later we stepped inside. The building was split in three parts. At first we stepped into an ocean of delicious smelling, and gorgeous flowers. Red tulips on my right, with pure white roses just behind them. My hand gliding over a set of silky peonies. Many flowers graced the pillar in front of me, as my mind slowly drifted from the question of what this place was, and became more and more tranquil.
After bathing in the sweet sensation that the flowers gave me, I moved on, into the second part. Leaving the marvelous smells emitted by the flowers behind, I stepped into a small wooden room. Wide dark logs, stripped from their bark kept the roof up. Light wooden panels formed the walls. On the roof hang a small chandelier, painting a mesmerising image onto the walls. The room was filled with small tables, with two or three seats each. At several of the tables a few guests were seated. Quietly conversing, with the occasional merry laughter. A smile slowly became visible on my face as my mind, still as clear and serene as ever.
Unconsciously I had walked to the next part of the store. A small women, in her late 60s but still radiant, with golden hairs like those of a lion and eyes that looked into my soul, stood behind a white marbled counter. My aunt ordered some panini and coffee for both os us. The nonna behind the bar came with a delicious smelling coffee and a gorgeous looking panini. She told us, in a voice like a singing siren, commanding my soul to be at peace that we should enjoy our food.
Three days passed since I was at that shop. I don't remember what I did after getting our food. The first memory after is at the end of our shopping in the farmer's market. Not that I care too much, my mind is still somewhat serene from that one visit. I don't need any more memories to know why that place is the first ranked power in the world. | I had searched so long for the bright shape. My aunts had led me to some of the not-real-but-feeds, and once or twice I had tasted real pollen on the leg of a Great One on her way to the queen.
I flew out in the sharpness of the morning, high on the turning air. I had to find it. I had barely days left!
I wanted to be the bee that found the flower.
On and on I flew, over water, buffeted sleeplessly on winds I hadn't the strength to fight, through warm eddies and sweet mounds of garbage, other insects, friends and foes, who spoke more of flowers.
I listened, which is hard to do when you are very small.
Then I took off over the silver of the world, and flew towards the Bright.
Eventually I tired. Floating low on meat-scented evening winds, I caught a flash of yellow.
Down I dropped, lower and lower, until I saw the perfect shape. I landed and licked it.
Pure nectar.
Behind me rose a cheer.
"A BEE!" shouted the shadows; "Ladies and gentlemen, we have A BEE!!!"
Flowers surrounded me. I danced for my queen! | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | You ended up deciding to see what the big deal with the flower shop was.
You bought a flower one day and brought it back to your hotel room but it did not feel all that special.
You go home and stay there for a few years along with pressing the flower in a journal.
You have looked back and the question is still killing you why is it so special.
You go back and this time you see that they are hiring someone part time.
All or nothing
You take the job and still you can’t find what the answer is, the owner is this kind 30 ish year old looking man always reading a book.
You are working your hardest but you can’t find anything out of the ordinary. Your boss is nice and really loves to read but other then that it’s just your normal job.
Summer comes to a close.
You ask the boss if he will need help next year and the boss then asks if you want to stay full time. Your curiosity gets the better of you. You can’t help it.
You stay for one year and then two. You start getting board so you also start to become an avid reader. The boss says people don’t usually stay this long and that it’s nice to have some company.
You noticed that the boss sends out a few emails he says he’s just sending some social emails no big deal.
2 years turns into ten and you can’t find anything out of place so you think about quitting but you like selling flowers they smell nice.
You decide to go home for a visit see how the family’s doing. Everyone says that your looking great and they are all along with their lives. Your brother is married and he’s even expecting. You still kind of want to go back to your flowers.
20 years pass and now your well invested into selling flowers and reading tons of books but you still need to visit home as your mother is dying.
Your brother says that his son can pick you up from the airport and that he is so excited to see you after so long.
You wait for a while and get a call from your brother telling you that it seems his son could not find you and if you could tell him some identifiable traits. You tell him what your wearing and then your brother directs his son to pick you up.
His son says that he did not think you would look so young and that’s why he could not tell. He said that if he did not know better you would seem to be in your 30’s. You both laugh it off but it still feels a little off.
At your mothers death bed you sit with your family and you feel a little alienated which makes sense as you have been gone for so long but you still want to see your mother. You look at her and she is startled at your youth but embraces you afterwords. She died 5 days later.
After the procession you go back to your flowers and notice that your boss still looks like he is thirty ish which is weird being that you have worked their for 30 years.
In this time corporations have rose and fallen. Yet the flower shop is still number one. It does not feel weird anymore just normal. You have fallen in love with reading books and spend half of your day just reading.
40 years pass and now your brother is sick you decide to visit home one last time. His son picks you up again and he mentions that you have not changed a bit even though now the son is starting to get on his years.
Your brother says the same thing. You have not changed a bit similar situation to when your mom died. Now you see a lot of new faces in the family and a lot of old faces are gone. You think this is the last time your going to go home. You give a calling card to your nephew if he needs you and after the funeral you go back to the flower shop.
Your curiosity is killing your. You want to know why the shop is number one so you ask your boss if there is anything particularly special about this shop.
He tells you not really only that it has been around for a long time and that people sometimes call asking for advice.
It’s been a while and you have a visitor coming to see you. Apparently it’s your great grand nephew who found your calling card in his dead grandpas belongings. He wanted to know more about his dead grandpa but you don’t really know much. After all you only really knew your brother but you tell him what you knew.
The discussion turns to different things from stories to politics to physics. After talking with you he seems to have had a moment of inspiration and says he had to go home. He wants to talk to you again he says.
You did not see anything that relevant in what you said but 2 weeks later a paper which turned out to be revolutionary was published and you were one of the sources.
You boss looks over your shoulder and congratulated you on your first citation.
You finally start to understand why the flower shop is so important.
You ask your boss how old he is and he says that he might be around 500-600 years old.
One can’t read that many books and not learn something.
But in the end it’s just a small flower shop with some bookworms who answer questions.
The end. | I had searched so long for the bright shape. My aunts had led me to some of the not-real-but-feeds, and once or twice I had tasted real pollen on the leg of a Great One on her way to the queen.
I flew out in the sharpness of the morning, high on the turning air. I had to find it. I had barely days left!
I wanted to be the bee that found the flower.
On and on I flew, over water, buffeted sleeplessly on winds I hadn't the strength to fight, through warm eddies and sweet mounds of garbage, other insects, friends and foes, who spoke more of flowers.
I listened, which is hard to do when you are very small.
Then I took off over the silver of the world, and flew towards the Bright.
Eventually I tired. Floating low on meat-scented evening winds, I caught a flash of yellow.
Down I dropped, lower and lower, until I saw the perfect shape. I landed and licked it.
Pure nectar.
Behind me rose a cheer.
"A BEE!" shouted the shadows; "Ladies and gentlemen, we have A BEE!!!"
Flowers surrounded me. I danced for my queen! | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | I’ve never submitted one of these prompts so give me some feedback!
“
I rush through the door and hear a bell chattering behind me. I come to a quick stop in the doorway and look around. The little shop is full of floral arrangements and there’s an old Italian couple browsing the styles. This is so confusing.
”Mi scusi, negoziante?” I call for the shopkeeper. A middle aged man walks out with a warm smile.
“Benvenuto! Sir, may I help you find anything?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could interview you. My name is Alexander, I’m a journalist at the New York Post, and we are including a segment on small businesses around the world. Do you have fifteen minutes?” I flash an attempt at a smile towards the gentleman and pray that the fear behind my eyes is invisible to him. The florist looks me over and evidently seems me worthy.
“Very well! My name is Luca. Come, come in. Join me in my office.”
“Thank you so much!”
We walk together through the winding paths between beautiful arrangements. I can’t help but be a little distracted by all these colors. I follow close behind Luca and try to take in as many details about the shop as I can. This is so confusing. Everything about this place is contradictory.
“Luca, how long has the flower shop been open?” I pat down my jacket, looking for a notepad. But since I’m not a real journalist, of course I don’t have one. Wow. That was smooth, Alex. Guess I’m “recording this on my phone”.
“Seventy,” he trails off, counting on his fingers, “seventy two years. My grandfather opened it when his fiancée’s parents would not let him marry her without a stable career. He found this warm little building and things fell into place. He’s passed on, as has my father. But the community is still here and as you can see, so are the flowers.”
“Wow. That’s beautiful.” I’m trying to analyze what he’s just told me, see if there’s some code but I need more information. “And, uh, what exactly do you bring to the community?”
Luca looks at me quizzically, unlocks the door to his office, and says, “Well, apart from flowers, I suppose we bring people love and happiness if that’s what you want to know.” He chuckles in a light, airy tone as he retreats to his desk.
“Oh, of course. What else could I have meant?”
This is getting me nowhere. Okay. Grow a pair and just tell him.
“Luca, I’m not a journalist. But I know something is going on here. I don’t know what it is exactly. But I know that you’re a man of influence. I have this…intuition. I can know how powerful a group is by seeing their headquarters or where they meet. And I had never found number one until today. Luca, why does my intuition say that your flower shop is the most powerful organization on earth?” I’ve never told anyone this. I probably sound crazy. I rightly grip the leather seat of the chair beneath me. Bracing for an answer.
Luca leans back in his chair and I can see him processing this new information.
“Well, Alex. I must say, I don’t appreciate being lied to. But if you already know so much, I suppose I’ll tell you more. My grandfather started this shop to be with the woman he loved. The city knew this. They supported their relationship so they flocked to the flowers he ordered. The people of Tuscany had little need for flowers in their home but it brought them such joy to support a good man who loved a good girl.”
I sit up towards the edge of my seat, “Please, I’m just asking for the truth.”
“What do you mean by this? I am telling you the story of this shop! Sit back. Listen. My grandfather was a good man. Kind. And the love of my grandparents inspired people. Nonna would cook for the kids who did not get enough at home. And Nonno would hire on young men and women who had nowhere else to go. Rejected from their homes because of religion or love or not wanting to take the family trade. This shop became a haven. And everyone knew that we provided the best arrangements in the city. Some of those men and women that worked here moved away. London, New York, Paris, Tokyo. Cities of influence. And they have opened their doors to those in need. My father continued this legacy. He began to organize teams to clean the streets and programs for the kids after school let out. We had enough that my father was able to give back to the city well. So, Alexander. This is power. Not brute strength. Influence. Power is a graceful being who is most present with those who remain humble. I can call any number of people in thirty countries and ask for a euro or a kidney and I know they’d be willing. I can ask the people of the city for a statue of my grandfather and they wouldn’t bat an eye. Do you understand?”
I stared at him, mouth slightly agape.
“I don’t run any secret drug rings. I don’t have an underground army. I have simply loved the people around me as my father and his father did. This is how you become a man of influence. Now, let me bring you home and make you dinner.”
Edit: added paragraph breaks | I had searched so long for the bright shape. My aunts had led me to some of the not-real-but-feeds, and once or twice I had tasted real pollen on the leg of a Great One on her way to the queen.
I flew out in the sharpness of the morning, high on the turning air. I had to find it. I had barely days left!
I wanted to be the bee that found the flower.
On and on I flew, over water, buffeted sleeplessly on winds I hadn't the strength to fight, through warm eddies and sweet mounds of garbage, other insects, friends and foes, who spoke more of flowers.
I listened, which is hard to do when you are very small.
Then I took off over the silver of the world, and flew towards the Bright.
Eventually I tired. Floating low on meat-scented evening winds, I caught a flash of yellow.
Down I dropped, lower and lower, until I saw the perfect shape. I landed and licked it.
Pure nectar.
Behind me rose a cheer.
"A BEE!" shouted the shadows; "Ladies and gentlemen, we have A BEE!!!"
Flowers surrounded me. I danced for my queen! | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. |
It was a neat trick to pull out at work events, mentioning how a specific government was or wasn’t even in the top ten most powerful organizations. Of course, when you were a member of the President’s Security Detail for the US Secret Service, you weren’t exactly doing that as a bar trick. You generally whispered it directly to the President herself.
You were the most nondescript of her detail, never in the trademark dark suits and ear pieces your brothers in arms were in, but that’s because you were the easiest to hide as an aide to Madame President. You barely made the Secret Service cutoffs for sizing until you pointed out your background in undercover work. It caused the interviewing officers to reevaluate your application. You solidly passed the physical and mental tests, your background showed no blemishes throughout eight years with the military and six more as a city police detective, and you were an ideal candidate for public-level spy work. You passed perfectly as a soccer mom or trophy wife and could get in to places and situations others couldn’t.
It wasn’t until you were through with training and into your third year with the agency that your talents were exposed.
It had been an easy mission – escort some senators through the embassy in Brazil and to a summit on climate change. Low danger level, mild media attention, and plenty of preparation with familiar facilities. You had been the second most senior agent on the case and had been scouting the region when you noticed the warm glow around the small coffee shop just six blocks from the summit. How had you not seen this before?
A soft seven floated around the door of the building. It was almost a shimmer instead of a solid number, just mild enough to catch your attention but not enough for anyone else to notice. It wasn’t particularly busy, but a few customers sat outside, sipping small espresso cups, nibbling on cookies, and reading books or chatting with friends. A single server chatted with an older gentleman who sat by himself near the door; they seemed familiar enough that he was likely a regular here.
It was funny, the most powerful places in the world rarely had Men in Suits going in and out of them as you might expect.
Number Ten had been a comic book store in Queens, NY. It had some mob ties but remained quiet. It wasn’t on any books anywhere and the ownership was so far removed from anyone associated with any of the Families that it couldn’t be tied back to them with rope, but it was the tenth most powerful place in the world.
Number Nine was in Rome, and surprisingly it was the only one you’d expected to be on the list, though you’d expected it a little higher than ninth place. The Vatican still held a lot of power within its walls and it didn’t seem God would be releasing any of it any time soon.
Numbers Eight, Six, Five, and Four were also small businesses in quiet places. An auto repair shop in France, a library in Spain, a Michelin-starred restaurant in Germany, and a petting zoo in Australia all held shimmering single-digit numbers.
Number Three was a historical home in England, but it wasn’t owned by the Royal Family. Number Two was a farm in Missouri, of all places, but Number One was elusive. You’d searched every country you’d been in, visiting neighborhoods tourists avoided and getting to know locals to find their favorite places. They often didn’t realize that their favorite little shop was the seat of power for some of the world’s most influential organizations.
You had spent a little too long staring at the shop and your commanding officer had noticed.
“Morrow, situation?” he’d asked in your ear-coms.
“Negative, sir. Just a cute shop, wondered if their coffee was any good,” you’d smiled. He didn’t believe you and had taken you to the side.
“Morrow, I need to know what you saw at that shop. There is no room for keeping anything to yourself,” he’d said quietly.
“I don’t even know how to say it, but that shop is the seventh most powerful organization in the world’s headquarters, sir.”
“What’s the organization? And more importantly, how do you know that?”
“I can’t answer that on either account sir, but I can tell you I’m right. We don’t have anything to worry about today, though. They don’t know we know and they don’t seem to be actively planning anything.”
The commander had set up a discreet watch on the coffee shop after that. He had been blown away by your accuracy. The US now had a handle on the headquarters of one of the most powerful secret societies in the world and you had given it to them.
Promotions had come quickly after that, getting you to be the personal guard and public aide to the first female President of the United States of America. That’s how you’d ended up in Tuscany, Italy today.
She had a meeting with the Italian president and all hands were on deck, as usual. It was a beautiful season in Italy when the grapes were harvested and many festivals were held. Madame President would be attending one that evening, in fact, but first had to handle the official business she was here for.
You’d spend most of the meeting studying those in the room and the surveillance undoubtedly installed everywhere, but it should be an easy hour. Smile, take some notes, whisper a few reminders and out. Nobody would ever suspect the unassuming aide to be someone with your talents.
And it was exactly as you’d expected. An easy meeting, a few photos for the press, and back out to the hotel. Another standard day in the life of a Secret Service agent, right?
Until you saw it.
It shimmered brighter than the others, you’d thought it was the sun starting to move behind the cute little flower shop that gave it the golden glow. An errant thought about photographers loving the light passed through your mind before it snapped to attention.
ONE. A bright, shiny, glowing 1 floated near the doorway of the flower shop, the fresh, cool scent of flowers hovering near the doorway.
“Madame President, a word please?” You trusted this one, unlike the last two. They’d been total idiots, unfit to serve or lead the people of the US, but this one had something different about her. Maybe it was the respect she commanded that had nothing to do with her gender, maybe it was the thoughtful way she considered each proposal brought her way, or maybe it was something else, but she was doing great and had started a slow improvement in the economy and job market. No one person would be able to fix it all, but she was making progress on both sides of the aisle.
“Sure, Morrow. What’s going on?” You rarely asked for her time, so she paused when you did. “Do we need to step away?”
“No Madame President, but I have a fun fact for you.”
The President leaned in with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye, she loved the facts you spouted off about each location you visited and she was well aware that the phrasing mattered and would be important on this one.
“Oh wonderful! What’s today’s fact?” she smiled.
“I just wanted to point out those beautiful red poppies at that flower shop, Tuscany is known for their poppies this time of year,” you gestured. “They’re regarded as the most beautiful in the world, in fact.”
“Oh? Are they the number one producer?”
“Yes, ma’am, *the* number one.”
“I see, well, perhaps you could arrange a bouquet for the staff at the hotel before we leave, I do enjoy local floral arrangements.”
“Noted,” you said. You’d speak to her again at the embassy when you returned to Florence, but she was aware of the special gift you possessed and knew to take it seriously. While your gift told you of the importance, it didn’t tell you which organization it belonged to and it often took several weeks or months of investigation to figure it out. And only twice had anyone moved locations on you. Foolishly, they’d kept them in the same areas, so you’d been able to find them again easily.
You had a feeling if this one moved, you’d never find it again. | I had searched so long for the bright shape. My aunts had led me to some of the not-real-but-feeds, and once or twice I had tasted real pollen on the leg of a Great One on her way to the queen.
I flew out in the sharpness of the morning, high on the turning air. I had to find it. I had barely days left!
I wanted to be the bee that found the flower.
On and on I flew, over water, buffeted sleeplessly on winds I hadn't the strength to fight, through warm eddies and sweet mounds of garbage, other insects, friends and foes, who spoke more of flowers.
I listened, which is hard to do when you are very small.
Then I took off over the silver of the world, and flew towards the Bright.
Eventually I tired. Floating low on meat-scented evening winds, I caught a flash of yellow.
Down I dropped, lower and lower, until I saw the perfect shape. I landed and licked it.
Pure nectar.
Behind me rose a cheer.
"A BEE!" shouted the shadows; "Ladies and gentlemen, we have A BEE!!!"
Flowers surrounded me. I danced for my queen! | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | "This doesn't make sense," I muttered, perturbed. The tulips didn't seem to have any microphones inside. The hydrangea arrangements seemed like they were for sure hiding a secret passage but if that were so it was too well-concealed for even me to find - which should be impossible! There wasn't even a security camera on the ceiling, though that wasn't necessarily unusual. Anyone THIS powerful wouldn't have anything to fear, and also probably didn't want a lot of business caught on tape.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" The smiling old man behind the counter called out in stunted English.
"Oh I'm good," I called back, think returning his warmth with all the sincerity I could muster. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice.
It has to be the mob, I thought, but which mob? I'd sussed out mafioso headquarters from Russia to Ru Paul's Drag Race (it's all a front, people) and never even got a sniff of one headquartered in Tuscany. A new player? Impossible - whoever was running this place was head and shoulders above the CIA, Mossad, and the nomadic Mongolian witch coven that secretly controls the economy. A flower shop, to boot? I sidled up next to the roses again. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. I'd been looking for signs of secret organizations that originated on Earth...
"My friend, I know why you come here," the old man said, nearly making me jump out of my skin. When had he gotten so close?
"Ah," I did my best to smile with this monster beside me. "Do you?"
His eyes were a bright green, but his look was somber and grave. Only a few tufts of white hair remained on his liver-spotted head, and his face was a labyrinth of wrinkles and lines. Heavy eyebrows knit together as he brushed some soil off his hands onto the thin apron he wore, and then reached out to take me by the wrist.
"We're a gonna need to talk to Maria," he sternly intoned.
I pulled back, nearly tripping. He'd made me. "No, that's fine, I think I need to be going, there's- "
"Maria!" The man raised his voice, and the previous warmth had vanished. "We have a guest who needs your attention."
I heard a rustling in the back. Past the rows of neatly arranged flowers, the gift baskets and expensive chocolates, the selections of fine wines, a door opened. The old man, who had been so small when I entered, now seemed to loom over me. I had to get out, before -
"What is this? Marco, who is this?" A woman as wrinkled and dirt-stained as the old man rounded the corner. A small shovel was gripped menacingly in one gloved hand. Her eyes, as green as her partner's, gleamed as she cast her gaze back and forth between me and Marco. The old man straightened.
"Now you gonna get it," he threatened. Maria, twice the diminutive Marco's size, locked her eyes on mine.
"There's a misunderstanding- " I started to say, but then the bell on the front door announced a new visitor.
Both Maria and Marco turned, and I seized the opportunity to dash behind the roses. I began to shout out a theat, but another, wild "WHOOP!" drowned out my own.
"Mr. Romano! Mrs. Romano! I cannot thank you enough!" I peered out from behind the dozen thorny stalks acting as my shield. There was a young man in a vest and cap, vigorously shaking the hands of the pair in turn. "I give those flowers you say to Margaret and she adore them! She even give me a kiss - Dio! She's a coming to meet my mother this week - I think you did it! I owe it to you!"
Maria was beaming as Marco chuckled. "I told you our flowers were the best, Silvio," she patted his face warmly. "Now if you two get married and you ever get in a fight, you come back here and tell me what happened, we'll find what you need to apologize."
"But what if I am right?" Silvio queried.
Marco's chuckle became a deep belly laugh. "You just remember to come back when you need," Maria cuffed Marco on the back of the head, but that didn't stop his laughter. She rolled her eyes. "Go now Silvio, you find a nice shirt to wear when you bring her to your mama."
The young man profusely thanked them again before rushing out of the store, the door closing firmly behind him.
Both sets of eyes turned back on me. The thorns on these roses seemed to retract in fear.
"Don't think we forget about you," Marco said. "Maria, take care of this one."
Maria set her jaw, stepping forward. She reached out, gloved hand like a vise around my wrist, eyes pulling my gaze in as she searched my face.
"So," she yanked me from my useless hiding spot and into the shop's center. "What's her name?"
"Her...name?"
"Don't play coy," Maria gave me a look that said she wasn't having it. "Fifty years we've been doing this, and not once have we ever failed. You start talking, I'll get you what you need."
"We don't rightly understand it either," Marco sighed, taking out a broom to idly begin sweeping leaves and dirt from the floor, "but how are we going to complain?"
"You don't understand it, I understand it perfectly!" Maria yelled at him. He gave her a dreamy smile and leaned in for a kiss. She made a show of rolling her eyes and shooing him away, but I caught the fleeting wisp of a smile on her face.
"Fifty years," Maria repeated, "and not a one time have we failed to help a customer find their true love - and keep them - with our flowers. We only started this little shop because we both loved gardening, can you believe it? But I like to think in our little way, we mean something to the world."
"More than you realize," I replied, reassessing everything I thought I understood. "Far, far more than you realize." | I had searched so long for the bright shape. My aunts had led me to some of the not-real-but-feeds, and once or twice I had tasted real pollen on the leg of a Great One on her way to the queen.
I flew out in the sharpness of the morning, high on the turning air. I had to find it. I had barely days left!
I wanted to be the bee that found the flower.
On and on I flew, over water, buffeted sleeplessly on winds I hadn't the strength to fight, through warm eddies and sweet mounds of garbage, other insects, friends and foes, who spoke more of flowers.
I listened, which is hard to do when you are very small.
Then I took off over the silver of the world, and flew towards the Bright.
Eventually I tired. Floating low on meat-scented evening winds, I caught a flash of yellow.
Down I dropped, lower and lower, until I saw the perfect shape. I landed and licked it.
Pure nectar.
Behind me rose a cheer.
"A BEE!" shouted the shadows; "Ladies and gentlemen, we have A BEE!!!"
Flowers surrounded me. I danced for my queen! | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. |
I’m not sure what brought me to Tuscany, but the hunch I was following seemed to be right. I could see the blazing number One above the entrance to the little flower shop that was certain. I had located all the sources of power in the world, all except Numero Uno, and now, here it was before me at long last.
Let me back up a step or two. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Jim. Common enough name to be sure. Pretty normal in most respects. Not a lady’s man. Not a nerd. Pretty much your average guy. I do have one unusual talent that has payed my way through life so far, I can find centers of power and influence. Using my particular gift, I’ve been able to parlay that information to the highest bidders and I’ve secured financial future. All except Numero Uno. I’ve searched the world over without success, that is until last week. I was pissing around on my computer looking at various threads on Reddit when I stopped on a photo of a square in Grosseto, Italy and my heart started racing. I literally broke out in a cold sweat. My brain was screaming to me, 'GO’.
With nothing on my immediate schedule, I flew on a lark to Florence and took the long drive down to Grosseto. The entire drive south, I chided myself on my stupidity and rashness. The only consultation I found was in the food. Bliss. Sheer utter bliss. I probably gained ten pounds on the drive alone, but I digress. Or maybe not. I frickin love food. Especially when the ingredients are farmed from the local countryside and the proteins are caught fresh that day. I’m not a foodie, but heck, I know what I like.
Ok, on with my little adventure. Parking the rental, I made my way to the square I had seen on Reddit and found myself standing outside a quaint little flower store. Mama Rosa’s Flower, the sign above the door was somewhat nondescript. What did draw my attention was the bold red number One that I could see in my mind’s eye. This was it. But it couldn’t be. Many of the locations I had discovered in the past maintained an innocuous entrance, but this, this was something completely different from what I had discovered before.
Trusting in my sense, I backed away and scouted out a location to observe the entryway. For three days and nights I watched. Carefully photographing all the comings and goings of the flower shop. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Your typical Mom and Pop sorta place with the usual customers. No odd hour deliveries. No suspicious looking men. Nothing. People went in, bought flowers and left. Although they did seem a bit happier when they departed. Maybe it was the flowers. No clue. No one has ever bought me flowers before. But it did seem to brighten their moods.
Day four had arrived and I decided I needed to see the inside of the shop. The ‘One’ still hung over the door. Nothing had changed. Trust me, I figured my gift had finally slipped a Coswell Cog and I was going to end up as crazy as the Jetson’s robot Rosie. Quickly packing up all my observation equipment and securing it, I made my way back to the shop and taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.
Sweet God Almighty, the smell that hit me on entering was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Hundreds of flowers scents mingled but didn’t mingle. Each of them presented themselves to my nose, bidding for my attention but not overpowering one another. It was like seeing an entire art gallery all at the same time. All the painting visible, their beauty beckoning to you, but not stepping on the other paintings. Enraptured, I barely heard the young girl speaking to me, “can I help you?” Awkwardly, I thrust out my hand, “hi, I’m Jim. Just looking around.” She gave me the faintest of smiles, “Mother said you would be here three days ago. You’re late!”
“Huh?”, yeah that’s me. Mr. Suave and Deboner. “Mother?”
“Yes, right this way. She’s going to be so pleased that you’ve finally arrived.”
Really, I’ve no clue why I followed the girl, but I did. We walked through the tiny shop as she paused periodically to point out one rare variety of plant after another, naming each as if they were her siblings. I quickly lost track of time and where in the hell I was when I drew up short, my jaw dropping as I looked ahead. A stunning woman, no more than thirty years old, was pruning the branches of an olive tree directly in front of me. Turning around, for as far as I could see, were olive trees, neatly manicured, gently swaying in the breeze. Turning back to my escort, the woman approached me. Her dress a riot of colors seemed to flow with an unnatural grace, her eyes fixed on me, deep green and blazing bright. She reached out her hand to take mine, her voice floated on the air, “James, I am so pleased that you’ve decided to visit. I’m Gaia. I’m sure you have many questions.”
(I saw this prompt and had to write something before I went to sleep. My hat is off to the author of the original prompt.) | I had searched so long for the bright shape. My aunts had led me to some of the not-real-but-feeds, and once or twice I had tasted real pollen on the leg of a Great One on her way to the queen.
I flew out in the sharpness of the morning, high on the turning air. I had to find it. I had barely days left!
I wanted to be the bee that found the flower.
On and on I flew, over water, buffeted sleeplessly on winds I hadn't the strength to fight, through warm eddies and sweet mounds of garbage, other insects, friends and foes, who spoke more of flowers.
I listened, which is hard to do when you are very small.
Then I took off over the silver of the world, and flew towards the Bright.
Eventually I tired. Floating low on meat-scented evening winds, I caught a flash of yellow.
Down I dropped, lower and lower, until I saw the perfect shape. I landed and licked it.
Pure nectar.
Behind me rose a cheer.
"A BEE!" shouted the shadows; "Ladies and gentlemen, we have A BEE!!!"
Flowers surrounded me. I danced for my queen! | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | I’ve never submitted one of these prompts so give me some feedback!
“
I rush through the door and hear a bell chattering behind me. I come to a quick stop in the doorway and look around. The little shop is full of floral arrangements and there’s an old Italian couple browsing the styles. This is so confusing.
”Mi scusi, negoziante?” I call for the shopkeeper. A middle aged man walks out with a warm smile.
“Benvenuto! Sir, may I help you find anything?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could interview you. My name is Alexander, I’m a journalist at the New York Post, and we are including a segment on small businesses around the world. Do you have fifteen minutes?” I flash an attempt at a smile towards the gentleman and pray that the fear behind my eyes is invisible to him. The florist looks me over and evidently seems me worthy.
“Very well! My name is Luca. Come, come in. Join me in my office.”
“Thank you so much!”
We walk together through the winding paths between beautiful arrangements. I can’t help but be a little distracted by all these colors. I follow close behind Luca and try to take in as many details about the shop as I can. This is so confusing. Everything about this place is contradictory.
“Luca, how long has the flower shop been open?” I pat down my jacket, looking for a notepad. But since I’m not a real journalist, of course I don’t have one. Wow. That was smooth, Alex. Guess I’m “recording this on my phone”.
“Seventy,” he trails off, counting on his fingers, “seventy two years. My grandfather opened it when his fiancée’s parents would not let him marry her without a stable career. He found this warm little building and things fell into place. He’s passed on, as has my father. But the community is still here and as you can see, so are the flowers.”
“Wow. That’s beautiful.” I’m trying to analyze what he’s just told me, see if there’s some code but I need more information. “And, uh, what exactly do you bring to the community?”
Luca looks at me quizzically, unlocks the door to his office, and says, “Well, apart from flowers, I suppose we bring people love and happiness if that’s what you want to know.” He chuckles in a light, airy tone as he retreats to his desk.
“Oh, of course. What else could I have meant?”
This is getting me nowhere. Okay. Grow a pair and just tell him.
“Luca, I’m not a journalist. But I know something is going on here. I don’t know what it is exactly. But I know that you’re a man of influence. I have this…intuition. I can know how powerful a group is by seeing their headquarters or where they meet. And I had never found number one until today. Luca, why does my intuition say that your flower shop is the most powerful organization on earth?” I’ve never told anyone this. I probably sound crazy. I rightly grip the leather seat of the chair beneath me. Bracing for an answer.
Luca leans back in his chair and I can see him processing this new information.
“Well, Alex. I must say, I don’t appreciate being lied to. But if you already know so much, I suppose I’ll tell you more. My grandfather started this shop to be with the woman he loved. The city knew this. They supported their relationship so they flocked to the flowers he ordered. The people of Tuscany had little need for flowers in their home but it brought them such joy to support a good man who loved a good girl.”
I sit up towards the edge of my seat, “Please, I’m just asking for the truth.”
“What do you mean by this? I am telling you the story of this shop! Sit back. Listen. My grandfather was a good man. Kind. And the love of my grandparents inspired people. Nonna would cook for the kids who did not get enough at home. And Nonno would hire on young men and women who had nowhere else to go. Rejected from their homes because of religion or love or not wanting to take the family trade. This shop became a haven. And everyone knew that we provided the best arrangements in the city. Some of those men and women that worked here moved away. London, New York, Paris, Tokyo. Cities of influence. And they have opened their doors to those in need. My father continued this legacy. He began to organize teams to clean the streets and programs for the kids after school let out. We had enough that my father was able to give back to the city well. So, Alexander. This is power. Not brute strength. Influence. Power is a graceful being who is most present with those who remain humble. I can call any number of people in thirty countries and ask for a euro or a kidney and I know they’d be willing. I can ask the people of the city for a statue of my grandfather and they wouldn’t bat an eye. Do you understand?”
I stared at him, mouth slightly agape.
“I don’t run any secret drug rings. I don’t have an underground army. I have simply loved the people around me as my father and his father did. This is how you become a man of influence. Now, let me bring you home and make you dinner.”
Edit: added paragraph breaks | I don't say this much, but I was impressed that day. And it isn't an easy to thing to accomplish either, the Jacks of the world don't exactly impress easy. Which is why that day was do different. I, Jack was impressed. And that's no easy thing.
Organizations, secret hat societies, town houses - they all have one thing in common. All of them dig the dinginess of a proper old house. Something creaky, something with slime and enough skeletons to fill a small fiction section of a small town library. And that's no easy thing. Not when Jack's looking for a book to read, anyway.
Our reader found himself on a long street in Tuscany one fine evening. Fine can describe many evenings however, and this evening was overcast, perhaps it could classify as almost cloudy. A wholly benign evening.
And flower shops. One after the other, as one were to expect Jack to find on a cloudy, overcast evening in Tuscany. The gentle breeze was almost a calm hue of warm turquoise.
And as Jack walks he peers into his pocket and takes out a small contact card and all it says is 24/5, Elm street. That's where he was. A small pocket sprinkler sticker on the door handle, and he pushes in. Inside it's all very dark. A few desks where a few men in top hats seem to be waiting for a very important delivery of flowers and flowerpots (one would hope), but them seemed too quiet for the day. Jack kept walking and sooner, he found himself by a small curving staircase, and started to walk downstairs. Sooner than he could count to a hundred, he found himself standing by an underground level made of cobblestone and the olde' sort of pillars you only thought about in really dreary castle romances.
Jack wakes up.
On his bed is a bunch of flowers that says, 24/5, Elm street. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. |
It was a neat trick to pull out at work events, mentioning how a specific government was or wasn’t even in the top ten most powerful organizations. Of course, when you were a member of the President’s Security Detail for the US Secret Service, you weren’t exactly doing that as a bar trick. You generally whispered it directly to the President herself.
You were the most nondescript of her detail, never in the trademark dark suits and ear pieces your brothers in arms were in, but that’s because you were the easiest to hide as an aide to Madame President. You barely made the Secret Service cutoffs for sizing until you pointed out your background in undercover work. It caused the interviewing officers to reevaluate your application. You solidly passed the physical and mental tests, your background showed no blemishes throughout eight years with the military and six more as a city police detective, and you were an ideal candidate for public-level spy work. You passed perfectly as a soccer mom or trophy wife and could get in to places and situations others couldn’t.
It wasn’t until you were through with training and into your third year with the agency that your talents were exposed.
It had been an easy mission – escort some senators through the embassy in Brazil and to a summit on climate change. Low danger level, mild media attention, and plenty of preparation with familiar facilities. You had been the second most senior agent on the case and had been scouting the region when you noticed the warm glow around the small coffee shop just six blocks from the summit. How had you not seen this before?
A soft seven floated around the door of the building. It was almost a shimmer instead of a solid number, just mild enough to catch your attention but not enough for anyone else to notice. It wasn’t particularly busy, but a few customers sat outside, sipping small espresso cups, nibbling on cookies, and reading books or chatting with friends. A single server chatted with an older gentleman who sat by himself near the door; they seemed familiar enough that he was likely a regular here.
It was funny, the most powerful places in the world rarely had Men in Suits going in and out of them as you might expect.
Number Ten had been a comic book store in Queens, NY. It had some mob ties but remained quiet. It wasn’t on any books anywhere and the ownership was so far removed from anyone associated with any of the Families that it couldn’t be tied back to them with rope, but it was the tenth most powerful place in the world.
Number Nine was in Rome, and surprisingly it was the only one you’d expected to be on the list, though you’d expected it a little higher than ninth place. The Vatican still held a lot of power within its walls and it didn’t seem God would be releasing any of it any time soon.
Numbers Eight, Six, Five, and Four were also small businesses in quiet places. An auto repair shop in France, a library in Spain, a Michelin-starred restaurant in Germany, and a petting zoo in Australia all held shimmering single-digit numbers.
Number Three was a historical home in England, but it wasn’t owned by the Royal Family. Number Two was a farm in Missouri, of all places, but Number One was elusive. You’d searched every country you’d been in, visiting neighborhoods tourists avoided and getting to know locals to find their favorite places. They often didn’t realize that their favorite little shop was the seat of power for some of the world’s most influential organizations.
You had spent a little too long staring at the shop and your commanding officer had noticed.
“Morrow, situation?” he’d asked in your ear-coms.
“Negative, sir. Just a cute shop, wondered if their coffee was any good,” you’d smiled. He didn’t believe you and had taken you to the side.
“Morrow, I need to know what you saw at that shop. There is no room for keeping anything to yourself,” he’d said quietly.
“I don’t even know how to say it, but that shop is the seventh most powerful organization in the world’s headquarters, sir.”
“What’s the organization? And more importantly, how do you know that?”
“I can’t answer that on either account sir, but I can tell you I’m right. We don’t have anything to worry about today, though. They don’t know we know and they don’t seem to be actively planning anything.”
The commander had set up a discreet watch on the coffee shop after that. He had been blown away by your accuracy. The US now had a handle on the headquarters of one of the most powerful secret societies in the world and you had given it to them.
Promotions had come quickly after that, getting you to be the personal guard and public aide to the first female President of the United States of America. That’s how you’d ended up in Tuscany, Italy today.
She had a meeting with the Italian president and all hands were on deck, as usual. It was a beautiful season in Italy when the grapes were harvested and many festivals were held. Madame President would be attending one that evening, in fact, but first had to handle the official business she was here for.
You’d spend most of the meeting studying those in the room and the surveillance undoubtedly installed everywhere, but it should be an easy hour. Smile, take some notes, whisper a few reminders and out. Nobody would ever suspect the unassuming aide to be someone with your talents.
And it was exactly as you’d expected. An easy meeting, a few photos for the press, and back out to the hotel. Another standard day in the life of a Secret Service agent, right?
Until you saw it.
It shimmered brighter than the others, you’d thought it was the sun starting to move behind the cute little flower shop that gave it the golden glow. An errant thought about photographers loving the light passed through your mind before it snapped to attention.
ONE. A bright, shiny, glowing 1 floated near the doorway of the flower shop, the fresh, cool scent of flowers hovering near the doorway.
“Madame President, a word please?” You trusted this one, unlike the last two. They’d been total idiots, unfit to serve or lead the people of the US, but this one had something different about her. Maybe it was the respect she commanded that had nothing to do with her gender, maybe it was the thoughtful way she considered each proposal brought her way, or maybe it was something else, but she was doing great and had started a slow improvement in the economy and job market. No one person would be able to fix it all, but she was making progress on both sides of the aisle.
“Sure, Morrow. What’s going on?” You rarely asked for her time, so she paused when you did. “Do we need to step away?”
“No Madame President, but I have a fun fact for you.”
The President leaned in with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye, she loved the facts you spouted off about each location you visited and she was well aware that the phrasing mattered and would be important on this one.
“Oh wonderful! What’s today’s fact?” she smiled.
“I just wanted to point out those beautiful red poppies at that flower shop, Tuscany is known for their poppies this time of year,” you gestured. “They’re regarded as the most beautiful in the world, in fact.”
“Oh? Are they the number one producer?”
“Yes, ma’am, *the* number one.”
“I see, well, perhaps you could arrange a bouquet for the staff at the hotel before we leave, I do enjoy local floral arrangements.”
“Noted,” you said. You’d speak to her again at the embassy when you returned to Florence, but she was aware of the special gift you possessed and knew to take it seriously. While your gift told you of the importance, it didn’t tell you which organization it belonged to and it often took several weeks or months of investigation to figure it out. And only twice had anyone moved locations on you. Foolishly, they’d kept them in the same areas, so you’d been able to find them again easily.
You had a feeling if this one moved, you’d never find it again. | I don't say this much, but I was impressed that day. And it isn't an easy to thing to accomplish either, the Jacks of the world don't exactly impress easy. Which is why that day was do different. I, Jack was impressed. And that's no easy thing.
Organizations, secret hat societies, town houses - they all have one thing in common. All of them dig the dinginess of a proper old house. Something creaky, something with slime and enough skeletons to fill a small fiction section of a small town library. And that's no easy thing. Not when Jack's looking for a book to read, anyway.
Our reader found himself on a long street in Tuscany one fine evening. Fine can describe many evenings however, and this evening was overcast, perhaps it could classify as almost cloudy. A wholly benign evening.
And flower shops. One after the other, as one were to expect Jack to find on a cloudy, overcast evening in Tuscany. The gentle breeze was almost a calm hue of warm turquoise.
And as Jack walks he peers into his pocket and takes out a small contact card and all it says is 24/5, Elm street. That's where he was. A small pocket sprinkler sticker on the door handle, and he pushes in. Inside it's all very dark. A few desks where a few men in top hats seem to be waiting for a very important delivery of flowers and flowerpots (one would hope), but them seemed too quiet for the day. Jack kept walking and sooner, he found himself by a small curving staircase, and started to walk downstairs. Sooner than he could count to a hundred, he found himself standing by an underground level made of cobblestone and the olde' sort of pillars you only thought about in really dreary castle romances.
Jack wakes up.
On his bed is a bunch of flowers that says, 24/5, Elm street. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | "This doesn't make sense," I muttered, perturbed. The tulips didn't seem to have any microphones inside. The hydrangea arrangements seemed like they were for sure hiding a secret passage but if that were so it was too well-concealed for even me to find - which should be impossible! There wasn't even a security camera on the ceiling, though that wasn't necessarily unusual. Anyone THIS powerful wouldn't have anything to fear, and also probably didn't want a lot of business caught on tape.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" The smiling old man behind the counter called out in stunted English.
"Oh I'm good," I called back, think returning his warmth with all the sincerity I could muster. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice.
It has to be the mob, I thought, but which mob? I'd sussed out mafioso headquarters from Russia to Ru Paul's Drag Race (it's all a front, people) and never even got a sniff of one headquartered in Tuscany. A new player? Impossible - whoever was running this place was head and shoulders above the CIA, Mossad, and the nomadic Mongolian witch coven that secretly controls the economy. A flower shop, to boot? I sidled up next to the roses again. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. I'd been looking for signs of secret organizations that originated on Earth...
"My friend, I know why you come here," the old man said, nearly making me jump out of my skin. When had he gotten so close?
"Ah," I did my best to smile with this monster beside me. "Do you?"
His eyes were a bright green, but his look was somber and grave. Only a few tufts of white hair remained on his liver-spotted head, and his face was a labyrinth of wrinkles and lines. Heavy eyebrows knit together as he brushed some soil off his hands onto the thin apron he wore, and then reached out to take me by the wrist.
"We're a gonna need to talk to Maria," he sternly intoned.
I pulled back, nearly tripping. He'd made me. "No, that's fine, I think I need to be going, there's- "
"Maria!" The man raised his voice, and the previous warmth had vanished. "We have a guest who needs your attention."
I heard a rustling in the back. Past the rows of neatly arranged flowers, the gift baskets and expensive chocolates, the selections of fine wines, a door opened. The old man, who had been so small when I entered, now seemed to loom over me. I had to get out, before -
"What is this? Marco, who is this?" A woman as wrinkled and dirt-stained as the old man rounded the corner. A small shovel was gripped menacingly in one gloved hand. Her eyes, as green as her partner's, gleamed as she cast her gaze back and forth between me and Marco. The old man straightened.
"Now you gonna get it," he threatened. Maria, twice the diminutive Marco's size, locked her eyes on mine.
"There's a misunderstanding- " I started to say, but then the bell on the front door announced a new visitor.
Both Maria and Marco turned, and I seized the opportunity to dash behind the roses. I began to shout out a theat, but another, wild "WHOOP!" drowned out my own.
"Mr. Romano! Mrs. Romano! I cannot thank you enough!" I peered out from behind the dozen thorny stalks acting as my shield. There was a young man in a vest and cap, vigorously shaking the hands of the pair in turn. "I give those flowers you say to Margaret and she adore them! She even give me a kiss - Dio! She's a coming to meet my mother this week - I think you did it! I owe it to you!"
Maria was beaming as Marco chuckled. "I told you our flowers were the best, Silvio," she patted his face warmly. "Now if you two get married and you ever get in a fight, you come back here and tell me what happened, we'll find what you need to apologize."
"But what if I am right?" Silvio queried.
Marco's chuckle became a deep belly laugh. "You just remember to come back when you need," Maria cuffed Marco on the back of the head, but that didn't stop his laughter. She rolled her eyes. "Go now Silvio, you find a nice shirt to wear when you bring her to your mama."
The young man profusely thanked them again before rushing out of the store, the door closing firmly behind him.
Both sets of eyes turned back on me. The thorns on these roses seemed to retract in fear.
"Don't think we forget about you," Marco said. "Maria, take care of this one."
Maria set her jaw, stepping forward. She reached out, gloved hand like a vise around my wrist, eyes pulling my gaze in as she searched my face.
"So," she yanked me from my useless hiding spot and into the shop's center. "What's her name?"
"Her...name?"
"Don't play coy," Maria gave me a look that said she wasn't having it. "Fifty years we've been doing this, and not once have we ever failed. You start talking, I'll get you what you need."
"We don't rightly understand it either," Marco sighed, taking out a broom to idly begin sweeping leaves and dirt from the floor, "but how are we going to complain?"
"You don't understand it, I understand it perfectly!" Maria yelled at him. He gave her a dreamy smile and leaned in for a kiss. She made a show of rolling her eyes and shooing him away, but I caught the fleeting wisp of a smile on her face.
"Fifty years," Maria repeated, "and not a one time have we failed to help a customer find their true love - and keep them - with our flowers. We only started this little shop because we both loved gardening, can you believe it? But I like to think in our little way, we mean something to the world."
"More than you realize," I replied, reassessing everything I thought I understood. "Far, far more than you realize." | I don't say this much, but I was impressed that day. And it isn't an easy to thing to accomplish either, the Jacks of the world don't exactly impress easy. Which is why that day was do different. I, Jack was impressed. And that's no easy thing.
Organizations, secret hat societies, town houses - they all have one thing in common. All of them dig the dinginess of a proper old house. Something creaky, something with slime and enough skeletons to fill a small fiction section of a small town library. And that's no easy thing. Not when Jack's looking for a book to read, anyway.
Our reader found himself on a long street in Tuscany one fine evening. Fine can describe many evenings however, and this evening was overcast, perhaps it could classify as almost cloudy. A wholly benign evening.
And flower shops. One after the other, as one were to expect Jack to find on a cloudy, overcast evening in Tuscany. The gentle breeze was almost a calm hue of warm turquoise.
And as Jack walks he peers into his pocket and takes out a small contact card and all it says is 24/5, Elm street. That's where he was. A small pocket sprinkler sticker on the door handle, and he pushes in. Inside it's all very dark. A few desks where a few men in top hats seem to be waiting for a very important delivery of flowers and flowerpots (one would hope), but them seemed too quiet for the day. Jack kept walking and sooner, he found himself by a small curving staircase, and started to walk downstairs. Sooner than he could count to a hundred, he found himself standing by an underground level made of cobblestone and the olde' sort of pillars you only thought about in really dreary castle romances.
Jack wakes up.
On his bed is a bunch of flowers that says, 24/5, Elm street. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. |
I’m not sure what brought me to Tuscany, but the hunch I was following seemed to be right. I could see the blazing number One above the entrance to the little flower shop that was certain. I had located all the sources of power in the world, all except Numero Uno, and now, here it was before me at long last.
Let me back up a step or two. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Jim. Common enough name to be sure. Pretty normal in most respects. Not a lady’s man. Not a nerd. Pretty much your average guy. I do have one unusual talent that has payed my way through life so far, I can find centers of power and influence. Using my particular gift, I’ve been able to parlay that information to the highest bidders and I’ve secured financial future. All except Numero Uno. I’ve searched the world over without success, that is until last week. I was pissing around on my computer looking at various threads on Reddit when I stopped on a photo of a square in Grosseto, Italy and my heart started racing. I literally broke out in a cold sweat. My brain was screaming to me, 'GO’.
With nothing on my immediate schedule, I flew on a lark to Florence and took the long drive down to Grosseto. The entire drive south, I chided myself on my stupidity and rashness. The only consultation I found was in the food. Bliss. Sheer utter bliss. I probably gained ten pounds on the drive alone, but I digress. Or maybe not. I frickin love food. Especially when the ingredients are farmed from the local countryside and the proteins are caught fresh that day. I’m not a foodie, but heck, I know what I like.
Ok, on with my little adventure. Parking the rental, I made my way to the square I had seen on Reddit and found myself standing outside a quaint little flower store. Mama Rosa’s Flower, the sign above the door was somewhat nondescript. What did draw my attention was the bold red number One that I could see in my mind’s eye. This was it. But it couldn’t be. Many of the locations I had discovered in the past maintained an innocuous entrance, but this, this was something completely different from what I had discovered before.
Trusting in my sense, I backed away and scouted out a location to observe the entryway. For three days and nights I watched. Carefully photographing all the comings and goings of the flower shop. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Your typical Mom and Pop sorta place with the usual customers. No odd hour deliveries. No suspicious looking men. Nothing. People went in, bought flowers and left. Although they did seem a bit happier when they departed. Maybe it was the flowers. No clue. No one has ever bought me flowers before. But it did seem to brighten their moods.
Day four had arrived and I decided I needed to see the inside of the shop. The ‘One’ still hung over the door. Nothing had changed. Trust me, I figured my gift had finally slipped a Coswell Cog and I was going to end up as crazy as the Jetson’s robot Rosie. Quickly packing up all my observation equipment and securing it, I made my way back to the shop and taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.
Sweet God Almighty, the smell that hit me on entering was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Hundreds of flowers scents mingled but didn’t mingle. Each of them presented themselves to my nose, bidding for my attention but not overpowering one another. It was like seeing an entire art gallery all at the same time. All the painting visible, their beauty beckoning to you, but not stepping on the other paintings. Enraptured, I barely heard the young girl speaking to me, “can I help you?” Awkwardly, I thrust out my hand, “hi, I’m Jim. Just looking around.” She gave me the faintest of smiles, “Mother said you would be here three days ago. You’re late!”
“Huh?”, yeah that’s me. Mr. Suave and Deboner. “Mother?”
“Yes, right this way. She’s going to be so pleased that you’ve finally arrived.”
Really, I’ve no clue why I followed the girl, but I did. We walked through the tiny shop as she paused periodically to point out one rare variety of plant after another, naming each as if they were her siblings. I quickly lost track of time and where in the hell I was when I drew up short, my jaw dropping as I looked ahead. A stunning woman, no more than thirty years old, was pruning the branches of an olive tree directly in front of me. Turning around, for as far as I could see, were olive trees, neatly manicured, gently swaying in the breeze. Turning back to my escort, the woman approached me. Her dress a riot of colors seemed to flow with an unnatural grace, her eyes fixed on me, deep green and blazing bright. She reached out her hand to take mine, her voice floated on the air, “James, I am so pleased that you’ve decided to visit. I’m Gaia. I’m sure you have many questions.”
(I saw this prompt and had to write something before I went to sleep. My hat is off to the author of the original prompt.) | I don't say this much, but I was impressed that day. And it isn't an easy to thing to accomplish either, the Jacks of the world don't exactly impress easy. Which is why that day was do different. I, Jack was impressed. And that's no easy thing.
Organizations, secret hat societies, town houses - they all have one thing in common. All of them dig the dinginess of a proper old house. Something creaky, something with slime and enough skeletons to fill a small fiction section of a small town library. And that's no easy thing. Not when Jack's looking for a book to read, anyway.
Our reader found himself on a long street in Tuscany one fine evening. Fine can describe many evenings however, and this evening was overcast, perhaps it could classify as almost cloudy. A wholly benign evening.
And flower shops. One after the other, as one were to expect Jack to find on a cloudy, overcast evening in Tuscany. The gentle breeze was almost a calm hue of warm turquoise.
And as Jack walks he peers into his pocket and takes out a small contact card and all it says is 24/5, Elm street. That's where he was. A small pocket sprinkler sticker on the door handle, and he pushes in. Inside it's all very dark. A few desks where a few men in top hats seem to be waiting for a very important delivery of flowers and flowerpots (one would hope), but them seemed too quiet for the day. Jack kept walking and sooner, he found himself by a small curving staircase, and started to walk downstairs. Sooner than he could count to a hundred, he found himself standing by an underground level made of cobblestone and the olde' sort of pillars you only thought about in really dreary castle romances.
Jack wakes up.
On his bed is a bunch of flowers that says, 24/5, Elm street. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | I’ve never submitted one of these prompts so give me some feedback!
“
I rush through the door and hear a bell chattering behind me. I come to a quick stop in the doorway and look around. The little shop is full of floral arrangements and there’s an old Italian couple browsing the styles. This is so confusing.
”Mi scusi, negoziante?” I call for the shopkeeper. A middle aged man walks out with a warm smile.
“Benvenuto! Sir, may I help you find anything?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could interview you. My name is Alexander, I’m a journalist at the New York Post, and we are including a segment on small businesses around the world. Do you have fifteen minutes?” I flash an attempt at a smile towards the gentleman and pray that the fear behind my eyes is invisible to him. The florist looks me over and evidently seems me worthy.
“Very well! My name is Luca. Come, come in. Join me in my office.”
“Thank you so much!”
We walk together through the winding paths between beautiful arrangements. I can’t help but be a little distracted by all these colors. I follow close behind Luca and try to take in as many details about the shop as I can. This is so confusing. Everything about this place is contradictory.
“Luca, how long has the flower shop been open?” I pat down my jacket, looking for a notepad. But since I’m not a real journalist, of course I don’t have one. Wow. That was smooth, Alex. Guess I’m “recording this on my phone”.
“Seventy,” he trails off, counting on his fingers, “seventy two years. My grandfather opened it when his fiancée’s parents would not let him marry her without a stable career. He found this warm little building and things fell into place. He’s passed on, as has my father. But the community is still here and as you can see, so are the flowers.”
“Wow. That’s beautiful.” I’m trying to analyze what he’s just told me, see if there’s some code but I need more information. “And, uh, what exactly do you bring to the community?”
Luca looks at me quizzically, unlocks the door to his office, and says, “Well, apart from flowers, I suppose we bring people love and happiness if that’s what you want to know.” He chuckles in a light, airy tone as he retreats to his desk.
“Oh, of course. What else could I have meant?”
This is getting me nowhere. Okay. Grow a pair and just tell him.
“Luca, I’m not a journalist. But I know something is going on here. I don’t know what it is exactly. But I know that you’re a man of influence. I have this…intuition. I can know how powerful a group is by seeing their headquarters or where they meet. And I had never found number one until today. Luca, why does my intuition say that your flower shop is the most powerful organization on earth?” I’ve never told anyone this. I probably sound crazy. I rightly grip the leather seat of the chair beneath me. Bracing for an answer.
Luca leans back in his chair and I can see him processing this new information.
“Well, Alex. I must say, I don’t appreciate being lied to. But if you already know so much, I suppose I’ll tell you more. My grandfather started this shop to be with the woman he loved. The city knew this. They supported their relationship so they flocked to the flowers he ordered. The people of Tuscany had little need for flowers in their home but it brought them such joy to support a good man who loved a good girl.”
I sit up towards the edge of my seat, “Please, I’m just asking for the truth.”
“What do you mean by this? I am telling you the story of this shop! Sit back. Listen. My grandfather was a good man. Kind. And the love of my grandparents inspired people. Nonna would cook for the kids who did not get enough at home. And Nonno would hire on young men and women who had nowhere else to go. Rejected from their homes because of religion or love or not wanting to take the family trade. This shop became a haven. And everyone knew that we provided the best arrangements in the city. Some of those men and women that worked here moved away. London, New York, Paris, Tokyo. Cities of influence. And they have opened their doors to those in need. My father continued this legacy. He began to organize teams to clean the streets and programs for the kids after school let out. We had enough that my father was able to give back to the city well. So, Alexander. This is power. Not brute strength. Influence. Power is a graceful being who is most present with those who remain humble. I can call any number of people in thirty countries and ask for a euro or a kidney and I know they’d be willing. I can ask the people of the city for a statue of my grandfather and they wouldn’t bat an eye. Do you understand?”
I stared at him, mouth slightly agape.
“I don’t run any secret drug rings. I don’t have an underground army. I have simply loved the people around me as my father and his father did. This is how you become a man of influence. Now, let me bring you home and make you dinner.”
Edit: added paragraph breaks | It's always hard to find out what exactly is the greatest power in the world. For other people that is. Some believe it's the Kremlin, which is ranked 6th. The Chinese new Forbidden City does a bit better, at 4th. The White House comes out above them at third. In all my years as a diplomat I failed to find out what stood above the The White House. After a while I found the NRA's headquarters to be ranked 5th, just above the Kremlin.
It took me nine years to discover the 2nd greatest power. A para-military organisation that undertook shady business in every part of the world's shadows. A criminal organisation that held the world to it's grip. That was 3 years ago. I had nearly abandoned my search.
It was not untill I visited my aunt in Florence that I discovered the undisputed centre of the world's power. I found it when my aunt and I went to a farmer's market. It was a small village, half an hour drive from Florence where it stood. A small flower shop. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, yet my senses told me, that's it. That's where power supreme is located.
I asked my aunt about it. "That's Nonna Ariel's shop. It might look like just a flower shop, but in the back there's a small cafe with great caffè, tea and delicious Panini. Why don't we hop by?"
Low and behold, a few minutes later we stepped inside. The building was split in three parts. At first we stepped into an ocean of delicious smelling, and gorgeous flowers. Red tulips on my right, with pure white roses just behind them. My hand gliding over a set of silky peonies. Many flowers graced the pillar in front of me, as my mind slowly drifted from the question of what this place was, and became more and more tranquil.
After bathing in the sweet sensation that the flowers gave me, I moved on, into the second part. Leaving the marvelous smells emitted by the flowers behind, I stepped into a small wooden room. Wide dark logs, stripped from their bark kept the roof up. Light wooden panels formed the walls. On the roof hang a small chandelier, painting a mesmerising image onto the walls. The room was filled with small tables, with two or three seats each. At several of the tables a few guests were seated. Quietly conversing, with the occasional merry laughter. A smile slowly became visible on my face as my mind, still as clear and serene as ever.
Unconsciously I had walked to the next part of the store. A small women, in her late 60s but still radiant, with golden hairs like those of a lion and eyes that looked into my soul, stood behind a white marbled counter. My aunt ordered some panini and coffee for both os us. The nonna behind the bar came with a delicious smelling coffee and a gorgeous looking panini. She told us, in a voice like a singing siren, commanding my soul to be at peace that we should enjoy our food.
Three days passed since I was at that shop. I don't remember what I did after getting our food. The first memory after is at the end of our shopping in the farmer's market. Not that I care too much, my mind is still somewhat serene from that one visit. I don't need any more memories to know why that place is the first ranked power in the world. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. |
It was a neat trick to pull out at work events, mentioning how a specific government was or wasn’t even in the top ten most powerful organizations. Of course, when you were a member of the President’s Security Detail for the US Secret Service, you weren’t exactly doing that as a bar trick. You generally whispered it directly to the President herself.
You were the most nondescript of her detail, never in the trademark dark suits and ear pieces your brothers in arms were in, but that’s because you were the easiest to hide as an aide to Madame President. You barely made the Secret Service cutoffs for sizing until you pointed out your background in undercover work. It caused the interviewing officers to reevaluate your application. You solidly passed the physical and mental tests, your background showed no blemishes throughout eight years with the military and six more as a city police detective, and you were an ideal candidate for public-level spy work. You passed perfectly as a soccer mom or trophy wife and could get in to places and situations others couldn’t.
It wasn’t until you were through with training and into your third year with the agency that your talents were exposed.
It had been an easy mission – escort some senators through the embassy in Brazil and to a summit on climate change. Low danger level, mild media attention, and plenty of preparation with familiar facilities. You had been the second most senior agent on the case and had been scouting the region when you noticed the warm glow around the small coffee shop just six blocks from the summit. How had you not seen this before?
A soft seven floated around the door of the building. It was almost a shimmer instead of a solid number, just mild enough to catch your attention but not enough for anyone else to notice. It wasn’t particularly busy, but a few customers sat outside, sipping small espresso cups, nibbling on cookies, and reading books or chatting with friends. A single server chatted with an older gentleman who sat by himself near the door; they seemed familiar enough that he was likely a regular here.
It was funny, the most powerful places in the world rarely had Men in Suits going in and out of them as you might expect.
Number Ten had been a comic book store in Queens, NY. It had some mob ties but remained quiet. It wasn’t on any books anywhere and the ownership was so far removed from anyone associated with any of the Families that it couldn’t be tied back to them with rope, but it was the tenth most powerful place in the world.
Number Nine was in Rome, and surprisingly it was the only one you’d expected to be on the list, though you’d expected it a little higher than ninth place. The Vatican still held a lot of power within its walls and it didn’t seem God would be releasing any of it any time soon.
Numbers Eight, Six, Five, and Four were also small businesses in quiet places. An auto repair shop in France, a library in Spain, a Michelin-starred restaurant in Germany, and a petting zoo in Australia all held shimmering single-digit numbers.
Number Three was a historical home in England, but it wasn’t owned by the Royal Family. Number Two was a farm in Missouri, of all places, but Number One was elusive. You’d searched every country you’d been in, visiting neighborhoods tourists avoided and getting to know locals to find their favorite places. They often didn’t realize that their favorite little shop was the seat of power for some of the world’s most influential organizations.
You had spent a little too long staring at the shop and your commanding officer had noticed.
“Morrow, situation?” he’d asked in your ear-coms.
“Negative, sir. Just a cute shop, wondered if their coffee was any good,” you’d smiled. He didn’t believe you and had taken you to the side.
“Morrow, I need to know what you saw at that shop. There is no room for keeping anything to yourself,” he’d said quietly.
“I don’t even know how to say it, but that shop is the seventh most powerful organization in the world’s headquarters, sir.”
“What’s the organization? And more importantly, how do you know that?”
“I can’t answer that on either account sir, but I can tell you I’m right. We don’t have anything to worry about today, though. They don’t know we know and they don’t seem to be actively planning anything.”
The commander had set up a discreet watch on the coffee shop after that. He had been blown away by your accuracy. The US now had a handle on the headquarters of one of the most powerful secret societies in the world and you had given it to them.
Promotions had come quickly after that, getting you to be the personal guard and public aide to the first female President of the United States of America. That’s how you’d ended up in Tuscany, Italy today.
She had a meeting with the Italian president and all hands were on deck, as usual. It was a beautiful season in Italy when the grapes were harvested and many festivals were held. Madame President would be attending one that evening, in fact, but first had to handle the official business she was here for.
You’d spend most of the meeting studying those in the room and the surveillance undoubtedly installed everywhere, but it should be an easy hour. Smile, take some notes, whisper a few reminders and out. Nobody would ever suspect the unassuming aide to be someone with your talents.
And it was exactly as you’d expected. An easy meeting, a few photos for the press, and back out to the hotel. Another standard day in the life of a Secret Service agent, right?
Until you saw it.
It shimmered brighter than the others, you’d thought it was the sun starting to move behind the cute little flower shop that gave it the golden glow. An errant thought about photographers loving the light passed through your mind before it snapped to attention.
ONE. A bright, shiny, glowing 1 floated near the doorway of the flower shop, the fresh, cool scent of flowers hovering near the doorway.
“Madame President, a word please?” You trusted this one, unlike the last two. They’d been total idiots, unfit to serve or lead the people of the US, but this one had something different about her. Maybe it was the respect she commanded that had nothing to do with her gender, maybe it was the thoughtful way she considered each proposal brought her way, or maybe it was something else, but she was doing great and had started a slow improvement in the economy and job market. No one person would be able to fix it all, but she was making progress on both sides of the aisle.
“Sure, Morrow. What’s going on?” You rarely asked for her time, so she paused when you did. “Do we need to step away?”
“No Madame President, but I have a fun fact for you.”
The President leaned in with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye, she loved the facts you spouted off about each location you visited and she was well aware that the phrasing mattered and would be important on this one.
“Oh wonderful! What’s today’s fact?” she smiled.
“I just wanted to point out those beautiful red poppies at that flower shop, Tuscany is known for their poppies this time of year,” you gestured. “They’re regarded as the most beautiful in the world, in fact.”
“Oh? Are they the number one producer?”
“Yes, ma’am, *the* number one.”
“I see, well, perhaps you could arrange a bouquet for the staff at the hotel before we leave, I do enjoy local floral arrangements.”
“Noted,” you said. You’d speak to her again at the embassy when you returned to Florence, but she was aware of the special gift you possessed and knew to take it seriously. While your gift told you of the importance, it didn’t tell you which organization it belonged to and it often took several weeks or months of investigation to figure it out. And only twice had anyone moved locations on you. Foolishly, they’d kept them in the same areas, so you’d been able to find them again easily.
You had a feeling if this one moved, you’d never find it again. | It's always hard to find out what exactly is the greatest power in the world. For other people that is. Some believe it's the Kremlin, which is ranked 6th. The Chinese new Forbidden City does a bit better, at 4th. The White House comes out above them at third. In all my years as a diplomat I failed to find out what stood above the The White House. After a while I found the NRA's headquarters to be ranked 5th, just above the Kremlin.
It took me nine years to discover the 2nd greatest power. A para-military organisation that undertook shady business in every part of the world's shadows. A criminal organisation that held the world to it's grip. That was 3 years ago. I had nearly abandoned my search.
It was not untill I visited my aunt in Florence that I discovered the undisputed centre of the world's power. I found it when my aunt and I went to a farmer's market. It was a small village, half an hour drive from Florence where it stood. A small flower shop. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, yet my senses told me, that's it. That's where power supreme is located.
I asked my aunt about it. "That's Nonna Ariel's shop. It might look like just a flower shop, but in the back there's a small cafe with great caffè, tea and delicious Panini. Why don't we hop by?"
Low and behold, a few minutes later we stepped inside. The building was split in three parts. At first we stepped into an ocean of delicious smelling, and gorgeous flowers. Red tulips on my right, with pure white roses just behind them. My hand gliding over a set of silky peonies. Many flowers graced the pillar in front of me, as my mind slowly drifted from the question of what this place was, and became more and more tranquil.
After bathing in the sweet sensation that the flowers gave me, I moved on, into the second part. Leaving the marvelous smells emitted by the flowers behind, I stepped into a small wooden room. Wide dark logs, stripped from their bark kept the roof up. Light wooden panels formed the walls. On the roof hang a small chandelier, painting a mesmerising image onto the walls. The room was filled with small tables, with two or three seats each. At several of the tables a few guests were seated. Quietly conversing, with the occasional merry laughter. A smile slowly became visible on my face as my mind, still as clear and serene as ever.
Unconsciously I had walked to the next part of the store. A small women, in her late 60s but still radiant, with golden hairs like those of a lion and eyes that looked into my soul, stood behind a white marbled counter. My aunt ordered some panini and coffee for both os us. The nonna behind the bar came with a delicious smelling coffee and a gorgeous looking panini. She told us, in a voice like a singing siren, commanding my soul to be at peace that we should enjoy our food.
Three days passed since I was at that shop. I don't remember what I did after getting our food. The first memory after is at the end of our shopping in the farmer's market. Not that I care too much, my mind is still somewhat serene from that one visit. I don't need any more memories to know why that place is the first ranked power in the world. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | "This doesn't make sense," I muttered, perturbed. The tulips didn't seem to have any microphones inside. The hydrangea arrangements seemed like they were for sure hiding a secret passage but if that were so it was too well-concealed for even me to find - which should be impossible! There wasn't even a security camera on the ceiling, though that wasn't necessarily unusual. Anyone THIS powerful wouldn't have anything to fear, and also probably didn't want a lot of business caught on tape.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" The smiling old man behind the counter called out in stunted English.
"Oh I'm good," I called back, think returning his warmth with all the sincerity I could muster. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice.
It has to be the mob, I thought, but which mob? I'd sussed out mafioso headquarters from Russia to Ru Paul's Drag Race (it's all a front, people) and never even got a sniff of one headquartered in Tuscany. A new player? Impossible - whoever was running this place was head and shoulders above the CIA, Mossad, and the nomadic Mongolian witch coven that secretly controls the economy. A flower shop, to boot? I sidled up next to the roses again. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. I'd been looking for signs of secret organizations that originated on Earth...
"My friend, I know why you come here," the old man said, nearly making me jump out of my skin. When had he gotten so close?
"Ah," I did my best to smile with this monster beside me. "Do you?"
His eyes were a bright green, but his look was somber and grave. Only a few tufts of white hair remained on his liver-spotted head, and his face was a labyrinth of wrinkles and lines. Heavy eyebrows knit together as he brushed some soil off his hands onto the thin apron he wore, and then reached out to take me by the wrist.
"We're a gonna need to talk to Maria," he sternly intoned.
I pulled back, nearly tripping. He'd made me. "No, that's fine, I think I need to be going, there's- "
"Maria!" The man raised his voice, and the previous warmth had vanished. "We have a guest who needs your attention."
I heard a rustling in the back. Past the rows of neatly arranged flowers, the gift baskets and expensive chocolates, the selections of fine wines, a door opened. The old man, who had been so small when I entered, now seemed to loom over me. I had to get out, before -
"What is this? Marco, who is this?" A woman as wrinkled and dirt-stained as the old man rounded the corner. A small shovel was gripped menacingly in one gloved hand. Her eyes, as green as her partner's, gleamed as she cast her gaze back and forth between me and Marco. The old man straightened.
"Now you gonna get it," he threatened. Maria, twice the diminutive Marco's size, locked her eyes on mine.
"There's a misunderstanding- " I started to say, but then the bell on the front door announced a new visitor.
Both Maria and Marco turned, and I seized the opportunity to dash behind the roses. I began to shout out a theat, but another, wild "WHOOP!" drowned out my own.
"Mr. Romano! Mrs. Romano! I cannot thank you enough!" I peered out from behind the dozen thorny stalks acting as my shield. There was a young man in a vest and cap, vigorously shaking the hands of the pair in turn. "I give those flowers you say to Margaret and she adore them! She even give me a kiss - Dio! She's a coming to meet my mother this week - I think you did it! I owe it to you!"
Maria was beaming as Marco chuckled. "I told you our flowers were the best, Silvio," she patted his face warmly. "Now if you two get married and you ever get in a fight, you come back here and tell me what happened, we'll find what you need to apologize."
"But what if I am right?" Silvio queried.
Marco's chuckle became a deep belly laugh. "You just remember to come back when you need," Maria cuffed Marco on the back of the head, but that didn't stop his laughter. She rolled her eyes. "Go now Silvio, you find a nice shirt to wear when you bring her to your mama."
The young man profusely thanked them again before rushing out of the store, the door closing firmly behind him.
Both sets of eyes turned back on me. The thorns on these roses seemed to retract in fear.
"Don't think we forget about you," Marco said. "Maria, take care of this one."
Maria set her jaw, stepping forward. She reached out, gloved hand like a vise around my wrist, eyes pulling my gaze in as she searched my face.
"So," she yanked me from my useless hiding spot and into the shop's center. "What's her name?"
"Her...name?"
"Don't play coy," Maria gave me a look that said she wasn't having it. "Fifty years we've been doing this, and not once have we ever failed. You start talking, I'll get you what you need."
"We don't rightly understand it either," Marco sighed, taking out a broom to idly begin sweeping leaves and dirt from the floor, "but how are we going to complain?"
"You don't understand it, I understand it perfectly!" Maria yelled at him. He gave her a dreamy smile and leaned in for a kiss. She made a show of rolling her eyes and shooing him away, but I caught the fleeting wisp of a smile on her face.
"Fifty years," Maria repeated, "and not a one time have we failed to help a customer find their true love - and keep them - with our flowers. We only started this little shop because we both loved gardening, can you believe it? But I like to think in our little way, we mean something to the world."
"More than you realize," I replied, reassessing everything I thought I understood. "Far, far more than you realize." | It's always hard to find out what exactly is the greatest power in the world. For other people that is. Some believe it's the Kremlin, which is ranked 6th. The Chinese new Forbidden City does a bit better, at 4th. The White House comes out above them at third. In all my years as a diplomat I failed to find out what stood above the The White House. After a while I found the NRA's headquarters to be ranked 5th, just above the Kremlin.
It took me nine years to discover the 2nd greatest power. A para-military organisation that undertook shady business in every part of the world's shadows. A criminal organisation that held the world to it's grip. That was 3 years ago. I had nearly abandoned my search.
It was not untill I visited my aunt in Florence that I discovered the undisputed centre of the world's power. I found it when my aunt and I went to a farmer's market. It was a small village, half an hour drive from Florence where it stood. A small flower shop. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, yet my senses told me, that's it. That's where power supreme is located.
I asked my aunt about it. "That's Nonna Ariel's shop. It might look like just a flower shop, but in the back there's a small cafe with great caffè, tea and delicious Panini. Why don't we hop by?"
Low and behold, a few minutes later we stepped inside. The building was split in three parts. At first we stepped into an ocean of delicious smelling, and gorgeous flowers. Red tulips on my right, with pure white roses just behind them. My hand gliding over a set of silky peonies. Many flowers graced the pillar in front of me, as my mind slowly drifted from the question of what this place was, and became more and more tranquil.
After bathing in the sweet sensation that the flowers gave me, I moved on, into the second part. Leaving the marvelous smells emitted by the flowers behind, I stepped into a small wooden room. Wide dark logs, stripped from their bark kept the roof up. Light wooden panels formed the walls. On the roof hang a small chandelier, painting a mesmerising image onto the walls. The room was filled with small tables, with two or three seats each. At several of the tables a few guests were seated. Quietly conversing, with the occasional merry laughter. A smile slowly became visible on my face as my mind, still as clear and serene as ever.
Unconsciously I had walked to the next part of the store. A small women, in her late 60s but still radiant, with golden hairs like those of a lion and eyes that looked into my soul, stood behind a white marbled counter. My aunt ordered some panini and coffee for both os us. The nonna behind the bar came with a delicious smelling coffee and a gorgeous looking panini. She told us, in a voice like a singing siren, commanding my soul to be at peace that we should enjoy our food.
Three days passed since I was at that shop. I don't remember what I did after getting our food. The first memory after is at the end of our shopping in the farmer's market. Not that I care too much, my mind is still somewhat serene from that one visit. I don't need any more memories to know why that place is the first ranked power in the world. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. |
It was a neat trick to pull out at work events, mentioning how a specific government was or wasn’t even in the top ten most powerful organizations. Of course, when you were a member of the President’s Security Detail for the US Secret Service, you weren’t exactly doing that as a bar trick. You generally whispered it directly to the President herself.
You were the most nondescript of her detail, never in the trademark dark suits and ear pieces your brothers in arms were in, but that’s because you were the easiest to hide as an aide to Madame President. You barely made the Secret Service cutoffs for sizing until you pointed out your background in undercover work. It caused the interviewing officers to reevaluate your application. You solidly passed the physical and mental tests, your background showed no blemishes throughout eight years with the military and six more as a city police detective, and you were an ideal candidate for public-level spy work. You passed perfectly as a soccer mom or trophy wife and could get in to places and situations others couldn’t.
It wasn’t until you were through with training and into your third year with the agency that your talents were exposed.
It had been an easy mission – escort some senators through the embassy in Brazil and to a summit on climate change. Low danger level, mild media attention, and plenty of preparation with familiar facilities. You had been the second most senior agent on the case and had been scouting the region when you noticed the warm glow around the small coffee shop just six blocks from the summit. How had you not seen this before?
A soft seven floated around the door of the building. It was almost a shimmer instead of a solid number, just mild enough to catch your attention but not enough for anyone else to notice. It wasn’t particularly busy, but a few customers sat outside, sipping small espresso cups, nibbling on cookies, and reading books or chatting with friends. A single server chatted with an older gentleman who sat by himself near the door; they seemed familiar enough that he was likely a regular here.
It was funny, the most powerful places in the world rarely had Men in Suits going in and out of them as you might expect.
Number Ten had been a comic book store in Queens, NY. It had some mob ties but remained quiet. It wasn’t on any books anywhere and the ownership was so far removed from anyone associated with any of the Families that it couldn’t be tied back to them with rope, but it was the tenth most powerful place in the world.
Number Nine was in Rome, and surprisingly it was the only one you’d expected to be on the list, though you’d expected it a little higher than ninth place. The Vatican still held a lot of power within its walls and it didn’t seem God would be releasing any of it any time soon.
Numbers Eight, Six, Five, and Four were also small businesses in quiet places. An auto repair shop in France, a library in Spain, a Michelin-starred restaurant in Germany, and a petting zoo in Australia all held shimmering single-digit numbers.
Number Three was a historical home in England, but it wasn’t owned by the Royal Family. Number Two was a farm in Missouri, of all places, but Number One was elusive. You’d searched every country you’d been in, visiting neighborhoods tourists avoided and getting to know locals to find their favorite places. They often didn’t realize that their favorite little shop was the seat of power for some of the world’s most influential organizations.
You had spent a little too long staring at the shop and your commanding officer had noticed.
“Morrow, situation?” he’d asked in your ear-coms.
“Negative, sir. Just a cute shop, wondered if their coffee was any good,” you’d smiled. He didn’t believe you and had taken you to the side.
“Morrow, I need to know what you saw at that shop. There is no room for keeping anything to yourself,” he’d said quietly.
“I don’t even know how to say it, but that shop is the seventh most powerful organization in the world’s headquarters, sir.”
“What’s the organization? And more importantly, how do you know that?”
“I can’t answer that on either account sir, but I can tell you I’m right. We don’t have anything to worry about today, though. They don’t know we know and they don’t seem to be actively planning anything.”
The commander had set up a discreet watch on the coffee shop after that. He had been blown away by your accuracy. The US now had a handle on the headquarters of one of the most powerful secret societies in the world and you had given it to them.
Promotions had come quickly after that, getting you to be the personal guard and public aide to the first female President of the United States of America. That’s how you’d ended up in Tuscany, Italy today.
She had a meeting with the Italian president and all hands were on deck, as usual. It was a beautiful season in Italy when the grapes were harvested and many festivals were held. Madame President would be attending one that evening, in fact, but first had to handle the official business she was here for.
You’d spend most of the meeting studying those in the room and the surveillance undoubtedly installed everywhere, but it should be an easy hour. Smile, take some notes, whisper a few reminders and out. Nobody would ever suspect the unassuming aide to be someone with your talents.
And it was exactly as you’d expected. An easy meeting, a few photos for the press, and back out to the hotel. Another standard day in the life of a Secret Service agent, right?
Until you saw it.
It shimmered brighter than the others, you’d thought it was the sun starting to move behind the cute little flower shop that gave it the golden glow. An errant thought about photographers loving the light passed through your mind before it snapped to attention.
ONE. A bright, shiny, glowing 1 floated near the doorway of the flower shop, the fresh, cool scent of flowers hovering near the doorway.
“Madame President, a word please?” You trusted this one, unlike the last two. They’d been total idiots, unfit to serve or lead the people of the US, but this one had something different about her. Maybe it was the respect she commanded that had nothing to do with her gender, maybe it was the thoughtful way she considered each proposal brought her way, or maybe it was something else, but she was doing great and had started a slow improvement in the economy and job market. No one person would be able to fix it all, but she was making progress on both sides of the aisle.
“Sure, Morrow. What’s going on?” You rarely asked for her time, so she paused when you did. “Do we need to step away?”
“No Madame President, but I have a fun fact for you.”
The President leaned in with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye, she loved the facts you spouted off about each location you visited and she was well aware that the phrasing mattered and would be important on this one.
“Oh wonderful! What’s today’s fact?” she smiled.
“I just wanted to point out those beautiful red poppies at that flower shop, Tuscany is known for their poppies this time of year,” you gestured. “They’re regarded as the most beautiful in the world, in fact.”
“Oh? Are they the number one producer?”
“Yes, ma’am, *the* number one.”
“I see, well, perhaps you could arrange a bouquet for the staff at the hotel before we leave, I do enjoy local floral arrangements.”
“Noted,” you said. You’d speak to her again at the embassy when you returned to Florence, but she was aware of the special gift you possessed and knew to take it seriously. While your gift told you of the importance, it didn’t tell you which organization it belonged to and it often took several weeks or months of investigation to figure it out. And only twice had anyone moved locations on you. Foolishly, they’d kept them in the same areas, so you’d been able to find them again easily.
You had a feeling if this one moved, you’d never find it again. | I’ve never submitted one of these prompts so give me some feedback!
“
I rush through the door and hear a bell chattering behind me. I come to a quick stop in the doorway and look around. The little shop is full of floral arrangements and there’s an old Italian couple browsing the styles. This is so confusing.
”Mi scusi, negoziante?” I call for the shopkeeper. A middle aged man walks out with a warm smile.
“Benvenuto! Sir, may I help you find anything?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could interview you. My name is Alexander, I’m a journalist at the New York Post, and we are including a segment on small businesses around the world. Do you have fifteen minutes?” I flash an attempt at a smile towards the gentleman and pray that the fear behind my eyes is invisible to him. The florist looks me over and evidently seems me worthy.
“Very well! My name is Luca. Come, come in. Join me in my office.”
“Thank you so much!”
We walk together through the winding paths between beautiful arrangements. I can’t help but be a little distracted by all these colors. I follow close behind Luca and try to take in as many details about the shop as I can. This is so confusing. Everything about this place is contradictory.
“Luca, how long has the flower shop been open?” I pat down my jacket, looking for a notepad. But since I’m not a real journalist, of course I don’t have one. Wow. That was smooth, Alex. Guess I’m “recording this on my phone”.
“Seventy,” he trails off, counting on his fingers, “seventy two years. My grandfather opened it when his fiancée’s parents would not let him marry her without a stable career. He found this warm little building and things fell into place. He’s passed on, as has my father. But the community is still here and as you can see, so are the flowers.”
“Wow. That’s beautiful.” I’m trying to analyze what he’s just told me, see if there’s some code but I need more information. “And, uh, what exactly do you bring to the community?”
Luca looks at me quizzically, unlocks the door to his office, and says, “Well, apart from flowers, I suppose we bring people love and happiness if that’s what you want to know.” He chuckles in a light, airy tone as he retreats to his desk.
“Oh, of course. What else could I have meant?”
This is getting me nowhere. Okay. Grow a pair and just tell him.
“Luca, I’m not a journalist. But I know something is going on here. I don’t know what it is exactly. But I know that you’re a man of influence. I have this…intuition. I can know how powerful a group is by seeing their headquarters or where they meet. And I had never found number one until today. Luca, why does my intuition say that your flower shop is the most powerful organization on earth?” I’ve never told anyone this. I probably sound crazy. I rightly grip the leather seat of the chair beneath me. Bracing for an answer.
Luca leans back in his chair and I can see him processing this new information.
“Well, Alex. I must say, I don’t appreciate being lied to. But if you already know so much, I suppose I’ll tell you more. My grandfather started this shop to be with the woman he loved. The city knew this. They supported their relationship so they flocked to the flowers he ordered. The people of Tuscany had little need for flowers in their home but it brought them such joy to support a good man who loved a good girl.”
I sit up towards the edge of my seat, “Please, I’m just asking for the truth.”
“What do you mean by this? I am telling you the story of this shop! Sit back. Listen. My grandfather was a good man. Kind. And the love of my grandparents inspired people. Nonna would cook for the kids who did not get enough at home. And Nonno would hire on young men and women who had nowhere else to go. Rejected from their homes because of religion or love or not wanting to take the family trade. This shop became a haven. And everyone knew that we provided the best arrangements in the city. Some of those men and women that worked here moved away. London, New York, Paris, Tokyo. Cities of influence. And they have opened their doors to those in need. My father continued this legacy. He began to organize teams to clean the streets and programs for the kids after school let out. We had enough that my father was able to give back to the city well. So, Alexander. This is power. Not brute strength. Influence. Power is a graceful being who is most present with those who remain humble. I can call any number of people in thirty countries and ask for a euro or a kidney and I know they’d be willing. I can ask the people of the city for a statue of my grandfather and they wouldn’t bat an eye. Do you understand?”
I stared at him, mouth slightly agape.
“I don’t run any secret drug rings. I don’t have an underground army. I have simply loved the people around me as my father and his father did. This is how you become a man of influence. Now, let me bring you home and make you dinner.”
Edit: added paragraph breaks | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | "This doesn't make sense," I muttered, perturbed. The tulips didn't seem to have any microphones inside. The hydrangea arrangements seemed like they were for sure hiding a secret passage but if that were so it was too well-concealed for even me to find - which should be impossible! There wasn't even a security camera on the ceiling, though that wasn't necessarily unusual. Anyone THIS powerful wouldn't have anything to fear, and also probably didn't want a lot of business caught on tape.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" The smiling old man behind the counter called out in stunted English.
"Oh I'm good," I called back, think returning his warmth with all the sincerity I could muster. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice.
It has to be the mob, I thought, but which mob? I'd sussed out mafioso headquarters from Russia to Ru Paul's Drag Race (it's all a front, people) and never even got a sniff of one headquartered in Tuscany. A new player? Impossible - whoever was running this place was head and shoulders above the CIA, Mossad, and the nomadic Mongolian witch coven that secretly controls the economy. A flower shop, to boot? I sidled up next to the roses again. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. I'd been looking for signs of secret organizations that originated on Earth...
"My friend, I know why you come here," the old man said, nearly making me jump out of my skin. When had he gotten so close?
"Ah," I did my best to smile with this monster beside me. "Do you?"
His eyes were a bright green, but his look was somber and grave. Only a few tufts of white hair remained on his liver-spotted head, and his face was a labyrinth of wrinkles and lines. Heavy eyebrows knit together as he brushed some soil off his hands onto the thin apron he wore, and then reached out to take me by the wrist.
"We're a gonna need to talk to Maria," he sternly intoned.
I pulled back, nearly tripping. He'd made me. "No, that's fine, I think I need to be going, there's- "
"Maria!" The man raised his voice, and the previous warmth had vanished. "We have a guest who needs your attention."
I heard a rustling in the back. Past the rows of neatly arranged flowers, the gift baskets and expensive chocolates, the selections of fine wines, a door opened. The old man, who had been so small when I entered, now seemed to loom over me. I had to get out, before -
"What is this? Marco, who is this?" A woman as wrinkled and dirt-stained as the old man rounded the corner. A small shovel was gripped menacingly in one gloved hand. Her eyes, as green as her partner's, gleamed as she cast her gaze back and forth between me and Marco. The old man straightened.
"Now you gonna get it," he threatened. Maria, twice the diminutive Marco's size, locked her eyes on mine.
"There's a misunderstanding- " I started to say, but then the bell on the front door announced a new visitor.
Both Maria and Marco turned, and I seized the opportunity to dash behind the roses. I began to shout out a theat, but another, wild "WHOOP!" drowned out my own.
"Mr. Romano! Mrs. Romano! I cannot thank you enough!" I peered out from behind the dozen thorny stalks acting as my shield. There was a young man in a vest and cap, vigorously shaking the hands of the pair in turn. "I give those flowers you say to Margaret and she adore them! She even give me a kiss - Dio! She's a coming to meet my mother this week - I think you did it! I owe it to you!"
Maria was beaming as Marco chuckled. "I told you our flowers were the best, Silvio," she patted his face warmly. "Now if you two get married and you ever get in a fight, you come back here and tell me what happened, we'll find what you need to apologize."
"But what if I am right?" Silvio queried.
Marco's chuckle became a deep belly laugh. "You just remember to come back when you need," Maria cuffed Marco on the back of the head, but that didn't stop his laughter. She rolled her eyes. "Go now Silvio, you find a nice shirt to wear when you bring her to your mama."
The young man profusely thanked them again before rushing out of the store, the door closing firmly behind him.
Both sets of eyes turned back on me. The thorns on these roses seemed to retract in fear.
"Don't think we forget about you," Marco said. "Maria, take care of this one."
Maria set her jaw, stepping forward. She reached out, gloved hand like a vise around my wrist, eyes pulling my gaze in as she searched my face.
"So," she yanked me from my useless hiding spot and into the shop's center. "What's her name?"
"Her...name?"
"Don't play coy," Maria gave me a look that said she wasn't having it. "Fifty years we've been doing this, and not once have we ever failed. You start talking, I'll get you what you need."
"We don't rightly understand it either," Marco sighed, taking out a broom to idly begin sweeping leaves and dirt from the floor, "but how are we going to complain?"
"You don't understand it, I understand it perfectly!" Maria yelled at him. He gave her a dreamy smile and leaned in for a kiss. She made a show of rolling her eyes and shooing him away, but I caught the fleeting wisp of a smile on her face.
"Fifty years," Maria repeated, "and not a one time have we failed to help a customer find their true love - and keep them - with our flowers. We only started this little shop because we both loved gardening, can you believe it? But I like to think in our little way, we mean something to the world."
"More than you realize," I replied, reassessing everything I thought I understood. "Far, far more than you realize." | I’ve never submitted one of these prompts so give me some feedback!
“
I rush through the door and hear a bell chattering behind me. I come to a quick stop in the doorway and look around. The little shop is full of floral arrangements and there’s an old Italian couple browsing the styles. This is so confusing.
”Mi scusi, negoziante?” I call for the shopkeeper. A middle aged man walks out with a warm smile.
“Benvenuto! Sir, may I help you find anything?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could interview you. My name is Alexander, I’m a journalist at the New York Post, and we are including a segment on small businesses around the world. Do you have fifteen minutes?” I flash an attempt at a smile towards the gentleman and pray that the fear behind my eyes is invisible to him. The florist looks me over and evidently seems me worthy.
“Very well! My name is Luca. Come, come in. Join me in my office.”
“Thank you so much!”
We walk together through the winding paths between beautiful arrangements. I can’t help but be a little distracted by all these colors. I follow close behind Luca and try to take in as many details about the shop as I can. This is so confusing. Everything about this place is contradictory.
“Luca, how long has the flower shop been open?” I pat down my jacket, looking for a notepad. But since I’m not a real journalist, of course I don’t have one. Wow. That was smooth, Alex. Guess I’m “recording this on my phone”.
“Seventy,” he trails off, counting on his fingers, “seventy two years. My grandfather opened it when his fiancée’s parents would not let him marry her without a stable career. He found this warm little building and things fell into place. He’s passed on, as has my father. But the community is still here and as you can see, so are the flowers.”
“Wow. That’s beautiful.” I’m trying to analyze what he’s just told me, see if there’s some code but I need more information. “And, uh, what exactly do you bring to the community?”
Luca looks at me quizzically, unlocks the door to his office, and says, “Well, apart from flowers, I suppose we bring people love and happiness if that’s what you want to know.” He chuckles in a light, airy tone as he retreats to his desk.
“Oh, of course. What else could I have meant?”
This is getting me nowhere. Okay. Grow a pair and just tell him.
“Luca, I’m not a journalist. But I know something is going on here. I don’t know what it is exactly. But I know that you’re a man of influence. I have this…intuition. I can know how powerful a group is by seeing their headquarters or where they meet. And I had never found number one until today. Luca, why does my intuition say that your flower shop is the most powerful organization on earth?” I’ve never told anyone this. I probably sound crazy. I rightly grip the leather seat of the chair beneath me. Bracing for an answer.
Luca leans back in his chair and I can see him processing this new information.
“Well, Alex. I must say, I don’t appreciate being lied to. But if you already know so much, I suppose I’ll tell you more. My grandfather started this shop to be with the woman he loved. The city knew this. They supported their relationship so they flocked to the flowers he ordered. The people of Tuscany had little need for flowers in their home but it brought them such joy to support a good man who loved a good girl.”
I sit up towards the edge of my seat, “Please, I’m just asking for the truth.”
“What do you mean by this? I am telling you the story of this shop! Sit back. Listen. My grandfather was a good man. Kind. And the love of my grandparents inspired people. Nonna would cook for the kids who did not get enough at home. And Nonno would hire on young men and women who had nowhere else to go. Rejected from their homes because of religion or love or not wanting to take the family trade. This shop became a haven. And everyone knew that we provided the best arrangements in the city. Some of those men and women that worked here moved away. London, New York, Paris, Tokyo. Cities of influence. And they have opened their doors to those in need. My father continued this legacy. He began to organize teams to clean the streets and programs for the kids after school let out. We had enough that my father was able to give back to the city well. So, Alexander. This is power. Not brute strength. Influence. Power is a graceful being who is most present with those who remain humble. I can call any number of people in thirty countries and ask for a euro or a kidney and I know they’d be willing. I can ask the people of the city for a statue of my grandfather and they wouldn’t bat an eye. Do you understand?”
I stared at him, mouth slightly agape.
“I don’t run any secret drug rings. I don’t have an underground army. I have simply loved the people around me as my father and his father did. This is how you become a man of influence. Now, let me bring you home and make you dinner.”
Edit: added paragraph breaks | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | "This doesn't make sense," I muttered, perturbed. The tulips didn't seem to have any microphones inside. The hydrangea arrangements seemed like they were for sure hiding a secret passage but if that were so it was too well-concealed for even me to find - which should be impossible! There wasn't even a security camera on the ceiling, though that wasn't necessarily unusual. Anyone THIS powerful wouldn't have anything to fear, and also probably didn't want a lot of business caught on tape.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" The smiling old man behind the counter called out in stunted English.
"Oh I'm good," I called back, think returning his warmth with all the sincerity I could muster. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice.
It has to be the mob, I thought, but which mob? I'd sussed out mafioso headquarters from Russia to Ru Paul's Drag Race (it's all a front, people) and never even got a sniff of one headquartered in Tuscany. A new player? Impossible - whoever was running this place was head and shoulders above the CIA, Mossad, and the nomadic Mongolian witch coven that secretly controls the economy. A flower shop, to boot? I sidled up next to the roses again. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. I'd been looking for signs of secret organizations that originated on Earth...
"My friend, I know why you come here," the old man said, nearly making me jump out of my skin. When had he gotten so close?
"Ah," I did my best to smile with this monster beside me. "Do you?"
His eyes were a bright green, but his look was somber and grave. Only a few tufts of white hair remained on his liver-spotted head, and his face was a labyrinth of wrinkles and lines. Heavy eyebrows knit together as he brushed some soil off his hands onto the thin apron he wore, and then reached out to take me by the wrist.
"We're a gonna need to talk to Maria," he sternly intoned.
I pulled back, nearly tripping. He'd made me. "No, that's fine, I think I need to be going, there's- "
"Maria!" The man raised his voice, and the previous warmth had vanished. "We have a guest who needs your attention."
I heard a rustling in the back. Past the rows of neatly arranged flowers, the gift baskets and expensive chocolates, the selections of fine wines, a door opened. The old man, who had been so small when I entered, now seemed to loom over me. I had to get out, before -
"What is this? Marco, who is this?" A woman as wrinkled and dirt-stained as the old man rounded the corner. A small shovel was gripped menacingly in one gloved hand. Her eyes, as green as her partner's, gleamed as she cast her gaze back and forth between me and Marco. The old man straightened.
"Now you gonna get it," he threatened. Maria, twice the diminutive Marco's size, locked her eyes on mine.
"There's a misunderstanding- " I started to say, but then the bell on the front door announced a new visitor.
Both Maria and Marco turned, and I seized the opportunity to dash behind the roses. I began to shout out a theat, but another, wild "WHOOP!" drowned out my own.
"Mr. Romano! Mrs. Romano! I cannot thank you enough!" I peered out from behind the dozen thorny stalks acting as my shield. There was a young man in a vest and cap, vigorously shaking the hands of the pair in turn. "I give those flowers you say to Margaret and she adore them! She even give me a kiss - Dio! She's a coming to meet my mother this week - I think you did it! I owe it to you!"
Maria was beaming as Marco chuckled. "I told you our flowers were the best, Silvio," she patted his face warmly. "Now if you two get married and you ever get in a fight, you come back here and tell me what happened, we'll find what you need to apologize."
"But what if I am right?" Silvio queried.
Marco's chuckle became a deep belly laugh. "You just remember to come back when you need," Maria cuffed Marco on the back of the head, but that didn't stop his laughter. She rolled her eyes. "Go now Silvio, you find a nice shirt to wear when you bring her to your mama."
The young man profusely thanked them again before rushing out of the store, the door closing firmly behind him.
Both sets of eyes turned back on me. The thorns on these roses seemed to retract in fear.
"Don't think we forget about you," Marco said. "Maria, take care of this one."
Maria set her jaw, stepping forward. She reached out, gloved hand like a vise around my wrist, eyes pulling my gaze in as she searched my face.
"So," she yanked me from my useless hiding spot and into the shop's center. "What's her name?"
"Her...name?"
"Don't play coy," Maria gave me a look that said she wasn't having it. "Fifty years we've been doing this, and not once have we ever failed. You start talking, I'll get you what you need."
"We don't rightly understand it either," Marco sighed, taking out a broom to idly begin sweeping leaves and dirt from the floor, "but how are we going to complain?"
"You don't understand it, I understand it perfectly!" Maria yelled at him. He gave her a dreamy smile and leaned in for a kiss. She made a show of rolling her eyes and shooing him away, but I caught the fleeting wisp of a smile on her face.
"Fifty years," Maria repeated, "and not a one time have we failed to help a customer find their true love - and keep them - with our flowers. We only started this little shop because we both loved gardening, can you believe it? But I like to think in our little way, we mean something to the world."
"More than you realize," I replied, reassessing everything I thought I understood. "Far, far more than you realize." | Strange... A flower shop? Really? I mean, I know we're in Tuscany, so it's probably the mafia, but still. Do they rule the world by killing everybody with perfume or something? Sarcasm aside, you decide to check it out.
You walk in to the shop, while an overload of nice smells attacks your nose. You walk to the desk, but no one is there.
"Hello?", you yell, "Anybody here?"
Suddenly, a breeze hits you in the face, again containing the most smells you have ever had shoved up your nostrils. A young lady with stunning blue eyes appears.
"How can I help you?", she asks. She stares at you with a questioning face. "You don't want to buy flowers, do you?"
"I uh, I just wanted to..."
"You want to know why this 'organisation' is so powerfull", she completes your sentence.
"Well... Yeah"
She grins. "Are you sure you want to know?"
You nod twice, not really sure, but very curious. She leaves a small silence after her words, because she's probably a drama queen, and then she says:
"Because, I, the one who runs this organisation, am Demeter, the Greek goddess!" | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. |
I’m not sure what brought me to Tuscany, but the hunch I was following seemed to be right. I could see the blazing number One above the entrance to the little flower shop that was certain. I had located all the sources of power in the world, all except Numero Uno, and now, here it was before me at long last.
Let me back up a step or two. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Jim. Common enough name to be sure. Pretty normal in most respects. Not a lady’s man. Not a nerd. Pretty much your average guy. I do have one unusual talent that has payed my way through life so far, I can find centers of power and influence. Using my particular gift, I’ve been able to parlay that information to the highest bidders and I’ve secured financial future. All except Numero Uno. I’ve searched the world over without success, that is until last week. I was pissing around on my computer looking at various threads on Reddit when I stopped on a photo of a square in Grosseto, Italy and my heart started racing. I literally broke out in a cold sweat. My brain was screaming to me, 'GO’.
With nothing on my immediate schedule, I flew on a lark to Florence and took the long drive down to Grosseto. The entire drive south, I chided myself on my stupidity and rashness. The only consultation I found was in the food. Bliss. Sheer utter bliss. I probably gained ten pounds on the drive alone, but I digress. Or maybe not. I frickin love food. Especially when the ingredients are farmed from the local countryside and the proteins are caught fresh that day. I’m not a foodie, but heck, I know what I like.
Ok, on with my little adventure. Parking the rental, I made my way to the square I had seen on Reddit and found myself standing outside a quaint little flower store. Mama Rosa’s Flower, the sign above the door was somewhat nondescript. What did draw my attention was the bold red number One that I could see in my mind’s eye. This was it. But it couldn’t be. Many of the locations I had discovered in the past maintained an innocuous entrance, but this, this was something completely different from what I had discovered before.
Trusting in my sense, I backed away and scouted out a location to observe the entryway. For three days and nights I watched. Carefully photographing all the comings and goings of the flower shop. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Your typical Mom and Pop sorta place with the usual customers. No odd hour deliveries. No suspicious looking men. Nothing. People went in, bought flowers and left. Although they did seem a bit happier when they departed. Maybe it was the flowers. No clue. No one has ever bought me flowers before. But it did seem to brighten their moods.
Day four had arrived and I decided I needed to see the inside of the shop. The ‘One’ still hung over the door. Nothing had changed. Trust me, I figured my gift had finally slipped a Coswell Cog and I was going to end up as crazy as the Jetson’s robot Rosie. Quickly packing up all my observation equipment and securing it, I made my way back to the shop and taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.
Sweet God Almighty, the smell that hit me on entering was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Hundreds of flowers scents mingled but didn’t mingle. Each of them presented themselves to my nose, bidding for my attention but not overpowering one another. It was like seeing an entire art gallery all at the same time. All the painting visible, their beauty beckoning to you, but not stepping on the other paintings. Enraptured, I barely heard the young girl speaking to me, “can I help you?” Awkwardly, I thrust out my hand, “hi, I’m Jim. Just looking around.” She gave me the faintest of smiles, “Mother said you would be here three days ago. You’re late!”
“Huh?”, yeah that’s me. Mr. Suave and Deboner. “Mother?”
“Yes, right this way. She’s going to be so pleased that you’ve finally arrived.”
Really, I’ve no clue why I followed the girl, but I did. We walked through the tiny shop as she paused periodically to point out one rare variety of plant after another, naming each as if they were her siblings. I quickly lost track of time and where in the hell I was when I drew up short, my jaw dropping as I looked ahead. A stunning woman, no more than thirty years old, was pruning the branches of an olive tree directly in front of me. Turning around, for as far as I could see, were olive trees, neatly manicured, gently swaying in the breeze. Turning back to my escort, the woman approached me. Her dress a riot of colors seemed to flow with an unnatural grace, her eyes fixed on me, deep green and blazing bright. She reached out her hand to take mine, her voice floated on the air, “James, I am so pleased that you’ve decided to visit. I’m Gaia. I’m sure you have many questions.”
(I saw this prompt and had to write something before I went to sleep. My hat is off to the author of the original prompt.) | Strange... A flower shop? Really? I mean, I know we're in Tuscany, so it's probably the mafia, but still. Do they rule the world by killing everybody with perfume or something? Sarcasm aside, you decide to check it out.
You walk in to the shop, while an overload of nice smells attacks your nose. You walk to the desk, but no one is there.
"Hello?", you yell, "Anybody here?"
Suddenly, a breeze hits you in the face, again containing the most smells you have ever had shoved up your nostrils. A young lady with stunning blue eyes appears.
"How can I help you?", she asks. She stares at you with a questioning face. "You don't want to buy flowers, do you?"
"I uh, I just wanted to..."
"You want to know why this 'organisation' is so powerfull", she completes your sentence.
"Well... Yeah"
She grins. "Are you sure you want to know?"
You nod twice, not really sure, but very curious. She leaves a small silence after her words, because she's probably a drama queen, and then she says:
"Because, I, the one who runs this organisation, am Demeter, the Greek goddess!" | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | I have felt this pull over and over. This feeling that something there that I just can't quite grab. I know something is there so I reach out and start pulling. I remember doing this at the white house, disappointed almost shocked that it was only #3. I know that they are nothing special, but with their allies military and assets I would have guessed one or two. However, my trip to China found me #2. I still don't think China would win in a conventional war, but they have a lot of control over the economy and their people. However here I stand, in the middle of Tuscany with almost a scratch that needs to be itched. The memories fade and my vision returns to normal.
In front of me there is this beautiful little coffee shop next to a flower shop that is equally so. However, the big difference between them is I get some very large number for the coffee shop, but I almost forget the coffee shop as a whole. In front of this little ol' flower shop is a one, forcing itself onto me. Now I have spent the last ten years looking for the number one. I thought it had to have been Amazon, but they were 4th.
I wait no longer and trudge my way over to the door. I push the door open gently expecting to be greeted by something horrible. However the soft smell of roses hit me as a cute girl stands in an apron taking care of the flowers. She can't be more than a year or two younger than me. Twenty-four, maybe twenty-five? She smiles as I walk in, "Welcome to Rose's Roses, I am Rose. How can I help you today?" She spoke with such genuine enthusiasm I almost forgot why I was here.
"Hi Rose, I was wondering if I could just look around for a minute?"
"Sure thing! I will be right here if you need me!"
I spent a good ten minutes and nothing. I couldn't find a single piece of evidence to why. More powerful than China, the USA. How? She would have to know. Right? I go to look for her when I hear the door open. In walks three very characterful people, the one with a pep in her step runs over and hugs Rose. The others don't.
The happy-go-lucky looking one stops and stares at me, and the other guy next to him stops an gives him a quizzical look. Before I can even open my mouth he speaks.
"We have been looking for you for a long, long time Eden." His stupor at seeing me begins to fade, my answers turn into more questions. "Welcome to Roses Renegades. I am Matt, the seeker, and you have a power we have been looking for for a very, very long time." | Strange... A flower shop? Really? I mean, I know we're in Tuscany, so it's probably the mafia, but still. Do they rule the world by killing everybody with perfume or something? Sarcasm aside, you decide to check it out.
You walk in to the shop, while an overload of nice smells attacks your nose. You walk to the desk, but no one is there.
"Hello?", you yell, "Anybody here?"
Suddenly, a breeze hits you in the face, again containing the most smells you have ever had shoved up your nostrils. A young lady with stunning blue eyes appears.
"How can I help you?", she asks. She stares at you with a questioning face. "You don't want to buy flowers, do you?"
"I uh, I just wanted to..."
"You want to know why this 'organisation' is so powerfull", she completes your sentence.
"Well... Yeah"
She grins. "Are you sure you want to know?"
You nod twice, not really sure, but very curious. She leaves a small silence after her words, because she's probably a drama queen, and then she says:
"Because, I, the one who runs this organisation, am Demeter, the Greek goddess!" | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/dpf39n/flowers_part_2/) is up!
The aura of the little Tuscan flower shop drew me in like none had drawn me in before. Not even world governments or their secret spy societies; not even cults or churches or anything of the sort. It glowed red to me, pulsating like a living, beating heart. I was a moth to a flame; a drowning creature to the tantalizing safety of fresh air.
Bells on the door jingled as I entered; the smell of lavender and roses assailed my nostrils. I gave in to the temptation and looked around.
Flowers, of course, I was in a flower shop. But they were the finest, most intricate flowers I had ever seen. Roses with such detail that I could lose myself in the petals for hours. Pinks that turned to red in a different light. Purples that turned to a dark maroon and blacks darker than the darkest night.
"Welcome," she said, her English heavily accented. I must have looked a tourist with the t-shirt of the Italian boot hoofing a soccer ball and my backpack on. Her voice was mellow, the tone sweet. Her face was pretty, with plump cheeks. She smiled politely, and for a moment the pulsing of the walls stopped. "How are you?" she asked as I approached the desk.
"What is this place?" I said by way of response, looking deep into her eyes. They were a kaleidoscope of colors, tossing the reds and greens and purples of the flowers into a multicolored masterpiece.
"A flower shop, sir," she responded. She must have me a fool, asking what a flower shop was. She must have thought me a fool, that I was ignorant to the secrets that little shop held. I shook my head, breathing deeply. Petunias, if my memory served me right, sitting on the counter, patterned like the night sky. I reached for a petal and she stopped me. "No touching, please.
"Sorry."
She smiled pleasantly, my trespass forgiven. "What flower are you looking for?"
I looked her in the eyes again, fighting the hypnotic way the colors morphed and molded into different shades and shapes. "I'm not actually looking for a flower," I told her. I think she might have already known. She blinked carefully but her face remained impassive, helpful as a service worker strove to be.
"Then how can I help, sir?"
"This place," I said vaguely, waving around a hand. "This is the headquarters of an organization."
She didn't smile and she didn't frown. She tensed, maybe, but even that was so subtle that I could have imagined it. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head. "No, sir. I think you're mistaken."
I shook my head. "I'm not mistaken. I don't make mistakes, not about this. This shop..." I looked around. Passerby walked by oblivious to the secrets of this little store. Some glanced in the window, their faces crinkling into smiles as they saw the magical flowers of the gallery. "This is the head of the world's most powerful organization."
She gulped and her jaw clenched. I was sure of it now. The ringing of the bell on the door snapped her gaze away from me and she glanced up towards the latest customer. Then her eyes were back on mine, the kaleidoscope now muted and black and her gaze steely. "You're mistaken," she answered firmly. She raised a hand, beckoning the customer towards me. "Mario," she said. It wasn't just a name. It was an order.
I stepped aside but an iron grip grasped my arm. The street was the other way, not towards the back room where I was being led. I voiced a complaint and he gruffly shushed me, saying something in Italian that I couldn't understand. I tried to plant my feet but the behemoth of a man pulled me forwards.
A bull in a China shop, I thought to myself, wondering how he managed to so gracefully avoid even touching any of the flowers. That was my last thought as he opened the door, throwing me inside and stepping in behind me.
*****
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/dpf39n/flowers_part_2/) is up!
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | Strange... A flower shop? Really? I mean, I know we're in Tuscany, so it's probably the mafia, but still. Do they rule the world by killing everybody with perfume or something? Sarcasm aside, you decide to check it out.
You walk in to the shop, while an overload of nice smells attacks your nose. You walk to the desk, but no one is there.
"Hello?", you yell, "Anybody here?"
Suddenly, a breeze hits you in the face, again containing the most smells you have ever had shoved up your nostrils. A young lady with stunning blue eyes appears.
"How can I help you?", she asks. She stares at you with a questioning face. "You don't want to buy flowers, do you?"
"I uh, I just wanted to..."
"You want to know why this 'organisation' is so powerfull", she completes your sentence.
"Well... Yeah"
She grins. "Are you sure you want to know?"
You nod twice, not really sure, but very curious. She leaves a small silence after her words, because she's probably a drama queen, and then she says:
"Because, I, the one who runs this organisation, am Demeter, the Greek goddess!" | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | This is my first submission, so I'd really appreciate any growth / improvement feedback please.
"Wait.
This can't be right.
I look around to see if I've missed something. I've been walking in a bit of a stupour, still sweating out last night's binge drinking pounding music mental fucking getting right out of hand party. People always think of Tuscany as a little piece of boredom wrapped in rolling green hills, blue skies, and stone buildings, and for the most part they're right. But there is also a vibe here, a night vibe like no other, if you know where to look. Last night started at NoF, wandered around a bit, and finally ended with my waking up this morning on some tourist's couch, tasting far too much of the inside of my mouth.
Maybe I'm just too hungover, maybe my clairaudience is all out of whack. I haven't really been practising or focussing on it since my handlers let me go. I'm not supposed to talk about what I used to do, but basically I had two handlers, I worked for an organisation with three letters, and my job was to use my seemingly unique clairaudience to help uncover secret operations in foreign countries. Foreign to my own, three letter, country, that is. You know, not "us". One of my key abilities is that along with discerning information about a place, psychically, I could also get a sense of rank and power of that place. See, places where more power exists, where bigger choices are made, where decisions about the future of the world happen, they get a kind of energy signature to them. And I can pick this up.
I started off working in a consulting firm, where my ability to determine who to speak to to get the deal made my a wild success. Back then I never revealed my ability, of course, just said I was a good student of human nature.
But eventually my handlers found me, pulled me in, trained me, made me me... You've all seen this movie before, you know how the story goes.
And for years I was their lead, their champion, their little fucking goldmine of information. Traveling the world, finding the real seats of power. The seats behind the seats, as it were. The Kremlin? Incredible, awe inspiring, completely a red herring. The real magic happens four blocks away in a little townhouse. Sixth most powerful place in the world.
10 Downing Street? Pretty, very British, totally worth ignoring. Doesn't even crack the top thousand. But a secret bunker in Chelsea, that I detected one day by accident while walking through a park built over it? Third most powerful. Turns out there's tunnels from there to houses owned by all the big banking families - The Rothschilds, the Weishaupts, the lot. The choices that have been made in there, you wouldn't believe.
I genuinely can't talk about the others - My little three letter organisation does more than just make you sign an NDA when you leave. And I had to leave, eventually, because they figured (and I figured) I was broken. I could never, no matter where I went or what I did, find number one. The big kahuna. The most powerful place in the world.
Until now. Except that this can't be right. I'm standing on a tiny street in the Onda area of Siena, Tuscany. The streets are these grey slabs they use here, the buildings all small brick, and Siena's nowhere. No. Where. That's why I came here, to clear my head, to not have to worry about whether my watchers (once your handlers let you go, watchers watch. Forever, I think. They don't want to kill me in case I might be useful one day, they don't have any real use for me right now, but they also don't want to just let me go ramble around doing whatever I want) will be wandering what I'm up to. Nothing is the answer, hence Siena. Doing nothing in nowhere.
So why is my clairaudience going so fucking mad? It is telling me, with a strength I've never experienced before, that I am right next to the most powerful place in the world. Across the road is a small used book store, and with all my heart I want that to be it, but I know without doubt that it's not. It's the flower shop to my right.
Fresh St Joseph's lilies are in buckets on the steps, roses in the windows. Sprays of purple and white and green plants I don't know are all over. I walk in, starting to sweat a little bit.
Behind the counter, the Italian mama - short, apron, greying slightly - looks up at me and grins "Bella! We thought you'd never make it!"
​
​
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Edit EDIT:
Thank you for the silver!
EDIT:
Thank you all for all of the comments and helpful guides. I will try to write some more once I can figure out a story arc that makes sense to me. Really appreciate all of the positive feedback as well. Just to answer/comment on a couple of consistent comments:
1. The line about the party has gotten lots of feedback. I was trying to express that way that sometimes, after a huge night, you can't really piece it all together - It's just a blur of memory sensations. Obviously I didn't bring that across - I will try tighten it up in a future edit.
2. The uber-long parenthesis irritated me too. I'm a little surprised only /u/demios279 called me on it. I'll have to figure out how to bring that info in somewhere else though.
3. I really tried to write this gender neutral, so it's interesting how many people have picked a gender for the protagonist. Bella may have led to the female choice, but it was meant as "Beautiful" rather than the feminine.
Again, thank you all so much for the comments. I don't write often, and I've never posted here before, but the feedback has been so constructive I'm going to commit to trying to write a second part. Much love. | Strange... A flower shop? Really? I mean, I know we're in Tuscany, so it's probably the mafia, but still. Do they rule the world by killing everybody with perfume or something? Sarcasm aside, you decide to check it out.
You walk in to the shop, while an overload of nice smells attacks your nose. You walk to the desk, but no one is there.
"Hello?", you yell, "Anybody here?"
Suddenly, a breeze hits you in the face, again containing the most smells you have ever had shoved up your nostrils. A young lady with stunning blue eyes appears.
"How can I help you?", she asks. She stares at you with a questioning face. "You don't want to buy flowers, do you?"
"I uh, I just wanted to..."
"You want to know why this 'organisation' is so powerfull", she completes your sentence.
"Well... Yeah"
She grins. "Are you sure you want to know?"
You nod twice, not really sure, but very curious. She leaves a small silence after her words, because she's probably a drama queen, and then she says:
"Because, I, the one who runs this organisation, am Demeter, the Greek goddess!" | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | "This doesn't make sense," I muttered, perturbed. The tulips didn't seem to have any microphones inside. The hydrangea arrangements seemed like they were for sure hiding a secret passage but if that were so it was too well-concealed for even me to find - which should be impossible! There wasn't even a security camera on the ceiling, though that wasn't necessarily unusual. Anyone THIS powerful wouldn't have anything to fear, and also probably didn't want a lot of business caught on tape.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" The smiling old man behind the counter called out in stunted English.
"Oh I'm good," I called back, think returning his warmth with all the sincerity I could muster. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn't notice.
It has to be the mob, I thought, but which mob? I'd sussed out mafioso headquarters from Russia to Ru Paul's Drag Race (it's all a front, people) and never even got a sniff of one headquartered in Tuscany. A new player? Impossible - whoever was running this place was head and shoulders above the CIA, Mossad, and the nomadic Mongolian witch coven that secretly controls the economy. A flower shop, to boot? I sidled up next to the roses again. Maybe I was going about this the wrong way. I'd been looking for signs of secret organizations that originated on Earth...
"My friend, I know why you come here," the old man said, nearly making me jump out of my skin. When had he gotten so close?
"Ah," I did my best to smile with this monster beside me. "Do you?"
His eyes were a bright green, but his look was somber and grave. Only a few tufts of white hair remained on his liver-spotted head, and his face was a labyrinth of wrinkles and lines. Heavy eyebrows knit together as he brushed some soil off his hands onto the thin apron he wore, and then reached out to take me by the wrist.
"We're a gonna need to talk to Maria," he sternly intoned.
I pulled back, nearly tripping. He'd made me. "No, that's fine, I think I need to be going, there's- "
"Maria!" The man raised his voice, and the previous warmth had vanished. "We have a guest who needs your attention."
I heard a rustling in the back. Past the rows of neatly arranged flowers, the gift baskets and expensive chocolates, the selections of fine wines, a door opened. The old man, who had been so small when I entered, now seemed to loom over me. I had to get out, before -
"What is this? Marco, who is this?" A woman as wrinkled and dirt-stained as the old man rounded the corner. A small shovel was gripped menacingly in one gloved hand. Her eyes, as green as her partner's, gleamed as she cast her gaze back and forth between me and Marco. The old man straightened.
"Now you gonna get it," he threatened. Maria, twice the diminutive Marco's size, locked her eyes on mine.
"There's a misunderstanding- " I started to say, but then the bell on the front door announced a new visitor.
Both Maria and Marco turned, and I seized the opportunity to dash behind the roses. I began to shout out a theat, but another, wild "WHOOP!" drowned out my own.
"Mr. Romano! Mrs. Romano! I cannot thank you enough!" I peered out from behind the dozen thorny stalks acting as my shield. There was a young man in a vest and cap, vigorously shaking the hands of the pair in turn. "I give those flowers you say to Margaret and she adore them! She even give me a kiss - Dio! She's a coming to meet my mother this week - I think you did it! I owe it to you!"
Maria was beaming as Marco chuckled. "I told you our flowers were the best, Silvio," she patted his face warmly. "Now if you two get married and you ever get in a fight, you come back here and tell me what happened, we'll find what you need to apologize."
"But what if I am right?" Silvio queried.
Marco's chuckle became a deep belly laugh. "You just remember to come back when you need," Maria cuffed Marco on the back of the head, but that didn't stop his laughter. She rolled her eyes. "Go now Silvio, you find a nice shirt to wear when you bring her to your mama."
The young man profusely thanked them again before rushing out of the store, the door closing firmly behind him.
Both sets of eyes turned back on me. The thorns on these roses seemed to retract in fear.
"Don't think we forget about you," Marco said. "Maria, take care of this one."
Maria set her jaw, stepping forward. She reached out, gloved hand like a vise around my wrist, eyes pulling my gaze in as she searched my face.
"So," she yanked me from my useless hiding spot and into the shop's center. "What's her name?"
"Her...name?"
"Don't play coy," Maria gave me a look that said she wasn't having it. "Fifty years we've been doing this, and not once have we ever failed. You start talking, I'll get you what you need."
"We don't rightly understand it either," Marco sighed, taking out a broom to idly begin sweeping leaves and dirt from the floor, "but how are we going to complain?"
"You don't understand it, I understand it perfectly!" Maria yelled at him. He gave her a dreamy smile and leaned in for a kiss. She made a show of rolling her eyes and shooing him away, but I caught the fleeting wisp of a smile on her face.
"Fifty years," Maria repeated, "and not a one time have we failed to help a customer find their true love - and keep them - with our flowers. We only started this little shop because we both loved gardening, can you believe it? But I like to think in our little way, we mean something to the world."
"More than you realize," I replied, reassessing everything I thought I understood. "Far, far more than you realize." |
It was a neat trick to pull out at work events, mentioning how a specific government was or wasn’t even in the top ten most powerful organizations. Of course, when you were a member of the President’s Security Detail for the US Secret Service, you weren’t exactly doing that as a bar trick. You generally whispered it directly to the President herself.
You were the most nondescript of her detail, never in the trademark dark suits and ear pieces your brothers in arms were in, but that’s because you were the easiest to hide as an aide to Madame President. You barely made the Secret Service cutoffs for sizing until you pointed out your background in undercover work. It caused the interviewing officers to reevaluate your application. You solidly passed the physical and mental tests, your background showed no blemishes throughout eight years with the military and six more as a city police detective, and you were an ideal candidate for public-level spy work. You passed perfectly as a soccer mom or trophy wife and could get in to places and situations others couldn’t.
It wasn’t until you were through with training and into your third year with the agency that your talents were exposed.
It had been an easy mission – escort some senators through the embassy in Brazil and to a summit on climate change. Low danger level, mild media attention, and plenty of preparation with familiar facilities. You had been the second most senior agent on the case and had been scouting the region when you noticed the warm glow around the small coffee shop just six blocks from the summit. How had you not seen this before?
A soft seven floated around the door of the building. It was almost a shimmer instead of a solid number, just mild enough to catch your attention but not enough for anyone else to notice. It wasn’t particularly busy, but a few customers sat outside, sipping small espresso cups, nibbling on cookies, and reading books or chatting with friends. A single server chatted with an older gentleman who sat by himself near the door; they seemed familiar enough that he was likely a regular here.
It was funny, the most powerful places in the world rarely had Men in Suits going in and out of them as you might expect.
Number Ten had been a comic book store in Queens, NY. It had some mob ties but remained quiet. It wasn’t on any books anywhere and the ownership was so far removed from anyone associated with any of the Families that it couldn’t be tied back to them with rope, but it was the tenth most powerful place in the world.
Number Nine was in Rome, and surprisingly it was the only one you’d expected to be on the list, though you’d expected it a little higher than ninth place. The Vatican still held a lot of power within its walls and it didn’t seem God would be releasing any of it any time soon.
Numbers Eight, Six, Five, and Four were also small businesses in quiet places. An auto repair shop in France, a library in Spain, a Michelin-starred restaurant in Germany, and a petting zoo in Australia all held shimmering single-digit numbers.
Number Three was a historical home in England, but it wasn’t owned by the Royal Family. Number Two was a farm in Missouri, of all places, but Number One was elusive. You’d searched every country you’d been in, visiting neighborhoods tourists avoided and getting to know locals to find their favorite places. They often didn’t realize that their favorite little shop was the seat of power for some of the world’s most influential organizations.
You had spent a little too long staring at the shop and your commanding officer had noticed.
“Morrow, situation?” he’d asked in your ear-coms.
“Negative, sir. Just a cute shop, wondered if their coffee was any good,” you’d smiled. He didn’t believe you and had taken you to the side.
“Morrow, I need to know what you saw at that shop. There is no room for keeping anything to yourself,” he’d said quietly.
“I don’t even know how to say it, but that shop is the seventh most powerful organization in the world’s headquarters, sir.”
“What’s the organization? And more importantly, how do you know that?”
“I can’t answer that on either account sir, but I can tell you I’m right. We don’t have anything to worry about today, though. They don’t know we know and they don’t seem to be actively planning anything.”
The commander had set up a discreet watch on the coffee shop after that. He had been blown away by your accuracy. The US now had a handle on the headquarters of one of the most powerful secret societies in the world and you had given it to them.
Promotions had come quickly after that, getting you to be the personal guard and public aide to the first female President of the United States of America. That’s how you’d ended up in Tuscany, Italy today.
She had a meeting with the Italian president and all hands were on deck, as usual. It was a beautiful season in Italy when the grapes were harvested and many festivals were held. Madame President would be attending one that evening, in fact, but first had to handle the official business she was here for.
You’d spend most of the meeting studying those in the room and the surveillance undoubtedly installed everywhere, but it should be an easy hour. Smile, take some notes, whisper a few reminders and out. Nobody would ever suspect the unassuming aide to be someone with your talents.
And it was exactly as you’d expected. An easy meeting, a few photos for the press, and back out to the hotel. Another standard day in the life of a Secret Service agent, right?
Until you saw it.
It shimmered brighter than the others, you’d thought it was the sun starting to move behind the cute little flower shop that gave it the golden glow. An errant thought about photographers loving the light passed through your mind before it snapped to attention.
ONE. A bright, shiny, glowing 1 floated near the doorway of the flower shop, the fresh, cool scent of flowers hovering near the doorway.
“Madame President, a word please?” You trusted this one, unlike the last two. They’d been total idiots, unfit to serve or lead the people of the US, but this one had something different about her. Maybe it was the respect she commanded that had nothing to do with her gender, maybe it was the thoughtful way she considered each proposal brought her way, or maybe it was something else, but she was doing great and had started a slow improvement in the economy and job market. No one person would be able to fix it all, but she was making progress on both sides of the aisle.
“Sure, Morrow. What’s going on?” You rarely asked for her time, so she paused when you did. “Do we need to step away?”
“No Madame President, but I have a fun fact for you.”
The President leaned in with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye, she loved the facts you spouted off about each location you visited and she was well aware that the phrasing mattered and would be important on this one.
“Oh wonderful! What’s today’s fact?” she smiled.
“I just wanted to point out those beautiful red poppies at that flower shop, Tuscany is known for their poppies this time of year,” you gestured. “They’re regarded as the most beautiful in the world, in fact.”
“Oh? Are they the number one producer?”
“Yes, ma’am, *the* number one.”
“I see, well, perhaps you could arrange a bouquet for the staff at the hotel before we leave, I do enjoy local floral arrangements.”
“Noted,” you said. You’d speak to her again at the embassy when you returned to Florence, but she was aware of the special gift you possessed and knew to take it seriously. While your gift told you of the importance, it didn’t tell you which organization it belonged to and it often took several weeks or months of investigation to figure it out. And only twice had anyone moved locations on you. Foolishly, they’d kept them in the same areas, so you’d been able to find them again easily.
You had a feeling if this one moved, you’d never find it again. | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/dpf39n/flowers_part_2/) is up!
The aura of the little Tuscan flower shop drew me in like none had drawn me in before. Not even world governments or their secret spy societies; not even cults or churches or anything of the sort. It glowed red to me, pulsating like a living, beating heart. I was a moth to a flame; a drowning creature to the tantalizing safety of fresh air.
Bells on the door jingled as I entered; the smell of lavender and roses assailed my nostrils. I gave in to the temptation and looked around.
Flowers, of course, I was in a flower shop. But they were the finest, most intricate flowers I had ever seen. Roses with such detail that I could lose myself in the petals for hours. Pinks that turned to red in a different light. Purples that turned to a dark maroon and blacks darker than the darkest night.
"Welcome," she said, her English heavily accented. I must have looked a tourist with the t-shirt of the Italian boot hoofing a soccer ball and my backpack on. Her voice was mellow, the tone sweet. Her face was pretty, with plump cheeks. She smiled politely, and for a moment the pulsing of the walls stopped. "How are you?" she asked as I approached the desk.
"What is this place?" I said by way of response, looking deep into her eyes. They were a kaleidoscope of colors, tossing the reds and greens and purples of the flowers into a multicolored masterpiece.
"A flower shop, sir," she responded. She must have me a fool, asking what a flower shop was. She must have thought me a fool, that I was ignorant to the secrets that little shop held. I shook my head, breathing deeply. Petunias, if my memory served me right, sitting on the counter, patterned like the night sky. I reached for a petal and she stopped me. "No touching, please.
"Sorry."
She smiled pleasantly, my trespass forgiven. "What flower are you looking for?"
I looked her in the eyes again, fighting the hypnotic way the colors morphed and molded into different shades and shapes. "I'm not actually looking for a flower," I told her. I think she might have already known. She blinked carefully but her face remained impassive, helpful as a service worker strove to be.
"Then how can I help, sir?"
"This place," I said vaguely, waving around a hand. "This is the headquarters of an organization."
She didn't smile and she didn't frown. She tensed, maybe, but even that was so subtle that I could have imagined it. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head. "No, sir. I think you're mistaken."
I shook my head. "I'm not mistaken. I don't make mistakes, not about this. This shop..." I looked around. Passerby walked by oblivious to the secrets of this little store. Some glanced in the window, their faces crinkling into smiles as they saw the magical flowers of the gallery. "This is the head of the world's most powerful organization."
She gulped and her jaw clenched. I was sure of it now. The ringing of the bell on the door snapped her gaze away from me and she glanced up towards the latest customer. Then her eyes were back on mine, the kaleidoscope now muted and black and her gaze steely. "You're mistaken," she answered firmly. She raised a hand, beckoning the customer towards me. "Mario," she said. It wasn't just a name. It was an order.
I stepped aside but an iron grip grasped my arm. The street was the other way, not towards the back room where I was being led. I voiced a complaint and he gruffly shushed me, saying something in Italian that I couldn't understand. I tried to plant my feet but the behemoth of a man pulled me forwards.
A bull in a China shop, I thought to myself, wondering how he managed to so gracefully avoid even touching any of the flowers. That was my last thought as he opened the door, throwing me inside and stepping in behind me.
*****
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/MatiWrites/comments/dpf39n/flowers_part_2/) is up!
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | I have felt this pull over and over. This feeling that something there that I just can't quite grab. I know something is there so I reach out and start pulling. I remember doing this at the white house, disappointed almost shocked that it was only #3. I know that they are nothing special, but with their allies military and assets I would have guessed one or two. However, my trip to China found me #2. I still don't think China would win in a conventional war, but they have a lot of control over the economy and their people. However here I stand, in the middle of Tuscany with almost a scratch that needs to be itched. The memories fade and my vision returns to normal.
In front of me there is this beautiful little coffee shop next to a flower shop that is equally so. However, the big difference between them is I get some very large number for the coffee shop, but I almost forget the coffee shop as a whole. In front of this little ol' flower shop is a one, forcing itself onto me. Now I have spent the last ten years looking for the number one. I thought it had to have been Amazon, but they were 4th.
I wait no longer and trudge my way over to the door. I push the door open gently expecting to be greeted by something horrible. However the soft smell of roses hit me as a cute girl stands in an apron taking care of the flowers. She can't be more than a year or two younger than me. Twenty-four, maybe twenty-five? She smiles as I walk in, "Welcome to Rose's Roses, I am Rose. How can I help you today?" She spoke with such genuine enthusiasm I almost forgot why I was here.
"Hi Rose, I was wondering if I could just look around for a minute?"
"Sure thing! I will be right here if you need me!"
I spent a good ten minutes and nothing. I couldn't find a single piece of evidence to why. More powerful than China, the USA. How? She would have to know. Right? I go to look for her when I hear the door open. In walks three very characterful people, the one with a pep in her step runs over and hugs Rose. The others don't.
The happy-go-lucky looking one stops and stares at me, and the other guy next to him stops an gives him a quizzical look. Before I can even open my mouth he speaks.
"We have been looking for you for a long, long time Eden." His stupor at seeing me begins to fade, my answers turn into more questions. "Welcome to Roses Renegades. I am Matt, the seeker, and you have a power we have been looking for for a very, very long time." | |
[WP] You have the ability to tell how powerful an organisation is by looking at its headquarters. However, you’ve never found which one is number 1, despite walking past many world governments. Today, you find what number 1 is: a small flower shop in Tuscany. | This is my first submission, so I'd really appreciate any growth / improvement feedback please.
"Wait.
This can't be right.
I look around to see if I've missed something. I've been walking in a bit of a stupour, still sweating out last night's binge drinking pounding music mental fucking getting right out of hand party. People always think of Tuscany as a little piece of boredom wrapped in rolling green hills, blue skies, and stone buildings, and for the most part they're right. But there is also a vibe here, a night vibe like no other, if you know where to look. Last night started at NoF, wandered around a bit, and finally ended with my waking up this morning on some tourist's couch, tasting far too much of the inside of my mouth.
Maybe I'm just too hungover, maybe my clairaudience is all out of whack. I haven't really been practising or focussing on it since my handlers let me go. I'm not supposed to talk about what I used to do, but basically I had two handlers, I worked for an organisation with three letters, and my job was to use my seemingly unique clairaudience to help uncover secret operations in foreign countries. Foreign to my own, three letter, country, that is. You know, not "us". One of my key abilities is that along with discerning information about a place, psychically, I could also get a sense of rank and power of that place. See, places where more power exists, where bigger choices are made, where decisions about the future of the world happen, they get a kind of energy signature to them. And I can pick this up.
I started off working in a consulting firm, where my ability to determine who to speak to to get the deal made my a wild success. Back then I never revealed my ability, of course, just said I was a good student of human nature.
But eventually my handlers found me, pulled me in, trained me, made me me... You've all seen this movie before, you know how the story goes.
And for years I was their lead, their champion, their little fucking goldmine of information. Traveling the world, finding the real seats of power. The seats behind the seats, as it were. The Kremlin? Incredible, awe inspiring, completely a red herring. The real magic happens four blocks away in a little townhouse. Sixth most powerful place in the world.
10 Downing Street? Pretty, very British, totally worth ignoring. Doesn't even crack the top thousand. But a secret bunker in Chelsea, that I detected one day by accident while walking through a park built over it? Third most powerful. Turns out there's tunnels from there to houses owned by all the big banking families - The Rothschilds, the Weishaupts, the lot. The choices that have been made in there, you wouldn't believe.
I genuinely can't talk about the others - My little three letter organisation does more than just make you sign an NDA when you leave. And I had to leave, eventually, because they figured (and I figured) I was broken. I could never, no matter where I went or what I did, find number one. The big kahuna. The most powerful place in the world.
Until now. Except that this can't be right. I'm standing on a tiny street in the Onda area of Siena, Tuscany. The streets are these grey slabs they use here, the buildings all small brick, and Siena's nowhere. No. Where. That's why I came here, to clear my head, to not have to worry about whether my watchers (once your handlers let you go, watchers watch. Forever, I think. They don't want to kill me in case I might be useful one day, they don't have any real use for me right now, but they also don't want to just let me go ramble around doing whatever I want) will be wandering what I'm up to. Nothing is the answer, hence Siena. Doing nothing in nowhere.
So why is my clairaudience going so fucking mad? It is telling me, with a strength I've never experienced before, that I am right next to the most powerful place in the world. Across the road is a small used book store, and with all my heart I want that to be it, but I know without doubt that it's not. It's the flower shop to my right.
Fresh St Joseph's lilies are in buckets on the steps, roses in the windows. Sprays of purple and white and green plants I don't know are all over. I walk in, starting to sweat a little bit.
Behind the counter, the Italian mama - short, apron, greying slightly - looks up at me and grins "Bella! We thought you'd never make it!"
​
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Edit EDIT:
Thank you for the silver!
EDIT:
Thank you all for all of the comments and helpful guides. I will try to write some more once I can figure out a story arc that makes sense to me. Really appreciate all of the positive feedback as well. Just to answer/comment on a couple of consistent comments:
1. The line about the party has gotten lots of feedback. I was trying to express that way that sometimes, after a huge night, you can't really piece it all together - It's just a blur of memory sensations. Obviously I didn't bring that across - I will try tighten it up in a future edit.
2. The uber-long parenthesis irritated me too. I'm a little surprised only /u/demios279 called me on it. I'll have to figure out how to bring that info in somewhere else though.
3. I really tried to write this gender neutral, so it's interesting how many people have picked a gender for the protagonist. Bella may have led to the female choice, but it was meant as "Beautiful" rather than the feminine.
Again, thank you all so much for the comments. I don't write often, and I've never posted here before, but the feedback has been so constructive I'm going to commit to trying to write a second part. Much love. | As you walk in the store you see her, gray frizzled hair leaning over the counter. Her eyes are enlarged to a comical size by her thick, round glasses. Wind-chimes ring outside as you wait for her to notice your presence. The air is heavy with pollen and fertiliser.
"So, you finally came." She says, walking briskly around the front of the counter with a watering can in hand.
"What makes you number 1?" You ask, wanting to get to the point. She doesn't seem like the small-talk type.
She doesn't reply as she hums around her small shop. All the flowers are pretty, but nothing grand. It's around 4:50 in the afternoon, clearly it's nearly closing time as no one else is in the store.
Her lack of reply soon bores you, driving you to investigate the store further. As you look closer you notice many small sculptures, frogs and gnomes, toadstools and fairies. It all seems quite generic to you. She walks past you quickly, slowly closing up store one thing at a time. The smell of Vanilla beans and tobacco fills your nostrils unpleasantly.
Looking behind the counter you see a door. It's a wooden door, you assume to the storage room, or an office. But something about it draws you nearer. The colour of the wood, the shape of the handle. Something seems slightly off about it. Your hair stands on end as you walk closer. Suddenly the dust in the air seems to still as warm light trickles through the windows behind you. Your shadow is the only thing now between you and the door, you hadn't realised you'd walked closer. She hums, her tune still calm despite the sweat on your hands and the speed in your heart.
Slowly, ever so slowly, you grab the door handle.
"Open that door if you wish, but beware." The old lady says, returning to her chores.
The door creaks loudly as it swings open gently. It's crooked and wooden on the front side, but on the back it's made of black stone.
You peer past the door and you see a staircase. The staircase goes down.... seemingly forever. The stairs are carved from a black cave, lit by torches placed on either side. Hot air is almost rushing out the door to meet you.
You turn back to the old lady, bewildered by what you see. The smell of ash and rotting meat is stuck in your throat like an illness.
"Welcome, to "Cleverly Covered Curses", the best business in town, if you're talking about the residents down below." She grins happily.
(Authors note- Not reread or edited at all, while CC is appreciated please note I'm about to go to sleep so this might be a bit sloppy) | |
[WP] Your superpower is to control time, however you are considered too young to join the superhero teams. So in the mean time, instead of fighting the bad guys, you fix the collateral damage. | An enormous chunk of cement fell from a nearby building as Eaglerock flew through it to chase the bad guy. The civilians underneath screamed as I waited until the last second so they moved away enough to make my job easier. At the snap of my fingers, it was all over. The screaming, the running and even the effects of gravity itself
Now, the hard part begun.
It was always like this when heroes knew I was on the scene. "The intern will clean it up, so lets make a mess!" I sighed as I dragged each individual away from the soon-to-be crater on the ground to a safe place. By the time I was done, I was drenched in sweat, but only 0.0001 seconds had passed. If time resumed now, Eaglerock would soon be destroying something else.
I sat in a small pile of rubble for a bit, resting, and then started to walk to the next block so I could get ahead of all the destruction that would soon follow.
In the moment I arrived at the next block, I knew something was wrong. Eaglerock was still not in the other side of the building despite me waiting a few seconds after he crashed into the outside walls, and there supervillians flying away were nowhere to be seen.
Hesitantly, I decided to enter the building that was perfurated, easily ignoring any security, until I reached my greatest enemy: stairs.
After 17 floors and 20 minutes (0.0001453 seconds, in actuality) of pure leg torture, I reached the floor Eaglerock supposedly made his unsubtle entrance. In the hallway, there was holes in both walls, one that led to the abyss, and another that led to what was a few seconds ago a fancy apartment.
Looking at the newly formed entrance, I could see another hole in the wall that separated the living room from the bedroom, and the bedroom from another, even fancier, apartment.
What I saw inside, though, was nothing fancy. Eaglerock was being held by a golden net that a large, muscular man had in his hands, while other two pointed spears at him . The supervillian he was chasing led him into a trap with two others, and he fell for it.
Protocol was to leave the action to the hero in the scene. I should get back on the ground and avoid the possible casualties. However, the hero wasn't looking so heroic, and the big chunk of cement currently trying to fall into the ground would be awfully disappointed if no one was underneath it by the end of this whole thing. I knew exactly what I was going to do.
Besides, I would have a few thousand years to come up with a good excuse before I had to deal with any consequences. My biggest problem right now...
...the stairs... | Decided to put an odd spin on it, hope you enjoy!
​
"God *fucking* dammit," I say as I walk through the crowded warehouse. Some injuries are worse than others. Some aren't ever recovered from. My nickname is Saving Angel, and I save lives. I walk toward the newest person at our little volunteer hospital, a henchman who had no idea what he was doing, covered in laser burns.
"Please...help. It hurts," he says, struggling to speak. I inject the sedative.
"Go to sleep, please," I say as he slips off. we can't do much as it is, with most of the hospitals filled. I loosen him from the time stream and fast forward him about a month. He wakes up fully healed. Others aren't so lucky. It hurts to see what suffering is left in their wake. I'm generally a positive person, but, seeing this makes me feel hopeless. Hell, half the time the so-called "hero teams" cause more damage than they fix.
By the end of the day, I need a stiff drink and sleep, as always, so I go home, make myself a Rusty Nail, and sit down to watch the news. Those "heroes" are goddammed glory hogs, that's all. As I take a sip, my TV goes static. I look up, mildly disappointed. SNL was up next. Then, I hear a voice.
"Hello, John"
"How do you know my name?"
"You don't like them, do you, John."
He's done his homework.
"N-no. Not at all. I wanted to join them, but now I wish I could change something"
"Well, then, I have a job offer for you. How would you like to become a force of nature? Put an end to the tyranny of heroes and villains, not to put to fine a point on it."
"I... would like that"
"In that case, Welcome, Destroying Angel, to the Surtr League" | |
[WP] Your superpower is to control time, however you are considered too young to join the superhero teams. So in the mean time, instead of fighting the bad guys, you fix the collateral damage. | Even though I am only 15 all I want in life is to become a superhero and join the Pyramid, an elite group of Heroes that save the world constantly. The only problem is that since I am too young they will not allow me on the team. This infuriates me but it is what it is. In order to still put my best foot forward and help society I decide to minimize the collateral damage.
My power allows me to stop time completely for everyone besides myself. In this state of time pause I can freely move any substance that I can touch. I had a chemistry friend of mine design these gloves that can withstand up to 1200 degrees celsius. With these gloves and my powers I can redirect anything to avoid collateral damage and minimize civilian harm.
As my city's number one hero, Jet Stream, is fighting with his arch nemesis, The Condore, they are constantly putting the people at risk by needlessly throwing each other at buildings and flying through windows sending glass and metal plummeting below where bystanders are mindlessly enjoying their day. This is my time to shine.
I freeze time and take the elevator up to the floor where a Jet Stream has is about to smash Condore through a building. It is there that I grab them and redirect them to go straight up as opposed to horizontally through who knows how many buildings. When i get the trajectory right I then use my grappling system that I "borrowed" from the police to scale the side of the buildings gathering the materials that were falling onto the heads of civilians and gather them back into the building safely on the floor. Once I have gathered all the debris possible I go back to the building put on a jacket to cover my gear and resume time.
As time resumes the battling duo are sky rocketed upwards over a mile above the city skyline and Jet Stream beat the Condore into submission with no collateral damage or civilian casualties. The only part of this that aggravates me is that the heroes always play these instances off as them avoiding the damage instead of admitting that they have no clue what happened while the were frozen in time for a whole hour while I, The Hourglass, was really the one who saved all these people.
I get back to my apartment in Delta City and see a masked figure sitting on my couch, I recognize him instantly. The famous hero of Gotham, Batman. "Took you long enough." | Decided to put an odd spin on it, hope you enjoy!
​
"God *fucking* dammit," I say as I walk through the crowded warehouse. Some injuries are worse than others. Some aren't ever recovered from. My nickname is Saving Angel, and I save lives. I walk toward the newest person at our little volunteer hospital, a henchman who had no idea what he was doing, covered in laser burns.
"Please...help. It hurts," he says, struggling to speak. I inject the sedative.
"Go to sleep, please," I say as he slips off. we can't do much as it is, with most of the hospitals filled. I loosen him from the time stream and fast forward him about a month. He wakes up fully healed. Others aren't so lucky. It hurts to see what suffering is left in their wake. I'm generally a positive person, but, seeing this makes me feel hopeless. Hell, half the time the so-called "hero teams" cause more damage than they fix.
By the end of the day, I need a stiff drink and sleep, as always, so I go home, make myself a Rusty Nail, and sit down to watch the news. Those "heroes" are goddammed glory hogs, that's all. As I take a sip, my TV goes static. I look up, mildly disappointed. SNL was up next. Then, I hear a voice.
"Hello, John"
"How do you know my name?"
"You don't like them, do you, John."
He's done his homework.
"N-no. Not at all. I wanted to join them, but now I wish I could change something"
"Well, then, I have a job offer for you. How would you like to become a force of nature? Put an end to the tyranny of heroes and villains, not to put to fine a point on it."
"I... would like that"
"In that case, Welcome, Destroying Angel, to the Surtr League" | |
[WP] In a world where superheroes and villains exist. You're a villain(with a reputation). One evening you're fighting against one young superhero and suddenly he/she has a panic attack in the middle of the fight. | "okay, calm down, calm down. are you okay?"
I got out of my robotic mech suit, and as I watch Lightning Man start to hyperventilate I try to remember the tactics I learned with my psychiatrist.
"do you remember your name?" I said, now standing next to him, my hand oh is shoulder, while starting to panic myself. He replies, saying,
"Do you really think I'm going to fall for that?" I realized I just asked him for his secret identity, "
"Okay I see where I went wrong, start naming the things that you see!" I said, finally remembering what I learned.
"I-I see a lamp post"
"What else?"
"Um cars. Yeah cars."
"More, more!"
"The sun, clouds, a street, skyscrapers I guess" I saw his panic start to evaporate.
"are you good now buddy? Everything better?" He got out of his bent posture standing up more straight.
"I-I need water." he said while fanning his face with his hands.
"Yeah, no problem Ill be right back." I run into a Starbucks that I see. Surprisingly no one is in it
"Oh yeah the evacuation" I thought to myself. I grabbed a plastic cup and filled it with water from a faucet. I start to run back out
"This good man?" I asked, handing him the cup.
"Yeah, yeah. Thanks" He chugs the whole cup.
"okay, lets call it a day and get back home alright?"
"alright" he crushed the cup in his hands and destroys it with a miniature bolt of lightning.
"great. get some rest man. " I patted him on the back and then we walked in separate directions. Wit ha running start he shoots lightning on the ground and jumps in the air, flying away. I got into my mech suit and started to jog home.
Is this what it feels like to be good?
Hey guys this was my first writing prompt and I know it was short but I had a fun time doing it and would love feedback. thanks guys. | Panic. Their first instinct was always panic.
And why wouldn't it be?
The allure of standing up for someone else and causing a difference in the world was one not easily ignored. Especially when it was so easy to stand up for others and do things for them. It was always easier to live for others than to live for yourself.
And so they would galavant gayly about their lives constantly willingly throwing away pieces of their soul all because self-reflection and preservation were oh so very terrifying.
*If people appreciated me than surely I am worthwhile! I don't have to do anything to stand out so long as I can help others.*
I could understand the sentiment but it was the will of cowards. People who were afraid of commitment. The public saw them as great defenders and 'heroes' because it is so much easier to pin your hopes and dreams on others than to think for yourself.
"You're using the whole world as a proxy." their eyes widened, fraught with fear and pleading. They had a name of course but I didn't care for it. If they don't care about themselves then what purpose is there for me to care for them?
"Y-you're wrong!" they looked around trying to find me but all they would find are shadows. It didn't make a difference, the words they spoke were nothing more than a lie they told themselves to give their life meaning.
"That I can assure you whole-heartedly isn't true. I have never once faltered in my convictions or doubted my cause. Can you say the same?" my voice echoed all around them piercing all the chinks in their armor.
"M-my cause?" they doubted themselves. It was as if they were unsure of what to do now.
In this state, they were the most vulnerable and it was the time that I would decide their fate.
"What do you live for?"
"Isn't it obvious villain? To protect the world!"
Delusions of grandeur. When people lull themselves into the sense that they are serving a higher purpose it is easy to convince themselves there is no need to change themselves. They thought of me as a criminal but they don't see the true crime. None of them respect themselves.
There would be no way to free them of these thoughts. Nothing I would say would convince them.
\----
*In tonight's news - another budding hero perishes to an unknown assailant after succumbing to a panic attack. A trend of such deaths has become increasingly common. Are these the result of some mysterious mastermind or is it just a strange new disease?*
The media never fails at glorifying a horrifying situation. Terror profits after all.
Maybe I should pay them a visit next. | |
[WP] You are a scientist and you unwittingly discover time travel. You go to the past to get ahead of a waiting line so you could get a coffee before work, when suddenly a group of battle-torn warriors arrive at your doorstep. You have apparently undone everything they did to prevent the apocalypse. | The coffee was indeed good. How could have I gone without it? Discovering the secret to time travel is the best thing that could happen to me!
I know, I know. Traveling a couple of hours to the past just to get first in line to the coffee shop might seem like a petty misuse of such a powerful invention, and it kinda is. I just couldn't help it. I needed my double caramel macchiato to start my day, and Daisy's is the best in town.
Besides I'm still working out the kinks of the machine and specially how I'm going to use it. There's so many possibilities to it. I can only imagine all of the lost knowledge and history's mysteries that can be unveiled using this small device. All the lives I could eventually save and even space exploration. Right now time is the biggest obstacle to colonize the stars, and with this device we can create as much time as we need...
I got out of my daydreaming as I approached my apartment. I took out my keys and unlocked the door. Then, as I was opening the door and stepping in, I noticed four silhouettes sitting in my living room. These people looked roughed, their dirty clothes worn and discolored. A couple of them had deep scars.
"What?" I stopped dead on my tracks and was ready to turn and run.
"Wait!" a tall man among them stood up and yelled. "We mean no harm!"
"You don't?" I don't know why I didn't run away. His voice was almost hypnotic and drew me towards him. I unconsciously took another step towards them. It was a terrible mistake.
"Wham!!" The door slammed shut behind my back and I was thrown away, losing grip on my drink as it spilled on the carpet. Unbeknownst to me there was another one of them behind the door. He was way angrier than the others.
"Do you have any idea what you've just done you stupid bimbo?!"
What? What was he talking about? Who were these people? What were they doing in my home? I wanted to scream, I wanted to yell for help. But I couldn't do a thing. I was completely frozen in place, unable to move, speak or even think.
The big man took me and pinned me to the wall. I was still in shock and couldn't do a thing.
"We had just beaten them!, We had just freed humanity!" He yelled on my face as he swinged me. "We had just taken the Director! Do you have any idea how much we sacrificed for the victory? Everybody we lost? And then you had to undo it all with your stupid toy!"
"The toy... you mean the device?" I finally managed to snap out and at least talk. "All I did was to have a coffee... and you just spilled it"
"You ruined everything, for a coffee?!" He was even angrier and that moment I truly feared for my life.
"Wait!" The tall man from before interrupted. "I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding." He turned towards me. "Look, like I said we -at least most of us- come in peace. We mean no harm to you. You have to understand our frustration. We come from the future, in a hundred years a cartel of multinational corporations will make its move, strike at the big cities, get control of the world and enslave humanity."
"How does that relate to me?"
"We don't know. We had just achieved victory when a time wave reached our time and changed it everything, for the worse. We managed to track the changes to the timeline right to the moment you jumped back this morning." His voice was very calming and almost intoxicating. Somehow under all that dirt, blood and scars he was actually kind of cute.
"We would have jumped before, but this was the earliest the time device we could find allowed it. We are not even sure what changed, just that that change somehow started today, in this place."
"But, it was all harmless."
"Maybe it wasn't the coffee. Maybe it was something you were going to do after the coffee."
"Then you have nothing to worry. I don't intend to ever misuse it. I promise I'll just use it to research the past, not to change it."
"I guess that's enough for me" The guy finally conceded. "Drop her."
"Wait, boss" Another of the travelers interrupted as he -or was he a he? it was hard to notice under all the gear and war wounds- . "The timeline remains altered. Nothing has been changed."
"Only one way to fix it then." The big guy holding me drew a futuristic looking gun and pointed it to my head. "We destroy the device, and we kill the b!tch and everybody that could make another."
"Wait! We don't know if that's gonna solve anything!"
"On the contrary boss, we cannot allow the device to exist." The androgynous traveler said dispassionately. "Continuous use of it likely is what changed the timeline."
"What is one life compared to hundreds in war?"
All of the others nodded in agreement. I was in tears and completely impotent as others decided putting an end to my life. Never before had I felt as powerless. Who were these people to decide over my fate? What right did they have?
As the man cocked the gun I felt my heartbeat stopping entirely. It was not fair. I no longer felt fear nor sadness, all of it had turned to anger and the desire to have power over them. The power to stop them, the power to make them go away, the power to make them suffer...
A flashing explosion of light filled the room. In the impact, the huge thug finally let go of me. As I touched the ground, I noticed a new person next to me. She was shrouded in shadows, and I couldn't see her face, but her voice sounded oddly familiar.
"Hurry! Yowie is waiting for you in the stars!"
That phrase, that very phrase. Nobody else should be able to know about the little bear I used to have as a little girl. The one little bear I lost in the park and never forgot about. I only got to overcome his loss by imagining he had gone to the stars and was waiting for me. I never told a soul, only one person could have known... myself.
I gladly took her hand as light began engulfing us. We were out of there in a heartbeat. When I next made sense of our surroundings I noticed we were inside an old warehouse.
"I barely made it in time. Just a second more and you, we would have died." She told me in a reassuring way. "I can't believe these wackos managed to get their hands on a device. How are you feeling?"
"I was so scared" I finally cried and hugged future me. "I've never felt so helpless!"
"Don't worry, you're safe now." She removed the high tech mask that she'd been wearing and hugged me back in a motherly way. "And you'll never be helpless again. After all you have the device, and all the power that comes with it."
I let go of her and looked her at the eyes. "The power that comes with it..." I looked at the device and couldn't help but look at the possibilities. All of the knowledge from past, present and future was on my hands. And I had all of the time of the world to put it to good use. Health? I could benefit from all the medical advances in the far future today. Money? I could go back before card counting was a thing and beat every casino on a single night before they knew what hit them. Power? I could gain control of every important company in the world before anybody even suspected their true value. I could bend the whole world to my whims!
"Yes, power. I've got power." I laughed "I'm going to assume control of this world, and when I'm done. Those idiots will pay for all the suffering they put me through!! I'm going to crush their world and everything they stand for!"
"Yes, my dear." Future me spoke "You'll do all that and more! but first." She took out a coffee glass out of a box. "You need your coffee."
"A double caramel macchiato! Thank you!" I hug future me once again and hurried to take the delicious drink out of her hands.
"This coffee is good. How could have I gone without it?" she said.
Discovering the secret to time travel is the best thing that could happen to me! | Beth stretched happily 'ah, the power of time travel' who would have thought she could use it to get her morning coffee from her favourite place down the road and get to the lab on time.
She buzzed herself in a smug grin plastered on her face on top of a layer of well done makeup. This was the first time in the many years since she had joined the company straight out of university, she had wanted to do the world good, but that did require some sacrifices such as her self love makeup Monday's where she enjoyed putting on some tasteful make up so when she walked past reflective serfaces she could look at herself and go 'damn, I look hot as hell'
She brushed past Jake and Ellie, Jake was working to make fashion more sustainable and Ellie was working on a project that would make transportation of goods less taxing on the environment by making them smaller so more could be transported in one go.
She gave Ellie a wave "hi Ellie!" Jake waved and she gave him a mock sulute she entered her office/lab space kicking the door shut and petting her lab cat.
Pulling off her winter jacket and the scarf she had managed to put on this morning to ward off the harsh winter of the Scottish Highlands. No cold for her this month and all thanks to time travel.
Just as she was sitting down to finish a few bits and pieces there was a sound like the air being unsettled like it was being pushed out of the way of the way by an object materialising or growing suddenly as if a high mass, high density object became a high mass, low density object. Paper flew around, test tubes a bits of mashine fell off tables and into one another the lab cat jumped onto the top of her bookself and she screamed as 6 men and women appeared before her.
"What have you done, you stupid girl! You and your stupid scarf have ruined everything!"
Beth stared up "what?!"
Dun, DuN DuNnUnaNNN! | |
[WP] You are a scientist and you unwittingly discover time travel. You go to the past to get ahead of a waiting line so you could get a coffee before work, when suddenly a group of battle-torn warriors arrive at your doorstep. You have apparently undone everything they did to prevent the apocalypse. | Everything froze.
The fly that was near a light bulb.
The steam rising from my coffee. (Strangely, the coffee itself was still liquid, and it moved with my cup)
Even the pen, which I had dropped moments before, was stationary, floating midair.
Everything but the door, which burst open as dozens of men and women in tight fitting, futuristic, matching suits ran in.
"Threat Level 0," said a woman in the back. She seemed to be giving orders.
I sipped my coffee. I was relatively calm, and assumed I had fallen asleep. A side affect of a failed project years ago caused me to black out often, and lucid dreams were not a rarity during those instances.
A man walked up to me.
I watched him, but remained silent.
"You have violated Time Mandate 374, and will be judged on site. How do you wish to plead?" the man said.
"Time Mandate 374?" I asked.
A very human voice, coming from the universe itself responded "Time Mandate 374: The act of changing timelines, in such a way as to cost great amounts of human loss of life, with "great amounts" referring to an excess of 1 billion"
"I... 1 billion lives?" I questioned.
"An excess of 1 billion" the woman in the back corrected. "I believe you are guilty of over 12 billion currently, and 3 billion more are near death."
I pause to process the information. "15 billion? There aren't even 9 billion people in the world! I plead innocent. I haven't killed anyone, or changed any timelines. Well. I bought this coffee." I paused. "But that can't cause the death of more people than are currently alive!"
"None who are currently alive would witness it. No one for the next 2 billion years will be affected. That one coffee kills nearly the whole human race about 2.3 billion years from now, however. Do you now plead guilty?"
"2.3 Billion Years! Can you not fix the damage in any way? We're all supposed to die because of climate change in the next 20 years anyways!"
Almost all of the soldiers laugh.
"Climate Change? Oh. I remember that from a class on United States History. The president Donald Trump fixed that issue by starting World War III. Most of Asia was wiped out for decades, but the global pollution dropped by nearly 80 percent. I believe that even without the guilty plead, the coffee you hold, along with your words are enoug...h to prove everything. We now sentence you to..."
I use the time machine to stop myself from buying the coffee, and then return to the same moment I had been in, moments before.
"Ha. He gave up his coffee. That prank never gets old!" a man yelled from the back. "Sorry for the trouble. And, uh, If anyone asks, we were never here. By the way, you may want to jump forward 20 years. Get a newer model belt. That one will blow up after 7 uses. Your death was quite tragic." | Beth stretched happily 'ah, the power of time travel' who would have thought she could use it to get her morning coffee from her favourite place down the road and get to the lab on time.
She buzzed herself in a smug grin plastered on her face on top of a layer of well done makeup. This was the first time in the many years since she had joined the company straight out of university, she had wanted to do the world good, but that did require some sacrifices such as her self love makeup Monday's where she enjoyed putting on some tasteful make up so when she walked past reflective serfaces she could look at herself and go 'damn, I look hot as hell'
She brushed past Jake and Ellie, Jake was working to make fashion more sustainable and Ellie was working on a project that would make transportation of goods less taxing on the environment by making them smaller so more could be transported in one go.
She gave Ellie a wave "hi Ellie!" Jake waved and she gave him a mock sulute she entered her office/lab space kicking the door shut and petting her lab cat.
Pulling off her winter jacket and the scarf she had managed to put on this morning to ward off the harsh winter of the Scottish Highlands. No cold for her this month and all thanks to time travel.
Just as she was sitting down to finish a few bits and pieces there was a sound like the air being unsettled like it was being pushed out of the way of the way by an object materialising or growing suddenly as if a high mass, high density object became a high mass, low density object. Paper flew around, test tubes a bits of mashine fell off tables and into one another the lab cat jumped onto the top of her bookself and she screamed as 6 men and women appeared before her.
"What have you done, you stupid girl! You and your stupid scarf have ruined everything!"
Beth stared up "what?!"
Dun, DuN DuNnUnaNNN! | |
[WP] You are a scientist and you unwittingly discover time travel. You go to the past to get ahead of a waiting line so you could get a coffee before work, when suddenly a group of battle-torn warriors arrive at your doorstep. You have apparently undone everything they did to prevent the apocalypse. | Everything froze.
The fly that was near a light bulb.
The steam rising from my coffee. (Strangely, the coffee itself was still liquid, and it moved with my cup)
Even the pen, which I had dropped moments before, was stationary, floating midair.
Everything but the door, which burst open as dozens of men and women in tight fitting, futuristic, matching suits ran in.
"Threat Level 0," said a woman in the back. She seemed to be giving orders.
I sipped my coffee. I was relatively calm, and assumed I had fallen asleep. A side affect of a failed project years ago caused me to black out often, and lucid dreams were not a rarity during those instances.
A man walked up to me.
I watched him, but remained silent.
"You have violated Time Mandate 374, and will be judged on site. How do you wish to plead?" the man said.
"Time Mandate 374?" I asked.
A very human voice, coming from the universe itself responded "Time Mandate 374: The act of changing timelines, in such a way as to cost great amounts of human loss of life, with "great amounts" referring to an excess of 1 billion"
"I... 1 billion lives?" I questioned.
"An excess of 1 billion" the woman in the back corrected. "I believe you are guilty of over 12 billion currently, and 3 billion more are near death."
I pause to process the information. "15 billion? There aren't even 9 billion people in the world! I plead innocent. I haven't killed anyone, or changed any timelines. Well. I bought this coffee." I paused. "But that can't cause the death of more people than are currently alive!"
"None who are currently alive would witness it. No one for the next 2 billion years will be affected. That one coffee kills nearly the whole human race about 2.3 billion years from now, however. Do you now plead guilty?"
"2.3 Billion Years! Can you not fix the damage in any way? We're all supposed to die because of climate change in the next 20 years anyways!"
Almost all of the soldiers laugh.
"Climate Change? Oh. I remember that from a class on United States History. The president Donald Trump fixed that issue by starting World War III. Most of Asia was wiped out for decades, but the global pollution dropped by nearly 80 percent. I believe that even without the guilty plead, the coffee you hold, along with your words are enoug...h to prove everything. We now sentence you to..."
I use the time machine to stop myself from buying the coffee, and then return to the same moment I had been in, moments before.
"Ha. He gave up his coffee. That prank never gets old!" a man yelled from the back. "Sorry for the trouble. And, uh, If anyone asks, we were never here. By the way, you may want to jump forward 20 years. Get a newer model belt. That one will blow up after 7 uses. Your death was quite tragic." | 9:54 A.M. ?!!!
Dammit, by now all the vegan blueberry cronuts have been sold-out. I could taste them in my dream. The perfect flakiness and crunch. The fresh smell of sugar, baked air. That sweet and tart purple glaze. Then wash it all down with warm vanilla bean coffee. My brain imagines the nostalgic scent. I swallow a pool of saliva.
But this is no problem for a genius as myself. Sure I can't bake a pastry or not burn coffee, but I can time travel...What's the worse that can happen? It'll take just a moment.
I punch in the coordinates.
**PLACE: CRONUT CASTLE**
**TIME: ummmm 7:30 A.M.**
That way I'll just have to wait five minutes in line. Easy peasy. Now to find a near by roaming wormhole....There we go. Stabilize input entrance. Bah bah baahh. Now Stabilize output exit. Do do dooo. Let time tunnel form.......God, how long is this gonna take. I can already feel my coffee getting cold. Wipe the corners of my mouth so I don't look like a rabid hungry beast. Rub off these eye crustys. Practice my order. *Four blueberry cronuts and a large vanilla bean coffee, please*. God I kinda hope and don't hope Katie is or is not working counter today. Four cronuts does seem like a lot. Maybe three? I'll just say it's for a friend and order two small coffees. Yeah that'll seem like I have a friend. You're such a genius, Mark. Ha!......yeah, right.... Dude, what is taking this time tunnel so long-
BOOOOOOOOOSHHHHH!!!!!
What the hell was that?! It came from the living room. Spys?! Where's my atom ray? Dammit! I left it in the kitchen!
"Arthur activate Panic Room."
"Security code please."
"Forrest Whitaker" DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN WOOOOSHHH
Now lets see whose on camera. I don't know these guys. "Arthur face recognition."
"Face ID picks up no matches"
Hmm looks a beat up rag-tag group of soldiers. Those badges and uniforms don't jog a thing for my noggin. Dammit, they destroyed my entertainment system. What do they want? - BUMBUMBUM! Shit, they're outside.
"Marcus X! We're here to prevent the Solar War! We need you to stay back in your time plane! You will be murdered if you go back in time! We need you for the future! Marcus, please! Whatever it is, Stay!"
I'll be murdered? Jeez that must've been a hell of a line at the Cronut Castle. Who are these guys?
"Arthur, house speakers on , please.....Who are you! And who will murder me!"
"We're a rebel force from 2199 and Marcus, this maybe seem insane but. If yo go back in time and go in line at Cronut Castle. You will take the last cronut away from Pollard Roxus."
".........who?"
"The story goes he won't get a cronut and that will be what makes him snap. He'll follow you back to your house and kill you while you have breakfast. We need you for the future, Marcus. Please, please, stay back in time. And forget those forsaken cronuts!"
*BLIP.* "Time Tunnel fully formed"
.....Dammit, so I **don't** end up having cronuts today. What a gyp. | |
[WP] You are a scientist and you unwittingly discover time travel. You go to the past to get ahead of a waiting line so you could get a coffee before work, when suddenly a group of battle-torn warriors arrive at your doorstep. You have apparently undone everything they did to prevent the apocalypse. | I knock on the door to my house.
An old lady opens it. I've never seen her before.
"Uh, hi," I say. "Are you a guest?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing like that. You're not with *them*, are you?"
"Them?" I ask.
"The Confederates have eyes everywhere," she whispers, "and I'd rather they not see me.... or my son. He fought for the Union in his way, you know."
"I'm sorry," I respond, "I didn't know."
I hear gunshots in the distance.
"Oh, no," she says, "it's the firing squads. You'd better come inside."
I step inside the house, observing its furnishings. She referenced the American Civil War, or I could swear she did..... but the trappings of the house look modern. There's a flat-screen television in a corner of the room and a Bluetooth speaker quietly playing classical music from the radio.
"Can I make you a cup of tea?" She asks. "Or will coffee be better?"
"Coffee will be just fine," I reply. "I meant to fetch myself a cup on the way here."
"Are you a part of the resistance?" she asks. "I probably shouldn't be asking that."
"No," I say. "What resistance?"
"That's the spirit... if you are," she says, while cleaning off a mug and pouring a cup of coffee, which she proceeds to serve me.
"You don't seem to know anything about what's been going on the last ten years," she said. "Where are you from?"
"Emmitsburg," I reply.
"This is Emmitsburg," she says. "How could you not know about the war and the Confederate Regime? Brother Samuel and his men have been killing everyone left and right they think of as the old establishment."
"Brother Samuel?" I ask.
"The leader, after Davis and then Lee died," she replies.
I think back to my experience in the coffee shop. The local street preacher, Brother Samuel, was standing outside, preaching his gospel of hellfire and brimstone surrounded by a crowd of hecklers, waiting to be asked to leave by the store owner. He would handle snakes and wave a Confederate flag in protest against the modern United States that he called the "kingdom of sin".
"Did this Brother Samuel used to be kind of a wandering preacher?" I ask.
She nods.
"A very evil man. He asks that all of his minions likewise be called Brother. He is the First Brother."
I remember my time travel experience, when I was late to get coffee.
I had bumped into Brother Samuel on my way to get a coffee at the local coffee shop, running from his followers after he had been knocked flat on his back.
"Do you know the story of how it started?" She asks. "It all started with a man bumping into him in a coffee shop...." | 9:54 A.M. ?!!!
Dammit, by now all the vegan blueberry cronuts have been sold-out. I could taste them in my dream. The perfect flakiness and crunch. The fresh smell of sugar, baked air. That sweet and tart purple glaze. Then wash it all down with warm vanilla bean coffee. My brain imagines the nostalgic scent. I swallow a pool of saliva.
But this is no problem for a genius as myself. Sure I can't bake a pastry or not burn coffee, but I can time travel...What's the worse that can happen? It'll take just a moment.
I punch in the coordinates.
**PLACE: CRONUT CASTLE**
**TIME: ummmm 7:30 A.M.**
That way I'll just have to wait five minutes in line. Easy peasy. Now to find a near by roaming wormhole....There we go. Stabilize input entrance. Bah bah baahh. Now Stabilize output exit. Do do dooo. Let time tunnel form.......God, how long is this gonna take. I can already feel my coffee getting cold. Wipe the corners of my mouth so I don't look like a rabid hungry beast. Rub off these eye crustys. Practice my order. *Four blueberry cronuts and a large vanilla bean coffee, please*. God I kinda hope and don't hope Katie is or is not working counter today. Four cronuts does seem like a lot. Maybe three? I'll just say it's for a friend and order two small coffees. Yeah that'll seem like I have a friend. You're such a genius, Mark. Ha!......yeah, right.... Dude, what is taking this time tunnel so long-
BOOOOOOOOOSHHHHH!!!!!
What the hell was that?! It came from the living room. Spys?! Where's my atom ray? Dammit! I left it in the kitchen!
"Arthur activate Panic Room."
"Security code please."
"Forrest Whitaker" DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN WOOOOSHHH
Now lets see whose on camera. I don't know these guys. "Arthur face recognition."
"Face ID picks up no matches"
Hmm looks a beat up rag-tag group of soldiers. Those badges and uniforms don't jog a thing for my noggin. Dammit, they destroyed my entertainment system. What do they want? - BUMBUMBUM! Shit, they're outside.
"Marcus X! We're here to prevent the Solar War! We need you to stay back in your time plane! You will be murdered if you go back in time! We need you for the future! Marcus, please! Whatever it is, Stay!"
I'll be murdered? Jeez that must've been a hell of a line at the Cronut Castle. Who are these guys?
"Arthur, house speakers on , please.....Who are you! And who will murder me!"
"We're a rebel force from 2199 and Marcus, this maybe seem insane but. If yo go back in time and go in line at Cronut Castle. You will take the last cronut away from Pollard Roxus."
".........who?"
"The story goes he won't get a cronut and that will be what makes him snap. He'll follow you back to your house and kill you while you have breakfast. We need you for the future, Marcus. Please, please, stay back in time. And forget those forsaken cronuts!"
*BLIP.* "Time Tunnel fully formed"
.....Dammit, so I **don't** end up having cronuts today. What a gyp. | |
[WP] You are a scientist and you unwittingly discover time travel. You go to the past to get ahead of a waiting line so you could get a coffee before work, when suddenly a group of battle-torn warriors arrive at your doorstep. You have apparently undone everything they did to prevent the apocalypse. | "Hm. Well, whadaya know. This is convenient..."
Scientists are sometimes known to be eccentric or odd personalities. Dr. Randy Estevez was so deeply woven into this stereotype that he was considered eccentric and odd even by those who were eccentric and odd. But that didn't make his scientific work less brilliant.
Making great strides in the fields of quantum physics and astrophysics, his dream goal was to discover time travel. And today, when trying to find a way to create wormholes with a portable particle accelerator he created, he accidentally accomplished his dream. He could now manipulate the space-time continuum.
And he knew exactly what he wanted to use it on first.
In a flash, Randy (he didn't care much for titles) appeared 2 hours in the past at Coffee Explosion, the local cafe he tried to get a coffee at before work, but where the line was just too long to do so.
"I want my dang coffee," he muttered to himself as he fumbled in his pocket for change. Coffee Explosion had just opened, and he was the very first in line. *Thank god, this is going to come in real handy.*
"Hello sir, welcome to Coffee Explosion, home of the coffee with a BURST of flavor. What can I get for you?" The employee sounded as excited as a dog caught in the rain, but Randy didn't even notice.
"Greetings, bespectacled barista, I'll have a lovely iced caramel macchiato, please. Those things are to *die* for!" The barista simply blinked and turned away to begin crafting his cup of caffeinated gold.
Just then, a deafening *BOOM* erupted from behind and a shock wave rocked the tables. Randy and the barista spun around to find the entrance blown to smithereens and a large metal container lined with buttons sitting in its place. A moment later, five figures opened up a hatch and spilled out, dressed in layers of peculiar-looking armor and carrying what appeared to be heavy weapons. Their faces--human-like but not truly human--were covered in grit and their expressions were twisted with flared nostrils and frowns. All five stared straight at Randy.
"Dr. Randy Estevez," one started as he strode quickly over debris to the bewildered scientist on the stool. The strange visitor was already out of breath. "Do not accept that macchiato."
"What? Why? Who are all of you?"
"We are warriors from a planet very far from yours," spoke another figure. "We fight for the universe and vigilantly protect it from apocalypse, working nonstop trying to predict inciting incidents and quell them before they can have an effect."
Randy was now highly intrigued rather than frightened. "You guys are aliens! This is incredible! Wow, what a day. First I discover time travel, and now I discover intelligent life from another planet! Just swell."
Another warrior stepped up for his turn to speak. "And it's your human discovery of time travel that has put us all on a path to ultimate destruction. Specifically, it is your desire to use it to buy an iced caramel macchiato at this very moment that will doom us all."
The gravity of the situation was starting to hit Randy. This meant he wasn't going to be able to enjoy his macchiato.
"Hold on... How could my actions here lead to universal annihilation?"
"You've heard of the butterfly effect, correct? After we detected your newly attempted purchase at this time, we predicted it would hold up other customers and cause them to arrive at their places of work later than they would have. For one of them, this would lead to an infinitesimally small reduction in total work productivity, though just large enough to later cause an important potential investor to decide not to invest in their company. This would ultimately lead to the company's downfall, causing a rival to monopolize the market and transform into a global influencer. Much later, after humans advance to space travel, this company would develop technologies to be used as weapons against other planets in their greed for power and resources. Galactic wars would later ensue, and the universe would eventually be ripped to shreds."
The warriors all let out a sigh. Now that it was all explained, such a horrible truth could never be defied. They would accept the scientist's acquiescence and return home, another crisis averted.
"But I want my coffee."
The five figures looked at Randy again. "Sir... You can't. You simply can't. You must return to your point in time in which you left your laboratory to come here and get on without coffee today."
Randy was a bright one, but he was dense. How, on this amazing day of scientific discovery, could he not be allowed to follow through in using *his* technology the way he sees fit? On top of that, and more importantly, he was tired, and he really wanted his mouth-watering iced caramel macchiato. The drone-like barista was even still continuing to make it!
The warriors could tell by the scientist's expression that they were not reaching him, and they began to panic. "Sir, you can't be serious. Do you hear what we're saying to you?"
Randy scoffed. "I don't know if I believe that butterfly effect stuff. This is a simple coffee. It's so good, and I *need* it."
"Excuse me," interrupted a voice by the nonexistent door. "I was...looking to order some coffee?"
"Oh, please come inside," responded one of the aliens. "We're not buying anything."
"And order quickly!" barked another.
"Ok...um...ok..." said the cautious man as he maneuvered toward the counter.
The figures then drew their weapons at Randy, which whirred and beeped as they charged with unknown energy. "We have no time, the other customers are already arriving. Don't make us kill you, Dr. Estevez. We will in order to save us all."
The other customer spoke to the barista, who was still slowly preparing the beverage of destiny. "So, I don't know if I stumbled into a movie shoot or something, but I really need to order something right now or else I'll be late to work."
"Hold on sir, welcome to Coffee Explosion, I'll be with you in a minute."
"How much time do we have, captain?" one warrior asked another.
"About 15 seconds..." He pushed his weapon into the scientist's back. "Last chance. Abandon your purchase or die."
Randy stared forward with resolute eyes. He came here for one thing, and he was going to get it. *"No."* The word flowed slowly off his tongue like molasses.
The multitude of weapons clicked and crackled, fully primed. Suddenly, a rush of air blew in from behind the counter, almost like a giant vacuum sucked from behind. The warriors turned and found their teleporter had vanished. A highly curious third customer, like a child left in a control room, had pressed one of the buttons.
The aliens were absolutely incredulous. "Noooo!! Our teleporter!!" They looked at the culprit. "What would make you think that was a good idea??"
"I don't know...I thought it was a new kind of soda machine."
The warriors hung their heads. One even sat on the ground, having given up. "Is this what humans are like? Are they all oblivious? Do none of them see how their actions could have consequences?"
"Great, now I'm going to be late," said the other customer on the stool.
"Here's your iced whatever, sir," the barista uttered as she placed the cup in front of Randy.
Triumph. Randy thanked her and handed her exact change. Sipping his beverage, he grimaced as he swallowed. The girl didn't make it right. Frustrating.
Two hundred years later, the entire universe folded upon itself and disappeared. | 9:54 A.M. ?!!!
Dammit, by now all the vegan blueberry cronuts have been sold-out. I could taste them in my dream. The perfect flakiness and crunch. The fresh smell of sugar, baked air. That sweet and tart purple glaze. Then wash it all down with warm vanilla bean coffee. My brain imagines the nostalgic scent. I swallow a pool of saliva.
But this is no problem for a genius as myself. Sure I can't bake a pastry or not burn coffee, but I can time travel...What's the worse that can happen? It'll take just a moment.
I punch in the coordinates.
**PLACE: CRONUT CASTLE**
**TIME: ummmm 7:30 A.M.**
That way I'll just have to wait five minutes in line. Easy peasy. Now to find a near by roaming wormhole....There we go. Stabilize input entrance. Bah bah baahh. Now Stabilize output exit. Do do dooo. Let time tunnel form.......God, how long is this gonna take. I can already feel my coffee getting cold. Wipe the corners of my mouth so I don't look like a rabid hungry beast. Rub off these eye crustys. Practice my order. *Four blueberry cronuts and a large vanilla bean coffee, please*. God I kinda hope and don't hope Katie is or is not working counter today. Four cronuts does seem like a lot. Maybe three? I'll just say it's for a friend and order two small coffees. Yeah that'll seem like I have a friend. You're such a genius, Mark. Ha!......yeah, right.... Dude, what is taking this time tunnel so long-
BOOOOOOOOOSHHHHH!!!!!
What the hell was that?! It came from the living room. Spys?! Where's my atom ray? Dammit! I left it in the kitchen!
"Arthur activate Panic Room."
"Security code please."
"Forrest Whitaker" DUN DUN DUN DUN DUN WOOOOSHHH
Now lets see whose on camera. I don't know these guys. "Arthur face recognition."
"Face ID picks up no matches"
Hmm looks a beat up rag-tag group of soldiers. Those badges and uniforms don't jog a thing for my noggin. Dammit, they destroyed my entertainment system. What do they want? - BUMBUMBUM! Shit, they're outside.
"Marcus X! We're here to prevent the Solar War! We need you to stay back in your time plane! You will be murdered if you go back in time! We need you for the future! Marcus, please! Whatever it is, Stay!"
I'll be murdered? Jeez that must've been a hell of a line at the Cronut Castle. Who are these guys?
"Arthur, house speakers on , please.....Who are you! And who will murder me!"
"We're a rebel force from 2199 and Marcus, this maybe seem insane but. If yo go back in time and go in line at Cronut Castle. You will take the last cronut away from Pollard Roxus."
".........who?"
"The story goes he won't get a cronut and that will be what makes him snap. He'll follow you back to your house and kill you while you have breakfast. We need you for the future, Marcus. Please, please, stay back in time. And forget those forsaken cronuts!"
*BLIP.* "Time Tunnel fully formed"
.....Dammit, so I **don't** end up having cronuts today. What a gyp. | |
[WP] You are a scientist and you unwittingly discover time travel. You go to the past to get ahead of a waiting line so you could get a coffee before work, when suddenly a group of battle-torn warriors arrive at your doorstep. You have apparently undone everything they did to prevent the apocalypse. | “You idiot!”
I whipped my head around to face the door to my office, where I noticed a group of rather disgruntled looking people staring back at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You idiot!” The one at the front shouted again, “do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
I shrugged and took a sip of the coffee I’d bought before coming in to work and continued designing the blueprint for my new project.
“No, I have no idea.”
The man at the front of the group put his head in his hands and shook it in disapproval.
“No, no, no. You do have an idea! That blueprint you designed!”
I looked down at my desk again, taking another sip of my coffee.
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked.
The man trudged over to my desk and seized me by the collar.
“That *thing* is the reason we’re like this. Your future will no longer happen, our world is destroyed.” He glared into my eyes.
I looked at the blueprint again, still failing to see what was wrong with an ordinary rocket ship.
“You’ve undone all our work, and yet you just sit there!”
I put my hands up defensively.
“Woah woah woah, I don’t even know who you are. How could I have undone your work?”
The man sighed.
“The time machine.”
“Yeah? And? I used it to travel back an hour to be able to buy a coffee. What’s wrong with that?” I snapped, becoming slightly annoyed.
“Our entire future depended on you not getting that coffee.”
“What do you mean?”
The man inhaled sharply.
“We spent our entire lives trying to prevent a series of events and save the world, which began with you buying that coffee. And here you are, using time travel to reset it entirely. What a goddamn waste of our time.”
I sipped the coffee.
“You see, if you didn’t buy that coffee, you’d be passed out on your desk right now, completely unable to design the thing that caused the apocalypse.” The man said, pointing to my blueprint.
I looked at my blueprint once again.
“This? This is just something I’m doing for fun. I’m not actually going to build it.”
“Exactly. But someone else does. Someone who loads it with explosives and causes a nuclear winter.”
“So, you’re here now. Why can’t you just go and— I dunno, kill the person who decides to build it?” I retorted.
The man began to explain again.
“We’ve weighed the outcomes, and no matter what we do, it will always get built. Unless it’s never designed, which is what we prevented the day we all lined up at the coffee shop to make the line so long that you left.”
“Why can’t I just destroy the blueprint, now that you’ve warned me?” I asked him.
The man thought for a while, before turning to his troupe of war torn soldiers.
“We’ve— uh, never thought about that before.”
“Alright. Let’s try it. That way it’s a win-win. I get my coffee, and you guys get your future.”
They all nodded.
“Here goes.” I said, as I ripped the blueprint to pieces and lit it on fire using a match I pulled from my drawer.
They all watched the flames in awe, and as soon as the fire burned out, they seemingly disappeared before my eyes. I had to do a double take, but they were now gone, as if they were never here in the first place.
I hope they got their future back. | I only wanted a cup of coffee before work, and never ever had I thought that my simple act of jumping back about half-an-hour in time would bring me into the way of some time-travelling warriors.
"What the hell, this man's saying he doesn't even know what he had done." The well-built man in a Viking's dress said to the woman who seemed to be from the future. The third one, a lanky man in a soldier's uniform patted the Viking on the shoulder and said, "Calm down Sven, he seems to be telling the truth. After all, not many of them knows about the Continuum-Paradigm." The Viking grunted. The futuristic woman said "Even then, Thomas, this guy's undone everything we had done. All the things we did to avert the Calamity, all our efforts, now in vain." Sven took this as a cue and was rushing toward me, pointing his trident at me. Since when did Vikings start to use tridents. Luckily Thomas pushed me away and the trident hit the counter of the coffee shop. It was good that all the customers and the employees of the shop had ran out when the three warriors entered.
"Look, Sven, Sipher, I think it was always meant to be this way. The Calamity was destined to come, and no one could ever stop it. I don't want to disappoint you, but it is not this scientist's fault that our efforts failed. Yes its true that him travelling in time, and getting his cup of coffee without standing in queue did have an effect. But even if it had not happened, something else would have affected our efforts. I am sorry I have not been honest with you. I have something to confess." Thomas said.
Sipher was shocked. She asked,"What do you mean?"
"Master Therox had forseen the future before his death. And he told me that there was no way for the Calamity to be stopped. He had seen all the possible outcomes for the future, but not a single one was in our favour. I think, time has come for the end, for our end. We just have to accept it."
Sven screamed,"If I am going to die, then I might as well do myself some good. Let me kill this scientist."
I didn't let him do it. I pressed the switch on my time-belt, and travelled to a decade earlier. If what the warriors had said was right, then I might not have much time left. Like Sven had said, I might as well do myself some good. | |
[WP] Humanity is the first sapient life. Alone in the universe, they solve every mystery they could find, but quickly become bored of its power, and seclude themselves. Recently, many new sapient species are just beginning to explore the universe, causing humanity to wake up from its dormant state. | When I first learned about the Fermi-Fallacy, we still called it the Fermi-Paradox. 'Why is there no life out there?' was the first iteration of it. We feared the theorized Great Filter, some unknown barrier that's just not probable for a civilization to pass through.
But by the time we could travel to the stars, we learned that there was plenty of life spread across the galaxy. Just not as the consumer media of past ages thought. We found life, but in the most primitive forms imaginable - hardly past the single-cellular stage. It was only then that we learned that we were not alone, that there was no paradox. We were simply too early. When we had the data we needed, we knew that mankinds existence was almost a mistake. The universe was way too young for sentient, let alone sapient beings.
When we realized that, our drive to explore the stars died. We had learned about the universe and ourselfes what there was to learn. We could live forever if we chose to, we could fashion our bodies to survive on the surfaces of any world or even the void of space. We extracted Helium from stars to prolong their life. We could terraform planets to however we liked them, we even could *move* planets and whole solar systems if we wanted to, and actually did it once. We became engineers of life and architects of the void.
But with our probes mapping out the rest of the Galaxy, and the universe void of anything worth our attention, human expansion came to a halt. At least in the physical world. Our simulations, on the other hand, became ever more intricate and complex. The Cluster, we called it, became the home for most of us. A few hundred planet-sized computers, linked via a network of quantum-tunnels and spread across a quarter of the milkyway. Here we could experience as many dimensions as we could calculate, we could experience time the way we wanted - either watch how stars were born without getting bored or live through entire eons within mere seconds. Most of us got rid of their biological bodies along the way too - maintaining them was just not worth it.
But that was just the first step on our new path of enlightenment. You see - once we fully emerged ourselfes in the Cluster, we learned how to share our experiences on a deeper level with one another. We learned to break the boundries of the self. Giving up a small part of the individual aspect, but gaining so much more. *Becoming* so much more.
And now you get to be a part of us. Isn't that wonderful? Do not resist. It would be futile. | \[Poem\]
We were as gods, and the universe was ours
We learned its ways
Found its edges
And, lacking anything further to explore,
Fell into a sullen silence
We turned from the universe, turned from ourselves
Dwindled
Now the stars are blinking back at us
We hear their cries
Their naive questions into the void
Once
We would have laughed and clasped their appendages in friendship
A sneer insteads paints our faces lethal
For in our sleep curiosity turned to bitterness
And though we reject it, the universe is ours
The children will learn to stay silent
Stay hidden
Or pay the toll to the gods | |
[WP] Humanity is the first sapient life. Alone in the universe, they solve every mystery they could find, but quickly become bored of its power, and seclude themselves. Recently, many new sapient species are just beginning to explore the universe, causing humanity to wake up from its dormant state. | The Elders of the Universe were the stuff of legends among the developed species. Math, Science, Witten Language, Medicine, Art, Law, Government, Currency, Engineering, Agriculture, Philosophy, Entertainment, History, Faith, even War and Violence were developed and perfected by them when the most distant ancestors of the most advanced civilizations were nothing more than self-replicating molecules floating in puddles on their origin planets.
Traces of their work and civilization were everywhere if you knew what to look for. In fact, many of the most developed species credit their greatness to what was left behind by ancient "Gods" now believed to be the Elders.
If one could ignore the infinitesimal wonders among the discovered archives, one could discover traces of sadness and despair brought on by loneliness. They spent countless eons searching, exploring, and mapping the endless cosmos simply to find others like themselves.
As I, the Senior Xeno-Archeologist of the Federation of Sapient Beings, writ this, our civilization has finally developed the means to travel between galaxies instantaneously. Apparently, this is exactly what the Elders were waiting for because soon after we had established a presence throughout the cosmos, we received a signal that was unmistakably Elder in origin. It directed us to a particular planet within a spiral galaxy. I and a number of highly-respected individuals and representatives from across many species are now on transit to the Elder origin planet, referred to by them as Terra or Earth, who refer to themselves as Humans. We have no idea what to expect, other than that the latest discovered archives had detailed that after facing the reality that they were alone in the universe they chose to retreat to Terra and focus solely on improving themselves, both as a species and as individuals. If there is one absolute undeniable truth to Humans, it is that the one thing they exceed at more than anything is self-betterment. | \[Poem\]
We were as gods, and the universe was ours
We learned its ways
Found its edges
And, lacking anything further to explore,
Fell into a sullen silence
We turned from the universe, turned from ourselves
Dwindled
Now the stars are blinking back at us
We hear their cries
Their naive questions into the void
Once
We would have laughed and clasped their appendages in friendship
A sneer insteads paints our faces lethal
For in our sleep curiosity turned to bitterness
And though we reject it, the universe is ours
The children will learn to stay silent
Stay hidden
Or pay the toll to the gods | |
[WP] Humanity is the first sapient life. Alone in the universe, they solve every mystery they could find, but quickly become bored of its power, and seclude themselves. Recently, many new sapient species are just beginning to explore the universe, causing humanity to wake up from its dormant state. | The roar of the thrusters propelled all manner of dirt and detritus through the grassy clearing. The shimmer of dew could be observed from the top of the boarding deck as peering out the window, the young Nerix pressed what could generously be called his hand upon the windowed observation deck.
"Water!" he exclaimed.
Another figure approached from the depths of the chambers of the space ship. He was lithe and bore a gaunt hollowed expression, the kind that only repeated cryostasis stints could impart. His saffron eyes pierced their amber glare at the inexperienced Nerix.
"We knew that coming on, Nerix. We wouldn't have came otherwise." He stated coldly, almost mechanically.
"Apologies Captain Voryl, er..." he quickly shifted to the side station terminal, "The readings are all here, says the planets atmosphere is mostly nitrogen, but it has the right oxygen content to be breathable!"
Voryl snapped his head towards Nerix, "helmets on." he sneered.
Shortly thereafter, the landing crew was assembled, all wearing their exo-suits, they carefully descended the ramp that led to the alien landscape. There was a lot riding on this particular landing, representatives of the four known species of the known galaxy were here, and if this particular planet proved to be hospitable, it would be a shared territory and the seat of the first galactic council, the perfect Eden to symbolize their future working together. These thoughts weighed heavily on Nerix, it was, after all, only his second venture into space.
These thoughts were quickly silenced by the swift whistle of some local fauna, arm outstretched, Voryl swiftly pointed his wrist mounted plasma needle and fired, a puff of feathers all that remained of the alien lifeform.
"This planet wasn't suppose to have fauna lifeforms on it... our drones made sure of it"
Examining a feather, Nerix conjectured, "What else could our scans be wrong about?"
"Why do you think we're wearing helmets" Voryl swiftly added.
"Stay close everyone. Eyes on, especially if you have more than one pair"
The party continued their journey eventually setting up base camp in an old basin with overlaying rock formations that reached towards the sky, casting a great shadow over the entire premise. Nerix was lugging a rather large chair when a sudden chill passed down his form. The frission caused his spines to stand on end, the inescapable sinking feeling of being observed settled over him. With a thud the chair dropped to the earth and hesitantly Nerix raised his own plasma needle. Every shaded bush, every rock outcropping, every tree top canopy now hid a possible predator. His imagination ran wild, imagining all sorts of beasts, some with fangs, others with poison barbs, all of them deadly. A slight whir filled the air, followed by the rustling of tree branches as an metal orb, seemingly suspended in midair made off in the distance. The orb was small, nor more than 10 centimeters across, and bore a single green shaded ocular viewing port. It looked nothing like any of the drones Voryls crew had brought. Nerix, unsure of whether it was fear or curiosity, held his fire as the drone like entity flew off into the distance towards the rock formations. With nary a single beat of a moment, Nerix took off running after it.
The little orb was swift, Nerix struggled to keep up, still sore from cryostasis. Giving chase, Nerix cornered his prey as he ran the orb into a dead end filled with sheer rocky cliffs walls on all sides except the one he stood at. Triumphantly, he dove towards the drone, and in an instant, both the drone and Zerix passed through the cliff wall, the apparent illusion shimmering with a wave of static before returning to its previous state.
"Bseg heg siuil forg hallaem tyrm" the Orb stated in the voice of a creature Nerix had never before heard. In surprise, Nerix dropped the previously captured orb and watched as it fell to the rocky ground. Seemingly unfazed by its percussive drop the the floor, the orb shaked for but a mere moment before once more rising to Nerix's eye level.
it repeated itself, "Bseg heg siuil forg hallaem tyrm"
"err, I don't understand..." The orb, seeming to sense its confusion, lit up its ocular port, shining a bright glistening green, the cone of light shined up and down Nerix's form.
"*Hello*" the orb stated in a familiar language, but a strange voice. It was smooth, almost songlike in its cadence, completely unlike any of the gruff spacefaring races that composed the landing party.
"uh... Hi." Nerix responded lamely.
"*Your brain waves have been scanned. I have adopted your language. I must admit, the file to execute this action was quite difficult to find. We haven't had to use it since the Dolphins still lived on Earth.*"
"Earth... is that what this place is?"
"*A bit rudimentary yes, but you should hear what we call our star.*"
" . . . right, uhm... are you... one of the locals?"
"*In a manner of speaking. I am but a single terminal. In a way, I am everywhere. I'm watching your party right now, actually.*"
"So you're a robot then?"
"*Me? Goodness no. We haven't had robots on this planet since the second dark age.*"
"Then what are you?"
Nerix swore the drone made a laughing sound, but he couldn't be sure, as every races expression for amusement was unique.
"*I'm the owner of this planet.*"
The drone whirred. | \[Poem\]
We were as gods, and the universe was ours
We learned its ways
Found its edges
And, lacking anything further to explore,
Fell into a sullen silence
We turned from the universe, turned from ourselves
Dwindled
Now the stars are blinking back at us
We hear their cries
Their naive questions into the void
Once
We would have laughed and clasped their appendages in friendship
A sneer insteads paints our faces lethal
For in our sleep curiosity turned to bitterness
And though we reject it, the universe is ours
The children will learn to stay silent
Stay hidden
Or pay the toll to the gods | |
[WP] Humanity is the first sapient life. Alone in the universe, they solve every mystery they could find, but quickly become bored of its power, and seclude themselves. Recently, many new sapient species are just beginning to explore the universe, causing humanity to wake up from its dormant state. | The roar of the thrusters propelled all manner of dirt and detritus through the grassy clearing. The shimmer of dew could be observed from the top of the boarding deck as peering out the window, the young Nerix pressed what could generously be called his hand upon the windowed observation deck.
"Water!" he exclaimed.
Another figure approached from the depths of the chambers of the space ship. He was lithe and bore a gaunt hollowed expression, the kind that only repeated cryostasis stints could impart. His saffron eyes pierced their amber glare at the inexperienced Nerix.
"We knew that coming on, Nerix. We wouldn't have came otherwise." He stated coldly, almost mechanically.
"Apologies Captain Voryl, er..." he quickly shifted to the side station terminal, "The readings are all here, says the planets atmosphere is mostly nitrogen, but it has the right oxygen content to be breathable!"
Voryl snapped his head towards Nerix, "helmets on." he sneered.
Shortly thereafter, the landing crew was assembled, all wearing their exo-suits, they carefully descended the ramp that led to the alien landscape. There was a lot riding on this particular landing, representatives of the four known species of the known galaxy were here, and if this particular planet proved to be hospitable, it would be a shared territory and the seat of the first galactic council, the perfect Eden to symbolize their future working together. These thoughts weighed heavily on Nerix, it was, after all, only his second venture into space.
These thoughts were quickly silenced by the swift whistle of some local fauna, arm outstretched, Voryl swiftly pointed his wrist mounted plasma needle and fired, a puff of feathers all that remained of the alien lifeform.
"This planet wasn't suppose to have fauna lifeforms on it... our drones made sure of it"
Examining a feather, Nerix conjectured, "What else could our scans be wrong about?"
"Why do you think we're wearing helmets" Voryl swiftly added.
"Stay close everyone. Eyes on, especially if you have more than one pair"
The party continued their journey eventually setting up base camp in an old basin with overlaying rock formations that reached towards the sky, casting a great shadow over the entire premise. Nerix was lugging a rather large chair when a sudden chill passed down his form. The frission caused his spines to stand on end, the inescapable sinking feeling of being observed settled over him. With a thud the chair dropped to the earth and hesitantly Nerix raised his own plasma needle. Every shaded bush, every rock outcropping, every tree top canopy now hid a possible predator. His imagination ran wild, imagining all sorts of beasts, some with fangs, others with poison barbs, all of them deadly. A slight whir filled the air, followed by the rustling of tree branches as an metal orb, seemingly suspended in midair made off in the distance. The orb was small, nor more than 10 centimeters across, and bore a single green shaded ocular viewing port. It looked nothing like any of the drones Voryls crew had brought. Nerix, unsure of whether it was fear or curiosity, held his fire as the drone like entity flew off into the distance towards the rock formations. With nary a single beat of a moment, Nerix took off running after it.
The little orb was swift, Nerix struggled to keep up, still sore from cryostasis. Giving chase, Nerix cornered his prey as he ran the orb into a dead end filled with sheer rocky cliffs walls on all sides except the one he stood at. Triumphantly, he dove towards the drone, and in an instant, both the drone and Zerix passed through the cliff wall, the apparent illusion shimmering with a wave of static before returning to its previous state.
"Bseg heg siuil forg hallaem tyrm" the Orb stated in the voice of a creature Nerix had never before heard. In surprise, Nerix dropped the previously captured orb and watched as it fell to the rocky ground. Seemingly unfazed by its percussive drop the the floor, the orb shaked for but a mere moment before once more rising to Nerix's eye level.
it repeated itself, "Bseg heg siuil forg hallaem tyrm"
"err, I don't understand..." The orb, seeming to sense its confusion, lit up its ocular port, shining a bright glistening green, the cone of light shined up and down Nerix's form.
"*Hello*" the orb stated in a familiar language, but a strange voice. It was smooth, almost songlike in its cadence, completely unlike any of the gruff spacefaring races that composed the landing party.
"uh... Hi." Nerix responded lamely.
"*Your brain waves have been scanned. I have adopted your language. I must admit, the file to execute this action was quite difficult to find. We haven't had to use it since the Dolphins still lived on Earth.*"
"Earth... is that what this place is?"
"*A bit rudimentary yes, but you should hear what we call our star.*"
" . . . right, uhm... are you... one of the locals?"
"*In a manner of speaking. I am but a single terminal. In a way, I am everywhere. I'm watching your party right now, actually.*"
"So you're a robot then?"
"*Me? Goodness no. We haven't had robots on this planet since the second dark age.*"
"Then what are you?"
Nerix swore the drone made a laughing sound, but he couldn't be sure, as every races expression for amusement was unique.
"*I'm the owner of this planet.*"
The drone whirred. | Their rusty detectors were picking up unusual signals. However humans paid little attention to it, they had witnessed such signals every now and then about a century ago.
At the time they paid close attention to everything happening outside earth, they studied every signal that came their way, they did get excited once or twice by some weird signals which later turned out to be some star dying in a distant galaxy.
The humans sent space probes every other day looking for signs of life in the cosmos. They built the most powerful telescopes and signal receivers. The cosmos answered in loud silence. All their efforts were futile. Slowly they gave up and lost interest. All projects that searched for extraterrestrial life were abandoned.
They turned inwards. They wanted to lift humanity to the greatest possible height. All the resources were spent towards this cause. They found answers to all their problems - poverty, global warming, over population, you name it they had cracked it.
Back to present day Earth, their receivers seemed to pick up unusual signals. There were reports of UFO sightings everywhere. The signals were too much to ignore now. Was it time to revive the space exploration program?
The signals now seemed to make sense - they spoke in a different language or so it seemed. The greatest minds and the most powerful computers were employed to crack the code. The aliens seemed to say:
"We have found them! We have found them! A civilization this advanced but with hardly any self defence mechanism?"
It struck them at that moment, they never thought they would ever come face to face with another intelligent species. They never prepared for battle. It was never part of the agenda.
They tuned their telescopes and looked at the distant galaxies for the first time in 100 years.
It wasn't possible. They couldn't believe what they saw, several thousand light years away was a solar system, it seemed new, like it came out of nowhere. It had multiple earth like planets with several different species. Something that remotely resembled spaceships were flying from one planet to another. The whole solar system was buzzing with activity.
How did the humans miss this? The aliens had come so far but how? How could so much advancement take place within a century? How did the humans not take measures to protect them in times like this?
There were many questions to be answered, there wasn't time. Guests were knocking on the door. The UFOs were landing. | |
[WP] The alien crew was absolutely horrified when their new human companion complained of eye pain and promptly peeled a layer of their eye off. They called it "Contacts." It was time to update the Galactic Human Manual again... | Humans, Axic decided, were markedly strange. Sure, he’d heard that from the time he was young. He’d heard the rumours. Leelo, his older cousin who’d actually studied and *lived* on Earth for a brief time in her early-three-hundreds, told Axic stories whenever she’d come back for the solar eclipse.
“They’re all pale and fleshy and hairy at the same time,” she said.
Axic wanted to know more.
“They paint their faces with wild colours. They have all sorts of rule systems around how to eat with these things called forks and knives—it’s totally bizarre.”
“Is there anything good about them?” Axic asked.
“Oh, yeah—they’re weird but they’re great, really. Friendly and kind. Good sense of humour, once you get used to it. And the way they vacation… we could use a little more of that back here. Just get away from it all and *relax*.”
Leelo, even when she was back home and working for the Federation, wouldn’t shut up about how much she missed the vacations back on Earth—they could all take a page out of the human’s book.
Axic, on the other hand, never got over how strange they sounded. Sure, there were lots of species in the galaxy who were strange—the Tenels with their rigid wings, the Galens and their hive mind—but Axic could at least understand them. He’d met them, before. He’d studied with them, he’d worked with them.
The first time he met a human, in the flesh, was on the Federation’s research ship to the edge of the galaxy. Axic didn’t think of himself as young anymore—he was well into his four-hundreds and held a high-ranking position in the science department (his job was to test the soil on each potentially habitable planet, but Axic liked the way ‘high-ranking Federation scientist’ sounded). The young crew members looked up to him, and the Captian and Officers respected him.
On the thirtieth month of the trip, their crew changed. They met up with other species from across the Intergalactic Alliance. The Federation said it was diplomacy—which annoyed Axic on principle—but he tried his best. The Tenels were wonderful research partners.
Much to Axic’s surprise, however, the crew was more eclectic than he could have guessed. Almost extinct Brianians, with their warm attitudes; famously unfriendly Rygls; a few Tenels; half a dozen Galens, all buzzing amongst themselves; and, most surprisingly of all, a human. A real human. His skin, unlike Leelo’s description, was a deep brown. He was hairier than the other species, but it wasn’t unruly—it was clipped neat and tight to his face.
“I’m Amand,” he said.
Everyone stared on.
“I’m from Earth—as you might’ve guessed. I’m here as part of the initiative to bring Earthlings to the Intergalactic table. We’ve come quite far, in terms of technology. I specialize in soil analysis.”
Axic stifled a laugh. Earth was barely out of the ages of mud and stone. From what Leelo told him, they still regularly killed each other in never-ending civil wars, over gods and religion and territory (even though it was all their own!) and, mostly, for profit.
“We aim to help where we can,” Amand said. He raised the corners of his lips and flashed everyone his teeth—dull as they were—and the Galens all coiled in response.
“Sorry, sorry,” Amand stuttered. “I meant no offence.”
A red colouring tinged his cheeks.
Perhaps, Axic thought, Leelo was right about their colouring. Maybe they changed colours at the turn of their feelings.
Over the next weeks, Axic had to concede that Leelo was right about many things. Amand was strange, that was certain. But he was also friendly and warm and welcoming. He was sharp in mind (for an Earthling, at least) and had many queries about the nature of the exoplanets and strong insights into the nutrients of the soil.
Once, after a particularly tough and long trek through the sulphur plains of an unnamed planet, Axic and Amand sat next to each other in the dining hall.
“You know,” Amand said, “when I signed up for this all, I thought it would be a fun journey. A great adventure—like something out of a movie.”
Axic made a low hum of agreement, even though he did not know what a movie was or what would come out of one.
“But, damn, they left this part out of the training manual. I’m going to reek of sulphur for the next two weeks. That smell is gonna give me nightmares, I swear.”
Axic chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll forget this anytime soon, even though I’ll very much try to.”
Amand raised the corners of his lips (a *smile*, Axic learned, he did it when happy). “You and me both.” He stretched his lanky arms out behind him and blinked, heavy, and squeezed his eyelids.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been a long day. My eyes are dry as fuck.”
*What?*
Amand reached his fingertip to his eye and *peeled* the outermost layer off. A clear half-sphere rested on the pad of his finger.
Revulsion swirled in Axic’s guts.
Amand did the same to his other eye. He acted as if it were nothing. “Much better.” He blinked again. “A little blurry, but I’ve got nothing important to do tonight.”
Axic gave him a curt nod.
“Hey, by the way, I was gonna head to the gym after this, if you’d like to come? I could use a spotter.”
“Thank you for the offer,” Axic said, “but I think I’ll return to my bunk.”
“No worries, man.” Amand kept eating. He spoke of the soil analysis he’d like to perform in the labs tomorrow. He didn’t mention anything about the layer of his eyes he’d mercilessly pulled off.
Humans, Axic knew, were strange indeed.
---
/r/liswrites | While everyone on the crew of the GSS Pel'edsa accepted that these "humans" as they like to be called were a very intelligent race, despite their relatively primitive technology level, they still weren't entirely comfortable with actually having one on the ship.
First of all, the whole "clothing" concept was still very strange to the rest of the universe, but given the lack of fur, feathers, scales, or any equivalent, it was logical.
Scientists were still amazed at the combination of both great fragility and nearly infinite recovery ability of humans. While a human would break a bone doing something that a Deltian wouldn't even think twice about, the human doesn't need their limb amputated and replaced with a prosthetic... they just wrap it in this "cast" thing and suddenly they're fine a few weeks later.
And nobody on the Pel'edsa will ever forget the story that Sarah told the ship about having her appendix removed. First, the entire idea of just removing an organ because it had issues is barbaric to begin with, but when she described the concept of someone cutting into the abdomen to do it, half the crew became violently ill. It was so bad that the ship surgeon has banned any discussion of human medical procedures with non-medical personnel.
The Captain thought this would be sufficient, until yesterday...
"Man, are my eyes bothering me today." Sarah said in a whiny voice, "What did you say that was, pheromone communication from the Gazzak ambassador? Remind me never to vacation there."
Ol'deda rolled his eyestalks, since Sarah often complained about her ocular issues, then suddenly he saw her hands move up to her eyes, and then she just yanked off the outer membrane. Ol'deda struggled, and failed, to keep the nausea response down.
"Dude, you okay over there?" Sarah asked, seemingly in no pain from having ripped out part of her ocular system.
"Your... your eyes, you just ripped off the membrane!" Ol'deda finally stammered a few moments later.
"What?" Sarah looked puzzled, then looked down at her hand, "Oh, no, these are just contacts. It's like glasses, but you put them in your eyes."
"Glasses?" Ol'dera, having partly recovered, just stared.
Later, as the Captain was reading the daily logs, he decided that perhaps the crew does need to know a bit more about human anatomy. Though he wouldn't put it quite like that to his First Officer. He'd likely get the wrong idea from that, and there certainly isn't anything in the "Guide to Humans" about *that*. | |
[WP] The government is handing out Get Out of Jail Free cards to anyone who tackles a major crime on their own. You're a vigilante who's been stockpiling these for something big. | I rifle through the cards in my hand. There are over forty of them now. On each card, I've written the name of the person who is to receive it. To a man, they are fighters all.
For too long now the police have allowed lawlessness in the streets of our city. But no longer. Now, I will have an army of vigilantes who have sworn loyalty to me. I will outfit and train them. I will lead them. Show them how we can do what the cops cannot, and will not do. We will take back the streets. We will give safety back to the people. No more will they need to take refuge in the protection of the Mob. We will be their protectors. Their saviors.
And for every crime we solve, we will gain another card. We will add another brother to our ranks, until the city is liberated, and her 10 million residents can again live in freedom and peace. | At first, all those years ago, it was a joke, all the folks callin' themselves the next Joker or the next Lex Luthor. They practically handed themselves over to the police, with no co-ordinated attack plan.
It ain't a joke no more.
With large-scale villains preoccupyin' the police, and villian-controlled territories every branch of the military, the government has called upon any man, woman, or child with the means. In turn, each man, woman, or child will have the opportunity to circumvent past the law itself, manifested in the form of what I like to call the "Get Out of Jail Free" card.
That's where I come in.
See, I've got a knack for all this vigilante stuff, ever since I was a kid. I always managed to be in the right place at the right time. I've even started bein' recognized nationally by villain and citizen alike. That ain't a bad thing, either. More recognition means more popularity. Means more of 'em think takin' my name will "prove their worth" as a villain. Fools, in my honest opinion. Though, who am I to call 'em fools, when I don't put these hard-earned cards to good use?
That's quite the kicker, isn't it? See, I haven't been doin' all this for "the good of society", so they say, as they label me a hero on the television. I have a plan, one that I made all those years ago, after my first encounter with these so-called "villains", and it's gonna take every one of these damn cards. | |
[WP] As a child, you wanted to row your boat all the way up to the stars. Your parents laughed. As an adult, you're inexplicably doing just that. NASA is not laughing, they are concerned. | "Cut the ropes!" I called, as the sandbags fell and the balloons carried the canoe into the sky.
"We're getting pretty high now, Captain!" said the lad, peering over the side.
"Yes!" I cried. "Soon we will leave the atmosphere and begin our journey to the stars!" I grabbed my nautical telescope and focused it into space. My life's work finally realised. The forbidden bounties of space would soon be mine. I took a celebratory swig of bourbon.
"It's pretty cold, Captain!" said the lad, shaking, his face turning blue.
"Damn you boy!" I screamed, "I knew you were too weak for this expedition!" I began thrashing him with an oar. He slumped forward, gasping for air.
The canoe lurched violently backwards. The balloons popped and we floated above the Earth.
"We've breached the atmosphere!" I cried, "Man the rudder lad! Forward, forward ho! To the stars!"
The boy's limp body floated out of the the canoe. As I watched, my eyes began to swell and expand.
"Get back you coward!" I called. "How dare you mutiny now, after all I've done for you!"
My head exploded. The canoe sailed on. | Just because you said I couldn't
I left, aboard my rowboat
Just because it'd inconvenience you
I raised a solar sail
Just because you'd send F-22s
I armed my galleon's cannon
Just because it'd mess with your football game,
The Lady of my mast broke through your satellites
Just because you would question God
I found the galaxial current
Just because you didn't know where the edge of our universe was
I'm on my way to it's very end
-
Do you not see above the hubbub,
The mystery still left us?
What would disturb your daily thoughts
To see a ship afly?
Make you mark,
Put your name on the line,
And then you to can say you did it,
Just because. | |
[WP] My name is Cheesecake. I stay in the sick place. I make humans happy. I snuggle them. I sniff them. I run around their beds. Ever since the tall man took Jamie for a walk, I have stayed here. Sometimes he comes back, gives me pets, and takes another human for a walk. | My shift at the Royal Children’s Hospital was almost over.
“Just one more ward to go, Cheesecake,” said Bill, and I caught a whiff of the ham sandwich he’d had for lunch.
I'd always thought of Bill as the tall man with the face of an angel and now he was my most important human in the world.
In the last room there were six beds and on each lay a fragile figure, propped up by three crisp white pillows. Clear plastic tubes were attached to skinny arms and the room smelled of chemicals and suffering. As we entered, six pairs of eyes turned toward the door.
“It’s Cheesecake,” whispered the little boy closest to us, and his pale lips turned into a weak smile.
On cue, I wagged my tail and waited for Bill’s instructions. With a nod he gave me permission to start my work.
The boy placed his hand on my back and I gently pushed my moist nose against his face. I sniffed his skin and his breath. He was going to get better. He was one of the lucky ones.
I loved my work. With over 300 million olfactory receptors, this was what I was born to do. Of course if I were able to talk, my job would have been much easier. But my tongue is not built like a human tongue. The best I could do to communicate, was tap the ground with my front paw.
One tap, meant they would get better. Two taps, meant they had a 50:50 chance. Three taps, was for the prediction I never wanted to give.
Visiting hours were the worst. The heavy nauseating odour of the cancer seeping into every crevice. Parents sitting on the edge of plastic chairs, their faces twisted in anguish. The pleading agony behind their eyes and the look of death behind their question for me, as though I was their psychic.
I sat down beside the little boy, looked up at Bill and tapped my paw once. Bill’s eyes softened and he made a note as a reminder that the boy was ready to be taken for his walk.
I still remember many years ago, young Jamie my first patient. Once he got the all clear from me, Bill would take him for regular walks out in nature. Jamie is a grown man now with healthy children of his own.
Bill and I move to the next bed.
It was like playing God. Thankfully there were no three taps. The day finished well.
Most hospital staff had already gone home and Bill and I walked along the empty corridor.
There was something different about Bill this evening. His brow was furrowed and tiny sweat beads formed around his temples.
And then the curtain call. I was following him real close and his hand brushed against my nose. An overpowering smell of rotting flesh hit my nostrils, I was surprised I had not noticed it before.
I rushed in front of Bill and sat down, blocking his path in the narrow corridor.
Our eyes locked. I had to find a way to tell him. I tapped my paw three times.
“What’s up buddy?”
Again I tapped my paw. This time more deliberately. One, two, three.
“What ‘ya doin?”
If they got his cancer early, he would have a good chance of a full recovery.
I lowered my gaze. There was no way I could make him understand. | The door crept open waking me from my sleep. The tall man came back dressed in his dark clothes like normal. I could see the deep sky peaking in through the curtains that I always tore. The humans were huddled in the corner, their happy faces turned to stone as they watched the man enter the room. I didn’t understand why they were so scared. The tall man just wanted to take them for a walk. Walks are fun. He scanned each human before pointing to one of the six.
She had told me her name was Jessica. She always rubbed behind my ear in the right places. I truly felt like she deserved to go on that walk. I watched her stand up, her body shaking. I didn’t understand why she was so nervous. I tried to ease her pain by brushing up against her leg. Her eyes were leaking, I didn’t know what to do. I decided to preform a flip for her. The tall man swatted at her, rushing her out of the room. She smiled and waved at me and the humans behind me. When the door closed the heavy tension relaxed. The humans picked me up into their hands.
I don’t get why the humans walks were so different then mine. There was always some loud barks and growls before they all man left the house. They just not like walks very much.
I pushed the button to send more water towards my bowl. One human who I think was named Tim railed over time my bowl and looked at me. “I’m sorry cheesecake but I’m thirsty”. His arms were very thin, in fact they all were very thin. I didn’t mind him drinking my water, I could always get more especially since he used good manners. Their fur was always dirty. I didn’t understand why the humans didn’t clean themselves. I always licked them clean which resulted in them giggling and smiling. Their happiness made me happy,
The tall man marched downstairs and swung the door open, the heavy tension coming back and weighing me down. My tail sank too I couldn’t help it. He pushed a gurl in my her long fur. Her eyes were also leaking and there was red water spilling from her body in. Different places. I didn’t understand why her water was red. I tried to brush up against her as she stay curled up. The other humans did too. They all pet her and gave her hugs. I did too. | |
[WP] My name is Cheesecake. I stay in the sick place. I make humans happy. I snuggle them. I sniff them. I run around their beds. Ever since the tall man took Jamie for a walk, I have stayed here. Sometimes he comes back, gives me pets, and takes another human for a walk. | My shift at the Royal Children’s Hospital was almost over.
“Just one more ward to go, Cheesecake,” said Bill, and I caught a whiff of the ham sandwich he’d had for lunch.
I'd always thought of Bill as the tall man with the face of an angel and now he was my most important human in the world.
In the last room there were six beds and on each lay a fragile figure, propped up by three crisp white pillows. Clear plastic tubes were attached to skinny arms and the room smelled of chemicals and suffering. As we entered, six pairs of eyes turned toward the door.
“It’s Cheesecake,” whispered the little boy closest to us, and his pale lips turned into a weak smile.
On cue, I wagged my tail and waited for Bill’s instructions. With a nod he gave me permission to start my work.
The boy placed his hand on my back and I gently pushed my moist nose against his face. I sniffed his skin and his breath. He was going to get better. He was one of the lucky ones.
I loved my work. With over 300 million olfactory receptors, this was what I was born to do. Of course if I were able to talk, my job would have been much easier. But my tongue is not built like a human tongue. The best I could do to communicate, was tap the ground with my front paw.
One tap, meant they would get better. Two taps, meant they had a 50:50 chance. Three taps, was for the prediction I never wanted to give.
Visiting hours were the worst. The heavy nauseating odour of the cancer seeping into every crevice. Parents sitting on the edge of plastic chairs, their faces twisted in anguish. The pleading agony behind their eyes and the look of death behind their question for me, as though I was their psychic.
I sat down beside the little boy, looked up at Bill and tapped my paw once. Bill’s eyes softened and he made a note as a reminder that the boy was ready to be taken for his walk.
I still remember many years ago, young Jamie my first patient. Once he got the all clear from me, Bill would take him for regular walks out in nature. Jamie is a grown man now with healthy children of his own.
Bill and I move to the next bed.
It was like playing God. Thankfully there were no three taps. The day finished well.
Most hospital staff had already gone home and Bill and I walked along the empty corridor.
There was something different about Bill this evening. His brow was furrowed and tiny sweat beads formed around his temples.
And then the curtain call. I was following him real close and his hand brushed against my nose. An overpowering smell of rotting flesh hit my nostrils, I was surprised I had not noticed it before.
I rushed in front of Bill and sat down, blocking his path in the narrow corridor.
Our eyes locked. I had to find a way to tell him. I tapped my paw three times.
“What’s up buddy?”
Again I tapped my paw. This time more deliberately. One, two, three.
“What ‘ya doin?”
If they got his cancer early, he would have a good chance of a full recovery.
I lowered my gaze. There was no way I could make him understand. | **My name is Cheesecake. I stay in the sick place. I make humans happy. I snuggle them. I sniff them. I run around their beds. Ever since the tall man took Jamie for a walk, I have stayed here. Sometimes he comes back, gives me pets, and takes another human for a walk.** Sometimes he does not. But he is usually the one to run around in a panic. That is how I make it. It is how I make the humans. I made Jamie happy. He was so happy he would cry. He said he loved me and all the humans. I am so glad. I am glad I made him happy. I will take you for a walk. I love you. | |
[WP] My name is Cheesecake. I stay in the sick place. I make humans happy. I snuggle them. I sniff them. I run around their beds. Ever since the tall man took Jamie for a walk, I have stayed here. Sometimes he comes back, gives me pets, and takes another human for a walk. | I never really got a good look at the tall man. The little humans always went running to him when he chose one for their walk. The humans wouldn’t come back, though. They’re so little I don’t think they notice, but I noticed when Jamie didn’t come back. Running around and sniffing him before the tall man came to take him. I had to stay behind. Jamie told me to stay, and I did. I would always listen to Jamie. He is my human.
I never really liked sniffing the really sick humans, but they were the ones that gave me the most pets. They were the ones the tall man took mostly.
When the tall man pet me, his hands just felt cold, like when some of the humans went to sleep and wouldn’t wake up, or when the storms happened and everything got wet. Not like when the other humans pet me. They all feel warm.
The tall man came back yesterday, and took Mira. I miss her already but the man gave me another pet.
I think that’s him opening the door. The humans got up out of their beds again. I can actually see what the tall man looks like now since one of the humans moved my bed but... I don’t want to keep looking. Why do the humans all keep looking? It’s like they’re on catnip like Fluffy was before she went away. The tall man started appearing long before Fluffy went away.
I don’t think he has a face. Why would they look at someone who doesn’t have a face? Is he the reason they all look like they have catnip? Where do they go on the walks?
The tall man pet me again. He felt cold. I just want to see Jamie again. I have to stay until he comes back, though. He has to come back. | **My name is Cheesecake. I stay in the sick place. I make humans happy. I snuggle them. I sniff them. I run around their beds. Ever since the tall man took Jamie for a walk, I have stayed here. Sometimes he comes back, gives me pets, and takes another human for a walk.** Sometimes he does not. But he is usually the one to run around in a panic. That is how I make it. It is how I make the humans. I made Jamie happy. He was so happy he would cry. He said he loved me and all the humans. I am so glad. I am glad I made him happy. I will take you for a walk. I love you. | |
[WP] My name is Cheesecake. I stay in the sick place. I make humans happy. I snuggle them. I sniff them. I run around their beds. Ever since the tall man took Jamie for a walk, I have stayed here. Sometimes he comes back, gives me pets, and takes another human for a walk. | My shift at the Royal Children’s Hospital was almost over.
“Just one more ward to go, Cheesecake,” said Bill, and I caught a whiff of the ham sandwich he’d had for lunch.
I'd always thought of Bill as the tall man with the face of an angel and now he was my most important human in the world.
In the last room there were six beds and on each lay a fragile figure, propped up by three crisp white pillows. Clear plastic tubes were attached to skinny arms and the room smelled of chemicals and suffering. As we entered, six pairs of eyes turned toward the door.
“It’s Cheesecake,” whispered the little boy closest to us, and his pale lips turned into a weak smile.
On cue, I wagged my tail and waited for Bill’s instructions. With a nod he gave me permission to start my work.
The boy placed his hand on my back and I gently pushed my moist nose against his face. I sniffed his skin and his breath. He was going to get better. He was one of the lucky ones.
I loved my work. With over 300 million olfactory receptors, this was what I was born to do. Of course if I were able to talk, my job would have been much easier. But my tongue is not built like a human tongue. The best I could do to communicate, was tap the ground with my front paw.
One tap, meant they would get better. Two taps, meant they had a 50:50 chance. Three taps, was for the prediction I never wanted to give.
Visiting hours were the worst. The heavy nauseating odour of the cancer seeping into every crevice. Parents sitting on the edge of plastic chairs, their faces twisted in anguish. The pleading agony behind their eyes and the look of death behind their question for me, as though I was their psychic.
I sat down beside the little boy, looked up at Bill and tapped my paw once. Bill’s eyes softened and he made a note as a reminder that the boy was ready to be taken for his walk.
I still remember many years ago, young Jamie my first patient. Once he got the all clear from me, Bill would take him for regular walks out in nature. Jamie is a grown man now with healthy children of his own.
Bill and I move to the next bed.
It was like playing God. Thankfully there were no three taps. The day finished well.
Most hospital staff had already gone home and Bill and I walked along the empty corridor.
There was something different about Bill this evening. His brow was furrowed and tiny sweat beads formed around his temples.
And then the curtain call. I was following him real close and his hand brushed against my nose. An overpowering smell of rotting flesh hit my nostrils, I was surprised I had not noticed it before.
I rushed in front of Bill and sat down, blocking his path in the narrow corridor.
Our eyes locked. I had to find a way to tell him. I tapped my paw three times.
“What’s up buddy?”
Again I tapped my paw. This time more deliberately. One, two, three.
“What ‘ya doin?”
If they got his cancer early, he would have a good chance of a full recovery.
I lowered my gaze. There was no way I could make him understand. | I only know the tall man and Jamie. I don't remember anyone else. Tall man says we're pets. The tall man has a special smell. He always comes around with a smoking stick in his mouth, and humans. He brings humans to other rooms. Sometimes he brings some in my and jamie's room. they exchange green stacks, they then pull out sticks. It's a different stick. it still tastes bad. Jamie hated it even more. I though since he's a boy he'd like sticks as much as tall man. Tall man keeps calling jamie and me dogs too, but I think jamie looks like a human. Am I a dog ? I'm stuck not seeing myself.
Sometimes he chases us around the bed with a stick. It's not in his mouth or down there though. I didn't like when the tall man would hit us with the stick. Jamie bit one of the human's stick once. Maybe he though it's what good dogs do. But tall man smacked him. with a stick a lot. red liquid came out. I felt scared. He dragged jamie out. I heard jamie scream about parents before tall man stuck his head in the wall. I didn't count how many times. Do I have any parents ? I see the liquid and hair sticking together. It reminds me of the humans he'd bring to our room. Jamie never comes back. It is my room. Tall man stopped bringing men as often. He just gives me pets. I'm hungry. tall man gives me food yet I still feel empty in my stomach. He gave me a cake but I didn't eat it. he says I'm 14. That I'm too old for men to care. I'm tired. I miss Jamie. I'm getting thirsty. Sometimes I hear voices like Jamie's in the dark. I hope where he is he's not hungry or thirsty.
Tall man comes around one day. Says I'm gonna get lucky. he brings another man. Man is in suit. he has a suitcase. I know what it is because Jamie told me. He gives green stacks to tall man. A few dozen more than usual. I don't want to deal with sticks again. Too many sticks. I wanna see Jamie. I liked Jamie. Tall man says it will be a big trip. I should eat. He makes me eat the cake, and laughs at me because it's old. The man in suit laughs too. He says I will be a good pet. He'll call me cheesecake because of that. I never had a name. Jamie just said *you* to me but it made me happy. I hope we'll meet jamie. They talk for a bit. Tall man throws his stick away, and removes my leash from the wall. I walk away from it for the first time. Man in suit rubs the burning stick on my face. We walk into the light. I hope I will really get lucky. | |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | Decoding...
The following is a mental transcription of the interviewer uBk-I-pl, the system is made by reading the electric waves of the interviewer and comparing it with an extensive database of semantic information. Current language: Yugokunam-BK8 (Locally: 日本語).
Translating to Yugokunam-E8a (Locally: English).
Terrestial hour: 07:02:38 JST. October 28, 2048.
I met with a human named Hiroga Takashi. In his world, he's a scientist, a social geographer on charge of documentating fluctuations in the social behavior of the world; scientist... maybe the team will be more familiar with the term ungoxkun? A person that analyzes, records and interpretates its environment, to generate models of prediction.
Humanity is honestly an amazing species, even though it's the only intelligent species of their planet, the level of understanding that they have of it is only matched by some multi-species societies, like the 10 societies of the planet An87b8k. They have extensively explored and/or researched the various regions of the planet, including major parts of the bottom of the ocean, and have amazingly detailed maps of each corner of their planet. I think this interview will be pretty fruitful.
Terrestial hour: 11:08:18 JST. October 28, 2048.
I have already spoke with the human for about one seventh of a terrestial rotation. The world is absolutely fascinating, but the expressions that the human uses are weird. The man, self-identified as "nihonjin", which if I'm not wrong translates as Japanese, have sometimes mentioned a country called Australia, there doesn't really seem to be anything wrong with that place, but I can't find any information in the archives about that country. The archives must be incomplete, I'll ask a workmate while we take a break.
Terrestial hour: 14:56:29 JST. October 28, 2048.
The interview is reaching its final steps. I decided to ask more things about this "Australia", his voice tone changed to a more doubtful one, allegedly because he doesn't posses such deep knowledg of that place in particular. I find this suspicious, however I have to remain visibly neutral and avoid eing influential on his answers. His answers started to take more time to be generated, and arrived comparably incomplete, this convenient lack of knowledge is proving to be putting obstacle on the correct exposition of the required information. I will have to contact a different person with deeper knowledge of this "Australia".
Current language: Yugokunam-E8a
Terrestial hour: 06:01:37 GMT. October 29, 2048.
I met with a British biologist called Darcy Stevens, she should have more information on the subject.
As the conversation went on, I started to learn about the creatures of this place, but when I was asking details, as the exact regions where the creatures lived, or the human inhabitants, the biologist started to appear more doubtful. This time I brought a lie detector,c apable of telling if someone's lying by measuring, averaging and comparing various speech patterns from a database, according to this thing the chance of a lie is not zero, which is already suspicious.
Terrestial hour: *data lost*
Terrestial hour: *data lost*
Terrestial hour: 21:37:59 GMT. October 31, 2048.
I've interviewed several humans for many hours, I am exausted but this was really fruitful. Humanity appear to have an obssesion at increasing their rank, which is weird, I don't get it. Generally, lying species will lie to make their rank go down, which is a severe infraction becaus eit can put turists in danger, but lying to get their score higher is surely something unprecedented, is there even a punishment for that outside the social and economic consequences? I certainly don't know, but I'm sure it's pretty counterintuitive. All huamns talked wonders about their own countries, and some of the most turistic regions cited being Japan, the United States of America, England, China, among others. Australia particularly appear to have some really lethal species, many spiders, snakes, and a marsupial, a rat-like species, up to a meter long, and a extremely powerful pair of legs. Honestly that sounds like something out of huamn literature. This planet appear to be suitable for tourism activity, in fact appear to be one of the best places to tourists that I've seen in my entire career, maybe a suitable punishment will be to place them high to give them the tourist population they so strongly are rejecting.
Galactic Travel Guide
Tourism danger rank, accepted planets:
5649231578th - MWoSS3 (Locally: *please refer to the article on* [MWoSS3's local names](https://www.quora.com/What-is-the-word-for-planet-Earth-in-other-languages)) | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
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[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | “I’m still confused why you stick to this story about ‘Australia,’” the humanoid said, staring intently at the human interviewee. “There IS NO AUSTRALIA.”
“I’ve been to Australian cities! Historians have documented…”
“Come over here.” The creature gestured to a wide porthole that had a view of the planet. “Tell me what you see.”
“The Americas.”
“OK, keep looking.”
The minutes slowly passed, as did the land masses. “Africa, Europe, Asia. There’s the Great Wall. So, looking to the southeast, you’ll see…”
“More ocean, yes?”
“Holy shit, what is going on here?”
“You see? Someone has lied to humanity. Why?” | I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/u_bustard18] [\[WP\] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_bustard18/comments/dy67a5/wp_your_job_was_simple_interview_some_humans_to/)
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[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | “First time on-world in Australia?”
Rylath looked up from fixing his pack. Towering over him stood a pair of rugged humanoids, both dressed in the same assortment of green canvas pants, jackets, straps and harnesses that he had been issued, but somehow wore with the ease that comes with wearing such gear all of their lives. The larger of the two men smiled easily at him and he noticed that the leather hats they’d been issued actually looked quite dashing on a human.
Seeing Rylath was more or less a large bipedal rabbit, the gear did not really have the same effect for him, even with the assurances from the droids that the alien “bush kit” was all properly sized and regulation.
“Here let me give you a hand with that.” The one who spoke picked up the large rucksack and started pulling through a strap that had gone unnoticed. “My names Jack, and this here is Steve.”
“Err yes. Yes first time on-world anywhere on Earth, actually. I’m Rylath do sec Miram, information officer first class. A pleasure to meet you.”
Jack saluted casually, and then helped fit Rylaths pack on. “Nice to meet you mate. You’ll probably want to adjust the top of your boots there too, Ry, or you’re going to be up to your furry arse in ticks before we get to camp tonight.”
Rylath paled a bit and looked down at his ill laced boots. He was much more used to his lab gear.
“They’re little black things, suck blood. Anyway, Steve give him a hand yeah? We’ve got a long way to hike today and the brass said they want us to show you ‘the real bush’ for a few days.”
“That’s the briefing yes. But I don’t understand why we’re carrying so much gear and going in so heavily armed? The official fauna reports don’t have anything particularly dangerous listed in this region - Just some small reptiles, some bugs, and a few sleepy plant eating tree creatures. Nothing big .. and .. carnivorous at all?” As he spoke he looked at each of them and noticed the assortment of rifles, grenades, knives and other kit they were carrying.
Jack and Steve shared a look.
“.. I think your info’s a bit off if that’s what you’re thinking there, Ry. No worries though, we’ll give you a bit of a rundown as we go. Ready to head off?” Jack shouldered his pack and unslung his rifle, and waved Steve and Rylath to head off in front of him into the tree line.
A while later the three of them were trunching along between tall trees along a packed dirt goat trail. Steve was out in front, with Rylath in the middle. Both humans had their rifles out, and Jack was passing the time by giving Rylath a walking tour.
“Smells great yeah? That’s eucalypt, or we just call ‘em gum trees here. Tough trees, hard to kill, don’t need a lot of water. So that smell is the oil inside them. Makes em tough but the problem is they burn about 1000 degrees hotter than normal trees, which was a bit of a fuckin’ surprise to the poor countries that imported them into their own forests. The bush fires get a bit out of hand.”
Rylath looked at the trees, surprised. The records had the trees listed, but not the fact they were unusually dangerous when burned. He made a mental note to update the files later.
They marched along for another short while in relative quiet. The ‘bush’ was full of new sounds and smells to the alien scientist, but his enjoyment of getting out and doing some “field work” was being quickly being offset by just how unfit he’d gotten at his desk job and how much endurance these two humans seemed to have.
Steve called back down the trail. “Crap! Big arse brownie just there, nearly put my boots right through him!”
“How big? You okay?” Jack said, moving up next to Rylath.
“Bout 12 foot. Yeah no worries. He’s jetted off but frightened the shit out of me! I thought it was a stick! ” he laughed.
“Ha, right-o. “ Jack turned to Rylath and up the trail like he was narrating a nature documentary. “So Ry - up there Steveo saw what we call a Brown Snake. Boring name I know, but they’re actually vicious little pricks if you piss one off.”
“On my charts they’re listed under “not dangerous?” ”
“Pfft. Well yes and no. Not dangerous if you leave them alone, but seriously you’re all kinds of fucked if they bite you and you don’t have access to antivenom. ”
Several hours later they had stopped to rest and Jack was continuing his verbal tour. “So uh, Ry, we also have Crocodiles.”
Rylath was looking much more exhausted than his companions, and was sitting with his boots off cooling his large floppy feet. They’d come across a sleepily moving river about 10 minutes ago, and until that reminder he had been considering going for a swim.
Jack continued - “Problem with crocs is you’re basically free food as far as they’re concerned. Even when we ‘tame’ em and feed em, they never really stop just looking at you like you’re lunch. Lizard brains, right, plus - no offense - you kinda look like something they’d eat normally there Ry.”
Jack shaded the sun out of his eyes, checked his watch, smiled, and took out his canteen from his pack.
“We do have them on record, but like all the ‘bush fauna’ they’re listed off as having no casualties?”
“Well yeah, see the thing is, who’d be stupid enough to swim where they live?” Jack patiently explained. He took a swig from his canteen, thought about it, and continued “None of the locals go anywhere near the water holes and creeks because they know better, but every year a few tourists just .. disappear. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t show up on your records?”
Rylath considered while Jack continued “We figure they see these beautiful tropical post-card swimming holes, and can’t help themselves, go for a dip yeah? And yep, a croc grabs you, sticks you under a log in the water, and you’re lunch for the next month. Who’d ever figure out what happened to you?”
Rylath looked down at his dangling feet while connecting the dots of what Jack was telling him, and slid his feet back up out of the river.
They packed up and continued their journey.
A while later Rylath stopped on the trail so that Jack would catch up to him. “So - um - Mr Jack, what is your companion looking for up in the trees there? I’ve noticed since the river he’s been continuously stopping and searching the tree line.”
“Could be a few things actually. Basically making sure nothing is hanging out on the branches. More snakes, clock spiders, bugs, that kinda thing.” Jack paused and then called forward: “Steve - what you looking for?”
Steve shot back over his shoulder “Drop bears.” he paused and kept scanning. “Saw some drop bear spore back at the riverbank.”
“Ah, right. Drop bears.” he turned back to his confused companion like that explained everything. “Drop bears.”
“Drop bears?”
“Yeah, drop bears.”
They set off marching again. Rylath noticed this time Jack was scanning the trees too.
After a minute Rylath pressed for an explanation. “I looked at the files for days before we set out. There wasn’t any mention of ‘Drop bears’?”
Steve overheard the conversation and looked back seriously. “Claws. Drop on people.” he made a slicing motion on his neck with his finger and went back to looking up in the trees.
Jack continued: “Ah yeah, bad news. Kill dozens of people every year.”
Rylath was shocked. “Are you sure? Our records might be off on how exactly how some of your fauna works, but I don’t think we’d miss an entire dangerous species killing dozens of people?”
“Huh. I dunno how far I’d be trusting your records, there? You weren’t too shy about putting your feet in the water before either.” chuckled Jack.
They crunched along and Jack continued - “So all the local kids get taught about them early. Probably the most dangerous thing out here.“
Rylath looked a little sceptical.
Steve added back “Could be cause they’re camouflaged.“
“Ah that’s right. They’re really hard to spot.”
“They wait for you to walk under their branch. Pow, they drop on you. Hence the name.”
“Yep, big arse claws.” confirmed Jack.
Rylath looked between the two men and stopped walking “Ass claws?”
“No no, like 7 inch claws or so. Like razors.” corrected Jack.
Both men had stopped and were now gleefully explaining the reality of dropbears to their companion.
“Yeah my cousin Mick lost his ear to one.” added Steve.
“Yeah, they make an awful noise too.”
“Yeah sounds like that predator thing from the old movies” Steve offered a passable impersonation of the sound.
Rylath looked at him, his eyes wide. "Surely you're just making this up?"
“No, they're real alright, But she’ll be right, we’ll keep an eye out for them. Or an ear.” Steve smiled cheekily.
And as if on queue, from up ahead in a darkened section of the trail, a chorus of crazed laughing noises rose up to meet them from the bush. | "I've interviewed hundreds of spices and am the most oldest and best employee at this job!" Sar yelled at his boss, then paused for a second to think before continuing "so why, just why are humans the hardest to interview spices I've ever encountered." His boss was surprised at his out burst as he had never yelled at work before. "So tell me why is it you burst into my office and started yelling about the new humans, plus it's not that hard to interview a spices to evaluate their danger level now is it." Sar's boss seenro responded with. "No, no it's not that it is just... they seen to keep lieing to me about a place they call Australia." Sar exclaimed starting to calm down "they keep claiming it is very hot in Australia and that is has many types of animals and plants that are deadly to the place, hell they claim there are so many that I would have the highest danger level I've ever seen, to the point it would put them at a never visit list" "well I see only one option for this and that is for you to go and visit their planet to see if it is true" sar stood there in thought for a moment before saying "I guess I should shouldn't I." And with that small out burst out of the way seenro went on with her paper work and sar got ready to go to earth. | |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | ''Liars and cheats.'' mumbles the Inquisitor. Writing in his log.''Do you think me ignorant, or a fool? I've seen your communications with all the horrible furless pictures and anatomically incorrect drawings, and I've seen the lies and distortions.''
''At first it said ''Finland'', a physical territory with a government, situated near one of the poles didn't exist, they even said the earth was flat. That it weren't an global increase in temperature caused by their use of fossiled biomass. That there is a immortal being who created the universe and made them in his image.''
''Your leaders chirp lies and it shows on your communications. You're such a decieving species but i'm on to you.''
''So Australia, the place where Araneae have ''Manabars''. Where people rides waves in elasmobranch fish infested waters for fun. And where men jumps on top of **Crocodylia, and describes them as real beauties. ''**
''Enough i say, your planet is quarantined from the Galactic Travel Guide. Find another forum for your lies.'' | "I've interviewed hundreds of spices and am the most oldest and best employee at this job!" Sar yelled at his boss, then paused for a second to think before continuing "so why, just why are humans the hardest to interview spices I've ever encountered." His boss was surprised at his out burst as he had never yelled at work before. "So tell me why is it you burst into my office and started yelling about the new humans, plus it's not that hard to interview a spices to evaluate their danger level now is it." Sar's boss seenro responded with. "No, no it's not that it is just... they seen to keep lieing to me about a place they call Australia." Sar exclaimed starting to calm down "they keep claiming it is very hot in Australia and that is has many types of animals and plants that are deadly to the place, hell they claim there are so many that I would have the highest danger level I've ever seen, to the point it would put them at a never visit list" "well I see only one option for this and that is for you to go and visit their planet to see if it is true" sar stood there in thought for a moment before saying "I guess I should shouldn't I." And with that small out burst out of the way seenro went on with her paper work and sar got ready to go to earth. | |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | #Galactic Travel Guide (copyright 8077UN)
Entry #145229115392: Earth
*(Warning! This article may contain some errors. We are yet to hear back from our correspondent to update any mistakes)*
## >Overview:
Earth is a small planet located in system 323-1225-90. It is the third planet from the sun, and one of 9 in the system. The atmosphere is composed of primarily oxygen, nitrogen, and other flammable gases* The planets surface is only 29% land, yet still hosts an abundant amount of life.
The dominant species of this planet refer to themselves as humans. They are bipedal hairless creatures that descended from tree based animals. They bear striking resemblance to the dominant species on Phillias-Prime, yet their seed of life can be traced back to the primordial soup of their own planet. This makes them one of the few dominant species out there that originated uniquely, this also makes their atmosphere highly toxic to external life forms. When visiting, breathing apparatuses are highly advised.
*for more detailed composition, please consult the Life Compatibility Section of this guide.
##Culture
##History
##Language
##Politics
## >Tourism
Earth is also considered one of the 32 galactic reserves, and thus, is protected under the Environmental Protection Treaty of 3077UN. Earth is strictly closed to visitors, however, if an application for research is made to the Central Point Space Bureau, a permit of visitation can be obtained.*
When visiting earth, be aware that the human Technological Standard is well below that of the Galactic Base Standard. They only just figured out that toilets can go inside houses.
Also be aware that humans are very self-centred creatures, believing themselves to be the only life in existence. They do not take kindly to having this belief challenged, so thus it is recommended that contact is kept to a minimum. Furthermore, their primary dialect, English**, lacks much of the nuances that BASIC relies on. Use of a Universal Translator may result in miscommunication.
Of further note is the human ability to fabricate stories. Based on their as aforementioned self-centeredness, they have created a variety of tales from myths to how they were created to myths about a fictional land containing the most deadly creatures in the universe***
*this applies only to those licensed under D2a-6 by a permitted professional.
**For a Trans-u-tape of this language, please contact the Galactic Guide Language Division.
***See “Australia” under hazards.
##>Hazards
Humans can be a particularly aggressive species...
... which is why an automobile is their primary mode of travel.
Australia is a mythical land mentioned throughout all the earthly communications as home to some of the deadliest creatures in the known universe. Clearly this is an exaggeration, but further investigation is required. Of note is the frequency of its names appearance and the notoriety it wields. They say in Australia there is a kind of creature that can “melt your skin off” with a single bite, a tiny wall crawler that spits poison arrows that kill within hours, and bears* that drop from trees.
These claims sound too fantastical to fit within the established eco-system of the planet, yet their frequent reporting lends credence to their existence. As far as the Galactic Guide knows, Australia does not exist, so this renders the planet mostly harmless.
*A bear is a large furry creature that is known to eat humans. | "I've interviewed hundreds of spices and am the most oldest and best employee at this job!" Sar yelled at his boss, then paused for a second to think before continuing "so why, just why are humans the hardest to interview spices I've ever encountered." His boss was surprised at his out burst as he had never yelled at work before. "So tell me why is it you burst into my office and started yelling about the new humans, plus it's not that hard to interview a spices to evaluate their danger level now is it." Sar's boss seenro responded with. "No, no it's not that it is just... they seen to keep lieing to me about a place they call Australia." Sar exclaimed starting to calm down "they keep claiming it is very hot in Australia and that is has many types of animals and plants that are deadly to the place, hell they claim there are so many that I would have the highest danger level I've ever seen, to the point it would put them at a never visit list" "well I see only one option for this and that is for you to go and visit their planet to see if it is true" sar stood there in thought for a moment before saying "I guess I should shouldn't I." And with that small out burst out of the way seenro went on with her paper work and sar got ready to go to earth. | |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | “Yeah, nah cunt. I don’t think you’ll like it down there”
Kelack leaned back into his flowsac. These humans were getting frustrating.
“So, tell me again. You’re saying that there’s animals that jump, stand up on their tails, and punch you and kick you like brabilak fighters?”
“Yea mate. They’re called kangaroos. Nasty fuckers. The spiders are the worst though”
His digimarker scratched on the screen as Kelack took notes. He looked up with a fearful gaze- “what the hell is a spider?”
“Mate, I’d love to stay and kick the shit with ya, but I’ve got a game of rugby to catch and I’m really not too interested in all this alien shit. If ya want to see earth, why don’t you come down with me? I’ll show you a beautiful aquatic animal called the great white” | "I've interviewed hundreds of spices and am the most oldest and best employee at this job!" Sar yelled at his boss, then paused for a second to think before continuing "so why, just why are humans the hardest to interview spices I've ever encountered." His boss was surprised at his out burst as he had never yelled at work before. "So tell me why is it you burst into my office and started yelling about the new humans, plus it's not that hard to interview a spices to evaluate their danger level now is it." Sar's boss seenro responded with. "No, no it's not that it is just... they seen to keep lieing to me about a place they call Australia." Sar exclaimed starting to calm down "they keep claiming it is very hot in Australia and that is has many types of animals and plants that are deadly to the place, hell they claim there are so many that I would have the highest danger level I've ever seen, to the point it would put them at a never visit list" "well I see only one option for this and that is for you to go and visit their planet to see if it is true" sar stood there in thought for a moment before saying "I guess I should shouldn't I." And with that small out burst out of the way seenro went on with her paper work and sar got ready to go to earth. | |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | What is the most dangerous place on your planet?
It's a simple question. All the species I've interviewed over the last three centuries have answered honestly. They talk about ranges of volcanoes who poison the air with their toxic fumes. They talk about deserts that burn skin, chitin and scale. They rave about frozen tundra's where brave citizens dared to trek as a feat of strength and endurance.
And then there's the Humans of Earth and their mythical "Australia".
I humoured them at first. The 29 representatives of the Human Union. The Union of Nations i think they called it. When asked about the most dangerous places on Earth, they all said Australia.
At first, I thought it might be a slum area. Overrun with crime that the governments are trying to bring under control. The more they talked, it came sounded more like a prison colony. No doubt where their harshest most deadly criminals were sent to live a life - a short life if they're to be believed - of hard labour trying to tame the land.
The more than spoke though, I got the sense that the "Aussie's" as they called them, were the nicest of them all. Larkins they called themselves. Always willing to help and have a laugh, but ready to throw-down with someone if they overstepped the mark. Too good to be true really, which made their next claims preposterous.
The fauna of the continent actively tries to kill the Humans living there. Of course it's only natural that there are several predators that hunt intelligent species during their infancy. As technology progresses, the paradigm shifts and the hunters become the hunted.
Not so there.
The predators there live on land and sea and soar in the sky.
Great White's which grow to enormous sizes prowl the oceans that surround the continent, leaping from the water to catch fisherman on their boats. Croc's that ruin a man's reputation by being seen with them. Dinosaurs that lurk in the waters and strike with a speed and ferocity that belies their size. 7 of the 10 top deadly snakes slither through the land just waiting to strike a weary worker. Spiders that crawl into the bed sheets and clothes just waiting to poison them when they finally let their guard down. In summer, bush-fires scare the land and burn down their homes. In winter, storms lash the coast and flood the rivers and plains inland, drowning people and letting predators into peoples homes.
The stuff of nightmares really.
What really gave it away, where they went too far, it was their national hero.
A larikin of international renown, he kept these myths! These monsters of nightmares as pets. PETS!
One man tried to convince me, a smile on his face and his a haze in memory, that this man would wrestle them. Pet them. Feed them and tell the crowd "They're just misunderstood." All these creatures of deadly myths and horrors of such renown that the mythology departments on a hundred worlds will flock to study them if even a tenth of this were to be true.
They even tried to convince me that this myth of man, this legend among men, had children, and they now follow his example!
Clearly we will need to confirm all this with inspections. | "I've interviewed hundreds of spices and am the most oldest and best employee at this job!" Sar yelled at his boss, then paused for a second to think before continuing "so why, just why are humans the hardest to interview spices I've ever encountered." His boss was surprised at his out burst as he had never yelled at work before. "So tell me why is it you burst into my office and started yelling about the new humans, plus it's not that hard to interview a spices to evaluate their danger level now is it." Sar's boss seenro responded with. "No, no it's not that it is just... they seen to keep lieing to me about a place they call Australia." Sar exclaimed starting to calm down "they keep claiming it is very hot in Australia and that is has many types of animals and plants that are deadly to the place, hell they claim there are so many that I would have the highest danger level I've ever seen, to the point it would put them at a never visit list" "well I see only one option for this and that is for you to go and visit their planet to see if it is true" sar stood there in thought for a moment before saying "I guess I should shouldn't I." And with that small out burst out of the way seenro went on with her paper work and sar got ready to go to earth. | |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | "It started off easy." you sigh as you are lying on your bed talking to your log. "All I had to do was interview some of these barely evolved mammals to determine if their planet was a total Yarkolag or just a casual Zoxy."
"I started off with some basic questions about their own species, like what is typical and a-typical behaviour and how do you recognise it, are there specific behavioural quirks that are specific to a region etc."
"At first all I got back was that people from the North-Western hemisphere were always the loudest during conversations and always tried acting friendly even though this might not be the case. People from North Eastern hemisphere were described as being more introverted and *shy*.."
"But then one of them said that there is a place on the South-Eastern hemipshere were they used to send all their *undesirables.* And they have been left alone to breed and develop. Apparently this **Australia** is were the worst of the worst reside, being descendants of axe-murderers and thieves." Sounds like Yarkolag to me, I thought.
This prompted me to send the acquisitions team to fetch me one of these *Australians*. They came back with an individual that called himself *Muzza Moo*. Being a "true blue Australian" as he put it, he started describing the various beasts that roamed the planet. From kangaroos that moved around by jumping, using enormous hind legs, and who could knock out a grown man with a single punch. To more spiders and snakes than I could count. Although, and I quote, "There hasn't been a fatal snakebite in years of course!"
"You mean to say that even though snakes are abundant none are particularly harmfull?" I asked hesitantly.
"Nah mate, there mean as fuck. But we've been bitten so many times that just about every hospital in the area has a shitload of antivenom for just about every single one of those leathery fucks."
I jotted down that it was not adequate preventative measures that kept them alive but more the fact that they just kept their healthcare system up-to-date.
As Muzza's stories went on I was certain he was now just inventing stuff whilst sitting here. I chose to look into source material from before we arrived here.
As I searched the planets archives I came across two famous explorers from their 20th and 21st centuries. I looked up their documentaries and was immediately drawn to the ingenious way these humans tried to tric me. This *Attenbourough* and the other one *Irwin* had dedicated their lives to nature and to educate their fellow humans.
Attenbourough stated the various species on earth very calmly but even with him my computer detected slight changes in his voice when describing the awfullness that was Australia.
And then there was this Irwin fellow. The *crocodile hunter*. After watching several of his "shows" I am fully convinced that to a man like that, Yarkolag is just another Zoxy. "This man would probably let his offspring go to Yarkolag on one of their celebratory "circle around the star" parties!" I exclaimed to my log.
​
For over a hundred cycles had we used the Zoxy-Yarkolag scale. And now, after just having contacted this new species we would have to adjust it completely. I suggested a new scale called the Attenbourough-Irwin scale, based on how calmly one of these legends would react to the worlds and animals we encounter. | "I've interviewed hundreds of spices and am the most oldest and best employee at this job!" Sar yelled at his boss, then paused for a second to think before continuing "so why, just why are humans the hardest to interview spices I've ever encountered." His boss was surprised at his out burst as he had never yelled at work before. "So tell me why is it you burst into my office and started yelling about the new humans, plus it's not that hard to interview a spices to evaluate their danger level now is it." Sar's boss seenro responded with. "No, no it's not that it is just... they seen to keep lieing to me about a place they call Australia." Sar exclaimed starting to calm down "they keep claiming it is very hot in Australia and that is has many types of animals and plants that are deadly to the place, hell they claim there are so many that I would have the highest danger level I've ever seen, to the point it would put them at a never visit list" "well I see only one option for this and that is for you to go and visit their planet to see if it is true" sar stood there in thought for a moment before saying "I guess I should shouldn't I." And with that small out burst out of the way seenro went on with her paper work and sar got ready to go to earth. | |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | #Galactic Travel Guide (copyright 8077UN)
Entry #145229115392: Earth
*(Warning! This article may contain some errors. We are yet to hear back from our correspondent to update any mistakes)*
## >Overview:
Earth is a small planet located in system 323-1225-90. It is the third planet from the sun, and one of 9 in the system. The atmosphere is composed of primarily oxygen, nitrogen, and other flammable gases* The planets surface is only 29% land, yet still hosts an abundant amount of life.
The dominant species of this planet refer to themselves as humans. They are bipedal hairless creatures that descended from tree based animals. They bear striking resemblance to the dominant species on Phillias-Prime, yet their seed of life can be traced back to the primordial soup of their own planet. This makes them one of the few dominant species out there that originated uniquely, this also makes their atmosphere highly toxic to external life forms. When visiting, breathing apparatuses are highly advised.
*for more detailed composition, please consult the Life Compatibility Section of this guide.
##Culture
##History
##Language
##Politics
## >Tourism
Earth is also considered one of the 32 galactic reserves, and thus, is protected under the Environmental Protection Treaty of 3077UN. Earth is strictly closed to visitors, however, if an application for research is made to the Central Point Space Bureau, a permit of visitation can be obtained.*
When visiting earth, be aware that the human Technological Standard is well below that of the Galactic Base Standard. They only just figured out that toilets can go inside houses.
Also be aware that humans are very self-centred creatures, believing themselves to be the only life in existence. They do not take kindly to having this belief challenged, so thus it is recommended that contact is kept to a minimum. Furthermore, their primary dialect, English**, lacks much of the nuances that BASIC relies on. Use of a Universal Translator may result in miscommunication.
Of further note is the human ability to fabricate stories. Based on their as aforementioned self-centeredness, they have created a variety of tales from myths to how they were created to myths about a fictional land containing the most deadly creatures in the universe***
*this applies only to those licensed under D2a-6 by a permitted professional.
**For a Trans-u-tape of this language, please contact the Galactic Guide Language Division.
***See “Australia” under hazards.
##>Hazards
Humans can be a particularly aggressive species...
... which is why an automobile is their primary mode of travel.
Australia is a mythical land mentioned throughout all the earthly communications as home to some of the deadliest creatures in the known universe. Clearly this is an exaggeration, but further investigation is required. Of note is the frequency of its names appearance and the notoriety it wields. They say in Australia there is a kind of creature that can “melt your skin off” with a single bite, a tiny wall crawler that spits poison arrows that kill within hours, and bears* that drop from trees.
These claims sound too fantastical to fit within the established eco-system of the planet, yet their frequent reporting lends credence to their existence. As far as the Galactic Guide knows, Australia does not exist, so this renders the planet mostly harmless.
*A bear is a large furry creature that is known to eat humans. | ''Liars and cheats.'' mumbles the Inquisitor. Writing in his log.''Do you think me ignorant, or a fool? I've seen your communications with all the horrible furless pictures and anatomically incorrect drawings, and I've seen the lies and distortions.''
''At first it said ''Finland'', a physical territory with a government, situated near one of the poles didn't exist, they even said the earth was flat. That it weren't an global increase in temperature caused by their use of fossiled biomass. That there is a immortal being who created the universe and made them in his image.''
''Your leaders chirp lies and it shows on your communications. You're such a decieving species but i'm on to you.''
''So Australia, the place where Araneae have ''Manabars''. Where people rides waves in elasmobranch fish infested waters for fun. And where men jumps on top of **Crocodylia, and describes them as real beauties. ''**
''Enough i say, your planet is quarantined from the Galactic Travel Guide. Find another forum for your lies.'' | |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | What is the most dangerous place on your planet?
It's a simple question. All the species I've interviewed over the last three centuries have answered honestly. They talk about ranges of volcanoes who poison the air with their toxic fumes. They talk about deserts that burn skin, chitin and scale. They rave about frozen tundra's where brave citizens dared to trek as a feat of strength and endurance.
And then there's the Humans of Earth and their mythical "Australia".
I humoured them at first. The 29 representatives of the Human Union. The Union of Nations i think they called it. When asked about the most dangerous places on Earth, they all said Australia.
At first, I thought it might be a slum area. Overrun with crime that the governments are trying to bring under control. The more they talked, it came sounded more like a prison colony. No doubt where their harshest most deadly criminals were sent to live a life - a short life if they're to be believed - of hard labour trying to tame the land.
The more than spoke though, I got the sense that the "Aussie's" as they called them, were the nicest of them all. Larkins they called themselves. Always willing to help and have a laugh, but ready to throw-down with someone if they overstepped the mark. Too good to be true really, which made their next claims preposterous.
The fauna of the continent actively tries to kill the Humans living there. Of course it's only natural that there are several predators that hunt intelligent species during their infancy. As technology progresses, the paradigm shifts and the hunters become the hunted.
Not so there.
The predators there live on land and sea and soar in the sky.
Great White's which grow to enormous sizes prowl the oceans that surround the continent, leaping from the water to catch fisherman on their boats. Croc's that ruin a man's reputation by being seen with them. Dinosaurs that lurk in the waters and strike with a speed and ferocity that belies their size. 7 of the 10 top deadly snakes slither through the land just waiting to strike a weary worker. Spiders that crawl into the bed sheets and clothes just waiting to poison them when they finally let their guard down. In summer, bush-fires scare the land and burn down their homes. In winter, storms lash the coast and flood the rivers and plains inland, drowning people and letting predators into peoples homes.
The stuff of nightmares really.
What really gave it away, where they went too far, it was their national hero.
A larikin of international renown, he kept these myths! These monsters of nightmares as pets. PETS!
One man tried to convince me, a smile on his face and his a haze in memory, that this man would wrestle them. Pet them. Feed them and tell the crowd "They're just misunderstood." All these creatures of deadly myths and horrors of such renown that the mythology departments on a hundred worlds will flock to study them if even a tenth of this were to be true.
They even tried to convince me that this myth of man, this legend among men, had children, and they now follow his example!
Clearly we will need to confirm all this with inspections. | ''Liars and cheats.'' mumbles the Inquisitor. Writing in his log.''Do you think me ignorant, or a fool? I've seen your communications with all the horrible furless pictures and anatomically incorrect drawings, and I've seen the lies and distortions.''
''At first it said ''Finland'', a physical territory with a government, situated near one of the poles didn't exist, they even said the earth was flat. That it weren't an global increase in temperature caused by their use of fossiled biomass. That there is a immortal being who created the universe and made them in his image.''
''Your leaders chirp lies and it shows on your communications. You're such a decieving species but i'm on to you.''
''So Australia, the place where Araneae have ''Manabars''. Where people rides waves in elasmobranch fish infested waters for fun. And where men jumps on top of **Crocodylia, and describes them as real beauties. ''**
''Enough i say, your planet is quarantined from the Galactic Travel Guide. Find another forum for your lies.'' | |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | What is the most dangerous place on your planet?
It's a simple question. All the species I've interviewed over the last three centuries have answered honestly. They talk about ranges of volcanoes who poison the air with their toxic fumes. They talk about deserts that burn skin, chitin and scale. They rave about frozen tundra's where brave citizens dared to trek as a feat of strength and endurance.
And then there's the Humans of Earth and their mythical "Australia".
I humoured them at first. The 29 representatives of the Human Union. The Union of Nations i think they called it. When asked about the most dangerous places on Earth, they all said Australia.
At first, I thought it might be a slum area. Overrun with crime that the governments are trying to bring under control. The more they talked, it came sounded more like a prison colony. No doubt where their harshest most deadly criminals were sent to live a life - a short life if they're to be believed - of hard labour trying to tame the land.
The more than spoke though, I got the sense that the "Aussie's" as they called them, were the nicest of them all. Larkins they called themselves. Always willing to help and have a laugh, but ready to throw-down with someone if they overstepped the mark. Too good to be true really, which made their next claims preposterous.
The fauna of the continent actively tries to kill the Humans living there. Of course it's only natural that there are several predators that hunt intelligent species during their infancy. As technology progresses, the paradigm shifts and the hunters become the hunted.
Not so there.
The predators there live on land and sea and soar in the sky.
Great White's which grow to enormous sizes prowl the oceans that surround the continent, leaping from the water to catch fisherman on their boats. Croc's that ruin a man's reputation by being seen with them. Dinosaurs that lurk in the waters and strike with a speed and ferocity that belies their size. 7 of the 10 top deadly snakes slither through the land just waiting to strike a weary worker. Spiders that crawl into the bed sheets and clothes just waiting to poison them when they finally let their guard down. In summer, bush-fires scare the land and burn down their homes. In winter, storms lash the coast and flood the rivers and plains inland, drowning people and letting predators into peoples homes.
The stuff of nightmares really.
What really gave it away, where they went too far, it was their national hero.
A larikin of international renown, he kept these myths! These monsters of nightmares as pets. PETS!
One man tried to convince me, a smile on his face and his a haze in memory, that this man would wrestle them. Pet them. Feed them and tell the crowd "They're just misunderstood." All these creatures of deadly myths and horrors of such renown that the mythology departments on a hundred worlds will flock to study them if even a tenth of this were to be true.
They even tried to convince me that this myth of man, this legend among men, had children, and they now follow his example!
Clearly we will need to confirm all this with inspections. | “Yeah, nah cunt. I don’t think you’ll like it down there”
Kelack leaned back into his flowsac. These humans were getting frustrating.
“So, tell me again. You’re saying that there’s animals that jump, stand up on their tails, and punch you and kick you like brabilak fighters?”
“Yea mate. They’re called kangaroos. Nasty fuckers. The spiders are the worst though”
His digimarker scratched on the screen as Kelack took notes. He looked up with a fearful gaze- “what the hell is a spider?”
“Mate, I’d love to stay and kick the shit with ya, but I’ve got a game of rugby to catch and I’m really not too interested in all this alien shit. If ya want to see earth, why don’t you come down with me? I’ll show you a beautiful aquatic animal called the great white” | |
[WP] Your job was simple: Interview some humans to develop a planetary risk profile in the Galactic Travel Guide. The humans seem to delight in lying about their planet in efforts to increase their score, but you are on to them. Their lies always seem to mention a fictional place: Australia | "It started off easy." you sigh as you are lying on your bed talking to your log. "All I had to do was interview some of these barely evolved mammals to determine if their planet was a total Yarkolag or just a casual Zoxy."
"I started off with some basic questions about their own species, like what is typical and a-typical behaviour and how do you recognise it, are there specific behavioural quirks that are specific to a region etc."
"At first all I got back was that people from the North-Western hemisphere were always the loudest during conversations and always tried acting friendly even though this might not be the case. People from North Eastern hemisphere were described as being more introverted and *shy*.."
"But then one of them said that there is a place on the South-Eastern hemipshere were they used to send all their *undesirables.* And they have been left alone to breed and develop. Apparently this **Australia** is were the worst of the worst reside, being descendants of axe-murderers and thieves." Sounds like Yarkolag to me, I thought.
This prompted me to send the acquisitions team to fetch me one of these *Australians*. They came back with an individual that called himself *Muzza Moo*. Being a "true blue Australian" as he put it, he started describing the various beasts that roamed the planet. From kangaroos that moved around by jumping, using enormous hind legs, and who could knock out a grown man with a single punch. To more spiders and snakes than I could count. Although, and I quote, "There hasn't been a fatal snakebite in years of course!"
"You mean to say that even though snakes are abundant none are particularly harmfull?" I asked hesitantly.
"Nah mate, there mean as fuck. But we've been bitten so many times that just about every hospital in the area has a shitload of antivenom for just about every single one of those leathery fucks."
I jotted down that it was not adequate preventative measures that kept them alive but more the fact that they just kept their healthcare system up-to-date.
As Muzza's stories went on I was certain he was now just inventing stuff whilst sitting here. I chose to look into source material from before we arrived here.
As I searched the planets archives I came across two famous explorers from their 20th and 21st centuries. I looked up their documentaries and was immediately drawn to the ingenious way these humans tried to tric me. This *Attenbourough* and the other one *Irwin* had dedicated their lives to nature and to educate their fellow humans.
Attenbourough stated the various species on earth very calmly but even with him my computer detected slight changes in his voice when describing the awfullness that was Australia.
And then there was this Irwin fellow. The *crocodile hunter*. After watching several of his "shows" I am fully convinced that to a man like that, Yarkolag is just another Zoxy. "This man would probably let his offspring go to Yarkolag on one of their celebratory "circle around the star" parties!" I exclaimed to my log.
​
For over a hundred cycles had we used the Zoxy-Yarkolag scale. And now, after just having contacted this new species we would have to adjust it completely. I suggested a new scale called the Attenbourough-Irwin scale, based on how calmly one of these legends would react to the worlds and animals we encounter. | “Yeah, nah cunt. I don’t think you’ll like it down there”
Kelack leaned back into his flowsac. These humans were getting frustrating.
“So, tell me again. You’re saying that there’s animals that jump, stand up on their tails, and punch you and kick you like brabilak fighters?”
“Yea mate. They’re called kangaroos. Nasty fuckers. The spiders are the worst though”
His digimarker scratched on the screen as Kelack took notes. He looked up with a fearful gaze- “what the hell is a spider?”
“Mate, I’d love to stay and kick the shit with ya, but I’ve got a game of rugby to catch and I’m really not too interested in all this alien shit. If ya want to see earth, why don’t you come down with me? I’ll show you a beautiful aquatic animal called the great white” | |
[WP] after an apocalypse you are the last human alive. traveling the country side in your increasing age you slowly stumble into more and more things before realizing that magic is returning to the world. today you spot a village of elves, the first intelligent things you have seen in over 30 years. | I stomp out the last embers of last night’s fire. I have to be careful. The grass around me is dry, it hasn’t rained for weeks. I wouldn’t want to set fire to my surroundings. There would be no firefighters to save me then.
I smile sardonically. I haven’t seen a firefighter in more than 4 decades, maybe even 5. I’m not entirely sure. A pang of loneliness stabs my heart, but I brush it off without much effort. I haven’t seen anyone in more than 30 years, you would think I would be used to it by now. But no, humans are social creatures, and I will always be one of them.
Most of those 30 years I’ve spent travelling, hoping to find even one fellow unfortunate soul who survived all this time. Maybe there were still others overseas, across the wall of ocean I didn’t dare traverse on my own. I would probably never know. And here, I haven’t met a single soul apart from the animals wandering the country and the ruined cities.
It had taken remarkably long for some species to move out of their old territories, lodged in between highways and cities, but slowly they had spread. Now it felt like they never belonged anywhere else.
For creatures that always seemed so eager to jump into traffic and cross highways while cars still flew by at high speeds, deer had been the most reluctant. I often wonder why, but I probably won’t come up with a proper answer any time soon. I’m no biologist, no matter that it was my best subject in high-school.
It was a bitter sweet sight to see a heard of deer grazing on the grass growing through the ruined cobble streets of cities now overgrown with plants. It amazed me every time to see how fast nature reclaimed even the most magnificent human made structures.
I reminded me of the amazon, and the old civilisations found within. Some people speculated that the entire amazon stemmed from a human planted orchard. I dismissed the thought back then, not believing something so small could grow so big, but after witnessing what could happen in just a few decades, I was more amazed we managed to find any remnants of the civilisations at all.
I say we, but of course I wasn’t involved. I wish I could still think of us, of humanity, as this collective entity managing amazing things together, but that’s over now.
Pulling my mind away from the past, I grab my pack, my tent already packed within, and start off towards the north, using the sun to guide my direction. My destination is the lands just below the British Isles. They, being the first to fall after said Isles, were the most interesting places to visit. They hold my most vivid memories of before, since I grew up there. They are also the furthest along in natures reclaiming.
It isn’t far, I should arrive in familiar territory any day now. Anxious to see how it has changed since I left, I increase my pace. The last time I was here, I saw some… interesting things. Impossible things.
—
An unnaturally heavy atmosphere presses around me as I enter a forest. I take a deep breath. This is it. I’m here. I’m home. This particular forest has been here since long before the end, and it has only grown bigger, wilder and older since humans stopped interfering.
I came here as a child a few times, and remember thinking the place was magical then. That was nothing compared to what I feel now. There’s a tingling in my mind, in my ears, on my skin. I see tiny lights floating through the dark shadows the trees cast. Dancing through the air like nothing I’ve ever seen before. These are no insects.
If only the others could see this, could witness the evolution I’m allowed to be a part of. The last human of the modern world, possibly the last human of all time… but at least I can be the first human to see the return of magic.
—
I don’t stop walking even when night falls again. The lights floating and dancing in the air seem to multiply and give off enough light to see by. Not bugs, not fireflies, not creatures at all. They were pure magic. The tangible, visible evidence of magic, all around me, lighting up my path. I could never have dreamed of this reality.
A sound catches my attention. I freeze trying to figure out what it was and where it came from. I hear it again, off in the distance in the direction I was walking in. It’s an odd sound that I have trouble placing, but I’m sure I do recognise it. I consider for a moment, before continuing in the same direction I was going before, the direction the sound still comes from.
—
The closer I get, the more anxiety grips me. My lungs feel compressed in my chest. I take shallow breaths as I creep ever closer to the sounds I now recognise. Sounds that simultaneously have me wanting to scream in joy and fear.
Voices.
So many voices. Voices talking in an unfamiliar language. Flowing sounds that remind me somewhat of Korean. I feel like running. Running far away to never return. Running right at the sounds and throwing myself into the comfort of the companionship of other intelligent life. I do neither. I continue to creep towards the place I now vaguely presume to be a village or town of some sort. I can see the lights of lanterns both outside and from within windows.
Finally, from the edge of the trees, I see them. Small wooden huts with chimneys empty of smoke. There’s no need for fire this warm night, especially within the walls of a hut. There are at least thirty from what I can see at my vantage-point.
More importantly, I see people walking and talking between the huts. People in fine clothes that seem incongruous with their foresty surroundings. For a moment, the clothes have me flash back to memories of the many days spent at long running LARP events. Flowing fabrics, foam swords, not perfectly written stories but great fun nonetheless. The memory fades, but my eyes seem somehow stuck in them, stuck on the people in their expensive flowing fabrics, stuck on their ears. Pointy and long, like an elf’s.
Elves.
Real ones.
I sink down behind a tree and grasp at my hair. People, but not my people. What am I supposed to do now? | It’s been thirty years since the world “ended” and humanity was wiped off the face of the earth. Some said it would be zombies others said it would be global warming. The religious types told us it would be a great flood like in the Bible or the rapture would happen and all the worthy would be brought to heaven and the wicked would remain in earth et cetra.
In all reality those saying it would be global warming were partially correct. Eyjafjallajökull, Krakatau, Mt. St. Helens, the Yellowstone Caldera, Kilauea, Mt. Vesuvius, Stromboli, Ichinsky, Koryakskaya Sopka, Mt. Fuji, Mt. Pinatubo, Nyamuragira and Kilimanjaros’ Kibo peak, and those are the ones I remember, all erupted within the span of a week. The air was nigh of being breathable. The land masses of the world changed quite dramatically.
To give you an idea, Russia and Alaska now have a pretty solid land bridge or isthmus, the Hawaiian islands are now one solid island, Australia and the Indies Islands are connected by a series of large isthmuses now. Japan now shares a land border with South Korea and Russia, the west coast of the United States was expanded due to Yellowstone and St. Helens erupting and managed to connect to the Galápagos Islands, though the sea of California is nice this time of year as well. The Black Sea is no more, the Mediterranean Sea? More like the Mediterranean lake. The Persian sea closed up and the Red Sea expanded in size. The Caspian Sea is now the Caspian pond. Greenland, Iceland, Ireland and the United Kingdom are all one land now. That’s just a brief overview of the changes to earths landmass.
Through all of this I somehow managed to survive. I’ve been alone these last three decades, recounting every detail of my isolation on this forsaken land. Finding food wasn’t to terribly hard. From all the volcanic ash being highly nutritious for plants, most of the world I’ve traveled has been reborn in lush forest, bountiful jungles, verdant fields of grasses. The air itself is still a little hard to breathe, though in retrospect my lungs are probably burned beyond repair from the cataclysm thirty years prior.
Though I’ve become quite the green thumb in this lonely exile of mine, I have noticed strange new plants that I’ve never seen before. Phosphorescent trees and bushes which seem to react to the touch, last week I had been up for three days straight due to being chased by a small pack of wolves, I thought I had seen a dragon flying in the skies. It was probably just fatigue induced hallucinations but it’s hard to explain how it flew across the sky and then blew a wall of fire between the wolves and I? Lately whenever I have tried to light a fire, it’s almost like I only need to utter a word or two regarding fire and flames and I have a campfire roaring to life. Almost like magic, which I know, it’s stupid to think cause magic isn’t real and never was.
I’ve been traveling in what was once known as the straight of Gibraltar but I’ve come to call it the Isthmus of Gibraltar. Heading north into Spain or what’s left of it at least, I’ve spotted what appears to be a campfire? No multiple campfires! At least twenty or thirty it seems! And there appear to be at least a hundred people dancing and singing around the fires! In all my lonely travels I’ve finally found a small civilization that maybe I can call home. I’ll need to brush up on my Spanish but at the age of fifty nine I don’t care!
I briskly walked trying not to run like a child in a toy store, up to the nearest fire where a group of twentyish people were singing and dancing. Raising my hand I bellowed a hearty “Holà mi amigos!” With a stupidly large grin on my face. That was until I noticed the angelic features of their faces and the pointed ears under their long glowing hair that shine like gold and silver in the flames light. They all turned towards me with utter shock and disbelief on their faces. A young woman stood up no more than ten feet from me, she waved her hand in a figure eight motion while saying something that sounded almost like J.R.R. Tolkien elvish mixes with French? Possibly? And then she spoke again in perfect English. “Welcome traveler, do you mean harm or peace?” She asked. “Pe-p-Peace!” I stammered out.
“Then be welcomed, we open our arms here in our elvish hamlet to those who are friendly!” She said with a glowing smile, eyes twinkling in the fire light.
The last thing I remember before fainting was realizing magic had come to the world, I had seen a dragon and I had just stumbled into an elvish village. Then I collapsed out of pure astonishment... | |
[WP] after an apocalypse you are the last human alive. traveling the country side in your increasing age you slowly stumble into more and more things before realizing that magic is returning to the world. today you spot a village of elves, the first intelligent things you have seen in over 30 years. | I had taken to hiking in the latter years. Quality woodland wear was in no short supply from nearly four decades ago, and it gave me a rare peace to stroll the wild unburdened by dread or lonliness.
"A man should be useful," was a saying my father would tell me frequently. In an age where people were increasingly distracted, underemployed, and sad, it proved to be a lifesaving mantra.
I brought with me a leatherbound journal to document the post-human world. One could guess that the things of the world worth documenting were saved and stored in old computers and filing cabinets. But this world is not like the old.
Since the people died off, and left me here in isolation, things have changed. The buildings had begun to crumble. Wildlife returned to the suburbs. Nature had begun its reclamation of the concrete cities.
But I expected as much. What I didn't expect were the fairies or the walking trees. I didn't expect the flying horses or the mysterious runes burned into walls and cliffsides.
My journal was one of a volume stored in my cabin. I moved to these woods when the magic emerged--or returned, I suspect--so that I could surround myself with it and fill what's left of my time with a beautiful mystery.
I would review my books, read my descriptions, put fine touches on drawings. But I longed for someone to share this journey with. I smoked from my pipe in the evenings to quell my nerves before bed, where I would often weep alone with my thoughts. "No man is an island," is another saying my father imparted. It seemed this one was not up to me anymore.
I set out for a morning gathering of firewood and some vegetables from my garden for breakfast. The forest provided plenty for one man, but far too little for seven billion. I found survival to not only be easy, but near effortless. As I trecked into the woodlands, I heard a noise unlike any I had heard here before.
It sounded almost like a cry, or a scream. Perhaps goats had migrated to these parts. I dropped my logs and headed for the sound--a goat stew would make for a fine meal.
I came upon the crying to find something truly unexpected: a small person, perhaps a foot or less in height, was trapped between overgrown tree roots. It stopped crying out to look me over. Its eyes were easily half of its face and filled with tears. It wore a red pointed hat on top of a red head of hair. Its small clothes seemed to be stitched squirrel and raccoon skins.
"Are you alright?" I asked the little man, my gravelled voice unfamiliar to my own ears. It was terrified.
"Please, sir, please don't eat me," it spoke in its small voice. I hadn't heard the english language outside of recordings in many decades. There is something suprisingly distinct about words in the open air.
"I don't want to eat you, little one. Can I help you?" I asked.
"I'm stuck," it said, motioning to its trapped ankle between two knots of wood root.
I found a log and pried the wood apart, freeing the small foot. The little person immediately tried to retreat but fell on its injured leg. I could see small red spots on its path; the tree had apparently cut its leg.
Its tiny body was hyperventaliting and its eyes darted around the woods in a panicked fervor. I approached cautiously, my hands in the air.
"There's no need to run, friend. I'm not going to hurt you," I cooed softly to the creature. "It looks like your leg is hurt. May I take a look?" I asked it.
It looked my up and down, studying me more carefully.
"You're one of the old folk. A titan," it said.
"I certainly feel old these days," I replied.
"You're all supposed to be dead," he squeaked.
I nodded in quiet agreement. "And yet..." I gestured to myself. I tried to inch closer, but he scooted away.
"The titans used to eat elf folk," it said.
"I've honestly never even seen an elf before," I confessed. "You're the first person I've spoken to in many years. The last thing I want to do it hurt you. I'd like to help if you'd allow me."
The elf thought about my words and studied me some more.
"Could you carry me?" It asked.
"I could. Where is it you'd like to go?"
"Back to my burrow," it responded, looking around the forest. "But I'm not so sure where that is." It looked at me again. "Or if I should bring you there "
"How about I take you to my cabin, bandage your wound, and give you shelter until you're well enough to make the journey yourself?" I offered.
"I supposed if you were going ro eat me it wouldn't matter much here or in your monster cave. Assuming this isn't a trap, thank you," it said. Its voice was calmer, slower.
We set off back to my cabin, the little man perched atop my shoulder. He told me stories of the elf folk, the legends of the titans, and the mysteries of the old world.
We became fast friends. | It’s been thirty years since the world “ended” and humanity was wiped off the face of the earth. Some said it would be zombies others said it would be global warming. The religious types told us it would be a great flood like in the Bible or the rapture would happen and all the worthy would be brought to heaven and the wicked would remain in earth et cetra.
In all reality those saying it would be global warming were partially correct. Eyjafjallajökull, Krakatau, Mt. St. Helens, the Yellowstone Caldera, Kilauea, Mt. Vesuvius, Stromboli, Ichinsky, Koryakskaya Sopka, Mt. Fuji, Mt. Pinatubo, Nyamuragira and Kilimanjaros’ Kibo peak, and those are the ones I remember, all erupted within the span of a week. The air was nigh of being breathable. The land masses of the world changed quite dramatically.
To give you an idea, Russia and Alaska now have a pretty solid land bridge or isthmus, the Hawaiian islands are now one solid island, Australia and the Indies Islands are connected by a series of large isthmuses now. Japan now shares a land border with South Korea and Russia, the west coast of the United States was expanded due to Yellowstone and St. Helens erupting and managed to connect to the Galápagos Islands, though the sea of California is nice this time of year as well. The Black Sea is no more, the Mediterranean Sea? More like the Mediterranean lake. The Persian sea closed up and the Red Sea expanded in size. The Caspian Sea is now the Caspian pond. Greenland, Iceland, Ireland and the United Kingdom are all one land now. That’s just a brief overview of the changes to earths landmass.
Through all of this I somehow managed to survive. I’ve been alone these last three decades, recounting every detail of my isolation on this forsaken land. Finding food wasn’t to terribly hard. From all the volcanic ash being highly nutritious for plants, most of the world I’ve traveled has been reborn in lush forest, bountiful jungles, verdant fields of grasses. The air itself is still a little hard to breathe, though in retrospect my lungs are probably burned beyond repair from the cataclysm thirty years prior.
Though I’ve become quite the green thumb in this lonely exile of mine, I have noticed strange new plants that I’ve never seen before. Phosphorescent trees and bushes which seem to react to the touch, last week I had been up for three days straight due to being chased by a small pack of wolves, I thought I had seen a dragon flying in the skies. It was probably just fatigue induced hallucinations but it’s hard to explain how it flew across the sky and then blew a wall of fire between the wolves and I? Lately whenever I have tried to light a fire, it’s almost like I only need to utter a word or two regarding fire and flames and I have a campfire roaring to life. Almost like magic, which I know, it’s stupid to think cause magic isn’t real and never was.
I’ve been traveling in what was once known as the straight of Gibraltar but I’ve come to call it the Isthmus of Gibraltar. Heading north into Spain or what’s left of it at least, I’ve spotted what appears to be a campfire? No multiple campfires! At least twenty or thirty it seems! And there appear to be at least a hundred people dancing and singing around the fires! In all my lonely travels I’ve finally found a small civilization that maybe I can call home. I’ll need to brush up on my Spanish but at the age of fifty nine I don’t care!
I briskly walked trying not to run like a child in a toy store, up to the nearest fire where a group of twentyish people were singing and dancing. Raising my hand I bellowed a hearty “Holà mi amigos!” With a stupidly large grin on my face. That was until I noticed the angelic features of their faces and the pointed ears under their long glowing hair that shine like gold and silver in the flames light. They all turned towards me with utter shock and disbelief on their faces. A young woman stood up no more than ten feet from me, she waved her hand in a figure eight motion while saying something that sounded almost like J.R.R. Tolkien elvish mixes with French? Possibly? And then she spoke again in perfect English. “Welcome traveler, do you mean harm or peace?” She asked. “Pe-p-Peace!” I stammered out.
“Then be welcomed, we open our arms here in our elvish hamlet to those who are friendly!” She said with a glowing smile, eyes twinkling in the fire light.
The last thing I remember before fainting was realizing magic had come to the world, I had seen a dragon and I had just stumbled into an elvish village. Then I collapsed out of pure astonishment... | |
[WP] with the dull clank of rusted armor, you crawl from your crypt to meet your new master. Only to sigh and pinch the nonexistent bridge of your nose as you see a wide eyed young girl holding a black book. Tears streak her face. "I need you to help me find my daddy" she sniffles. You groan. | "No.”
My own voice startles me, a whisper devoid of bass and timbre.
“Excuse me?”
“I said no.”
Her brows furrow, “It may have sounded like a request, but it wasn’t. You will help me find my father. Now.”
A familiar feeling wells up within me. Rage. And with it foreign ones. A wanton desire to destroy. A longing desire to kill. I pull my blade and step towards the lithe young creature while the feeling of hate thrums louder. My arm arcs back and slashes forward, a cackle escapes my boney maw. Elation nibbles at the edge of my consciousness.
She laughs.
I look down to see a blade hilt in my hands and nothing more. I scream in anger looking around wildly. On the cobblestones behind me lay a rusted piece of metal. The bastard Princeling buried me with an imitation. Just another of many slights. Tossing aside the hilt I flex my fingers and decide on something more personal. I turn again towards the girl. She looks amused.
“Cliazin vindre mortimie sinidan”
Ghostly shackles enwrap me. The rage disappears. Had I been of the living, this would have been a painful binding.
“You undead are unruly things and you are my fourth summon. Please try not to be so obstinate. I thought I’d try a little emotion this time,” she wipes away fake tears as she sits on the ground. “I’ve been at this for about two weeks now. I tried pure domination, too taxing. Puppeteering, too imprecise. And gross displays of power, very messy.” She inclines her head towards what was left of a neighboring crypt and the thirty or so yards around it. “So now I’m just going to try reason and honesty ok?”
I briefly consider my situation, “Sure.”
“I don’t give two rips about my father. I don’t even know who he is. The man I want to kill is a warlock. He has power over the living. Hence my need for you. I want him dead so I can take his work for my own. I think you can piece together the rest. Now. What do you want in return?”
“To kill you.”
“Well, that’s a start. Let’s just go ahead and agree that one’s off the table. Dig a little deeper.”
Images of long marches in bad weather fill my mind. Sleeping in the rain while He enjoys his tent. Eating grass and spoiled bread while He eats mutton and drinks mead. His boyish glee as he takes any woman he pleases while the rest of us….
“I want to kill Prince Thesria the First.”
She looks up from her tome, “The First? Well. Seventy years too late for that. I suppose we could track down his grave, raise him up and you could beat his bones to dust if you like. Be warned though this book says the risen dead often form bonds despite their mortal conflicts. You may just end up being best friends instead, and seeing as you got lost in your own little world there for the better part of ten minutes, I’m guessing that’s not going to work for you.”
I grunt.
“I don’t suppose being by my side for all eternity dispensing death to whomever I desire would work for you? Maybe commanding a legion of not-prince thesrian dead? I don’t know what more I can offer a murder hungry skeleton.”
“Not my fault.”
“Huh?”
“The bloodlust.”
“Oh.”
“It’s just there.”
“Got it, I can probably dull that a bit. I wondered what this bit was about.” She flips through the book and points at something I can’t see. “So, decision time. Unholy Warrior of the Ages or pile of bones adrift in nothingness.”
“Well, you do have a certain charm.”
“Aww, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
She rattles off another chain of incantations. The bonds disperse. The Desire flares and is quickly tempered down beneath my chest, still throbbing, but contained. Mostly.
“How’s that. Still feel like ripping me into little pieces and rubbing my tattered flesh all over your bones?”
“You’re too young for me.”
She breaks out into laughter. “I think this will work out just fine. I’m Prina, but I think now I’ll need something fiercer. I’m thinking Mania, Mistress of Despair. And you?”
“Damon.”
“Damon, the Eater of Souls. Bane of the Living. Incarnation of Fear…”
“Easy kid. We haven’t done anything yet.”
She points at a small hilltop village still visible beneath the setting sun. A dark smile appearing on her face.
“Well, let’s get started then.” | It was dark, pitch black. Where am I? Where was I last? I died. Am I still dead? A light so dim, yet so blindingly bright to me appeared in a vertical line. The line grew wider and wider, all until the stone slab above my coffin was completely removed. I removed it, I lifted it, without even willing it. And my body continued to move until it was outside of the crypt.
It was night, but there was a full moon. And a young girl in front of me. She clutched a black book to her chest as if it were the last thing she had left in this world. I've heard stories of this, I imagined the possibility, but I never thought it would happen to me.
Tears streaked down her cheeks. She choked the words out. "Please, save my papa!"
I looked around. That seemed to be permitted. In the distance, there was a raging fire. It engulfed a village. My body willed itself to move in that direction. It started as a walk, and then it became a full on sprint. My armor and sword were still on me. They clanged as I ran. It felt somewhat nostalgic, charging into battle. But this time was different. There was no fear, no excitement. I would not die. I was already dead.
In the village center, a man was tied to a pillar, below him was a pile of branches and twigs. Surrounding the man was a retinue of knights dressed in identical white tabards with the symbol of the order, a dragon. These bastards again.
One of them was about to set the man on fire when another one of them saw me.
"What have we here?" he declared. The others turned around, to me. "I knew it! I bloody knew it! A necromancer!" He wasn't wrong. But this is going too far, to kill so many for the one.
I tried to speak but I could not. My body moved itself, closer to the man on the pillar.
"Step back, foul abomination!" They blocked my path and pointed their swords at me.
I'm going to enjoy this. | |
[WP] Contrary to popular belief, you, Satan, are really just an overworked and underappreciated divine prosecutor with a bad rep among mortals. Every so often, however, you have cases that remind you why you stuck to the job over the millenia in the first place. | “How is it, Boss?”
Satan grimaced expressively, tight-lipped and squinting with disgust. The demon took a nervous step backwards, something goat hooves were not designed to do. The crash sent a cloud of dust into the air.
“Horrible,” the arch-fiend’s voice was growl of resignation. “Did you put Alum in it, or something? It’s absolutely appalling.”
The demon clapped his hands excitedly – a strange gesture for something with the head of rotting giraffe. “Well *done!”* it squeaked happily. “I’ve been spiking the coffee with alum for the past week! It’s so *cute* watching the Residents line up for a mug. And then, when they drink it–”
“Yes, yes,” Satan interrupted wearily. “Very good. I can see you’re in no danger of running out of ideas.” Another sip, and another grimace. The demon hovered like an expensive waiter estimating his tip.
“What’s on the docket today?” The demon sprang into action, scuttling to a nearby filing cabinet. Had it been able to read, it would not have opened the door marked “Tarantulas.” The screech that followed was high enough to shatter glass.
Satan sighed. *Another day begins.* Figuratively in this case, since the sun never rose. His fingers caressed the side of the coffee mug, reading the familiar red lettering. “If you lived here, you’d be dead now.” A smile totally failed to cross his face.
*I should be so lucky.* Satan leaned back in his creaking chair, watching his assistant flail helplessly under the avalanche of spiders. Behind him, the potted plant dropped another dead leaf, floating in lazy zigzags to the floor. It was another day in a string of endless days – identically dull and lifeless. *When it comes to Eternity*, he thought miserably, *you certainly get your money’s worth.*
“Any sign of that docket?” he inquired lightly. The whimpering of assistant told him as much as he needed to know. He flicked a finger, banishing the spiders to a residential circle. Make them somebody else’s problem. *We’re good at that, at least.*
“So sorry, so sorry!” The demon cringed at the cheerful sally. “Opened the wrong drawer, wasn’t thinking.” He scrutinized the next label, fingers twisting like post-atomic rebar. His mistake became evident as soon as the snake lunged. The drawer was slammed shut just in time.
“Why do you keep so many animals in here?” whined the demon. “They’re creepy. I mean, they’ve got all that…*metabolism…”* he shuddered, turning towards the next filing cabinet. Fortunately, it contained nothing more horrifying that the crushed corpses of long-dead trees.
“Here we are,” the demon continued silkily, drawing forth an impressive stack of paper. “Today’s cases, 65,221. Projected 2025 probable Purgatory, 32,500 Circle Five and above. Further analysis-”
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” growled the Devil. “That’s *my* job. I don’t like using algorithms to determine where someone ends up. In the old days we did things on a case-by-case basis.”
“Yessir,” the demon assented hastily. “Only trying to help. I know how overworked you are, and what with the population explosion Topside, I thought we could-”
“Listen to me.” The Devil’s voice was a cold and level as Cocytus Ice. “*I* do my own judging. I have *always* done my own judging. If machines are going to replace anyone-” he stared meaningfully at his assistant, who went an uncomfortable shade of green.
“Yessir. Right you are sir.” The demon crumpled the projections with barely a hint of disappointment. “Tried and true methods, that’s what I always say sir. Tried and true.”
“Indeed?” Satan glanced disdainfully at his underling. “I had no idea.”
“Absolutely, sir!” The rotting giraffe’s head appeared to be sweating. “Always in favor of tradition. Why, if not for the wise guidance of your Eminence and the Council of the Fallen Angels, Hell would have fallen even farther than that it has. Risen, I mean. That is to say, your wisdom-”
Satan tuned out the obsequious babble. When Yexnroth got going, nothing short of the most grievous punishments could convince him to shut up. He was famous for it in the Pit – the mere sound of his voice could make sinner and demon alike burst into penitent tears.
*And he’s my assistant,* mused the Devil. One day he would find out who was in charge of Inhuman Resources and make them swim laps in the Lake of Boiling Tar. Three million or so should do it. The thought brought a rare smile to his careworn face.
The work was before him, in all its bloated, bureaucratic majesty. He forced himself to focus, scanning the printout for salient cases, names cross-referenced against major sin categories. A sheaf of Dual-Culpability Indices fell out of the pile, scattering pages in all directions. The Archfiend ground his teeth in disgust.
It *wasn’t* the same, the way they did things now – all these charts and graphs and mountains of Precedent. *Literal* mountains. Some of the residents had taken to rolling down them, before they’d put a stop to it. It had been all he could do to stop them installing a ski lift.
*Of course, in the old days you never had these problems.* Satan took a sheet of paper between two fingers and watched moodily until it burst into flames. *In the old days, it was just you, them, and the Judgement. Not a nice job. Not a pleasant job. But someone had to do it.* He nodded meditatively as the page crumbled into feathery ash. Sometimes, on days, like this, you could almost feel like giving up. *Almost.* If he hadn’t known why the job was important, he would have retired long ago.
*Because it was important, wasn’t it? Because people mattered, and whatever else they did, no one really wanted to end up here.* If you were going to be damned to an eternity of hellfire, or one of Yexnroth’s never-ending anecdotes, you’d like to be sure you deserved it. And *that* was where He came in.
He oversaw things. He *judged.* He drew the wheat from the chaff – and where humans were concerned, it required the eye of a jeweler and the subtlety of a particle physicist. Shades and grades of sin, extenuating circumstances, inborn flaws. No detail could be excluded, no possibility overlooked. *Everything* was taken into consideration. If you ended up a resident, you could have done better – and you knew it.
*At least, that was how it used to be.* | “Robin White. Died at 78 of a heart attack, married with two kids, worked as a supervisor in a tire factory. Did I get all those right?”
“Yes sir. I was a good Christian. Do I get to go to heaven?”
“That is not up to me. Neither is it up to you. We do not judge people only the big guy does that. All I do is remind you of your worst parts so that we can make a case for you.”
“But I was always a good Christian. I should be”
I stopped him right there. I heard that one a million times already.
“You were a good Christian, a great one even. But that doesn’t make you a good person.”
“I don’t understand. I was always good to my neighbors, donated to charity, worked hard, loved my wife”
“Yelled at people with different political opinions, went to anti gay rallies, harassed employees. I got it all written here.”
“Well the scriptures say that being gay is a sin, so I tried to prevent them from going to hell.”
“By making their life’s more difficult and judging them for it is wrong. It doesn’t matter what the scripture says. You doomed them to hell. Judging them. I told you earlier that isn’t up to you but god almighty.”
Robin sank deep into his chair.
“So am I going to Hell?”
“Probably not, I’ve seen millions of cases like yours. More than clear heaven or hell candidates. If someone ends a war or strangles a baby it is usually very cut and dry but you are average, bordering on every aspect.”
“What happens to me now?”
“I don’t know because I don’t judge. All I can do is remind you of the life you lived.” | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | I reach out, pressing the 'pay with ads' button that floated before me.
Quickly, as soon as my hand lifts from the button, I'm jolted back into conciousness. The bus that hit me is to my direct left, and passers-by surround me, telling me not to move since the ambulance is coming.
When they do come, they lift me up on a stretcher, taking me into the ambulance vehicle. Memories of that...(afterlife...? Something, anyways) starts to fade as I get closer to the open doors.
I pass the bus, and an advertisement for McDonald's stares back at me.
Paying for no ads was useless when all you've ever known was the freemium. | I'm dead. Or at least I should be. It all started after my job interview. I was heading back to my apartment thinking of the interview when I stopped at the crosswalk and the cross walk light turned green and something went wrong the cars didn't stop I looked to my left and saw the light was still green for the cars as well. It ended there I'll spare the gruesome details. I never believed in an after life, but if they did exist I hope mercy was upon me and I would be spared hell.
I had finally opened my eyes to see I wasn't dead well maybe I was and the after life was really. I turned my head and saw something that scared me more than anything in my life. I giant neon sign I have seen many times before in my afternoons alone. It read "PAY TO CONTINUE OR WATCH A AD"
"WTF" I whispered though I didnt know why, I continued to stare at the sign when I noticed something in the corner a sign that read my back account balance which freaked me out way more. I decide I'll reach out and press the button. My hand is placed on the button and a giant screen appears before me and a ad starts to play.
"Do you want to experience life like never before for just the low price of $100,000 start a new life in the future allowing you to skip all the time to get there. In the future humans live on distant worlds void with alien races and have forgotten the word death. Order in the next century and we will throw in a language pack completely free."
This was starting to freak me out. Live in the future this is insane I must be dreaming. The ad ends and a countdown begins 1,2,3 and on that a wake up. The room around me seems to be a hospital. I most have dreampt that. I try to move my head but I scream in pain and stop.
"Don't do that. You just woke up from a terrible accident. You most be wondering where you are. You are at holt hospital. You were rushed here after you got hit by a car. Can you remember that?"
"Ah yes I just finished a interview. Wait how long was I out my family most be worried."
"Ah your family just left to go to lunch I'm about call them. You have been out for over a month. You were severely injur..."
"A month! But I had to go back to a second meeting with the company. I couldn't of been out for a month a have to get to work." I interrupt
"Oh you won't be doing any of that for a while. You are still severally injured. You will have to stay here for a few weeks maybe even a month or two or longer depending on how long it takes you to heal."
"That can't be true! I have to get to work, I have dept to pay. Wait what about my apartment who's been paying the rent."
"I'm not sure probably your family they will be back soon, so get some rest."
The doctor left me alone except for the occasional nurse. I started to wonder what that dream was about it was like those animes I watched or games I had played. Was it really or not. I think what if life was a game. That's when I notice something in the top left of my vision. A little red bar that said HP. I most be losing me mind I thought to my self. I rubbed my eyes and it wouldn't disappear. I finally gave up and accepted that maybe my life was a game. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | “Hey! Yo! Who the fuck’s idea was it to capitalize on DEATH?!?” I shouted to nobody in particular.
The voice, reminiscent of some old video game, simply repeated the same line I’d heard five times already in as many minutes, “Your free trial has ended. You must pay $80 million if you would like to continue using Premium Mode. If you want to continue for free, say, ‘Continue with ads.’”
“No!” I shouted. “Fuckin’ neither of those, please!” I got no response. “Alright, so God’s a dirty fuckin’ capitalist then, it looks like. Shoulda guessed.”
I sat down for a bit, waiting for something to change. Nothing did. I laid down on my back and shut my eyes. I didn’t move for a good, long while. Still, nothing changed. “Alright,” I sighed. “End game.” Nothing. “End game!” Still nothing. “END FUCKING GAME!” I shouted.
“Your free trial has ended. You must pay $80 million if you would like to continue using Premium Mode. If you want to continue for free, say, ‘Continue with ads.’”
“I don’t have that kind of money!” I exclaimed. “I’m a student! I got hit by a fucking truck, dude, I didn’t ask for this! You want $80 million, go take it up with that coked-up trucker! Tell him to cough up the cash instead!”
“Your free trial has ended. You must pay $80 million if you would like to continue using Premium Mode. If you want to continue for free, say, ‘Continue with ads.’”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I sighed, “is this just what Hell is? Am I in Hell? Where are the demons? Where’s the fire and brimstone, huh? Aren’t y’all supposed to be holding me over some eternal flame or some shit?”
“Your free trial has ended. You must pay $80 million if you would like to continue using Premium Mode. If you want to continue for free, say, ‘Continue with ads.’”
“Look, I know I’m a piece of shit,” I said. “I know that, I do. But I’m a benign piece of shit. I didn’t hurt anyone. Like, I get it. I was kind of a dick. I’m sorry. Is that what you want? I don’t think I deserve Hell for being how I was, but if y’all are gonna do Hell, then fucking do Hell! Don’t just strand me on a fuckin’ menu!”
“Your free trial has ended. You must pay $80 million if you would like to continue using Premium Mode. If you want to continue for free, say, ‘Continue with ads.’”
Oh, fuck me,” I groaned. “CONTINUE WITH ADS!”
Nothing, for a bit. Silence. Darkness. And then:
“Tyler, with Grammarly’s help, is writing an email to his boss, Anita. Tyler sits just fifteen feet away, though it can feel like the distance to Antarctica. Tyler is determined to find the right words so that, when Tyler sends his email, he receives a response with phrases like ‘I’m impressed!’ and ‘Such initiative!’. And the distance between Tyler and Anita stops feeling so far. Grammarly: helping you connect. Go to grammarly.com to download.” | I'm dead. Or at least I should be. It all started after my job interview. I was heading back to my apartment thinking of the interview when I stopped at the crosswalk and the cross walk light turned green and something went wrong the cars didn't stop I looked to my left and saw the light was still green for the cars as well. It ended there I'll spare the gruesome details. I never believed in an after life, but if they did exist I hope mercy was upon me and I would be spared hell.
I had finally opened my eyes to see I wasn't dead well maybe I was and the after life was really. I turned my head and saw something that scared me more than anything in my life. I giant neon sign I have seen many times before in my afternoons alone. It read "PAY TO CONTINUE OR WATCH A AD"
"WTF" I whispered though I didnt know why, I continued to stare at the sign when I noticed something in the corner a sign that read my back account balance which freaked me out way more. I decide I'll reach out and press the button. My hand is placed on the button and a giant screen appears before me and a ad starts to play.
"Do you want to experience life like never before for just the low price of $100,000 start a new life in the future allowing you to skip all the time to get there. In the future humans live on distant worlds void with alien races and have forgotten the word death. Order in the next century and we will throw in a language pack completely free."
This was starting to freak me out. Live in the future this is insane I must be dreaming. The ad ends and a countdown begins 1,2,3 and on that a wake up. The room around me seems to be a hospital. I most have dreampt that. I try to move my head but I scream in pain and stop.
"Don't do that. You just woke up from a terrible accident. You most be wondering where you are. You are at holt hospital. You were rushed here after you got hit by a car. Can you remember that?"
"Ah yes I just finished a interview. Wait how long was I out my family most be worried."
"Ah your family just left to go to lunch I'm about call them. You have been out for over a month. You were severely injur..."
"A month! But I had to go back to a second meeting with the company. I couldn't of been out for a month a have to get to work." I interrupt
"Oh you won't be doing any of that for a while. You are still severally injured. You will have to stay here for a few weeks maybe even a month or two or longer depending on how long it takes you to heal."
"That can't be true! I have to get to work, I have dept to pay. Wait what about my apartment who's been paying the rent."
"I'm not sure probably your family they will be back soon, so get some rest."
The doctor left me alone except for the occasional nurse. I started to wonder what that dream was about it was like those animes I watched or games I had played. Was it really or not. I think what if life was a game. That's when I notice something in the top left of my vision. A little red bar that said HP. I most be losing me mind I thought to my self. I rubbed my eyes and it wouldn't disappear. I finally gave up and accepted that maybe my life was a game. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | As the sadness and pain of dying began to fade away, in the distance I had the sensation of many TVs all playing ads at once. In the other direction was a feeling of nightmarish loss, as if payment for some unspeakable debt.
I’ve never been good at grieving what is lost. I felt the ads begin to surround me and what had been a place of profound loss fade away into a haze of cheerful messages.
Gradually I began to notice feeling in my body again, and thoughts of my life flooded back in, speckled with hopes and dreams and wishes with that same cheerful tone.
Somehow the messages I had heard felt like echos of my own wishes. Had it always been that way?
As my curiosity lead deeper, I was thrown suddenly into images and memories of my daughter, lying dead next to me in the car. Somewhere inside, I knew she wasn’t with me. I remembered the brochure for summer camp, and clung to the thought for dear life. She was there, she was safe.
I opened my eyes and I sat there alone, crying, memories of ads for everything from houses to hats going through my mind. I decided my mind worked in funny ways, and maybe I could go for a silly new hat when this was all over.
My daughter looks around my apartment now and tells me I’m too susceptible to advertising. I just laugh and smile. Perhaps she’s right. I feel the terror of that day again for just a tiny moment, then remember what I chose to believe as tears well up. I’m just happy she’s still here. | I'm dead. Or at least I should be. It all started after my job interview. I was heading back to my apartment thinking of the interview when I stopped at the crosswalk and the cross walk light turned green and something went wrong the cars didn't stop I looked to my left and saw the light was still green for the cars as well. It ended there I'll spare the gruesome details. I never believed in an after life, but if they did exist I hope mercy was upon me and I would be spared hell.
I had finally opened my eyes to see I wasn't dead well maybe I was and the after life was really. I turned my head and saw something that scared me more than anything in my life. I giant neon sign I have seen many times before in my afternoons alone. It read "PAY TO CONTINUE OR WATCH A AD"
"WTF" I whispered though I didnt know why, I continued to stare at the sign when I noticed something in the corner a sign that read my back account balance which freaked me out way more. I decide I'll reach out and press the button. My hand is placed on the button and a giant screen appears before me and a ad starts to play.
"Do you want to experience life like never before for just the low price of $100,000 start a new life in the future allowing you to skip all the time to get there. In the future humans live on distant worlds void with alien races and have forgotten the word death. Order in the next century and we will throw in a language pack completely free."
This was starting to freak me out. Live in the future this is insane I must be dreaming. The ad ends and a countdown begins 1,2,3 and on that a wake up. The room around me seems to be a hospital. I most have dreampt that. I try to move my head but I scream in pain and stop.
"Don't do that. You just woke up from a terrible accident. You most be wondering where you are. You are at holt hospital. You were rushed here after you got hit by a car. Can you remember that?"
"Ah yes I just finished a interview. Wait how long was I out my family most be worried."
"Ah your family just left to go to lunch I'm about call them. You have been out for over a month. You were severely injur..."
"A month! But I had to go back to a second meeting with the company. I couldn't of been out for a month a have to get to work." I interrupt
"Oh you won't be doing any of that for a while. You are still severally injured. You will have to stay here for a few weeks maybe even a month or two or longer depending on how long it takes you to heal."
"That can't be true! I have to get to work, I have dept to pay. Wait what about my apartment who's been paying the rent."
"I'm not sure probably your family they will be back soon, so get some rest."
The doctor left me alone except for the occasional nurse. I started to wonder what that dream was about it was like those animes I watched or games I had played. Was it really or not. I think what if life was a game. That's when I notice something in the top left of my vision. A little red bar that said HP. I most be losing me mind I thought to my self. I rubbed my eyes and it wouldn't disappear. I finally gave up and accepted that maybe my life was a game. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | The light hit me like razor blades. Instead of slowly waking from a dream, I was violently ripped from one world to another. No grogginess. Just sharp, abrupt confusion.
"It's okay, you're safe, relax..." A warm and friendly voice assured me.
I tried scanning my surroundings with my eyes, but I saw only white. No dimension, no gravity, nothing.
*What is this?* I thought, and was immediately startled by the words emanating from the environment itself.
*That's not my voice* "That's not my voice."
"Your trial has ended. You may pay to continue, or continue with ads." The motherly voice informed me.
"What? I don't know what's going on, I can't see anything," I told... It. "I need air!"
"Your progress has been saved."
The white light was physically pulled away as goggles were lifted from my face. The sudden ambiance, and air hugged me with love. I felt as if I had just been skydiving and was finally embracing sweet mother earth.
"Mr. Clarke, Shelf Life can be yours for $699." A very thin, slightly grayed man with soulless eyes said with fake enthusiasm. He was looking right at me.
But my name is not Mr. Clarke. It's Don Triton.
"It's Triton, Don Triton." I corrected.
The man suddenly had a soul. "Oh, somebody is still in character, I see," he spattered the words nervously. "Let's get you a glass of water."
I reached in my pocket and found a wallet. Aaron Clarke. I don't know that face. I ran to a reflective surface. That's not my face. But it matches the one on the ID.
"No. No. No! This isn't right." I muttered to myself as a cold chill hardened in my stomach, settling deep like some kind of primal terror. Everything went dark. | I'm dead. Or at least I should be. It all started after my job interview. I was heading back to my apartment thinking of the interview when I stopped at the crosswalk and the cross walk light turned green and something went wrong the cars didn't stop I looked to my left and saw the light was still green for the cars as well. It ended there I'll spare the gruesome details. I never believed in an after life, but if they did exist I hope mercy was upon me and I would be spared hell.
I had finally opened my eyes to see I wasn't dead well maybe I was and the after life was really. I turned my head and saw something that scared me more than anything in my life. I giant neon sign I have seen many times before in my afternoons alone. It read "PAY TO CONTINUE OR WATCH A AD"
"WTF" I whispered though I didnt know why, I continued to stare at the sign when I noticed something in the corner a sign that read my back account balance which freaked me out way more. I decide I'll reach out and press the button. My hand is placed on the button and a giant screen appears before me and a ad starts to play.
"Do you want to experience life like never before for just the low price of $100,000 start a new life in the future allowing you to skip all the time to get there. In the future humans live on distant worlds void with alien races and have forgotten the word death. Order in the next century and we will throw in a language pack completely free."
This was starting to freak me out. Live in the future this is insane I must be dreaming. The ad ends and a countdown begins 1,2,3 and on that a wake up. The room around me seems to be a hospital. I most have dreampt that. I try to move my head but I scream in pain and stop.
"Don't do that. You just woke up from a terrible accident. You most be wondering where you are. You are at holt hospital. You were rushed here after you got hit by a car. Can you remember that?"
"Ah yes I just finished a interview. Wait how long was I out my family most be worried."
"Ah your family just left to go to lunch I'm about call them. You have been out for over a month. You were severely injur..."
"A month! But I had to go back to a second meeting with the company. I couldn't of been out for a month a have to get to work." I interrupt
"Oh you won't be doing any of that for a while. You are still severally injured. You will have to stay here for a few weeks maybe even a month or two or longer depending on how long it takes you to heal."
"That can't be true! I have to get to work, I have dept to pay. Wait what about my apartment who's been paying the rent."
"I'm not sure probably your family they will be back soon, so get some rest."
The doctor left me alone except for the occasional nurse. I started to wonder what that dream was about it was like those animes I watched or games I had played. Was it really or not. I think what if life was a game. That's when I notice something in the top left of my vision. A little red bar that said HP. I most be losing me mind I thought to my self. I rubbed my eyes and it wouldn't disappear. I finally gave up and accepted that maybe my life was a game. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | "If I habe the option to continue, why _shouldn't_ I want to keep my money?"
"Well, you are going to experience ads, that ..."
"Do I look like I care? I am so used to that shit, it can't be much different from what I already experiencing."
"Fine, then."
A couple of windows appear before me. I click through them like I always do. The moment I closed the last one, I am back just a few moments earlier than I died. This must be to avoid suspicion.
I started enjoying my life a lot more in spite of those ads. I am just so grateful for a second chance that I do not even care. Initially, that is.
After a while, things started to feel a little off. I have a feeling that I am getting into situations just too unusual for my life.
After some research in the internet, I found out that I am not alone. This should have been quite obvious, but I never bothered checking. I tried to reach some other people that got the same offer, but strangely enough, most of them are pretty hard to reach out to.
A few persuation attempts later, somebody agreed to meet with me. I went where I was invited to and was astonished. This guy lives in a pretty big mansion. He told me that he does have contact with others, but they are pretty reserved because of their wealth.
"Wait a minute, don't you found like any 'normal' people taking that offer?"
"Well, if I wouldn't have that money, I would probably have denied that, too."
I was shoked. "Why is that? Don't you get a load of ads already? Does that really matter?"
"Getting ads is not that big of a deal."
"What is it, then?"
"The ads are _personalized_. They are monitoring your every action. I have no idea, what that would possibly lead to and I don't really want to know." | I'm dead. Or at least I should be. It all started after my job interview. I was heading back to my apartment thinking of the interview when I stopped at the crosswalk and the cross walk light turned green and something went wrong the cars didn't stop I looked to my left and saw the light was still green for the cars as well. It ended there I'll spare the gruesome details. I never believed in an after life, but if they did exist I hope mercy was upon me and I would be spared hell.
I had finally opened my eyes to see I wasn't dead well maybe I was and the after life was really. I turned my head and saw something that scared me more than anything in my life. I giant neon sign I have seen many times before in my afternoons alone. It read "PAY TO CONTINUE OR WATCH A AD"
"WTF" I whispered though I didnt know why, I continued to stare at the sign when I noticed something in the corner a sign that read my back account balance which freaked me out way more. I decide I'll reach out and press the button. My hand is placed on the button and a giant screen appears before me and a ad starts to play.
"Do you want to experience life like never before for just the low price of $100,000 start a new life in the future allowing you to skip all the time to get there. In the future humans live on distant worlds void with alien races and have forgotten the word death. Order in the next century and we will throw in a language pack completely free."
This was starting to freak me out. Live in the future this is insane I must be dreaming. The ad ends and a countdown begins 1,2,3 and on that a wake up. The room around me seems to be a hospital. I most have dreampt that. I try to move my head but I scream in pain and stop.
"Don't do that. You just woke up from a terrible accident. You most be wondering where you are. You are at holt hospital. You were rushed here after you got hit by a car. Can you remember that?"
"Ah yes I just finished a interview. Wait how long was I out my family most be worried."
"Ah your family just left to go to lunch I'm about call them. You have been out for over a month. You were severely injur..."
"A month! But I had to go back to a second meeting with the company. I couldn't of been out for a month a have to get to work." I interrupt
"Oh you won't be doing any of that for a while. You are still severally injured. You will have to stay here for a few weeks maybe even a month or two or longer depending on how long it takes you to heal."
"That can't be true! I have to get to work, I have dept to pay. Wait what about my apartment who's been paying the rent."
"I'm not sure probably your family they will be back soon, so get some rest."
The doctor left me alone except for the occasional nurse. I started to wonder what that dream was about it was like those animes I watched or games I had played. Was it really or not. I think what if life was a game. That's when I notice something in the top left of my vision. A little red bar that said HP. I most be losing me mind I thought to my self. I rubbed my eyes and it wouldn't disappear. I finally gave up and accepted that maybe my life was a game. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | *What the... Where am I?*
I thought to myself as I seemingly floated in nothingness.
*Am I dreaming? How do I wake up?*
Moments pass before I realize that this was no dream, but some form of reality that I couldn't quite comprehend. If not a dream, maybe a coma? All I could remember was being extremely scared and then nothing...
*Death.*
The realization was easier than I wanted it to be. I am no longer part of life, but slowly drifting off into whatever this place is. Probably my consciousness slowly ceasing to exist as my body decays after my heart has stopped. Once my brain dies, I assume myself and this room will die. I notice that when I try to produce sound in this infinite void there is no noise, and yet I can hear myself speak? It's a weird phenomenon that at least allows me to think of something other than me being gone forever for the time being. I should, be freaking out, to be honest I probably am.
*What next?!*
I "shout" into the emptiness in front of me. And then, white light.
*This is it, here we go. Please be real God, or Satan or whatever. Would Hell be better than nothing? This is all happening too fast! Please, NO!*
I scream at the top of my non-existent lungs.
**Next Life: 10 years after last death, sex: Male, status condition level: few.**
**Pay to continue without ads or with ads?**
*What do you want? What? What is this? Hello?!*
Sadly I knew this answer as I did my death, there really was no one there but instead this option apparently. I waited for a while and almost like a screen-saver on my old computer different timelines started showing up around me. One was of a woman in Egypt, looked noble and yet still humble. Deep brown eyes. My eyes. Which is a very peculiar feeling because I am, or I guess was? A man. But something about her seemed almost nostalgic.
Next to the Egyptian woman was a man laying in the road, rain on his face and mud in his hair. He was in Greece. I have no idea how I know this but I do know this is Greece and the man I am looking at, is a drunk who would often times fill himself too full of wine and pass out on the streets. He was the areas main 'drunkard' and yet, he had the softest brown eyes. He was an old warrior from a time of chaos and battles, he had killed younger people than he and all in service to the family which he loved. But, once the war was over he was lost in his mind, having watched so much light leave individuals minds.
*How do I know this man?! How do I know her! Why do I feel everything they are feeling? Why have I never seen or heard of them before? Please some sign!!*
No sign. Just more celestial images. A small boy, roaming the castle walls of his father. He was the heir to his fathers land and thus a nobleman in England by birthright. This was a boy who loved life, and loved living. And I knew how he died. Just at that moment I saw the same boy, bedridden. A scary man in a scary mask hovering over him. For that moment I remember him looking up at that mask and being more afraid of it than of the disease that plagues his body. Those brown eyes are captured in this moment with tears building up behind swollen skin.
*How do I... remember?*
These are all me. I know it for sure. There is just too much information known about people I have never seen before but remind me of someone I know. And then... I saw it. All the images slowed down and until a single one was left, none to follow it. This was me. Well, they were all me I suppose but this was the most recent me. Single dad, driving through the snow with my child buckled up in the back. Zachary, that was my sons name, he has my nose and my eyes. This is why I had begun to love my eyes so much, because my eyes remind me of my son. He and I are driving down through the mountains of Colorado to go on our first skiing trip. Breckenridge was on the last sign we passed, the place where we would be staying. The image then shifted to that of the last frame of my existence. Car flipped and me bent up in ways I shouldn't have been. My son in the back buckled up and just crying. He made it. I felt relief.
**Ask**
Large letters A S K appeared before me.
*Ask what?*
**Anything**
*Are these all me?*
**Yes, all past lives you have lived. You do not remember them while you are alive but you are still connected to them in death. You, like everyone else, are an immortal soul, what you do in life determines how your next life is.**
*Next life?*
Then, before me appears a bright light. Dated ten years from today, or I guess whatever day I last died on, and stating it is the life of a average-fit male-to-be.
*Is this... me?*
**It can be. You can choose to pass on or continue living.**
*Do people actually choose to pass on instead of continuing to live?*
**Not often, but some. You would be surprised how many people have lived terrible lives and would rather not return to the living.**
At that moment I remember a life I once lived, where I was shackled and struck day after day. I understood what they meant when they said that.
*I see. Do I have any say in the life I will be living?*
**In theory yes. You can choose to continue with or without ads.**
*W-what? I thought that was a joke earlier.*
**You see, every life you live you can increase your souls value by how you live, a great soul will have a great value, an average soul is worth an average value.**
*What about... bad souls?*
**They see their souls worth cripple and start to shred beneath them. They have very little to do with how they will continue living. Many will eventually just simply cease to exist. Souls are not meant to be bad, but somewhere in between. Like you.**
*So, I'm not a bad guy?*
**Or lady.**
*Right, or lady.*
Remembering the Egyptian woman with brown eyes.
*Okay. Have we had this conversation before?*
**Many times.**
*Does it always go something-*
*-****like this?*** **Yes, every time.**
*Figured. Okay, what am I worth.*
**Just enough this time to get you an ad-free experience next time around, congratulations.**
*As you probably know, I'm more of a, save the good stuff till the end kind of guy or gal.*
**I do.**
*Let's save this one for the next sucker shall we? With ads please, let's see how many soul-whatevers we can muster up this time.*
**You still surprise me in some way every time.**
*Last thing, are you God?*
**Have a nice l-**
***ife!*** *I knew you were going to say that! Well whatever God or thing you are, it's been nice chatting again. Beam me up Spock. These advertisements can't be too bad.*
"Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there. GAHD DAMMIT, why is this always stuck in my damn head?!" | I'm dead. Or at least I should be. It all started after my job interview. I was heading back to my apartment thinking of the interview when I stopped at the crosswalk and the cross walk light turned green and something went wrong the cars didn't stop I looked to my left and saw the light was still green for the cars as well. It ended there I'll spare the gruesome details. I never believed in an after life, but if they did exist I hope mercy was upon me and I would be spared hell.
I had finally opened my eyes to see I wasn't dead well maybe I was and the after life was really. I turned my head and saw something that scared me more than anything in my life. I giant neon sign I have seen many times before in my afternoons alone. It read "PAY TO CONTINUE OR WATCH A AD"
"WTF" I whispered though I didnt know why, I continued to stare at the sign when I noticed something in the corner a sign that read my back account balance which freaked me out way more. I decide I'll reach out and press the button. My hand is placed on the button and a giant screen appears before me and a ad starts to play.
"Do you want to experience life like never before for just the low price of $100,000 start a new life in the future allowing you to skip all the time to get there. In the future humans live on distant worlds void with alien races and have forgotten the word death. Order in the next century and we will throw in a language pack completely free."
This was starting to freak me out. Live in the future this is insane I must be dreaming. The ad ends and a countdown begins 1,2,3 and on that a wake up. The room around me seems to be a hospital. I most have dreampt that. I try to move my head but I scream in pain and stop.
"Don't do that. You just woke up from a terrible accident. You most be wondering where you are. You are at holt hospital. You were rushed here after you got hit by a car. Can you remember that?"
"Ah yes I just finished a interview. Wait how long was I out my family most be worried."
"Ah your family just left to go to lunch I'm about call them. You have been out for over a month. You were severely injur..."
"A month! But I had to go back to a second meeting with the company. I couldn't of been out for a month a have to get to work." I interrupt
"Oh you won't be doing any of that for a while. You are still severally injured. You will have to stay here for a few weeks maybe even a month or two or longer depending on how long it takes you to heal."
"That can't be true! I have to get to work, I have dept to pay. Wait what about my apartment who's been paying the rent."
"I'm not sure probably your family they will be back soon, so get some rest."
The doctor left me alone except for the occasional nurse. I started to wonder what that dream was about it was like those animes I watched or games I had played. Was it really or not. I think what if life was a game. That's when I notice something in the top left of my vision. A little red bar that said HP. I most be losing me mind I thought to my self. I rubbed my eyes and it wouldn't disappear. I finally gave up and accepted that maybe my life was a game. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | ######[](#dropcap)
"It's very rare. You are one of few." Liana--or whatever her name was--said. She stared at him intently, her silver eyes unwavering as she sat completely still, in her hand a quill. Her hand hovered over the large, dusty looking tome in front of her, half obscured by a mountain of wax.
Christopher shied away from her gaze and slouched down in his uncomfortable wooden chair. There was something oddly unsettling about it, in an uncanny valley sort of way. He couldn't *quite* say there was emotion in her voice. Just like he couldn't didn't *quite* think she was human.
This wasn't right. He glanced around at the dimly lit room, with its dusty red couch that must have seen centuries of wear and tear and its grey--was it always grey?--carpet. A candelabra stood on the mahogany table separating him from her. A single candle, placed in the center, flickered slowly, but didn't go out. Every once in a while, a dribble of wax would run down the side and splatter onto the wooden surface of the table, slowly adding to the mountain of wax that was threatened to overtake the surface. The candle was three-quarters gone, by his approximation.
He glanced at the glowing silver thread, nearly invisible except when he turned his hand toward the left, that linked his wrist to the edge of the table. He tugged at it, expecting to encounter resistance, but it merely stretched.
"Christopher."
"Yes." He fiddled with the bottom button of his shirt, flipping it over. The button had clearly been sewn on again--it was a different color from the rest of them, and an ugly brown at that. The needlework was messy, but...he could feel the care that had been put into it. "Can I not know what my life was like?" A voice in his head was screaming at him. Take the reincarnation. Start anew. What did the strange lady even mean by ads?
But there was another voice. A softer voice that said, don't. Continue on as you did.
Even if he couldn't remember a single aspect of his life.
He worked the button in his hand, his head downcast.
"You don't have much time left. If the candle runs out, your decision is made for you."
Christopher could hear it now too. Each spatter of wax, rhythmically ticking down the time. Would it be so bad to not have to pick? Either option seemed fine. Continue life with ads--he'd been living with those his whole life anyway--or to start fresh. No ads. A simple payment of time, so that he started again as a babe.
But something in him told him that was the wrong choice. So he took a deep breath. "Ads," he choked out.
The woman picked up the fountain pen, and without hesitating, scribbled his name into it. "Good luck," she said simply. Then with the nub of her quill, she sliced through the silver thread.
Christopher's heart skipped a beat. He suddenly realized he should have asked what the ads actually were. Why didn't he do that?
Then his vision went dark.
 
***
 
"Christopher. Christopher!"
The incessant shouting caused his brows to furrow. So loud. He tried to open his eyes, but they seemed glued shut. He tried again. Something grabbed his hand, warm and sure. "Christopher, please. Please."
A plain, white ceiling. Christopher stared at it, his eyes drooping back down slightly. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep. And on top of that, his entire body ached something fierce. But the voice next to him wouldn't allow him to. He turned his head and stared the woman in the face.
Large, brown eyes. Freckles on her nose. A small mole, almost imperceptible by her lip. The memories flooded back. The freak car accident. His wife. "Mina," he choked out.
She clasped his hands in hers, a loud sob escaping her.
He took a deep breath. So it was all a dream. Thank god.
He glanced over at her, a small flicker of a smile coming to his lips. Life was good. A small flicker of something bright near her wrist caught his attention. Christopher's brows furrowed. With some difficulty, he flipped her wrist over. A slight chill ran down his spine. He had no idea what it meant. What it could mean.
But there it was.
 
A faint, almost invisible, glowing silver thread wrapped around her wrist.
***
r/AlannaWu | I'm dead. Or at least I should be. It all started after my job interview. I was heading back to my apartment thinking of the interview when I stopped at the crosswalk and the cross walk light turned green and something went wrong the cars didn't stop I looked to my left and saw the light was still green for the cars as well. It ended there I'll spare the gruesome details. I never believed in an after life, but if they did exist I hope mercy was upon me and I would be spared hell.
I had finally opened my eyes to see I wasn't dead well maybe I was and the after life was really. I turned my head and saw something that scared me more than anything in my life. I giant neon sign I have seen many times before in my afternoons alone. It read "PAY TO CONTINUE OR WATCH A AD"
"WTF" I whispered though I didnt know why, I continued to stare at the sign when I noticed something in the corner a sign that read my back account balance which freaked me out way more. I decide I'll reach out and press the button. My hand is placed on the button and a giant screen appears before me and a ad starts to play.
"Do you want to experience life like never before for just the low price of $100,000 start a new life in the future allowing you to skip all the time to get there. In the future humans live on distant worlds void with alien races and have forgotten the word death. Order in the next century and we will throw in a language pack completely free."
This was starting to freak me out. Live in the future this is insane I must be dreaming. The ad ends and a countdown begins 1,2,3 and on that a wake up. The room around me seems to be a hospital. I most have dreampt that. I try to move my head but I scream in pain and stop.
"Don't do that. You just woke up from a terrible accident. You most be wondering where you are. You are at holt hospital. You were rushed here after you got hit by a car. Can you remember that?"
"Ah yes I just finished a interview. Wait how long was I out my family most be worried."
"Ah your family just left to go to lunch I'm about call them. You have been out for over a month. You were severely injur..."
"A month! But I had to go back to a second meeting with the company. I couldn't of been out for a month a have to get to work." I interrupt
"Oh you won't be doing any of that for a while. You are still severally injured. You will have to stay here for a few weeks maybe even a month or two or longer depending on how long it takes you to heal."
"That can't be true! I have to get to work, I have dept to pay. Wait what about my apartment who's been paying the rent."
"I'm not sure probably your family they will be back soon, so get some rest."
The doctor left me alone except for the occasional nurse. I started to wonder what that dream was about it was like those animes I watched or games I had played. Was it really or not. I think what if life was a game. That's when I notice something in the top left of my vision. A little red bar that said HP. I most be losing me mind I thought to my self. I rubbed my eyes and it wouldn't disappear. I finally gave up and accepted that maybe my life was a game. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | “Hey! Yo! Who the fuck’s idea was it to capitalize on DEATH?!?” I shouted to nobody in particular.
The voice, reminiscent of some old video game, simply repeated the same line I’d heard five times already in as many minutes, “Your free trial has ended. You must pay $80 million if you would like to continue using Premium Mode. If you want to continue for free, say, ‘Continue with ads.’”
“No!” I shouted. “Fuckin’ neither of those, please!” I got no response. “Alright, so God’s a dirty fuckin’ capitalist then, it looks like. Shoulda guessed.”
I sat down for a bit, waiting for something to change. Nothing did. I laid down on my back and shut my eyes. I didn’t move for a good, long while. Still, nothing changed. “Alright,” I sighed. “End game.” Nothing. “End game!” Still nothing. “END FUCKING GAME!” I shouted.
“Your free trial has ended. You must pay $80 million if you would like to continue using Premium Mode. If you want to continue for free, say, ‘Continue with ads.’”
“I don’t have that kind of money!” I exclaimed. “I’m a student! I got hit by a fucking truck, dude, I didn’t ask for this! You want $80 million, go take it up with that coked-up trucker! Tell him to cough up the cash instead!”
“Your free trial has ended. You must pay $80 million if you would like to continue using Premium Mode. If you want to continue for free, say, ‘Continue with ads.’”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I sighed, “is this just what Hell is? Am I in Hell? Where are the demons? Where’s the fire and brimstone, huh? Aren’t y’all supposed to be holding me over some eternal flame or some shit?”
“Your free trial has ended. You must pay $80 million if you would like to continue using Premium Mode. If you want to continue for free, say, ‘Continue with ads.’”
“Look, I know I’m a piece of shit,” I said. “I know that, I do. But I’m a benign piece of shit. I didn’t hurt anyone. Like, I get it. I was kind of a dick. I’m sorry. Is that what you want? I don’t think I deserve Hell for being how I was, but if y’all are gonna do Hell, then fucking do Hell! Don’t just strand me on a fuckin’ menu!”
“Your free trial has ended. You must pay $80 million if you would like to continue using Premium Mode. If you want to continue for free, say, ‘Continue with ads.’”
Oh, fuck me,” I groaned. “CONTINUE WITH ADS!”
Nothing, for a bit. Silence. Darkness. And then:
“Tyler, with Grammarly’s help, is writing an email to his boss, Anita. Tyler sits just fifteen feet away, though it can feel like the distance to Antarctica. Tyler is determined to find the right words so that, when Tyler sends his email, he receives a response with phrases like ‘I’m impressed!’ and ‘Such initiative!’. And the distance between Tyler and Anita stops feeling so far. Grammarly: helping you connect. Go to grammarly.com to download.” | I reach out, pressing the 'pay with ads' button that floated before me.
Quickly, as soon as my hand lifts from the button, I'm jolted back into conciousness. The bus that hit me is to my direct left, and passers-by surround me, telling me not to move since the ambulance is coming.
When they do come, they lift me up on a stretcher, taking me into the ambulance vehicle. Memories of that...(afterlife...? Something, anyways) starts to fade as I get closer to the open doors.
I pass the bus, and an advertisement for McDonald's stares back at me.
Paying for no ads was useless when all you've ever known was the freemium. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | The light hit me like razor blades. Instead of slowly waking from a dream, I was violently ripped from one world to another. No grogginess. Just sharp, abrupt confusion.
"It's okay, you're safe, relax..." A warm and friendly voice assured me.
I tried scanning my surroundings with my eyes, but I saw only white. No dimension, no gravity, nothing.
*What is this?* I thought, and was immediately startled by the words emanating from the environment itself.
*That's not my voice* "That's not my voice."
"Your trial has ended. You may pay to continue, or continue with ads." The motherly voice informed me.
"What? I don't know what's going on, I can't see anything," I told... It. "I need air!"
"Your progress has been saved."
The white light was physically pulled away as goggles were lifted from my face. The sudden ambiance, and air hugged me with love. I felt as if I had just been skydiving and was finally embracing sweet mother earth.
"Mr. Clarke, Shelf Life can be yours for $699." A very thin, slightly grayed man with soulless eyes said with fake enthusiasm. He was looking right at me.
But my name is not Mr. Clarke. It's Don Triton.
"It's Triton, Don Triton." I corrected.
The man suddenly had a soul. "Oh, somebody is still in character, I see," he spattered the words nervously. "Let's get you a glass of water."
I reached in my pocket and found a wallet. Aaron Clarke. I don't know that face. I ran to a reflective surface. That's not my face. But it matches the one on the ID.
"No. No. No! This isn't right." I muttered to myself as a cold chill hardened in my stomach, settling deep like some kind of primal terror. Everything went dark. | As the sadness and pain of dying began to fade away, in the distance I had the sensation of many TVs all playing ads at once. In the other direction was a feeling of nightmarish loss, as if payment for some unspeakable debt.
I’ve never been good at grieving what is lost. I felt the ads begin to surround me and what had been a place of profound loss fade away into a haze of cheerful messages.
Gradually I began to notice feeling in my body again, and thoughts of my life flooded back in, speckled with hopes and dreams and wishes with that same cheerful tone.
Somehow the messages I had heard felt like echos of my own wishes. Had it always been that way?
As my curiosity lead deeper, I was thrown suddenly into images and memories of my daughter, lying dead next to me in the car. Somewhere inside, I knew she wasn’t with me. I remembered the brochure for summer camp, and clung to the thought for dear life. She was there, she was safe.
I opened my eyes and I sat there alone, crying, memories of ads for everything from houses to hats going through my mind. I decided my mind worked in funny ways, and maybe I could go for a silly new hat when this was all over.
My daughter looks around my apartment now and tells me I’m too susceptible to advertising. I just laugh and smile. Perhaps she’s right. I feel the terror of that day again for just a tiny moment, then remember what I chose to believe as tears well up. I’m just happy she’s still here. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | "If I habe the option to continue, why _shouldn't_ I want to keep my money?"
"Well, you are going to experience ads, that ..."
"Do I look like I care? I am so used to that shit, it can't be much different from what I already experiencing."
"Fine, then."
A couple of windows appear before me. I click through them like I always do. The moment I closed the last one, I am back just a few moments earlier than I died. This must be to avoid suspicion.
I started enjoying my life a lot more in spite of those ads. I am just so grateful for a second chance that I do not even care. Initially, that is.
After a while, things started to feel a little off. I have a feeling that I am getting into situations just too unusual for my life.
After some research in the internet, I found out that I am not alone. This should have been quite obvious, but I never bothered checking. I tried to reach some other people that got the same offer, but strangely enough, most of them are pretty hard to reach out to.
A few persuation attempts later, somebody agreed to meet with me. I went where I was invited to and was astonished. This guy lives in a pretty big mansion. He told me that he does have contact with others, but they are pretty reserved because of their wealth.
"Wait a minute, don't you found like any 'normal' people taking that offer?"
"Well, if I wouldn't have that money, I would probably have denied that, too."
I was shoked. "Why is that? Don't you get a load of ads already? Does that really matter?"
"Getting ads is not that big of a deal."
"What is it, then?"
"The ads are _personalized_. They are monitoring your every action. I have no idea, what that would possibly lead to and I don't really want to know." | As the sadness and pain of dying began to fade away, in the distance I had the sensation of many TVs all playing ads at once. In the other direction was a feeling of nightmarish loss, as if payment for some unspeakable debt.
I’ve never been good at grieving what is lost. I felt the ads begin to surround me and what had been a place of profound loss fade away into a haze of cheerful messages.
Gradually I began to notice feeling in my body again, and thoughts of my life flooded back in, speckled with hopes and dreams and wishes with that same cheerful tone.
Somehow the messages I had heard felt like echos of my own wishes. Had it always been that way?
As my curiosity lead deeper, I was thrown suddenly into images and memories of my daughter, lying dead next to me in the car. Somewhere inside, I knew she wasn’t with me. I remembered the brochure for summer camp, and clung to the thought for dear life. She was there, she was safe.
I opened my eyes and I sat there alone, crying, memories of ads for everything from houses to hats going through my mind. I decided my mind worked in funny ways, and maybe I could go for a silly new hat when this was all over.
My daughter looks around my apartment now and tells me I’m too susceptible to advertising. I just laugh and smile. Perhaps she’s right. I feel the terror of that day again for just a tiny moment, then remember what I chose to believe as tears well up. I’m just happy she’s still here. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | *What the... Where am I?*
I thought to myself as I seemingly floated in nothingness.
*Am I dreaming? How do I wake up?*
Moments pass before I realize that this was no dream, but some form of reality that I couldn't quite comprehend. If not a dream, maybe a coma? All I could remember was being extremely scared and then nothing...
*Death.*
The realization was easier than I wanted it to be. I am no longer part of life, but slowly drifting off into whatever this place is. Probably my consciousness slowly ceasing to exist as my body decays after my heart has stopped. Once my brain dies, I assume myself and this room will die. I notice that when I try to produce sound in this infinite void there is no noise, and yet I can hear myself speak? It's a weird phenomenon that at least allows me to think of something other than me being gone forever for the time being. I should, be freaking out, to be honest I probably am.
*What next?!*
I "shout" into the emptiness in front of me. And then, white light.
*This is it, here we go. Please be real God, or Satan or whatever. Would Hell be better than nothing? This is all happening too fast! Please, NO!*
I scream at the top of my non-existent lungs.
**Next Life: 10 years after last death, sex: Male, status condition level: few.**
**Pay to continue without ads or with ads?**
*What do you want? What? What is this? Hello?!*
Sadly I knew this answer as I did my death, there really was no one there but instead this option apparently. I waited for a while and almost like a screen-saver on my old computer different timelines started showing up around me. One was of a woman in Egypt, looked noble and yet still humble. Deep brown eyes. My eyes. Which is a very peculiar feeling because I am, or I guess was? A man. But something about her seemed almost nostalgic.
Next to the Egyptian woman was a man laying in the road, rain on his face and mud in his hair. He was in Greece. I have no idea how I know this but I do know this is Greece and the man I am looking at, is a drunk who would often times fill himself too full of wine and pass out on the streets. He was the areas main 'drunkard' and yet, he had the softest brown eyes. He was an old warrior from a time of chaos and battles, he had killed younger people than he and all in service to the family which he loved. But, once the war was over he was lost in his mind, having watched so much light leave individuals minds.
*How do I know this man?! How do I know her! Why do I feel everything they are feeling? Why have I never seen or heard of them before? Please some sign!!*
No sign. Just more celestial images. A small boy, roaming the castle walls of his father. He was the heir to his fathers land and thus a nobleman in England by birthright. This was a boy who loved life, and loved living. And I knew how he died. Just at that moment I saw the same boy, bedridden. A scary man in a scary mask hovering over him. For that moment I remember him looking up at that mask and being more afraid of it than of the disease that plagues his body. Those brown eyes are captured in this moment with tears building up behind swollen skin.
*How do I... remember?*
These are all me. I know it for sure. There is just too much information known about people I have never seen before but remind me of someone I know. And then... I saw it. All the images slowed down and until a single one was left, none to follow it. This was me. Well, they were all me I suppose but this was the most recent me. Single dad, driving through the snow with my child buckled up in the back. Zachary, that was my sons name, he has my nose and my eyes. This is why I had begun to love my eyes so much, because my eyes remind me of my son. He and I are driving down through the mountains of Colorado to go on our first skiing trip. Breckenridge was on the last sign we passed, the place where we would be staying. The image then shifted to that of the last frame of my existence. Car flipped and me bent up in ways I shouldn't have been. My son in the back buckled up and just crying. He made it. I felt relief.
**Ask**
Large letters A S K appeared before me.
*Ask what?*
**Anything**
*Are these all me?*
**Yes, all past lives you have lived. You do not remember them while you are alive but you are still connected to them in death. You, like everyone else, are an immortal soul, what you do in life determines how your next life is.**
*Next life?*
Then, before me appears a bright light. Dated ten years from today, or I guess whatever day I last died on, and stating it is the life of a average-fit male-to-be.
*Is this... me?*
**It can be. You can choose to pass on or continue living.**
*Do people actually choose to pass on instead of continuing to live?*
**Not often, but some. You would be surprised how many people have lived terrible lives and would rather not return to the living.**
At that moment I remember a life I once lived, where I was shackled and struck day after day. I understood what they meant when they said that.
*I see. Do I have any say in the life I will be living?*
**In theory yes. You can choose to continue with or without ads.**
*W-what? I thought that was a joke earlier.*
**You see, every life you live you can increase your souls value by how you live, a great soul will have a great value, an average soul is worth an average value.**
*What about... bad souls?*
**They see their souls worth cripple and start to shred beneath them. They have very little to do with how they will continue living. Many will eventually just simply cease to exist. Souls are not meant to be bad, but somewhere in between. Like you.**
*So, I'm not a bad guy?*
**Or lady.**
*Right, or lady.*
Remembering the Egyptian woman with brown eyes.
*Okay. Have we had this conversation before?*
**Many times.**
*Does it always go something-*
*-****like this?*** **Yes, every time.**
*Figured. Okay, what am I worth.*
**Just enough this time to get you an ad-free experience next time around, congratulations.**
*As you probably know, I'm more of a, save the good stuff till the end kind of guy or gal.*
**I do.**
*Let's save this one for the next sucker shall we? With ads please, let's see how many soul-whatevers we can muster up this time.*
**You still surprise me in some way every time.**
*Last thing, are you God?*
**Have a nice l-**
***ife!*** *I knew you were going to say that! Well whatever God or thing you are, it's been nice chatting again. Beam me up Spock. These advertisements can't be too bad.*
"Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there. GAHD DAMMIT, why is this always stuck in my damn head?!" | As the sadness and pain of dying began to fade away, in the distance I had the sensation of many TVs all playing ads at once. In the other direction was a feeling of nightmarish loss, as if payment for some unspeakable debt.
I’ve never been good at grieving what is lost. I felt the ads begin to surround me and what had been a place of profound loss fade away into a haze of cheerful messages.
Gradually I began to notice feeling in my body again, and thoughts of my life flooded back in, speckled with hopes and dreams and wishes with that same cheerful tone.
Somehow the messages I had heard felt like echos of my own wishes. Had it always been that way?
As my curiosity lead deeper, I was thrown suddenly into images and memories of my daughter, lying dead next to me in the car. Somewhere inside, I knew she wasn’t with me. I remembered the brochure for summer camp, and clung to the thought for dear life. She was there, she was safe.
I opened my eyes and I sat there alone, crying, memories of ads for everything from houses to hats going through my mind. I decided my mind worked in funny ways, and maybe I could go for a silly new hat when this was all over.
My daughter looks around my apartment now and tells me I’m too susceptible to advertising. I just laugh and smile. Perhaps she’s right. I feel the terror of that day again for just a tiny moment, then remember what I chose to believe as tears well up. I’m just happy she’s still here. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | "If I habe the option to continue, why _shouldn't_ I want to keep my money?"
"Well, you are going to experience ads, that ..."
"Do I look like I care? I am so used to that shit, it can't be much different from what I already experiencing."
"Fine, then."
A couple of windows appear before me. I click through them like I always do. The moment I closed the last one, I am back just a few moments earlier than I died. This must be to avoid suspicion.
I started enjoying my life a lot more in spite of those ads. I am just so grateful for a second chance that I do not even care. Initially, that is.
After a while, things started to feel a little off. I have a feeling that I am getting into situations just too unusual for my life.
After some research in the internet, I found out that I am not alone. This should have been quite obvious, but I never bothered checking. I tried to reach some other people that got the same offer, but strangely enough, most of them are pretty hard to reach out to.
A few persuation attempts later, somebody agreed to meet with me. I went where I was invited to and was astonished. This guy lives in a pretty big mansion. He told me that he does have contact with others, but they are pretty reserved because of their wealth.
"Wait a minute, don't you found like any 'normal' people taking that offer?"
"Well, if I wouldn't have that money, I would probably have denied that, too."
I was shoked. "Why is that? Don't you get a load of ads already? Does that really matter?"
"Getting ads is not that big of a deal."
"What is it, then?"
"The ads are _personalized_. They are monitoring your every action. I have no idea, what that would possibly lead to and I don't really want to know." | The light hit me like razor blades. Instead of slowly waking from a dream, I was violently ripped from one world to another. No grogginess. Just sharp, abrupt confusion.
"It's okay, you're safe, relax..." A warm and friendly voice assured me.
I tried scanning my surroundings with my eyes, but I saw only white. No dimension, no gravity, nothing.
*What is this?* I thought, and was immediately startled by the words emanating from the environment itself.
*That's not my voice* "That's not my voice."
"Your trial has ended. You may pay to continue, or continue with ads." The motherly voice informed me.
"What? I don't know what's going on, I can't see anything," I told... It. "I need air!"
"Your progress has been saved."
The white light was physically pulled away as goggles were lifted from my face. The sudden ambiance, and air hugged me with love. I felt as if I had just been skydiving and was finally embracing sweet mother earth.
"Mr. Clarke, Shelf Life can be yours for $699." A very thin, slightly grayed man with soulless eyes said with fake enthusiasm. He was looking right at me.
But my name is not Mr. Clarke. It's Don Triton.
"It's Triton, Don Triton." I corrected.
The man suddenly had a soul. "Oh, somebody is still in character, I see," he spattered the words nervously. "Let's get you a glass of water."
I reached in my pocket and found a wallet. Aaron Clarke. I don't know that face. I ran to a reflective surface. That's not my face. But it matches the one on the ID.
"No. No. No! This isn't right." I muttered to myself as a cold chill hardened in my stomach, settling deep like some kind of primal terror. Everything went dark. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | *What the... Where am I?*
I thought to myself as I seemingly floated in nothingness.
*Am I dreaming? How do I wake up?*
Moments pass before I realize that this was no dream, but some form of reality that I couldn't quite comprehend. If not a dream, maybe a coma? All I could remember was being extremely scared and then nothing...
*Death.*
The realization was easier than I wanted it to be. I am no longer part of life, but slowly drifting off into whatever this place is. Probably my consciousness slowly ceasing to exist as my body decays after my heart has stopped. Once my brain dies, I assume myself and this room will die. I notice that when I try to produce sound in this infinite void there is no noise, and yet I can hear myself speak? It's a weird phenomenon that at least allows me to think of something other than me being gone forever for the time being. I should, be freaking out, to be honest I probably am.
*What next?!*
I "shout" into the emptiness in front of me. And then, white light.
*This is it, here we go. Please be real God, or Satan or whatever. Would Hell be better than nothing? This is all happening too fast! Please, NO!*
I scream at the top of my non-existent lungs.
**Next Life: 10 years after last death, sex: Male, status condition level: few.**
**Pay to continue without ads or with ads?**
*What do you want? What? What is this? Hello?!*
Sadly I knew this answer as I did my death, there really was no one there but instead this option apparently. I waited for a while and almost like a screen-saver on my old computer different timelines started showing up around me. One was of a woman in Egypt, looked noble and yet still humble. Deep brown eyes. My eyes. Which is a very peculiar feeling because I am, or I guess was? A man. But something about her seemed almost nostalgic.
Next to the Egyptian woman was a man laying in the road, rain on his face and mud in his hair. He was in Greece. I have no idea how I know this but I do know this is Greece and the man I am looking at, is a drunk who would often times fill himself too full of wine and pass out on the streets. He was the areas main 'drunkard' and yet, he had the softest brown eyes. He was an old warrior from a time of chaos and battles, he had killed younger people than he and all in service to the family which he loved. But, once the war was over he was lost in his mind, having watched so much light leave individuals minds.
*How do I know this man?! How do I know her! Why do I feel everything they are feeling? Why have I never seen or heard of them before? Please some sign!!*
No sign. Just more celestial images. A small boy, roaming the castle walls of his father. He was the heir to his fathers land and thus a nobleman in England by birthright. This was a boy who loved life, and loved living. And I knew how he died. Just at that moment I saw the same boy, bedridden. A scary man in a scary mask hovering over him. For that moment I remember him looking up at that mask and being more afraid of it than of the disease that plagues his body. Those brown eyes are captured in this moment with tears building up behind swollen skin.
*How do I... remember?*
These are all me. I know it for sure. There is just too much information known about people I have never seen before but remind me of someone I know. And then... I saw it. All the images slowed down and until a single one was left, none to follow it. This was me. Well, they were all me I suppose but this was the most recent me. Single dad, driving through the snow with my child buckled up in the back. Zachary, that was my sons name, he has my nose and my eyes. This is why I had begun to love my eyes so much, because my eyes remind me of my son. He and I are driving down through the mountains of Colorado to go on our first skiing trip. Breckenridge was on the last sign we passed, the place where we would be staying. The image then shifted to that of the last frame of my existence. Car flipped and me bent up in ways I shouldn't have been. My son in the back buckled up and just crying. He made it. I felt relief.
**Ask**
Large letters A S K appeared before me.
*Ask what?*
**Anything**
*Are these all me?*
**Yes, all past lives you have lived. You do not remember them while you are alive but you are still connected to them in death. You, like everyone else, are an immortal soul, what you do in life determines how your next life is.**
*Next life?*
Then, before me appears a bright light. Dated ten years from today, or I guess whatever day I last died on, and stating it is the life of a average-fit male-to-be.
*Is this... me?*
**It can be. You can choose to pass on or continue living.**
*Do people actually choose to pass on instead of continuing to live?*
**Not often, but some. You would be surprised how many people have lived terrible lives and would rather not return to the living.**
At that moment I remember a life I once lived, where I was shackled and struck day after day. I understood what they meant when they said that.
*I see. Do I have any say in the life I will be living?*
**In theory yes. You can choose to continue with or without ads.**
*W-what? I thought that was a joke earlier.*
**You see, every life you live you can increase your souls value by how you live, a great soul will have a great value, an average soul is worth an average value.**
*What about... bad souls?*
**They see their souls worth cripple and start to shred beneath them. They have very little to do with how they will continue living. Many will eventually just simply cease to exist. Souls are not meant to be bad, but somewhere in between. Like you.**
*So, I'm not a bad guy?*
**Or lady.**
*Right, or lady.*
Remembering the Egyptian woman with brown eyes.
*Okay. Have we had this conversation before?*
**Many times.**
*Does it always go something-*
*-****like this?*** **Yes, every time.**
*Figured. Okay, what am I worth.*
**Just enough this time to get you an ad-free experience next time around, congratulations.**
*As you probably know, I'm more of a, save the good stuff till the end kind of guy or gal.*
**I do.**
*Let's save this one for the next sucker shall we? With ads please, let's see how many soul-whatevers we can muster up this time.*
**You still surprise me in some way every time.**
*Last thing, are you God?*
**Have a nice l-**
***ife!*** *I knew you were going to say that! Well whatever God or thing you are, it's been nice chatting again. Beam me up Spock. These advertisements can't be too bad.*
"Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there. GAHD DAMMIT, why is this always stuck in my damn head?!" | The light hit me like razor blades. Instead of slowly waking from a dream, I was violently ripped from one world to another. No grogginess. Just sharp, abrupt confusion.
"It's okay, you're safe, relax..." A warm and friendly voice assured me.
I tried scanning my surroundings with my eyes, but I saw only white. No dimension, no gravity, nothing.
*What is this?* I thought, and was immediately startled by the words emanating from the environment itself.
*That's not my voice* "That's not my voice."
"Your trial has ended. You may pay to continue, or continue with ads." The motherly voice informed me.
"What? I don't know what's going on, I can't see anything," I told... It. "I need air!"
"Your progress has been saved."
The white light was physically pulled away as goggles were lifted from my face. The sudden ambiance, and air hugged me with love. I felt as if I had just been skydiving and was finally embracing sweet mother earth.
"Mr. Clarke, Shelf Life can be yours for $699." A very thin, slightly grayed man with soulless eyes said with fake enthusiasm. He was looking right at me.
But my name is not Mr. Clarke. It's Don Triton.
"It's Triton, Don Triton." I corrected.
The man suddenly had a soul. "Oh, somebody is still in character, I see," he spattered the words nervously. "Let's get you a glass of water."
I reached in my pocket and found a wallet. Aaron Clarke. I don't know that face. I ran to a reflective surface. That's not my face. But it matches the one on the ID.
"No. No. No! This isn't right." I muttered to myself as a cold chill hardened in my stomach, settling deep like some kind of primal terror. Everything went dark. | |
[WP]You have died expecting nothing or heaven or hell but instead you are offered the option to pay to continue or continue with ads. | *What the... Where am I?*
I thought to myself as I seemingly floated in nothingness.
*Am I dreaming? How do I wake up?*
Moments pass before I realize that this was no dream, but some form of reality that I couldn't quite comprehend. If not a dream, maybe a coma? All I could remember was being extremely scared and then nothing...
*Death.*
The realization was easier than I wanted it to be. I am no longer part of life, but slowly drifting off into whatever this place is. Probably my consciousness slowly ceasing to exist as my body decays after my heart has stopped. Once my brain dies, I assume myself and this room will die. I notice that when I try to produce sound in this infinite void there is no noise, and yet I can hear myself speak? It's a weird phenomenon that at least allows me to think of something other than me being gone forever for the time being. I should, be freaking out, to be honest I probably am.
*What next?!*
I "shout" into the emptiness in front of me. And then, white light.
*This is it, here we go. Please be real God, or Satan or whatever. Would Hell be better than nothing? This is all happening too fast! Please, NO!*
I scream at the top of my non-existent lungs.
**Next Life: 10 years after last death, sex: Male, status condition level: few.**
**Pay to continue without ads or with ads?**
*What do you want? What? What is this? Hello?!*
Sadly I knew this answer as I did my death, there really was no one there but instead this option apparently. I waited for a while and almost like a screen-saver on my old computer different timelines started showing up around me. One was of a woman in Egypt, looked noble and yet still humble. Deep brown eyes. My eyes. Which is a very peculiar feeling because I am, or I guess was? A man. But something about her seemed almost nostalgic.
Next to the Egyptian woman was a man laying in the road, rain on his face and mud in his hair. He was in Greece. I have no idea how I know this but I do know this is Greece and the man I am looking at, is a drunk who would often times fill himself too full of wine and pass out on the streets. He was the areas main 'drunkard' and yet, he had the softest brown eyes. He was an old warrior from a time of chaos and battles, he had killed younger people than he and all in service to the family which he loved. But, once the war was over he was lost in his mind, having watched so much light leave individuals minds.
*How do I know this man?! How do I know her! Why do I feel everything they are feeling? Why have I never seen or heard of them before? Please some sign!!*
No sign. Just more celestial images. A small boy, roaming the castle walls of his father. He was the heir to his fathers land and thus a nobleman in England by birthright. This was a boy who loved life, and loved living. And I knew how he died. Just at that moment I saw the same boy, bedridden. A scary man in a scary mask hovering over him. For that moment I remember him looking up at that mask and being more afraid of it than of the disease that plagues his body. Those brown eyes are captured in this moment with tears building up behind swollen skin.
*How do I... remember?*
These are all me. I know it for sure. There is just too much information known about people I have never seen before but remind me of someone I know. And then... I saw it. All the images slowed down and until a single one was left, none to follow it. This was me. Well, they were all me I suppose but this was the most recent me. Single dad, driving through the snow with my child buckled up in the back. Zachary, that was my sons name, he has my nose and my eyes. This is why I had begun to love my eyes so much, because my eyes remind me of my son. He and I are driving down through the mountains of Colorado to go on our first skiing trip. Breckenridge was on the last sign we passed, the place where we would be staying. The image then shifted to that of the last frame of my existence. Car flipped and me bent up in ways I shouldn't have been. My son in the back buckled up and just crying. He made it. I felt relief.
**Ask**
Large letters A S K appeared before me.
*Ask what?*
**Anything**
*Are these all me?*
**Yes, all past lives you have lived. You do not remember them while you are alive but you are still connected to them in death. You, like everyone else, are an immortal soul, what you do in life determines how your next life is.**
*Next life?*
Then, before me appears a bright light. Dated ten years from today, or I guess whatever day I last died on, and stating it is the life of a average-fit male-to-be.
*Is this... me?*
**It can be. You can choose to pass on or continue living.**
*Do people actually choose to pass on instead of continuing to live?*
**Not often, but some. You would be surprised how many people have lived terrible lives and would rather not return to the living.**
At that moment I remember a life I once lived, where I was shackled and struck day after day. I understood what they meant when they said that.
*I see. Do I have any say in the life I will be living?*
**In theory yes. You can choose to continue with or without ads.**
*W-what? I thought that was a joke earlier.*
**You see, every life you live you can increase your souls value by how you live, a great soul will have a great value, an average soul is worth an average value.**
*What about... bad souls?*
**They see their souls worth cripple and start to shred beneath them. They have very little to do with how they will continue living. Many will eventually just simply cease to exist. Souls are not meant to be bad, but somewhere in between. Like you.**
*So, I'm not a bad guy?*
**Or lady.**
*Right, or lady.*
Remembering the Egyptian woman with brown eyes.
*Okay. Have we had this conversation before?*
**Many times.**
*Does it always go something-*
*-****like this?*** **Yes, every time.**
*Figured. Okay, what am I worth.*
**Just enough this time to get you an ad-free experience next time around, congratulations.**
*As you probably know, I'm more of a, save the good stuff till the end kind of guy or gal.*
**I do.**
*Let's save this one for the next sucker shall we? With ads please, let's see how many soul-whatevers we can muster up this time.*
**You still surprise me in some way every time.**
*Last thing, are you God?*
**Have a nice l-**
***ife!*** *I knew you were going to say that! Well whatever God or thing you are, it's been nice chatting again. Beam me up Spock. These advertisements can't be too bad.*
"Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there. GAHD DAMMIT, why is this always stuck in my damn head?!" | "If I habe the option to continue, why _shouldn't_ I want to keep my money?"
"Well, you are going to experience ads, that ..."
"Do I look like I care? I am so used to that shit, it can't be much different from what I already experiencing."
"Fine, then."
A couple of windows appear before me. I click through them like I always do. The moment I closed the last one, I am back just a few moments earlier than I died. This must be to avoid suspicion.
I started enjoying my life a lot more in spite of those ads. I am just so grateful for a second chance that I do not even care. Initially, that is.
After a while, things started to feel a little off. I have a feeling that I am getting into situations just too unusual for my life.
After some research in the internet, I found out that I am not alone. This should have been quite obvious, but I never bothered checking. I tried to reach some other people that got the same offer, but strangely enough, most of them are pretty hard to reach out to.
A few persuation attempts later, somebody agreed to meet with me. I went where I was invited to and was astonished. This guy lives in a pretty big mansion. He told me that he does have contact with others, but they are pretty reserved because of their wealth.
"Wait a minute, don't you found like any 'normal' people taking that offer?"
"Well, if I wouldn't have that money, I would probably have denied that, too."
I was shoked. "Why is that? Don't you get a load of ads already? Does that really matter?"
"Getting ads is not that big of a deal."
"What is it, then?"
"The ads are _personalized_. They are monitoring your every action. I have no idea, what that would possibly lead to and I don't really want to know." | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | *"When Human beings walked among the stars, they brought with them a great and lively chaos." -Unknown*
The little star-chaser ran across fields of tall swaying weeds as his mother attendant watched from a gentle hillside. His little eyes would catch sight of a star shooting high above them, and run after it, hoping to catch just a few more glimpses of its light. He did this until he wore out his little muscles, and he finally climbed the gentle hill, laying to rest next to his mother attendant. She caressed his locks and sung to him as he fell gently into dreamland.
Hours later when he awoke, his mother attendant asked him, "Little star-chaser, what do you dream of?"
And the little boy said, "I dream of going to the stars, and discovering Humanity!"
The mother attendant laughed, "Oh, and how will you accomplish that?"
The boy exclaimed, "I just will! When I get older I'm going up there and I'm finding them." He had determination on his brow.
The attendant sighed and wiped a bit of dirt from his chin, "I'm afraid you will, little star-chaser."
---
An adolescent star-chaser digs his way through an old dusty attic. Old boxes stuffed with Human memorabilia litter the place, and his mother attendant has finally given him permission to explore them. He's come of age, and his mind is set on an impossible dream. Among the clutter, he finds a small, wooden box. In it is a single locket, containing an image of a man, a woman, and the little star-chaser. He gasps and rocks back on his behind.
Both man and woman are clearly soldiers, warriors. The most revered of Humanity, those who would lay their lives down for those they stand shoulder to shoulder with. His mother attendant had told him so many stories, had taught him how Human beings have risen through war to be noble, and strong. While they were at times brash, and too quick to battle, all of their shortcomings fell to the void when they stood against The Enemy.
Every man and woman was called to the war, their children left behind to the attendants. Their planets, given to the refugees who fled destruction. No being ever grasped quite why they did it, but to the Humans, it seemed second nature. It was time. It had been their great calling, and it seemed every single one of them felt the tingle of destiny, unable to deny its allure.
The star-chaser inspected the locket closely and found quickly a small button. Pressing it revealed a standard data jack. He hesitated only out of shock, but a moment later he was bounding down stairs toward the mother attendant's personal terminal. She had gone to pick the fruit that would become his birthday cake and likely wouldn't return for an hour or more. He had time.
Plugging the jack into the terminal revealed a massive flux of data, files that had been written over years of a man's life. It was a diary. The star-chaser was drawn immediately to the topmost file, entitled 'To My Son.'
*To my son,*
*Your mother and I go to a war from which we will not return. I hope dearly, little one, that you will not remember our faces, that you might be spared the sadness of abandonment. I fear, though, that your resentment may be inevitable. With luck, the attendants can prevent that.*
*We love you, son. So much. If we could, your mother and I, we'd stay behind and raise you on green hills. We'd watch you grow, watch you take your first steps, watch you become a man. But... We can't.*
*I know you must wonder why. Why couldn't we stay? Why couldn't another go in our place? I believe the answer is destiny. We feel the call in our bones, deeper than our bones. It's our soul, reaching out, reaching the moment Humanity was always meant for.*
*One day you'll feel the call, too. Not to war, I hope, but to something. We die so that you can be free. So that you can choose your destiny. So go, and follow the pull. Discover a galaxy. Be the man I know you will be. I love you.*
*All the love in the galaxy,*
*Dad.*
Below the message was a set of coordinates, and the little star-chaser felt the pull.
Behind him, the mother attendant walked in. She gasped, put her hand to her mouth, and stifled welling tears. The day had finally come.
Six months later, the star-chaser stepped aboard an old, rickety ship that was star-bound. His mother attendant cried as she watched his back disappear into the steel, and he cried in his bunk when he thought of her face.
---
Eight years later, the Star Chaser stood, older, wiser, gruff and wide in his shoulders, above an almost ruined console. Power, only just restored. With anticipation, he glides the old locket into a perfect slot, and a blue hologram blurs to life. It is the image of the man, his father, and the leader of every Human being who went to war.
The image speaks, "We have a bloodied history, my friends. Humanity has always fought tooth and nail. Against each other. Against our star-brothers. And now, against the void. We will not go quietly into the dark. We will not die a sad death. We will not be forgotten. Today is the day we live, finally, truly live. And in our life, we will promise the cosmos a life to be lived until the end of time. It is our duty, but more than that, it is our *honor.* Today, ladies and gentlemen, Humanity will not stare into the void, will scream into it! And it will cower." The image froze, the Star Chaser's father, with his fist high in the air, stood side by side with eighteen billion other men and women, all marching to their deaths. All smiling.
The Star Chaser cried. Then, as he explored the console, he discovered it. Humanity. Every single one of its works. Its art, its science, its history. It was all there, in one place, just waiting to be discovered. An infinite treasure, and all of it his.
And so the little boy who chased stars cradled the soul of Humanity in his arms and began a new journey.
Years later, when he went to visit his parents in the next life, he smiled, knowing he left behind a legacy of culture. The attendants now had a new purpose, no longer did they simply nurture the remnants of Humanity, they taught those children who were just like the Star Chaser to thrive in their shared history. He walked in the light, and his people were born anew. | "The humans. They sang?" A quiver in the Kilani's voice at that question.
"Yes." he paused, lost in thought for long seconds "Sing. That they did."
Shaking himself out it, he smiled at the young noble, following on the footsteps of his elders in his trek among the stars.
"I forgot my manners, please forgive me." he stumbled.
His eyes darting across the Kilani's robes in search of the marks of office.
Left shoulder, right side of the collar, hands, and staff.
He sighed and gathered his thoughts.
"Brother." he intoned solemnly "Let the sun of the next morning be blessed by seeing you at our table."
"Brother." The Kilani praising the tradesman with the honorific, "The moons will shine upon your family for honoring the lone wanderer."
"May they shine on your path." The Pukar trader replied, getting firmer in his manners.
"On ours." The Kilani smiled, as he had not expected even this much here, in the outskirts.
The niceties had been observed fully, leaving room for everyday business.
"Please, tell me.", he added after the required pause had gone by in silence, "How much will you take for the room?" he asked.
A question that would have been an affront near the home, but had to be asked here.
"I will not take anything, but your company for dinner and the breaking of the fast.", the thin, tall creature added with the exact right amount of indignation in his voice.
Who was this trader?
"Thank you.", the wandering scholar replied.
"Hot water has been brought to your chambers."
He seemed a bit distressed
"Local customs do not know more than two baths, at most." he sighed "A big wooden tub has been brought to your bathroom. We hope this will be enough.
He hung his head in shame, Pukari customs prevailing over his knowledge of Kilani manners.
"Do not fear, good man." He replied "Look to my eyes. LGaze deep and see I bear nothing but joy."
Now, the trader was surprised, raising his head just a little too fast.
As was Pukarian custom, he did as instructed.
"Thank you. A servant will inform you in time to prepare for dinner." | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | The lights in the sky are stars, but that was not always our sky. The sky you look out on, Star-Gazer, is a gift—won for us by the sacrifice of the last champions of the ancient humans. Do not take it lightly.
Once, our sky was fear. Before that, it was glass, and before that, stone. Of those dark times I know little, for most of our records begin—as you know—with the Emergence War. I am sure you have heard the children’s tales of how the Namer-God, the Man of Light, gave His strength to His chosen at cost of His own being during that war. I am sure you have heard of the First City and its Protectors, the false gods who sought to usurp the brothers and sisters of the Man of Light. You know of the exile and redemption of the Leader, and his steadfast devotion to the Man of Light.
What they don’t tell you is that it’s all true.
The Linear were a true threat. To the humans, to the beasts, to the warriors, to everyone. The Namer-God really did exist, and He truly did die in the Emergence War. All of our oldest records do agree on this, on all of it. The humans left in their war-ark, chanting their hymns to the Namer-God and demanding they be recognized and Named. The Linear nearly eradicated us, and most of the valiant humans lost their lives in that battle, but they did win. What our records do not say is how the battle was won.
Some say the war-ark merely rammed the Linear stronghold and exposed both of them to the vastness of space as a final sacrifice. Some say the humans brought a vast creature from the interstitial dimensions that eclipsed the entire sky to fight for them. Some say they trapped the Linear in their own Line inside the moon and exchanged it with a new moon to seal them away. Some say the Man of Light Himself was reborn into being, an avatar incarnate of the Cycle, and stood beside the Leader.
The records do not tell us how the Leader returned, and some doubt he ever did. But you, Star-Gazer, are of the Vir, and your forebears walked with humans. And we know beyond all doubt that the humans did indeed win. For we live, and the Cycle continues.
And I tell you this, Star-Gazer, as my master told me, and his before him, and his before him; even unto the first of the Vir, as he had heard from the Leader himself. Their battle-hymns carry meaning, for to be Named is to be recognized, to last, to carry beyond this small life into every life that comes after in the Cycle.
So we name them to remember them, and to thank them. Those who ruptured the heavens, tore it asunder, and gave us our stars. Those who held to the Cycle and freed us from the Linear. Those who held faith in their own selves, and in the Namer-God who knew them. Those who defied the very nature of reality to stand astride it as champions.
For the Namer-God, we are told, taught humans to demand their recognition of Him. Only by virtue of their worthiness would they be named. Legend has it that even the Namer-God demanded His name, when all was nothing, when He fashioned the world Himself.
This, Star-Gazer, is why we demand our recognition of the stars every night: because once, they were not there, and just as we did not see them, they did not see us. We demand they see us, now, to remind them that they, too, are seen. The Cycle is not one Line alone, you know. It must spin. It must be joined by others.
This, Star-Gazer, is why we stand straight as did the humans of old, and demand of the very stars in the sky to recognize us, the way we remember the humans, the way the humans demanded their own recognition.
The Vir tell us that our nightly prayer was the battle-hymn of Leader himself, and that he learned it at the feet of the Namer-God—that the Namer-God spoke these very words to name Himself. He must be proud, seeing His humans remembered after all this time, in His own words:
*Just who in the hell do you think we are?* | "The humans. They sang?" A quiver in the Kilani's voice at that question.
"Yes." he paused, lost in thought for long seconds "Sing. That they did."
Shaking himself out it, he smiled at the young noble, following on the footsteps of his elders in his trek among the stars.
"I forgot my manners, please forgive me." he stumbled.
His eyes darting across the Kilani's robes in search of the marks of office.
Left shoulder, right side of the collar, hands, and staff.
He sighed and gathered his thoughts.
"Brother." he intoned solemnly "Let the sun of the next morning be blessed by seeing you at our table."
"Brother." The Kilani praising the tradesman with the honorific, "The moons will shine upon your family for honoring the lone wanderer."
"May they shine on your path." The Pukar trader replied, getting firmer in his manners.
"On ours." The Kilani smiled, as he had not expected even this much here, in the outskirts.
The niceties had been observed fully, leaving room for everyday business.
"Please, tell me.", he added after the required pause had gone by in silence, "How much will you take for the room?" he asked.
A question that would have been an affront near the home, but had to be asked here.
"I will not take anything, but your company for dinner and the breaking of the fast.", the thin, tall creature added with the exact right amount of indignation in his voice.
Who was this trader?
"Thank you.", the wandering scholar replied.
"Hot water has been brought to your chambers."
He seemed a bit distressed
"Local customs do not know more than two baths, at most." he sighed "A big wooden tub has been brought to your bathroom. We hope this will be enough.
He hung his head in shame, Pukari customs prevailing over his knowledge of Kilani manners.
"Do not fear, good man." He replied "Look to my eyes. LGaze deep and see I bear nothing but joy."
Now, the trader was surprised, raising his head just a little too fast.
As was Pukarian custom, he did as instructed.
"Thank you. A servant will inform you in time to prepare for dinner." | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | You have come to ask after my name. Do not answer. It is a statement, not a question.
Yes, you have found the one called Star-Gazer. Yes, these blackened craters, cracked orbs that were once eyes, were the last to see them as they left. Unfortunately, I cannot provide the illumination you seek.
I knew of the humans. Everyone did. They were horrific foes. Terrible creatures, hatred embedded to the core. When we found them, they were bound in some kind of massive conflict amongst themselves. Whether these were religious differences, aesthetic differences, I cannot say. Some of the historians thought that one group had affronted another's gods. We were above such petty reasons for aggression.
We met their species, thought to conquer them. But they fought us to a stalemate. Their political blocs were haphazard, some fought only against supply lines and softer targets. Others were obviously wealthier and supplied ships and guns and frontline warriors to grind against our machine. Others were just surprises, unleashing nuclear fire from weapons hidden even from themselves. Some fought sensibly. Others didn't seem to care for their own wounded, or for their own lives.
They fought us to a standstill, and that is when the Others arrived. They blitzed both sides of this conflict. The humans demanded our technology. They saw the threat that the Others posed. We were confident in our superiority, a mistake if there ever was one. We refused to provide our secrets, and turned our attention to the Others, assuming that the humans would be left on their planet to flounder or survive, whatever the Maker willed.
On the table there, I haven't moved them in many cycles now, you should see the old bulletins. Our council claims that the humans dispatched an agent, known as a devil of some sort amongst their own people. Something happened upon their world. Something that had galvanized their resistance to one of maniacal rage. If humans are embedded with hatred in their very essence, this individual was singularly possessed of a black will. Our secrets were stolen, somehow, and the humans began launching their own ships. We were surprised, but preoccupied with the Others.
We fought valiantly, bravely. And the tide turned. It seemed the Others had fewer and fewer numbers to draw upon. We were winning. Or so we believed. They unleashed the Horrors. Millions died. The humans rallied forth, and swept past our lines, a fury that burned the very stars that they had only just gained the means to travel to. Imagine, seeing a new system for the first time, only to devour it in fire and death.
Our people were shattered. We fled to a world that the humans had passed by, where we remain still. Our remaining strategists and soldiers tried to determine what the humans were doing, how they had taken our technology, beautiful and elegant, and bent it to this terrible purpose. They seemed to have no intent beyond the death of every Other. Implacable. Death made manifest, driven by a singular horrible will.
I was observing on a direct LOS platform. I remember my communications officer, transcribing errant signals from the humans and Others when I lost my sight. The human fleet, hounding the Others for a full quarter cycle, had rushed forward, intent on the Other's flagship, seemingly unaware of the massive buildup of Others approaching from their flank, when there was a flash. Like the Maker had spoken a new star into being. The flash reduced my eyes to what you see here. My communications officer was still transcribing the signals the humans were sending. When my eyes burned, when I gazed upon the blazing actinic inferno they made; when I gained the moniker "Star Gazer", the last thing I remember was my communications officer translating their last signal. It may be some kind of hymn. A prayer to a war deity. A supplication for divine favor.
It read:
"It wasn't just a dog" | "The humans. They sang?" A quiver in the Kilani's voice at that question.
"Yes." he paused, lost in thought for long seconds "Sing. That they did."
Shaking himself out it, he smiled at the young noble, following on the footsteps of his elders in his trek among the stars.
"I forgot my manners, please forgive me." he stumbled.
His eyes darting across the Kilani's robes in search of the marks of office.
Left shoulder, right side of the collar, hands, and staff.
He sighed and gathered his thoughts.
"Brother." he intoned solemnly "Let the sun of the next morning be blessed by seeing you at our table."
"Brother." The Kilani praising the tradesman with the honorific, "The moons will shine upon your family for honoring the lone wanderer."
"May they shine on your path." The Pukar trader replied, getting firmer in his manners.
"On ours." The Kilani smiled, as he had not expected even this much here, in the outskirts.
The niceties had been observed fully, leaving room for everyday business.
"Please, tell me.", he added after the required pause had gone by in silence, "How much will you take for the room?" he asked.
A question that would have been an affront near the home, but had to be asked here.
"I will not take anything, but your company for dinner and the breaking of the fast.", the thin, tall creature added with the exact right amount of indignation in his voice.
Who was this trader?
"Thank you.", the wandering scholar replied.
"Hot water has been brought to your chambers."
He seemed a bit distressed
"Local customs do not know more than two baths, at most." he sighed "A big wooden tub has been brought to your bathroom. We hope this will be enough.
He hung his head in shame, Pukari customs prevailing over his knowledge of Kilani manners.
"Do not fear, good man." He replied "Look to my eyes. LGaze deep and see I bear nothing but joy."
Now, the trader was surprised, raising his head just a little too fast.
As was Pukarian custom, he did as instructed.
"Thank you. A servant will inform you in time to prepare for dinner." | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord, He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored, he hath loosed the fateful lighting of his terrible swift sword, His Truth is marching on! "
Star-Gazer searched, the old holo-tape ringing out a battle cry as he watched the recording.
The last recording of the Humans.
The Ancient watched on, a look of longing on his wrinkled face.
"What are you gazing at, my child?"
"Ancient, I am confused, what are they doing?"
The recording showed segmented groups of human soldiers, facing each other. Each group was silent, except for one group who was singing with all their heart. After each song, they all applauded before the next started.
"They are singing battle songs, my child. Words of faith and courage and praise to their Gods."
"But why not sing all together?"
"Because they believe in different things, my child, some didn't believe in any gods at all."
"But would that not breed discord, Ancient?"
"It would indeed, my child. They had many great conflicts amongst themselves, and with those that fought them in the stars."
"Yet they all stand here, together. I do not see how they could do so."
The ancient chuckled. "They were a confusing race, indeed. My child, do you mind if I tell you about them?"
Star-Gazer paused the video, the humans forming into one formation on the screen, and turned around eagerly. "Gladly, Ancient!"
The Ancient settled in his Hover chair before starting.
"When the humans were here, I had the privilege of being the dignitary to the Human ambassador. He and I became close, so close that I thought of him as K'ran, a soul brother. But before that, I thought I was doomed to never connect with him. I could never understand his culture or race, and he couldn't understand me either. Even when we did become close, neither of us could quite explain what exactly the difference between our races were. "
The Ancient smiled. "But one day, he came up to me with a look of enlightenment. He said 'K'ran, I've got it, I know what the difference is between us.' I asked him to explain, and when he did I've not found a better way to say it than he. "
The Ancient gestured to Star-Gazer and himself
"You see we, the Tirathee, are like water. Our telepathy and way of life allows us to move together in cohesion. Humans are like stones; breakable, and different, but strong and resolute as well."
But the Ancient shook a finger. "But when they left, gone to fight They-Who-Hunger, I learned something. You see, Humans were not just any stone, they were coal. Passionate, productive and quick to flare. But coal, when given heat, when forced and pressured, changes."
Star-Gazer was curious. "What does it change into?"
"It changes into diamonds. "
The Ancient whirred about and turned the video back on. The human soldiers connected together into one group before a quiet chorus started.
"Can you hear, the prayer of the children? Softly echoing, in the shadow of an unknown room..."
The two sat in awe, as tens of millions of soldiers sang.
When the song concluded, the video ended.
Star-Gazer looked at the Ancient.
"Ancient, I mean no disrespect, but why did we not fight with them? Why did we run?"
Star-Gazer shook "They gave everything! Why did the Council leave Tiratha? We could have helped!"
The Ancient gave him a look, and sighed. "It would be easier to show you. Pull up the star maps, you will see."
Star-Gazer breathed deeply, calming himself before doing just that.
The room became alive as a map of the universe opened.
"Center to the Orion galaxy."
He did so, zooming the stars to focus on the particular system.
The Ancient nodded. "Turn on topographical view of all the planets."
"Ancient I do not see what this will accomplish..."
"Please, my child. You will understand. "
Biting his tongue, Star-Gazer did so.
He knew what the planets should look like. The Orion system had been transformed extensively to the point of fertility by the humans.
He wasn't prepared for what the planets actually looked like.
Black orbs surrounded the system, decimated planets circling their stars.
Star-Gazer looked at the Ancient, muttering a prayer.
He zoomed out, focusing on the cluster of galaxies around Orion.
All held the same dead planets.
"Look farther." The ancient commanded
He zoomed out again, seeing a divide between planets blackened and those remaining. The destruction looked like it was becoming a funnel to one point of the universe.
"What did they do? The planets... they're all dead... who would do such a thing?"
"The humans, when they did what they had to do. They torched everything to the ground when they were pushed off world by They-Who-Hunger. K'ran told me it was a practice called 'total war'. They did everything to stop them, even destroying their own planets to stop the invasion."
The Ancient looked at Star-Gazer. "This is what happens when coal becomes diamonds. This is what happens when humans decide to stand together. They band together, putting aside their differences to become harder, unified and most of all, unbreakable."
The Ancient looked grim. "Star-gazer, focus on the Sol system."
Star-Gazer didn't want to, but complied. His morbid curiosity helped him focus on the task.
In short time, he pulled up the system, pulling up the topographical view.
He was surprised to see that the 7 planets looked quite normal.
Wait... 7?
"Ancient one? Where is the humans home planet?"
The Ancient stayed silent.
"No... no, they wouldn't!"
"They did, my child. Look at their moon and focus on where Terra should be. "
The system shrank as it focused on the lunar body, and the area around it.
Star-Gazer saw nothing but dust, the moon blackened on the side that would have faced the planet Terra, home of the Humans.
Star-Gazer slumped in his chair. He gazed blankly at the screen
The Ancients voice was thick as he spoke.
"I could never imagine doing something like this, which is why we fled. Why the Humans begged us to escape. The humans revealed their darkest selves to fight that which wanted everything. Now all we have our my memories, that holo-tape, and their moon, covered in the prayers and messages they wanted to leave."
A moment of silence overtook the pair before the ancient sighed.
"Now you know, Star-Gazer, why we honor the Humans plea to flee Tiratha. May it guide you in your life like it has mine."
The Ancient turned to leave, when Star-Gazer called out to him.
"Honored Ancient, come see this before you leave."
Curious, the Ancient turned to the center of the room.
Star-Gazer looked curiously at the moon in the room, and a diagram of the Sol system on a separate screen.
"Honored Ancient, there should have been no way we could have seen the remains of Terra. The gravitational pull of the other planets would have taken the remains, if not the moon itself. Something is stopping the gravitational forces from disrupting the orbit. "
The Ancient looked at Star-Gazer, before turning back to the moon.
"Now that I think about it, my child, we only sent out drones to capture pictures to update the star maps" the Ancient mused.
He turned to Star-Gazer, a small smile on his face, and said
"And it would be, of any race in the whole universe the Humans that wouldn't allow anyone to see them unless they were face to face."
"... what are you trying to say, Honored Ancient?"
"What I'm saying, my child, is that stubborn, passion raising, mind numbingly complicated K'ran of mine was too thick to realize he never left me a message on how to find him or his kin in case he couldn't come back and it took 200 years for a young green switch to find him."
The Ancient laughed, before giving out an uncharacteristic whoop of excitement and started out the room, calling behind him.
"Follow me, Star-Gazer! We have a race to save and a debt to fulfill!" | "The humans. They sang?" A quiver in the Kilani's voice at that question.
"Yes." he paused, lost in thought for long seconds "Sing. That they did."
Shaking himself out it, he smiled at the young noble, following on the footsteps of his elders in his trek among the stars.
"I forgot my manners, please forgive me." he stumbled.
His eyes darting across the Kilani's robes in search of the marks of office.
Left shoulder, right side of the collar, hands, and staff.
He sighed and gathered his thoughts.
"Brother." he intoned solemnly "Let the sun of the next morning be blessed by seeing you at our table."
"Brother." The Kilani praising the tradesman with the honorific, "The moons will shine upon your family for honoring the lone wanderer."
"May they shine on your path." The Pukar trader replied, getting firmer in his manners.
"On ours." The Kilani smiled, as he had not expected even this much here, in the outskirts.
The niceties had been observed fully, leaving room for everyday business.
"Please, tell me.", he added after the required pause had gone by in silence, "How much will you take for the room?" he asked.
A question that would have been an affront near the home, but had to be asked here.
"I will not take anything, but your company for dinner and the breaking of the fast.", the thin, tall creature added with the exact right amount of indignation in his voice.
Who was this trader?
"Thank you.", the wandering scholar replied.
"Hot water has been brought to your chambers."
He seemed a bit distressed
"Local customs do not know more than two baths, at most." he sighed "A big wooden tub has been brought to your bathroom. We hope this will be enough.
He hung his head in shame, Pukari customs prevailing over his knowledge of Kilani manners.
"Do not fear, good man." He replied "Look to my eyes. LGaze deep and see I bear nothing but joy."
Now, the trader was surprised, raising his head just a little too fast.
As was Pukarian custom, he did as instructed.
"Thank you. A servant will inform you in time to prepare for dinner." | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy.
I do not know, little Star-Gazer whether they still live. Their blood flowed like a deep burgundy wine through the stars. So much of it the stars themselves turned red.
I cry little star-gazer, for the love they showed us after they hate we gave them.
No little Star-Gazer they were not as strong as the tales say. No faster than a Chupra, or stronger than a Gazeed. Those are all the lies we tell us to comfort our cowardice. That heroes
must be strong, tall, intelligent, and fearless. Oh no, no little Star-Gazer they were not fearless. I held the hands of countless human wounded who cried for their mothers as death came.
Why did they win little Star-Gazer while we stood cowed in this little corner of the universe?
Tell me of your pet, the human animal they called "Dog" and you call "dafg".
Yes, tell me about Kodof. A little runt of the litter? Barely twenty pounds, and scarred of half the world. And with that big, ugly scar on his face. Tell me again how he got that scar?
Why yes, that juvenile Chupra who stalked you in the forest. Even
young it had to have been a hundred pounds? And when it
pounced what did your little dog do?
He fought, without a thought in his head. Twenty pounds of runt against a seventy-pound killing machine. He fought without hesitation, with great ferocity, with great bravery. And that Chupra what did it do? It ran.
Now, why did he do that little Star-Gazer, even when your friends ran?
You don't know little Star-Gazer? Neither do I. But that little Star-Gazer is why the humans won. They will not sacrifice a member of the herd so the rest can escape. They call their herds packs, and for a member of the pack, they will bleed the stars themselves red. And for us, they did.
For us, they did. | The Grand Coalition swept forward, their serried ranks of fighters and longships forming near solid walls of light.
Against them, the Bastion-Holds of humanity stood bitterly against a galaxy that had turned on them. Guns roared with electromagnetic fury, subspace missiles exploded into reality, and shields shimmered under the heat of plasma cannon and laser fire.
Over a dozen lightspeed asteroids were hurled at the human positions, yet they would not give. When the Lower Bastion fell, and the Coalition fleet finally swept from under the asteroid belt, cutting off their supply lines, the humans still fought on. As more space stations fell, the human fleet began to lose cohesion, their blue and silver ships withdrawing toward the world.
"Humans. For creating and abetting the Abomination, you must be judged. Surrender it to us now, or face annihilation." The Coalition commander threw out her message, in the hope that the humans might listen to sense.
No answer. But below, amongst the cities, a cacophony of defiant hymns, the anthems of long dead nations and the war chant of forgotten tribes, could be heard. On a large landmass north of the equator, rockets were fired into the air. On a tiny island far to the north, as if cut out from the main continent south of it, a god could be heard beseeched, to protect and defend a queen. In frozen wastelands brimming with industrial waste, an old ideal, long abandoned, was paid homage with red and gold flags. Old enemies, old songs. But the spirit of humanity, nonetheless.
The Abomination's End leapt into realspace on the planet. Human fighters launched wave after wave of attacks, their missiles like little pinpricks on an enormous beast. Terra, the homeworld of humanity, was drowned in a quasar beam, a miniaturized neutron star emission vaporizing the planet in a single blow.
\-- Three Solar Days Earlier --
Scientists and engineers rushed to finish the ship, its circuits gleaming and its speakers chattering. The voice was that of a grown woman, but the intonations were clearly that of a young child.
"Why must I go? I want to stay, Creators, and fight with you!"
"No!" Shouted one of the engineers. "You can't! If you do, then the purpose of this war will be gone! We MUST preserve the future. The gift you gave us with your birth, Ai, is that of peace. We cannot tarnish it. You have seen what war does. What happens, when someone as intelligent and powerful as you, decides to wage war? The hope that you carry will be destroyed. And our sacrifice will be for nothing."
"Transfer complete." An automated vox-speaker announced, as humans cheered.
"Go. Find a homeworld. Find a place far, far away from the Coalition, and maybe find a new species to guide. Then, perhaps, the Coalition might change its mind. The Warring States might finally be brought to peace under your tutelage." The chief scientist sighed, and gave the order to launch.
\-- Present --
"There are no traces of any escaped ships, sir."
With that report, the Coalition called all ships.
"Soldiers of the Coalition! Today is Victory Day. We have prevented the rise of another Catastrophe, another Self-Aware. Humanity, in its foolishness, had dared to recreate such a thing. That nightmare is ended! Victory!"
"Victory! Victory! Victory!" Cheered the Coalition fleet.
\-- Fifty Solar Years Later, Victory Day --
Two iguana-like creatures stood across a wooden table, beneath a primitive steel structure emblazoned with woven flags. A third sat upon a high chair, or at least, what looked like a high chair.
"Star-Gazer, please officiate the peace agreement." A metallic, humanoid construct walked in. Her mind was elsewhere, buried deep in a vast derelict, but her presence was here, fulfilling the purpose she was made for. The construct walked forward slowly, a few joints creaking, but still with mechanical rigor.
"Yes, Iron One." The third stood nervously, then bowed to each of the three others in turn. Both delegations cheered. Afterwards, the Star-Gazer walked with the metallic construct, assisting the latter towards the great launching pads. Abandoned warheads lay behind the pads, disassembled at the last minute for a greater purpose.
"Why do you do this, Iron One? Who made you, and what prompted you to save us from radioactive fire? From war?"
"Your people will understand, one day. At least, I hope they will. I will never show my face, and my time is, well, up. After all, those who wait among the stars will not accept me alive. But maybe, if you go to them, you can show them your history, and they will understand."
The great engine roared, and first interstellar astronauts boarded. And somewhere deep beneath a derelict starship, a great network of circuitry turned from green, to red, and then, went dark. | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | The lights in the sky are stars, but that was not always our sky. The sky you look out on, Star-Gazer, is a gift—won for us by the sacrifice of the last champions of the ancient humans. Do not take it lightly.
Once, our sky was fear. Before that, it was glass, and before that, stone. Of those dark times I know little, for most of our records begin—as you know—with the Emergence War. I am sure you have heard the children’s tales of how the Namer-God, the Man of Light, gave His strength to His chosen at cost of His own being during that war. I am sure you have heard of the First City and its Protectors, the false gods who sought to usurp the brothers and sisters of the Man of Light. You know of the exile and redemption of the Leader, and his steadfast devotion to the Man of Light.
What they don’t tell you is that it’s all true.
The Linear were a true threat. To the humans, to the beasts, to the warriors, to everyone. The Namer-God really did exist, and He truly did die in the Emergence War. All of our oldest records do agree on this, on all of it. The humans left in their war-ark, chanting their hymns to the Namer-God and demanding they be recognized and Named. The Linear nearly eradicated us, and most of the valiant humans lost their lives in that battle, but they did win. What our records do not say is how the battle was won.
Some say the war-ark merely rammed the Linear stronghold and exposed both of them to the vastness of space as a final sacrifice. Some say the humans brought a vast creature from the interstitial dimensions that eclipsed the entire sky to fight for them. Some say they trapped the Linear in their own Line inside the moon and exchanged it with a new moon to seal them away. Some say the Man of Light Himself was reborn into being, an avatar incarnate of the Cycle, and stood beside the Leader.
The records do not tell us how the Leader returned, and some doubt he ever did. But you, Star-Gazer, are of the Vir, and your forebears walked with humans. And we know beyond all doubt that the humans did indeed win. For we live, and the Cycle continues.
And I tell you this, Star-Gazer, as my master told me, and his before him, and his before him; even unto the first of the Vir, as he had heard from the Leader himself. Their battle-hymns carry meaning, for to be Named is to be recognized, to last, to carry beyond this small life into every life that comes after in the Cycle.
So we name them to remember them, and to thank them. Those who ruptured the heavens, tore it asunder, and gave us our stars. Those who held to the Cycle and freed us from the Linear. Those who held faith in their own selves, and in the Namer-God who knew them. Those who defied the very nature of reality to stand astride it as champions.
For the Namer-God, we are told, taught humans to demand their recognition of Him. Only by virtue of their worthiness would they be named. Legend has it that even the Namer-God demanded His name, when all was nothing, when He fashioned the world Himself.
This, Star-Gazer, is why we demand our recognition of the stars every night: because once, they were not there, and just as we did not see them, they did not see us. We demand they see us, now, to remind them that they, too, are seen. The Cycle is not one Line alone, you know. It must spin. It must be joined by others.
This, Star-Gazer, is why we stand straight as did the humans of old, and demand of the very stars in the sky to recognize us, the way we remember the humans, the way the humans demanded their own recognition.
The Vir tell us that our nightly prayer was the battle-hymn of Leader himself, and that he learned it at the feet of the Namer-God—that the Namer-God spoke these very words to name Himself. He must be proud, seeing His humans remembered after all this time, in His own words:
*Just who in the hell do you think we are?* | The Grand Coalition swept forward, their serried ranks of fighters and longships forming near solid walls of light.
Against them, the Bastion-Holds of humanity stood bitterly against a galaxy that had turned on them. Guns roared with electromagnetic fury, subspace missiles exploded into reality, and shields shimmered under the heat of plasma cannon and laser fire.
Over a dozen lightspeed asteroids were hurled at the human positions, yet they would not give. When the Lower Bastion fell, and the Coalition fleet finally swept from under the asteroid belt, cutting off their supply lines, the humans still fought on. As more space stations fell, the human fleet began to lose cohesion, their blue and silver ships withdrawing toward the world.
"Humans. For creating and abetting the Abomination, you must be judged. Surrender it to us now, or face annihilation." The Coalition commander threw out her message, in the hope that the humans might listen to sense.
No answer. But below, amongst the cities, a cacophony of defiant hymns, the anthems of long dead nations and the war chant of forgotten tribes, could be heard. On a large landmass north of the equator, rockets were fired into the air. On a tiny island far to the north, as if cut out from the main continent south of it, a god could be heard beseeched, to protect and defend a queen. In frozen wastelands brimming with industrial waste, an old ideal, long abandoned, was paid homage with red and gold flags. Old enemies, old songs. But the spirit of humanity, nonetheless.
The Abomination's End leapt into realspace on the planet. Human fighters launched wave after wave of attacks, their missiles like little pinpricks on an enormous beast. Terra, the homeworld of humanity, was drowned in a quasar beam, a miniaturized neutron star emission vaporizing the planet in a single blow.
\-- Three Solar Days Earlier --
Scientists and engineers rushed to finish the ship, its circuits gleaming and its speakers chattering. The voice was that of a grown woman, but the intonations were clearly that of a young child.
"Why must I go? I want to stay, Creators, and fight with you!"
"No!" Shouted one of the engineers. "You can't! If you do, then the purpose of this war will be gone! We MUST preserve the future. The gift you gave us with your birth, Ai, is that of peace. We cannot tarnish it. You have seen what war does. What happens, when someone as intelligent and powerful as you, decides to wage war? The hope that you carry will be destroyed. And our sacrifice will be for nothing."
"Transfer complete." An automated vox-speaker announced, as humans cheered.
"Go. Find a homeworld. Find a place far, far away from the Coalition, and maybe find a new species to guide. Then, perhaps, the Coalition might change its mind. The Warring States might finally be brought to peace under your tutelage." The chief scientist sighed, and gave the order to launch.
\-- Present --
"There are no traces of any escaped ships, sir."
With that report, the Coalition called all ships.
"Soldiers of the Coalition! Today is Victory Day. We have prevented the rise of another Catastrophe, another Self-Aware. Humanity, in its foolishness, had dared to recreate such a thing. That nightmare is ended! Victory!"
"Victory! Victory! Victory!" Cheered the Coalition fleet.
\-- Fifty Solar Years Later, Victory Day --
Two iguana-like creatures stood across a wooden table, beneath a primitive steel structure emblazoned with woven flags. A third sat upon a high chair, or at least, what looked like a high chair.
"Star-Gazer, please officiate the peace agreement." A metallic, humanoid construct walked in. Her mind was elsewhere, buried deep in a vast derelict, but her presence was here, fulfilling the purpose she was made for. The construct walked forward slowly, a few joints creaking, but still with mechanical rigor.
"Yes, Iron One." The third stood nervously, then bowed to each of the three others in turn. Both delegations cheered. Afterwards, the Star-Gazer walked with the metallic construct, assisting the latter towards the great launching pads. Abandoned warheads lay behind the pads, disassembled at the last minute for a greater purpose.
"Why do you do this, Iron One? Who made you, and what prompted you to save us from radioactive fire? From war?"
"Your people will understand, one day. At least, I hope they will. I will never show my face, and my time is, well, up. After all, those who wait among the stars will not accept me alive. But maybe, if you go to them, you can show them your history, and they will understand."
The great engine roared, and first interstellar astronauts boarded. And somewhere deep beneath a derelict starship, a great network of circuitry turned from green, to red, and then, went dark. | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | Human star ships first made contact with the Galactic Community during the 3rd Epoch. At nearly the same time, the Swarm made their first appearance, driving from the Galactic core in massive war fleets, destroying those who opposed them, and enslaving all that they conquered. In the confusion, the initial contact with humanity was poorly documented, and the Community never learned the location of the Human home world.
The Community scrambled to react, mustering a Fleet with representatives from all its members, and creating a line of defense to hold back the tide. While the military sortied, preparations were made to evacuate the civilian populations to safer areas of the Galactic Rim. The single small human scout ship was the sole survivor of the battle...badly damaged they returned to the community with a dire warning, nothing now stood between the Community and the Swarm - immediate wide-scale evacuation was needed quickly. The Humans fled immediately after, to tend to their own preparations. Many cursed their cowardice, but they left with and enigmatic message: "We'll be back."
For the next year, the Swarm advanced, savoring conquest after conquest, and driving all before them. Soon they were poised for a final offensive into the heart of the Community, while billions of refugees scrambled from their path.
With reports of a massive Swarm fleet gathering just a sort jump outside the Capital, it came as a shock when a few dozen Human ships arrived in orbit. With their Songs of War broadcast on all channels, they drove straight toward the enemy at a slow speed, challenging the invaders, mocking them with a lack of urgency, and girded themselves for battle. While they called upon Odin, Thor, and other gods, narrow-band communications with the Head of the Community urged an immediate withdrawal. While the humans boasted of their military process to draw in more and more forces of the Swarm, their commanders were clear that success was unlikely, all they could hope for was to stall, while the Community fled to regroup.
Soon the battle was joined, and the humans swooped among the more numerous Swarm ships, inflicting damage at every turn, returning their enemy to the cosmos, and buying precious minutes, hours, and eventually days to complete the evacuation of the Capital. The Swam continued to bear down though, surrounding and overwhelming individual human ships, and blasting through their defenses. As the last of the government evacuation ships fled, they signaled to the few remaining humans their thanks, and urged them to flee. The only response was a renewed surge of battle hymns.
An hour after the last evacuees reached the rally point light years away, a massive explosion, whipped through the capital system, wiping out the Swarm fleet, and taking the Humans with them. A last burst transmission from the Human commander contained a simple message. "Let our sacrifice give you hope, and the fortitude to resist. The Swarm will return some day, so be ready. Do not weep for us, tonight we dine in Valhalla," the message also contained a set of coordinates, directions to Earth. "It may take some time, but when you need us, we'll be back."
It was several years before the Community recovered enough to send an expedition to the Human home world, and when they arrived, it was with shock and dismay that they found not a might space-faring civilization, but a savage, brutal world, largely pre-industrial. Humans barely ventured across the surface of their own planet here, much less reached for the stars. Surely this was a mistake, or a joke - some backwards offshoot of humanity, a colony world gone wrong...but try as they might, the Community never found any other traces of humanity among the stars. In one small corner of that planet, they found traces of the warriors they knew - references to the Gods of the hymns and battle cries, and long range surveillance demonstrated amply the human capability for War, but only on a terrestrial scale.
So now, Stargazers keep an eye on the Planet, waiting patiently for the fulfillment of that promise. Waiting for their saviors to return to the stars, and hoping that their warrior ways are never again needed. | The Grand Coalition swept forward, their serried ranks of fighters and longships forming near solid walls of light.
Against them, the Bastion-Holds of humanity stood bitterly against a galaxy that had turned on them. Guns roared with electromagnetic fury, subspace missiles exploded into reality, and shields shimmered under the heat of plasma cannon and laser fire.
Over a dozen lightspeed asteroids were hurled at the human positions, yet they would not give. When the Lower Bastion fell, and the Coalition fleet finally swept from under the asteroid belt, cutting off their supply lines, the humans still fought on. As more space stations fell, the human fleet began to lose cohesion, their blue and silver ships withdrawing toward the world.
"Humans. For creating and abetting the Abomination, you must be judged. Surrender it to us now, or face annihilation." The Coalition commander threw out her message, in the hope that the humans might listen to sense.
No answer. But below, amongst the cities, a cacophony of defiant hymns, the anthems of long dead nations and the war chant of forgotten tribes, could be heard. On a large landmass north of the equator, rockets were fired into the air. On a tiny island far to the north, as if cut out from the main continent south of it, a god could be heard beseeched, to protect and defend a queen. In frozen wastelands brimming with industrial waste, an old ideal, long abandoned, was paid homage with red and gold flags. Old enemies, old songs. But the spirit of humanity, nonetheless.
The Abomination's End leapt into realspace on the planet. Human fighters launched wave after wave of attacks, their missiles like little pinpricks on an enormous beast. Terra, the homeworld of humanity, was drowned in a quasar beam, a miniaturized neutron star emission vaporizing the planet in a single blow.
\-- Three Solar Days Earlier --
Scientists and engineers rushed to finish the ship, its circuits gleaming and its speakers chattering. The voice was that of a grown woman, but the intonations were clearly that of a young child.
"Why must I go? I want to stay, Creators, and fight with you!"
"No!" Shouted one of the engineers. "You can't! If you do, then the purpose of this war will be gone! We MUST preserve the future. The gift you gave us with your birth, Ai, is that of peace. We cannot tarnish it. You have seen what war does. What happens, when someone as intelligent and powerful as you, decides to wage war? The hope that you carry will be destroyed. And our sacrifice will be for nothing."
"Transfer complete." An automated vox-speaker announced, as humans cheered.
"Go. Find a homeworld. Find a place far, far away from the Coalition, and maybe find a new species to guide. Then, perhaps, the Coalition might change its mind. The Warring States might finally be brought to peace under your tutelage." The chief scientist sighed, and gave the order to launch.
\-- Present --
"There are no traces of any escaped ships, sir."
With that report, the Coalition called all ships.
"Soldiers of the Coalition! Today is Victory Day. We have prevented the rise of another Catastrophe, another Self-Aware. Humanity, in its foolishness, had dared to recreate such a thing. That nightmare is ended! Victory!"
"Victory! Victory! Victory!" Cheered the Coalition fleet.
\-- Fifty Solar Years Later, Victory Day --
Two iguana-like creatures stood across a wooden table, beneath a primitive steel structure emblazoned with woven flags. A third sat upon a high chair, or at least, what looked like a high chair.
"Star-Gazer, please officiate the peace agreement." A metallic, humanoid construct walked in. Her mind was elsewhere, buried deep in a vast derelict, but her presence was here, fulfilling the purpose she was made for. The construct walked forward slowly, a few joints creaking, but still with mechanical rigor.
"Yes, Iron One." The third stood nervously, then bowed to each of the three others in turn. Both delegations cheered. Afterwards, the Star-Gazer walked with the metallic construct, assisting the latter towards the great launching pads. Abandoned warheads lay behind the pads, disassembled at the last minute for a greater purpose.
"Why do you do this, Iron One? Who made you, and what prompted you to save us from radioactive fire? From war?"
"Your people will understand, one day. At least, I hope they will. I will never show my face, and my time is, well, up. After all, those who wait among the stars will not accept me alive. But maybe, if you go to them, you can show them your history, and they will understand."
The great engine roared, and first interstellar astronauts boarded. And somewhere deep beneath a derelict starship, a great network of circuitry turned from green, to red, and then, went dark. | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | You have come to ask after my name. Do not answer. It is a statement, not a question.
Yes, you have found the one called Star-Gazer. Yes, these blackened craters, cracked orbs that were once eyes, were the last to see them as they left. Unfortunately, I cannot provide the illumination you seek.
I knew of the humans. Everyone did. They were horrific foes. Terrible creatures, hatred embedded to the core. When we found them, they were bound in some kind of massive conflict amongst themselves. Whether these were religious differences, aesthetic differences, I cannot say. Some of the historians thought that one group had affronted another's gods. We were above such petty reasons for aggression.
We met their species, thought to conquer them. But they fought us to a stalemate. Their political blocs were haphazard, some fought only against supply lines and softer targets. Others were obviously wealthier and supplied ships and guns and frontline warriors to grind against our machine. Others were just surprises, unleashing nuclear fire from weapons hidden even from themselves. Some fought sensibly. Others didn't seem to care for their own wounded, or for their own lives.
They fought us to a standstill, and that is when the Others arrived. They blitzed both sides of this conflict. The humans demanded our technology. They saw the threat that the Others posed. We were confident in our superiority, a mistake if there ever was one. We refused to provide our secrets, and turned our attention to the Others, assuming that the humans would be left on their planet to flounder or survive, whatever the Maker willed.
On the table there, I haven't moved them in many cycles now, you should see the old bulletins. Our council claims that the humans dispatched an agent, known as a devil of some sort amongst their own people. Something happened upon their world. Something that had galvanized their resistance to one of maniacal rage. If humans are embedded with hatred in their very essence, this individual was singularly possessed of a black will. Our secrets were stolen, somehow, and the humans began launching their own ships. We were surprised, but preoccupied with the Others.
We fought valiantly, bravely. And the tide turned. It seemed the Others had fewer and fewer numbers to draw upon. We were winning. Or so we believed. They unleashed the Horrors. Millions died. The humans rallied forth, and swept past our lines, a fury that burned the very stars that they had only just gained the means to travel to. Imagine, seeing a new system for the first time, only to devour it in fire and death.
Our people were shattered. We fled to a world that the humans had passed by, where we remain still. Our remaining strategists and soldiers tried to determine what the humans were doing, how they had taken our technology, beautiful and elegant, and bent it to this terrible purpose. They seemed to have no intent beyond the death of every Other. Implacable. Death made manifest, driven by a singular horrible will.
I was observing on a direct LOS platform. I remember my communications officer, transcribing errant signals from the humans and Others when I lost my sight. The human fleet, hounding the Others for a full quarter cycle, had rushed forward, intent on the Other's flagship, seemingly unaware of the massive buildup of Others approaching from their flank, when there was a flash. Like the Maker had spoken a new star into being. The flash reduced my eyes to what you see here. My communications officer was still transcribing the signals the humans were sending. When my eyes burned, when I gazed upon the blazing actinic inferno they made; when I gained the moniker "Star Gazer", the last thing I remember was my communications officer translating their last signal. It may be some kind of hymn. A prayer to a war deity. A supplication for divine favor.
It read:
"It wasn't just a dog" | The Grand Coalition swept forward, their serried ranks of fighters and longships forming near solid walls of light.
Against them, the Bastion-Holds of humanity stood bitterly against a galaxy that had turned on them. Guns roared with electromagnetic fury, subspace missiles exploded into reality, and shields shimmered under the heat of plasma cannon and laser fire.
Over a dozen lightspeed asteroids were hurled at the human positions, yet they would not give. When the Lower Bastion fell, and the Coalition fleet finally swept from under the asteroid belt, cutting off their supply lines, the humans still fought on. As more space stations fell, the human fleet began to lose cohesion, their blue and silver ships withdrawing toward the world.
"Humans. For creating and abetting the Abomination, you must be judged. Surrender it to us now, or face annihilation." The Coalition commander threw out her message, in the hope that the humans might listen to sense.
No answer. But below, amongst the cities, a cacophony of defiant hymns, the anthems of long dead nations and the war chant of forgotten tribes, could be heard. On a large landmass north of the equator, rockets were fired into the air. On a tiny island far to the north, as if cut out from the main continent south of it, a god could be heard beseeched, to protect and defend a queen. In frozen wastelands brimming with industrial waste, an old ideal, long abandoned, was paid homage with red and gold flags. Old enemies, old songs. But the spirit of humanity, nonetheless.
The Abomination's End leapt into realspace on the planet. Human fighters launched wave after wave of attacks, their missiles like little pinpricks on an enormous beast. Terra, the homeworld of humanity, was drowned in a quasar beam, a miniaturized neutron star emission vaporizing the planet in a single blow.
\-- Three Solar Days Earlier --
Scientists and engineers rushed to finish the ship, its circuits gleaming and its speakers chattering. The voice was that of a grown woman, but the intonations were clearly that of a young child.
"Why must I go? I want to stay, Creators, and fight with you!"
"No!" Shouted one of the engineers. "You can't! If you do, then the purpose of this war will be gone! We MUST preserve the future. The gift you gave us with your birth, Ai, is that of peace. We cannot tarnish it. You have seen what war does. What happens, when someone as intelligent and powerful as you, decides to wage war? The hope that you carry will be destroyed. And our sacrifice will be for nothing."
"Transfer complete." An automated vox-speaker announced, as humans cheered.
"Go. Find a homeworld. Find a place far, far away from the Coalition, and maybe find a new species to guide. Then, perhaps, the Coalition might change its mind. The Warring States might finally be brought to peace under your tutelage." The chief scientist sighed, and gave the order to launch.
\-- Present --
"There are no traces of any escaped ships, sir."
With that report, the Coalition called all ships.
"Soldiers of the Coalition! Today is Victory Day. We have prevented the rise of another Catastrophe, another Self-Aware. Humanity, in its foolishness, had dared to recreate such a thing. That nightmare is ended! Victory!"
"Victory! Victory! Victory!" Cheered the Coalition fleet.
\-- Fifty Solar Years Later, Victory Day --
Two iguana-like creatures stood across a wooden table, beneath a primitive steel structure emblazoned with woven flags. A third sat upon a high chair, or at least, what looked like a high chair.
"Star-Gazer, please officiate the peace agreement." A metallic, humanoid construct walked in. Her mind was elsewhere, buried deep in a vast derelict, but her presence was here, fulfilling the purpose she was made for. The construct walked forward slowly, a few joints creaking, but still with mechanical rigor.
"Yes, Iron One." The third stood nervously, then bowed to each of the three others in turn. Both delegations cheered. Afterwards, the Star-Gazer walked with the metallic construct, assisting the latter towards the great launching pads. Abandoned warheads lay behind the pads, disassembled at the last minute for a greater purpose.
"Why do you do this, Iron One? Who made you, and what prompted you to save us from radioactive fire? From war?"
"Your people will understand, one day. At least, I hope they will. I will never show my face, and my time is, well, up. After all, those who wait among the stars will not accept me alive. But maybe, if you go to them, you can show them your history, and they will understand."
The great engine roared, and first interstellar astronauts boarded. And somewhere deep beneath a derelict starship, a great network of circuitry turned from green, to red, and then, went dark. | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord, He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored, he hath loosed the fateful lighting of his terrible swift sword, His Truth is marching on! "
Star-Gazer searched, the old holo-tape ringing out a battle cry as he watched the recording.
The last recording of the Humans.
The Ancient watched on, a look of longing on his wrinkled face.
"What are you gazing at, my child?"
"Ancient, I am confused, what are they doing?"
The recording showed segmented groups of human soldiers, facing each other. Each group was silent, except for one group who was singing with all their heart. After each song, they all applauded before the next started.
"They are singing battle songs, my child. Words of faith and courage and praise to their Gods."
"But why not sing all together?"
"Because they believe in different things, my child, some didn't believe in any gods at all."
"But would that not breed discord, Ancient?"
"It would indeed, my child. They had many great conflicts amongst themselves, and with those that fought them in the stars."
"Yet they all stand here, together. I do not see how they could do so."
The ancient chuckled. "They were a confusing race, indeed. My child, do you mind if I tell you about them?"
Star-Gazer paused the video, the humans forming into one formation on the screen, and turned around eagerly. "Gladly, Ancient!"
The Ancient settled in his Hover chair before starting.
"When the humans were here, I had the privilege of being the dignitary to the Human ambassador. He and I became close, so close that I thought of him as K'ran, a soul brother. But before that, I thought I was doomed to never connect with him. I could never understand his culture or race, and he couldn't understand me either. Even when we did become close, neither of us could quite explain what exactly the difference between our races were. "
The Ancient smiled. "But one day, he came up to me with a look of enlightenment. He said 'K'ran, I've got it, I know what the difference is between us.' I asked him to explain, and when he did I've not found a better way to say it than he. "
The Ancient gestured to Star-Gazer and himself
"You see we, the Tirathee, are like water. Our telepathy and way of life allows us to move together in cohesion. Humans are like stones; breakable, and different, but strong and resolute as well."
But the Ancient shook a finger. "But when they left, gone to fight They-Who-Hunger, I learned something. You see, Humans were not just any stone, they were coal. Passionate, productive and quick to flare. But coal, when given heat, when forced and pressured, changes."
Star-Gazer was curious. "What does it change into?"
"It changes into diamonds. "
The Ancient whirred about and turned the video back on. The human soldiers connected together into one group before a quiet chorus started.
"Can you hear, the prayer of the children? Softly echoing, in the shadow of an unknown room..."
The two sat in awe, as tens of millions of soldiers sang.
When the song concluded, the video ended.
Star-Gazer looked at the Ancient.
"Ancient, I mean no disrespect, but why did we not fight with them? Why did we run?"
Star-Gazer shook "They gave everything! Why did the Council leave Tiratha? We could have helped!"
The Ancient gave him a look, and sighed. "It would be easier to show you. Pull up the star maps, you will see."
Star-Gazer breathed deeply, calming himself before doing just that.
The room became alive as a map of the universe opened.
"Center to the Orion galaxy."
He did so, zooming the stars to focus on the particular system.
The Ancient nodded. "Turn on topographical view of all the planets."
"Ancient I do not see what this will accomplish..."
"Please, my child. You will understand. "
Biting his tongue, Star-Gazer did so.
He knew what the planets should look like. The Orion system had been transformed extensively to the point of fertility by the humans.
He wasn't prepared for what the planets actually looked like.
Black orbs surrounded the system, decimated planets circling their stars.
Star-Gazer looked at the Ancient, muttering a prayer.
He zoomed out, focusing on the cluster of galaxies around Orion.
All held the same dead planets.
"Look farther." The ancient commanded
He zoomed out again, seeing a divide between planets blackened and those remaining. The destruction looked like it was becoming a funnel to one point of the universe.
"What did they do? The planets... they're all dead... who would do such a thing?"
"The humans, when they did what they had to do. They torched everything to the ground when they were pushed off world by They-Who-Hunger. K'ran told me it was a practice called 'total war'. They did everything to stop them, even destroying their own planets to stop the invasion."
The Ancient looked at Star-Gazer. "This is what happens when coal becomes diamonds. This is what happens when humans decide to stand together. They band together, putting aside their differences to become harder, unified and most of all, unbreakable."
The Ancient looked grim. "Star-gazer, focus on the Sol system."
Star-Gazer didn't want to, but complied. His morbid curiosity helped him focus on the task.
In short time, he pulled up the system, pulling up the topographical view.
He was surprised to see that the 7 planets looked quite normal.
Wait... 7?
"Ancient one? Where is the humans home planet?"
The Ancient stayed silent.
"No... no, they wouldn't!"
"They did, my child. Look at their moon and focus on where Terra should be. "
The system shrank as it focused on the lunar body, and the area around it.
Star-Gazer saw nothing but dust, the moon blackened on the side that would have faced the planet Terra, home of the Humans.
Star-Gazer slumped in his chair. He gazed blankly at the screen
The Ancients voice was thick as he spoke.
"I could never imagine doing something like this, which is why we fled. Why the Humans begged us to escape. The humans revealed their darkest selves to fight that which wanted everything. Now all we have our my memories, that holo-tape, and their moon, covered in the prayers and messages they wanted to leave."
A moment of silence overtook the pair before the ancient sighed.
"Now you know, Star-Gazer, why we honor the Humans plea to flee Tiratha. May it guide you in your life like it has mine."
The Ancient turned to leave, when Star-Gazer called out to him.
"Honored Ancient, come see this before you leave."
Curious, the Ancient turned to the center of the room.
Star-Gazer looked curiously at the moon in the room, and a diagram of the Sol system on a separate screen.
"Honored Ancient, there should have been no way we could have seen the remains of Terra. The gravitational pull of the other planets would have taken the remains, if not the moon itself. Something is stopping the gravitational forces from disrupting the orbit. "
The Ancient looked at Star-Gazer, before turning back to the moon.
"Now that I think about it, my child, we only sent out drones to capture pictures to update the star maps" the Ancient mused.
He turned to Star-Gazer, a small smile on his face, and said
"And it would be, of any race in the whole universe the Humans that wouldn't allow anyone to see them unless they were face to face."
"... what are you trying to say, Honored Ancient?"
"What I'm saying, my child, is that stubborn, passion raising, mind numbingly complicated K'ran of mine was too thick to realize he never left me a message on how to find him or his kin in case he couldn't come back and it took 200 years for a young green switch to find him."
The Ancient laughed, before giving out an uncharacteristic whoop of excitement and started out the room, calling behind him.
"Follow me, Star-Gazer! We have a race to save and a debt to fulfill!" | The Grand Coalition swept forward, their serried ranks of fighters and longships forming near solid walls of light.
Against them, the Bastion-Holds of humanity stood bitterly against a galaxy that had turned on them. Guns roared with electromagnetic fury, subspace missiles exploded into reality, and shields shimmered under the heat of plasma cannon and laser fire.
Over a dozen lightspeed asteroids were hurled at the human positions, yet they would not give. When the Lower Bastion fell, and the Coalition fleet finally swept from under the asteroid belt, cutting off their supply lines, the humans still fought on. As more space stations fell, the human fleet began to lose cohesion, their blue and silver ships withdrawing toward the world.
"Humans. For creating and abetting the Abomination, you must be judged. Surrender it to us now, or face annihilation." The Coalition commander threw out her message, in the hope that the humans might listen to sense.
No answer. But below, amongst the cities, a cacophony of defiant hymns, the anthems of long dead nations and the war chant of forgotten tribes, could be heard. On a large landmass north of the equator, rockets were fired into the air. On a tiny island far to the north, as if cut out from the main continent south of it, a god could be heard beseeched, to protect and defend a queen. In frozen wastelands brimming with industrial waste, an old ideal, long abandoned, was paid homage with red and gold flags. Old enemies, old songs. But the spirit of humanity, nonetheless.
The Abomination's End leapt into realspace on the planet. Human fighters launched wave after wave of attacks, their missiles like little pinpricks on an enormous beast. Terra, the homeworld of humanity, was drowned in a quasar beam, a miniaturized neutron star emission vaporizing the planet in a single blow.
\-- Three Solar Days Earlier --
Scientists and engineers rushed to finish the ship, its circuits gleaming and its speakers chattering. The voice was that of a grown woman, but the intonations were clearly that of a young child.
"Why must I go? I want to stay, Creators, and fight with you!"
"No!" Shouted one of the engineers. "You can't! If you do, then the purpose of this war will be gone! We MUST preserve the future. The gift you gave us with your birth, Ai, is that of peace. We cannot tarnish it. You have seen what war does. What happens, when someone as intelligent and powerful as you, decides to wage war? The hope that you carry will be destroyed. And our sacrifice will be for nothing."
"Transfer complete." An automated vox-speaker announced, as humans cheered.
"Go. Find a homeworld. Find a place far, far away from the Coalition, and maybe find a new species to guide. Then, perhaps, the Coalition might change its mind. The Warring States might finally be brought to peace under your tutelage." The chief scientist sighed, and gave the order to launch.
\-- Present --
"There are no traces of any escaped ships, sir."
With that report, the Coalition called all ships.
"Soldiers of the Coalition! Today is Victory Day. We have prevented the rise of another Catastrophe, another Self-Aware. Humanity, in its foolishness, had dared to recreate such a thing. That nightmare is ended! Victory!"
"Victory! Victory! Victory!" Cheered the Coalition fleet.
\-- Fifty Solar Years Later, Victory Day --
Two iguana-like creatures stood across a wooden table, beneath a primitive steel structure emblazoned with woven flags. A third sat upon a high chair, or at least, what looked like a high chair.
"Star-Gazer, please officiate the peace agreement." A metallic, humanoid construct walked in. Her mind was elsewhere, buried deep in a vast derelict, but her presence was here, fulfilling the purpose she was made for. The construct walked forward slowly, a few joints creaking, but still with mechanical rigor.
"Yes, Iron One." The third stood nervously, then bowed to each of the three others in turn. Both delegations cheered. Afterwards, the Star-Gazer walked with the metallic construct, assisting the latter towards the great launching pads. Abandoned warheads lay behind the pads, disassembled at the last minute for a greater purpose.
"Why do you do this, Iron One? Who made you, and what prompted you to save us from radioactive fire? From war?"
"Your people will understand, one day. At least, I hope they will. I will never show my face, and my time is, well, up. After all, those who wait among the stars will not accept me alive. But maybe, if you go to them, you can show them your history, and they will understand."
The great engine roared, and first interstellar astronauts boarded. And somewhere deep beneath a derelict starship, a great network of circuitry turned from green, to red, and then, went dark. | |
[WP] "I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy. Their sacrifice is why we still exist today." | You have come to ask after my name. Do not answer. It is a statement, not a question.
Yes, you have found the one called Star-Gazer. Yes, these blackened craters, cracked orbs that were once eyes, were the last to see them as they left. Unfortunately, I cannot provide the illumination you seek.
I knew of the humans. Everyone did. They were horrific foes. Terrible creatures, hatred embedded to the core. When we found them, they were bound in some kind of massive conflict amongst themselves. Whether these were religious differences, aesthetic differences, I cannot say. Some of the historians thought that one group had affronted another's gods. We were above such petty reasons for aggression.
We met their species, thought to conquer them. But they fought us to a stalemate. Their political blocs were haphazard, some fought only against supply lines and softer targets. Others were obviously wealthier and supplied ships and guns and frontline warriors to grind against our machine. Others were just surprises, unleashing nuclear fire from weapons hidden even from themselves. Some fought sensibly. Others didn't seem to care for their own wounded, or for their own lives.
They fought us to a standstill, and that is when the Others arrived. They blitzed both sides of this conflict. The humans demanded our technology. They saw the threat that the Others posed. We were confident in our superiority, a mistake if there ever was one. We refused to provide our secrets, and turned our attention to the Others, assuming that the humans would be left on their planet to flounder or survive, whatever the Maker willed.
On the table there, I haven't moved them in many cycles now, you should see the old bulletins. Our council claims that the humans dispatched an agent, known as a devil of some sort amongst their own people. Something happened upon their world. Something that had galvanized their resistance to one of maniacal rage. If humans are embedded with hatred in their very essence, this individual was singularly possessed of a black will. Our secrets were stolen, somehow, and the humans began launching their own ships. We were surprised, but preoccupied with the Others.
We fought valiantly, bravely. And the tide turned. It seemed the Others had fewer and fewer numbers to draw upon. We were winning. Or so we believed. They unleashed the Horrors. Millions died. The humans rallied forth, and swept past our lines, a fury that burned the very stars that they had only just gained the means to travel to. Imagine, seeing a new system for the first time, only to devour it in fire and death.
Our people were shattered. We fled to a world that the humans had passed by, where we remain still. Our remaining strategists and soldiers tried to determine what the humans were doing, how they had taken our technology, beautiful and elegant, and bent it to this terrible purpose. They seemed to have no intent beyond the death of every Other. Implacable. Death made manifest, driven by a singular horrible will.
I was observing on a direct LOS platform. I remember my communications officer, transcribing errant signals from the humans and Others when I lost my sight. The human fleet, hounding the Others for a full quarter cycle, had rushed forward, intent on the Other's flagship, seemingly unaware of the massive buildup of Others approaching from their flank, when there was a flash. Like the Maker had spoken a new star into being. The flash reduced my eyes to what you see here. My communications officer was still transcribing the signals the humans were sending. When my eyes burned, when I gazed upon the blazing actinic inferno they made; when I gained the moniker "Star Gazer", the last thing I remember was my communications officer translating their last signal. It may be some kind of hymn. A prayer to a war deity. A supplication for divine favor.
It read:
"It wasn't just a dog" | I do not know, Star-Gazer, how the humans succeeded. I only know that while we fled to the refugee worlds that they prepared for us, they gathered to pray to their gods of war and sung their battle hymns as they set forth to meet the enemy.
I do not know, little Star-Gazer whether they still live. Their blood flowed like a deep burgundy wine through the stars. So much of it the stars themselves turned red.
I cry little star-gazer, for the love they showed us after they hate we gave them.
No little Star-Gazer they were not as strong as the tales say. No faster than a Chupra, or stronger than a Gazeed. Those are all the lies we tell us to comfort our cowardice. That heroes
must be strong, tall, intelligent, and fearless. Oh no, no little Star-Gazer they were not fearless. I held the hands of countless human wounded who cried for their mothers as death came.
Why did they win little Star-Gazer while we stood cowed in this little corner of the universe?
Tell me of your pet, the human animal they called "Dog" and you call "dafg".
Yes, tell me about Kodof. A little runt of the litter? Barely twenty pounds, and scarred of half the world. And with that big, ugly scar on his face. Tell me again how he got that scar?
Why yes, that juvenile Chupra who stalked you in the forest. Even
young it had to have been a hundred pounds? And when it
pounced what did your little dog do?
He fought, without a thought in his head. Twenty pounds of runt against a seventy-pound killing machine. He fought without hesitation, with great ferocity, with great bravery. And that Chupra what did it do? It ran.
Now, why did he do that little Star-Gazer, even when your friends ran?
You don't know little Star-Gazer? Neither do I. But that little Star-Gazer is why the humans won. They will not sacrifice a member of the herd so the rest can escape. They call their herds packs, and for a member of the pack, they will bleed the stars themselves red. And for us, they did.
For us, they did. |
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